#i just need to know of someone hears the same stupid flutes

[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.

[starjane312]

Kit Tanthalos x OC

Big Masterlist

Masterlist

Chapter 28

With wobbly knees I get back up. I unwrap Miles and hand him to Boorman. 

J: Keep an eye on him.

Me Jade and Graydon start running towards the Edge.

B: Whoa ! Wait before we do anything irrevocably stupid…

We stop and Look at him. 

J: There’s nothing to discuss Boorman !

B: No ? You ever heard the phrase, “ If your Paramour jumps of the edge of the World, wait and think for one second before you follow her.”

G: No. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.

J: And I did think. I gave you Miles. 

B: Not what I meant. 

Ja: A leap of faith. That’s how you get to the Immemorial City, right ?

We look at Willow.

W: It’s Possible.

G,J: Then let’s go.

W: It’s also Possible they were supposed to go alone. That we are not meant to follow.

B: See ? Wait. Why ?

W: For Madmartigan, protecting the World meant protecting Elora. When he chose to fight the Wrym from within, He told Allagash that his child would Shoulder that Responsibility for him. Kit is Elora’s Protector.

J: And who protects Kit ? I do. For Tir Asleen and Sorsha, and …

W: Because you Love her.

J: Yes I do. And when you love someone and they need you, yes you Jump off the edge of the World and go and get to them !

Ja: This is bigger than Aryk and the Crone. I can feel it. This is the Beginning of a War. 

J: And they Can’t win it alone.

Jade and I look at Eachother, nod, run to the Edge and Jump. With a Splash we both land in water. Graydon comes after us. I stumble out the Water and Spit out the Water. It’s raining.

J: So we lived. And we’re Wet. Again !

Jade nods. I help Graydon up and we Start walking. We climb some Rocks. When we see it we all stop.

J: Holy shit. 

Ja: Woah. 

G: That’s Probably it, huh ?

I nod.

B: Oi ! Did you not hear me Shouting ?

We turn to see Boorman running to us.

J: Where is my Son ?!

B: Willow has him and they’re on their way to Willows home. He's gonna keep an Eye on him until you Return. 

Hestops next to us.

B: Woah.

Ja: Yeah.

B: You guys seen anyone around ?

G: Nope. 

B: What about that ? You see that ?

We look at a Giant thundering Cloud.

G: Ah terrific.

J: Yeah, that’s just great. 

Ja. By the Time the suns sets, it’ll be here. 

B: And the What, huh ? It’s dark, windy, probably the end of the World. I guess what I’m saying is… if either of you two wanna make out really quick I’d be up for it.

J: Oh come on Boorman Ew.

G: So what’s the Plan ? We just go down there and see what Happens ?

J: Jep.

B: Great strategic minds of Tomorrow, right here.

Ja: What do you suggest ?

B: Well I already suggested that we Kiss, but you blew me off. So in Lieu of that…

He kneels down takes a hand full of the Dusty stuff that lays ever where and Slaps it in his Face.

B: … Camouflage.

I raise my Eyebrows.

J: Well better than our Idea.

We all do that and go into the City. We hide behind a Rock.

B: Okay now.

We get up and the Dust flows into our Mouths. We cough and spit it out. 

J: Ok this … 

Ja: This is so Silly. There’s no one here.

B: Oh Thy’re here. They’re hiding. 

J: From Who ?

B: From us. 

G: Well, if they’re hiding from us, that means they know that we’re here. In which case, who are we Hiding from ?

B: From them.

Jade sighs and I roll my eyes.

B: It’s like you’ve never snuck into an undead city before.

J: Have you ?

I get up. Jade does the same, so does Graydon.

Ja: Okay I’m getting up.

B: What ? No. Wait.

G: Yeah. Sorry Buddy. Me too. 

We start walking to a Door. When something whoshes in front of us. We all pull our Swords.

Ja: That’s Ominous.

J: Death dogs. 

We keep walking. But stop again in front of an empty fountain, which stands before the Door.

Ja: They're in there.

J: I know it.

We both walk to it. But the Door won’t open.

J: Hey Magic flute now’s your turn. Open this thing.

G: Right, I'm a Sorcerer.

He nods and walks to it. The cloud comes closer and Closer.

Ja: How's it Going ?

G: I’m Trying. It’s strong Magic.

J: Hurry Up !

He trys again.

Ja: Time’s of the Essence, guys.

B: Hurry up Mate. 

G: I’m Trying. 

The cloud gets to close.

B: Open the damn Door !

I watch in horror as Boorman turns to stone then everything Turns Black.

[llycaons]

ep33 (3/3): lwj earring indulgence

people rarely make wwx as self-possessed or confident as he is in canon. I'll read fic where he's like 'lan zhan I am so sorry for breathing in your direction thank you so much for giving me a square mat to sleep on I promise to behave' and he'll be SO insecure and hesitant when that's really not him! for the most part he doesn't shy away from confronting lwj or getting into his business

it's just that lwj doesn't tell him shit bc he doesn't want wwx to feel obligated to lwj which is a great impulse but wwx also likes knowing how much people care about him so it's a bit of double-edged sword?

they're helpfully reminding us that this kid's name is yuan too

this made me laugh so hard. he's standing there with his ORIGINAL FACE in his classic black robes and red ponytale, playing a flute, and he thinks playing badly is a disguise? and THEN lwj gets mad at him for fumbling their song lmao

but wwx needn't have bothered bc lqr didn't realize anyway due to being comatose. until wwx woke him up with his bad flute playing

lqr having such a strong reaction to a flute is funny bc was he even on the front lines in sunshot? they said he didn't leave the mountain very often and it's not like he's a warrior. he's probably never seen wwx play

one of his top expressions

lwj is quite strict with lsz, in his own way. not in an aggressive way, but VERY expectant of obedience

there's one single female disciple here and she stayed in the back the entire conversation before coming forward for the water basin. what, are female disciples servants who are only used for healing?

this looks so cool. green suits wwx really well honestly

perhaps I have been unfair to lsz given how annoying his character is in fanfics and how obvious of a plot device he is. but he's a nice boy, and to my surprise he's also smart!! look at him thinking through problems!

encouraging to see wwx express sentiments that before his death, he really needed someone to tell him

coming back, I think he's become in a certain sense resigned to the things in his life that happened. no use getting angry or upset over them, some things you just can't change. and this is really sad, but it's also, hopefully, indicative of a more healthy mindset in his second life

"I naturally trust you' and that's what he needs to hear, baby

also seeing them standing together makes those 'huge top' fics so funny. they are literally almost exactly the same body type and build. no lwj is not a head taller. no he is not built like a brick shithouse, his hands are not large enough to encircle wwx's waist. if anything he is slightly taller and more slight in build, where wwx is slightly bulkier. but I think his height is because of his heeled boots

damn the jingshi is really so nice. I love hat porch area and the bridge over there.

right after wwx said 'it's pointing at the person who told it to commit crimes' ljy jumped and then glared at wwx haha

omg HORSES! I didn't know they used horses! wwx bouncing like a bobblehead hehe. and all the fics insisting he only uses little apple

HANGUANG-JUN PIERCED EARS SHOT. taking this to headcanon that lwj wears earrings. let lej be a little gnc. as a treat.

this was such a strange moment. lwj walked off and left wwx behind entirely. why???

oh and this was funny. this guy seling ugly portraits that wwx took offense to

THERE HE IS!!! THE MOST DISASTER BABY OF THEM ALL!!!!

this kid kicked a civilian in the chest for saying the name 'wei wuxian' in public. he might have already been sensitive and prone to fights, but clearly his parenting has been ABYSMAL

by 'his uncle' he is talking about jc. btw. I originally thought he was referring to himself, but it just makes more sense. ha.

I hate the fairy scene possible more than any other scene in this show. why is his face so comedically twisted? why is his running so stupid-looking? unbelievable that this happened in the same episode that made me cry my eyes out

personal highlights

oh the rite of spring was INSPIRED

all of wwx's crying this episode. all of it. beautiful

cgi sword stabbing a hand my beloved <3 <3 <3

lwj's broken little 'wei ying' at the very end

everything about the jingshi opening scene. the music. the lighting. the atmosphere. the calm

wwx seeing his younger and more innocent self frolic about. as stated, I was inconsolable. I've always liked it but after today, it's going to be a very special scene to me

lwj's sexy whip scars and mysterious chest brand. can't help it. I love them. and wwx's seriousness and care during that scene was really nice too

lqr being roused by bad flute music, yelling at them to stop, then slipping into a coma and wwx sitting there like 😬 'whoops' with that funny face

wwx sitting with the bamboo background looking all cool

[facelessstranger1867]

Day 8 of HMS Doris's Maiden Voyage

This is something of a teaser for a short story I will publish in full once I finish my next novel, Slayer of Doves. This is part of the prequel to A Stroll Through The Apocalypse, but there's no spoilers in it. Also, if you are squeamish, maybe miss this one. CW: Darkness, Thalassophobia, Gore, Flaying, Transformation, Self-mutilation, Mind control

Depth: approx. 6000 metres

Ship Status: Ascending from the anomaly in Charybdis Trench

Crew Status: Blooming

Expedition Notes:

It's pitch black. The darkness of the deep sea is something that has hovered over me like an omen, ever since we descended past 1000 metres. Yet still, it has granted me comfort, since often it was the only thing that remained the same, unaffected by the crew's madness. I often sit by the little window and stare out, I can't recall how often I have done so since we entered the anomaly. Since Avery left in their suit of metal and iron. Since that song started playing over the speaker. That gentle, piping song that smells of leaves, bloodied by a cruel and sadistic god. It's all that ever plays over the speakers anymore, that damned flute that play a most beautiful song. The melody that shakes my body like a forest in a thunderstorm. It has affected me less than the others, and they know why. Despite its beautiful sound that flower-filled lungs of colleagues wheeze past their ivy coated lips, I know what terrible fate awaits me, were I to make that choice. I can hear them, pounding on the door. I know they cannot break it, their flesh is naught but moss and ivy. But the sound of their meat, impaled from the inside by horrid thorns; it fills me with a terror I cannot describe. The song is so beautiful, and I am horrified that I will join my crewmates in their sylvan suffering. No, that's not right, I am not filled with the horror of sharing my colleagues' fate, rather, I feel that I should be, because what I feel instead is envy: deep, primordial envy. I know, in my bones, that they are in agonising bliss. I see glimpses of them, in those moment that the song, now deafening, pierces through what soundproofing blankets and pillows provide: their skin is gone, torn off by the thorns that have burst through their spines and ribs and eyes and mouths and their blood no longer flows through their veins, it's all pooled on the floor. I still hear their atrophied limbs knocking, or rather trying to knock, on my door; it sounds like dead weeds being bashed into steel. Knock, knock, knock, knock. I can barely tell what I'm writing anymore, the words are a blur, and that damn music won't stop playing.

I've torn off the skin from my arm, revealing bare flesh. As that piping song continues to envelop my senses, I see my veins turn to thorned vines like a weeping willow. And I do weep, as the thorns snake down to my hand and tear more of my skin, my bloom becoming more petals upon the branches. It feels like agony: pure, distilled agony. It hurts so much, my skin feels like itchy wool. I must remove it, gift it to that divine sadist so that it may feel welcome in our world.

I don't know why I gave in. I must resist. Someone must be left who knows what happened. It's pitch black out there. I'll hold onto the darkness. It's the only thing that's remained constant throughout. I need to hold on just a little longer, only 2 more days. What is the difference between day and night down here? I can see no light. It may be only 2 days on the surface, but here? In the depths, it may as well be an eternity. I'm so hungry. I cannot remember when last I ate, my stomach roars and I do not know how I shall fill it. Perhaps I'll try to go to the mess deck, sneak past my former comrades and that sweet, piping song. No. That would be reckless and stupid, but what other choice do I have? Knock, knock, knock. They're still outside the door, if I were to escape my self-imposed prison, I would surely be subjected to the flensing flora. There's not much room on the page.

Ok, I'll try to get to the mess deck. I pray, to whatever ancient we found down there, that I don't lose myself in that mesmerising melody. I miss my comrades. Knock, knock, knock, open.

[crystalmarred]

Nice. Though Data had agreed with his use of the word, X'kijin couldn't help but feel it was ill-fitting. Something about it had made the pace of his heartbeat quicken to thundering, which wasn't unusual after a dance, but this was... different somehow.

It was nice, it couldn't be denied. But it felt more than that to X'kijin, more than the glaring similarity of both of them being bearers of the Echo, of both of them having had to care for one another when they were injured. Though X'kijin couldn't yet put a name to the feeling, didn't want to, didn't have the right to.

Green eyes flicked downward to meet the brilliant teal of Data's as he spoke of the way he danced, of the self-taught mimicry of a style he'd only heard tales of by those more well-traveled than he.

He pulled his flute back up to his lips and for a moment—just one—he dared to hope their song wasn't yet spent. Only for Data's words to cut off as he lowered the instrument.

X'kijin wanted nothing more for him to keep going, keep playing... He wanted to feel that warmth in his chest, the same one he'd felt when they'd slept side by side in a single bed when they were both injured, shoulders brushing with every breath, hands intertwined in a way decidedly too intimate for the short time they'd known each other.

"You're not stupid," X'kijin said, his first interruption on this evening. It was one thing he knew with absolute certainty, that Data was one of the most intelligent men he'd stumbled across—quite literally. he was a bright, vibrant glow and X'kijin a dull, lackluster gleam in comparison.

And Data would be furious if he said as much alloud.

A hum slipped from his lips when Data called him exhausted. He couldn't deny that he was, but could deny his want to be beside him even less.

"Do you mind if I stay and listen?"

The words are so gentle on his tongue, they sound foreign to him. So like the sweet words he spoke to someone too injured or sick to often hear him, when his heart ached the most, when he was flooded with the emotion of whatever memory his Echo handed to him through their pain.

"I'd like to," he added, as if any more needed to be said, as if it were not obvious. But the words he truly wanted to say were out of reach. Restricted in a way that he didn't know if he'd ever gain the right to say them.

Not to a man like Data, not to someone so vibrant and beautiful and pleasant.

He didn't have the right.

He could hear the crickets chirping in the background as he felt his own hands lower from the face. A feat he didn't think he'd be able to do, suddenly wondering in the moment why he felt compelled to rest his hands on the delicate portions of the Dancer's face. The smoothness of the sun-warmed skin that mixed with the tension that came from the calloused palms of the Bard. One could say that it was an odd match indeed.

The fluttering that propelled his chest didn't seem to ease when his hands came to his own sides, tugging on the edges of his clothing as though to find a better thing to keep themselves busy with. It was silly, to think that a night when the music took over that it would've meant anything more than just a moment of respite.

In the rarities that they could spent such times, Data would take them, but never for granted. He found himself smiling as well, seeing the familiarity, and the genuine expression of the other's own, despite when his eyes were not reaching his face to gaze right back. Not after what just happened.

"Right, it was nice!" Now was the moment that he could spend to chance a glance, drifting the conversation to something elsewhere. Even though the hammering of his heart didn't clear itself out, perhaps it didn't matter - he could find some way to ease out the unfamiliar passing that came with such situations. "I think we deserved a moment like this. We don't exactly have a big day ahead of us, but at least we had something to lighten up the other times when things weren't . . . better. Like this, I mean."

Nice . . .

That was an understatement. It was brilliant, it was beautiful, it was needed and it was . . . perfect. Data could remember the time during the rhythm that they lost themselves in, their backs had gone flush together. Whilst X'kijin towered over him in height, he couldn't help but feel the other bend to meet him, as though their heads were meant to fill the spaces between. Data recalled watching the other intensely spin, and spin, and spin. The way his outfit lifted with the effort of each rotation. The glimmering of the diamonds.

Black and white really were too beautiful together when designed in such a way.

"I know it's rather silly and it's really late, but I couldn't help but notice just how good of a Dancer you are. I dunno if you ever really told me how much you danced, and danced like that." He rested his hands on his hips before he reaching down and taking his flute from his pack, rising it to his lips. The burning of the embers where the fire was still held their light, enough for him to see where he was going as he backed up. "Your. . . improvisation is amazing. I would say that but I have no idea if that was a routine or something, maybe I should've asked."

With a breath against the mouth piece of the instrument, Data rose one of his legs. A ball dance to press the rhythm of the two together, taking stride with the flutter of the instrument; as if Data could perform whatever it was X'kijin had just done.

"It kept me wanting to play, wanting to dance, wanting to -"

Spend time with you.

The Bard staggered to a stop, lowering his instrument back to his side with a shake of his head. "No, no that's. . . that's - I'm sorry, that was stupid of me. I didn't mean to get . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck and thumbed along the neck of the instrument. "I got lost in the music, and I really appreciate you getting lost with me. Sometimes I forget that this isn't an easy journey the two of us have."

Easy, as if things were easy when he woke up that one night with stitches up his leg and a wet towel over his forehead. He'd been delusional with fever that day, only taking moments at a time to see someone hovering over him. Rolling his head left and right through the blurs, trying to speak to him.

' Fever ' they said. ' Hang on just a little longer ' they begged. ' Everything will be all right. ' they promised. He was foolish then and he was foolish now.

"I wouldn't regret this day, X'kijin. I - . . . Thanks for humoring me. You look exhausted, maybe I should let you get out of here so I don't bother you anymore." He chuckled, but there was a hint of regret in there. Almost like, when the two departed for the night, the loneliness would come back, and he'd drown again. He looked up to the stars, the urge to count them overwhelming. "I'm going to play under the stars for a little bit."

Would it be wrong to say stay?

[royal-skies]

i rlly thought i was going crazy but thank fuck im not just yet. you see, some time ago like 3 years i think, i was sitting all nice in my balcony some time during the night (most definitely after midnight) when suddenly i hear these like, flutes or recorders or whatever the loving fuck you call these in english.

i heard like a bunch of these being played at the same time but not in symphony. oh no, it sounded as if some people just grabbed them and randomly blew into them, not caring how it sounded. it went on for easy ten min. tbh i do not think i can even begin to describe it in only english.

being so late it was so scary i went back inside, not rlly thinking much of it. i wish i was kidding, the day after some creepy shit started happening in my house every now and then that even this year it hasn’t rlly subsided. for some reason i always correlated it but i could just be a bit paranoid.

for some time and for some reason i really though i imagined it. but oh god. ohhhhh fuck. three years later i fucking heard it again, going on for and hour. and i managed to catch it on video.

the audio is a bit odd, but keep in mind it was around midnight and i had spent a good thirty minutes thinking i was imagining stuff. its been three years since i heard it and i so do not care how this is redacted or shit bc i am definitely freaked out rn

[darkdevasofdestruction]

My Beloved Cherry Blossom ~ Yamaoka Kazan/The Oni x Fem!Reader

Note: Since Kazan lived in the feudal era, and died there, his S/O would be someone from that time, so, just like him, she'd be dead, so the shock of seeing the dead back alive would be great for him...Who also died in a painful death. Haha.

"My son, you reached the age when you have to marry and ensure the continuation of our bloodline. Since you haven't bothered looking for a potential wife, I took the liberty of finding you a pretty girl. She is the daughter of a respectable samurai who guards the Emperor, and her father ensured she is a very capable, smart and understanding woman, so she will be able to deal with your...Temper." Kazan's father sat down with his son, who scowled, offended at what he heard, but despite all this, he was well aware of this bother he had to deal with. "...Yes, father." he muttered, sharply looking down at the floor. "We will go to meet her tomorrow, at her home, an in less than a month, we will have the marriage. I know you are not the type to care about families and women...But you have to do anything in your power to ensure the honor and survivability of the Yamaoka bloodline." yes, of course, his father just had to sigh in disappointment. "I understand, father. I will make you proud." Kazan answered before leaving the room to train, as a way to let out the pent up rage.

Who needed women and a family? He certainly didn't care about that. They were a nuisance. A weakness, at best. Father is too much of a sentimental, even for a samurai. What a ridiculous charade...

And his displeasure continued even the next day, as he dressed in a rich, official kimono, to show off his heritage, but at the same time, his long hair was put in a disheveled ponytail, rebel strands flying with the wind, and the neck of his outfit was lowered down enough to show his outlaw-ish predisposition. Needless to say, his father was angered by this side of his son - Surely, he taught him better! - But it was far too late, and they had already arrived at the L/N estate.

Just outside the big, beautiful house, a petite young woman, her long dark hair shining like ebony, her skin as white as snow...She looked so frail that she'd almost resemble a snowdrop. And she was delicately playing a soft, yet sorrowful tune on her bamboo flute, while her father put a pink flower in her hair, looking at her with nostalgia and love.

Kazan look at his own father, before glancing back at the girl whom he found out was named Y/N, and realised how big of a difference it was to was a son, compared to having a daughter. The difference in the two men's behaviour was huge.

He once heard a samurai, whose wife had just given birth to his daughter, "Treat your daughter the way you wish her husband would treat her." He didn't care at first, obviously - Kazan's mind was never on marriage - But now he was beginning to understand the meaning of his words, for they were wiser than anticipated.

Her father was tender, and treating her as if she was the soft petal of a cherry blossom, and his voice was low, loving and respectful, not wanting to startle her in any way...He was talking as if he was trying to keep the zen equilibirum intact at all costs.

The love between a man and a woman is supposed to be like Yin and Yang...

But how could Kazan possibly behave in such a way, when all he knew was to be a rageful brute who would destroy everything in his path in the loudest, brashest way possible?

"Ah, Yamaoka-san, you have arrived. And you brought your son with you. It's an honour finally meeting you, Kazan. Here, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, dear, why don't you go prepare some osmanthus tea for our tired travelers, while I guide them to our table in the cherry blossom garden?" her father pat her hair, and in return, she bowed slightly at the guests, offering them a gentle smile, that would put all of Spring's flowers to shame. "Yes, right away, father. I hope you will like our flower garden. Papa had them all planted in honour of my mama. They are all her favourite kinds and colours." ah, yes, of course. Women have a special kind of bond with their mother - That was something he would never be able to fully comprehend, Kazan realised very easily, by the way the girl was close to shining as soon as she talked about her birth-giver.

The son of the Yamaoka family obvious saw women before - He wasn't an idiot - And he had enough experience with them...But there was something different about this one. She was...So...Innocent? She seemed to naive and not from this world, almost as if she had no idea of the terrors of the world outside of her residence.

It was such an endearing thing, almost exciting - But the young samurai wasn't sure if he wanted to protect this innocent ignorance at all costs...Or if he wanted to shatter it into pieces and taint it completely.

But that question was easily answered as soon as she came back and started pouring tea for him. And then later in their marriage, the way she behaved so gently with him, it was so weird, so foreign to him, and yet, it made him feel something else...Something completely different from the bubbling, infernal rage he could feel in his chest all the time.

It was soothing, mending his soul completely, for some reason that he couldn't comprehend at all.

But why should he, anyway? He was content just having her by his side whenever he was home. Only she was able of taming the storm that clouded his mind and soul.

His little cherry blossom.

And only the Gods knew how many men he had to kill to make sure she isn't harmed, or prayed upon. He never realised how many desperate, disgusting, dishonorable and lecherous men could be, but Kazan wasn't going to let her see anything other than the honour of a samurai - Like him, his father, and her own father.

However, not even her gentle soul would be able to contain his rage whenever he'd hear that dreadful, shameful nickname they would call him.

"Oni-Yamaoka"

Why was he an Ogre, all of a sudden? Because he brought justice upon the fakes who made a mockery of the code of the samurai? Because he wanted to protect the sole person he cared for in this life? Even his father was against the aggressiveness he displayed on the battlefield, and in the actions he took...It almost felt like even his father was agreeing with that stupid nickname!

"Here, Kazan, lay your head on my lap and forget about your worries, at least for tonight." Y/N pat her lap with a sweet smile, her eyes gleaming with love and benevolence as she reached out her other hand to reach out to him, and as if possessed, he followed her lead absent-mindedly. "Y/N." Kazan called out after a few minutes of having his eyes closed, feeling himself relaxing as her fingers were soothingly playing with his long, untameable hair. "Why do you always tell me to lay on your lap, whenever I'm angry?" "Do you not like it, darling?" she asked, but the passive smile on her face showed that she knew that wasn't the case at all. "I do. I was just wondering why." he grumbled in a lower voice, which made her muse, her smile shaping into an almost kitten-like one. "My mama always did that to papa. She said that the best place for a man to relax is on a girl's thighs. I don't think she was wrong." oh, what a sweet giggle she had. It sounded crystalline, like a river of diamonds going through the forest. "...I won't comment on that." the man closed his eyes, not wanting to give in to the flushed sensation he felt hearing something so embarrassing. "You do not have to be embarrassed, my dear. We are man and wife. There is nothing we could do or say that would be worth or deemed as embarrassing." she reassured him with an amused tone, as her small hand touched his bare chest, just where his heart would be. "Why are you not afraid of me, like the rest of them? You are nothing more than a frail woman. You have the eyes of a baby fawn, and the frail bones of a rabbit. You are nothing more than a flower in comparison to me. I could snap your neck like a twig if I'm not careful touching you. And yet, you allow yourself to be vulnerable around me, and while at it, you encourage me to be the same as well. I will never understand the complexity of women and their thinking." the samurai sighed, grumbling in faux annoyance. "My, my, was that what was on your mind? How lovely of you to be concerned about me. Well, I will tell you a little secret, since you are so curious, but make sure it stays between the two of us, alright?" she giggle softly, almost like a little child kissing her crush on the cheek, and it made Kazan's heart flutter. Was she truly trusting him with a secret? What did he do so worthy to her that she deemed him the perfect candidate as a secret-keeper? "I would not dare tell your secret even to the Emperor himself, or my father." came the samurai's vow with such seriousness, that made the girl grin. "You see, women aren't physically strong like men are, but what we lack physical prowess, we make up for our incredible emotional strength. So, I believe that, at least in these times of war and bloodshed, a man's role is to protect the physical body of the woman, while the woman's role is to protect her man's heart and soul. Without balance, there is no future and no happiness, wouldn't you agree? If we don't make the best out of this life, and look at the beauty of the world...Then have we even lived at all?" there was wisdom in the words that Kazan deemed rather naive, and yet...What she said wasn't wrong, per se. In fact, it was true. He was well aware that, with his body, the best he could do was protect her, but he would never be able to sooth her broken heart the same way she does to him...And likewise, he remembered the mirthful laugh he let out when she tried lifting his weapon from the ground.

However, he wasn't going to say anything out loud, and decided that, instead of voicing his opinions, he'd rather grunt and close his eyes, letting sleep take over him, his head still resting on her soft thighs.

Maybe having a wife wasn't as bad as he once thought...

But times change fast - Years pass, lives pass, the river passes...And yet, only one thing doesn't pass, and that is Yamaoka Kazan's rage, which only grew stronger and stronger with each day, and each time he heard himself getting called "The Oni".

He was desperately angry, and not even Y/N's loving touch or sweet voice could save his soul, so much, that in fear of accidentally hurting her, he decided to stay out and train or go on and kill more and more samurai impersonators, hoping to somehow release all his anger and be able to return home.

He knew Y/N would be worrying for him, but she needn't do such a thing, it would only hurt her heart, and that was the last thing he wanted. He was strong, and feared - Who would dare go against Yamaoka Kazan, anyway?

The days away from home multiplied, and he was away for a stupefying month...Y/N must be crying, worried sick. He wasn't afraid of anything physical in this world, yet the thought of her doe eyes shedding tears...It was something he was terrified of, especially if he was the cause of that.

But on the way home, he found a pink lotus flower, and he thought she would love it, so he gently took it with him back home. It was raining, and an ominous feeling crept into Kazan's heart, and he realised there seemed to be an almost dark aura around his home.

It wasn't yet sleeping time, so why were there no candles lit? There was no sign of any living being there? Where were the servants? Where was his beloved Y/N, waiting for him on the porch, playing the flute the way she always did?

Something was not right...

The man rushed inside the house, and as soon as he slammed open the sliding door, he was met with nothing that he expected - Pools of blood on the floor, while the otherwise neutral-coloured walls were splattered with the red liquid, and the corpses of the servants were brutally mangled and thrown around as if they were defect ragdolls.

It wasn't the horrifying sight that scared him, but the fate of his wife - So he made haste and ran to their shared room...And there she was.

In more pieces than she should be in.

Her hair was a mess, her kimono was a mess, her make up was a mess...And she had been tortured, from the way her wounds, slashes and cuts looked on her body.

Who...? Who could do something so...So...Disgusting...To a defenseless woman who had no means of fighting back? Where was the honour in defeating a weak civilian, such as her? What was the purpose of this massacre?! Was it to anger him? To bring out the Ogre from him? Is it what they all wanted? To see The Oni they feared and hated so much? They got revenge on a small woman, just to get to him?!

"Ah, Kazan, finally. Took you quite a while to return home...I thought her body would rot away and get swarmed with maggots by the time you'd return. And what's that in your hand? A flower? Did you want to apologise to her with a stupid flower? You have caused my daughter immense distress, and yet, she loved you to the very end. You should have seen her cry out your name, praying for you to come back home and save her...But, alas, the Ogre is never home! He is so busy killing, that he didn't realise he killed his own wife! Hahaha! Yamaoka Kazan, you are a pathetic excuse of a man, you could never come close to her strength! I tried everything to get her to tell me your secrets...But she didn't say a word. She ignored me. In the end, she came to hate me, her own father, who cared and loved her since she was born...And she loved you, some spineless monster who knows nothing but carnage!" what...? What was this man saying...? Is he truly implying that he tortured his own daughter to death, for...Information...On him...? "What...Did you do...?!" red was the only thing he could see, as he couldn't help but stare deep into her dead eyes that still held the fright and agony they last felt when she was still alive. "I KILLED HER! I KILLED MY OWN DAUGHTER, Y/N! This whole marriage was meant to bring down your stupid family of brutes and uncontrollable monsters! It was meant to kill YOU! But she was stupid! Nothing more than a sentimental woman! She LOVED you, a monster who knows only bloodlust! It's YOUR fault that she is dead, Kazan! YOU killed her! YOU!" her father yelled at him only meaningless gibberish.

In fact, Kazan couldn't comprehend words anymore. Instead, he could only hear whispers - They were soft and feminine...They sounded like Y/N...Could her ghost be talking to him? Was she trying to calm him down one more time, from beyond this world?

Yes, you were a saint, truly...It was a pity you had to meet him...If you hadn't, you'd have still been alive...And your beautiful flute song would still resound around the forest, along with the thrill of the birds.

"I am sorry, Y/N" was the last thing Kazan thought...

As The Oni took over completely, and went on the greatest blood shed known to mankind at that time...

------

What am I doing here...? What is this strange place...? It looks nothing like the beautiful flower garden Kazan made for me...So where am I?

The girl looked around like a confused meerkat, asking herself a limitless amount of questions, only to look down and realise her beautiful pink kimono was dirty with mud, and she gasped in shock. How could she let that happen! She can't let Kazan see her like this, what would he think?!

Ah, yes, that's it, just look around for Kazan, he'll surely know what's going on!

However, instead of finding her strong samurai, she saw three other people, all looking of a different race than her, and wearing such strange clothes...

Was she behind fashion, and she had no idea? She was sure she was buying only the best kimonos there were...!

"What are you just standing around for?! Run! We have to repair the generators!" a girl with unnatural coloured hair yelled at her before she sprinted the hell out of there.

Generators...? What are...Generators...? And why is this place so creepy...?

Hold up...This paper wall maze...This was from her home! Yes, that means she was close to home!

She ran through the little maze with a smile on her face, only to see one of the man working very focused on some kind of contraption, and he urged her to help him out. She sheepishly crouched opposite of him, frightened, but she carefully tried to do something, but instead, a loud noise and sparks came out, and she shrieked in fear, shielding her face as she fell on her back.

"What kind of sorcery is this?!" she cried out, her eyes watering. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you want to die that badly?! Get a grip and do something useful for once!" the man screamed in her face, before running the hell out of there.

Why were they all so rude to her...?

She was so used to her family, her servants, friends and Kazan to be nice with her, that she didn't realise people like these existed too.

A bit shaky, Y/N got up, trying to pat away the dust from her dirty kimono, and continued to look the estate...Only to find her home...But why was it in such a deplorable state...? Surely, she wouldn't allow her beloved home to end up like this...!

As Y/N made her way inside the home, she noticed the scary amount of blood splattered all over the place...Almost as if there was more red than colours of walls an the floor. It was so frightening...And confusing.

Who died here? And how in the world...I mean...She was sleeping, and then...

Oh.

Oh.

No.

She wasn't sleeping...

As soon as she stepped into her room, she didn't notice the blood on the floor, but the discarded pink lotus that laid on her pillow. As she crouched to take the flower in her room, she got a sudden flashback of her memories from the night she died...

She waited for Kazan, and the elderly servant woman was comforting her, pouring her tea and patting her back, as she played the same flute song she did when she first met beloved.

But then, her father paid her a visit...And a true hell was unleashed...

Her own father did something so atrocious...Such a betrayal was nothing she could ever phantom in her own life, and yet, her life was ended not by a stranger, but by her own kin.

As silent tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her delicate cheeks, a loud roar shook the whole estate, and the brusque blurting in the room of a huge man was enough to fright her to fall on the ground with a startled yelp.

And yet...

The raised weapon, the samurai garments he wore...And that Oni mask... There was only one person in the world who could look like this.

"Kazan...?" her voice came out weaker than a whisper, and she wasn't sure if he even heard her calling out his name. For a split second, she was terrified of the thought of that horribly enormous weapon striking her down where she stood, in her own bed, for the second time...And yet...

The monstrously big man dropped his weapon and slowly crouched in front of her, picking up the flower and putting it in her hair, pinning it away from her gorgeous face.

"Y/N...It really is you..." his voice came out as a dark grunt, in fact, in very much sounded like a demon, and yet, his moves and actions seemed more delicate than even this lotus flower.

The girl started laughing from happiness, allowing more tears to escape her eyes, being reunited with the love of her life, and she threw herself in her arms, feeling safer than she ever did in her life.

"I missed you so much, my dear Kazan...I missed you so...I can't believe such things happened to us...And yet, here we are, together again, even in death, even in hell." as she said that, she slowly took away his mask, and revealing his rugged face, obviously one of a man seasoned in war and tortured to death - She put her hand on his cheek, just as he used to do with her, and caressing him, she leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead.

It was meant not only as a lucky charm, but as a 'home sweet home' as well, for there was no home without Kazan's arms wrapped around her protectively...

And there was no home without the petite body of his beloved S/O in his strong embrace, watching her fall asleep.

"I promise you never leave you again, my beloved cherry blossom." he said so, and yet, having been in this Hell longer than her, he knew of the atrocities she, as a Survivor, would have to endure, and the hell the Entity would put on the both of them.

And yet...

If anyone even dares to look at her the wrong way, The Oni would make sure that, no matter how immortal the Killer might be, he would bring an end to them.

He already lost her once, and he's not going to let a tragedy befall her ever again.

[lostinthewiind]

Forget Me Not: Part 1

Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, Kuroo Tetsurō - Haikyuu

Synopsis: five years after graduating high school, you're invited to Kiyoko and Tanaka's wedding and find yourself back in Japan. Surrounded by your old classmates and volleyball buddies once again, not only are old friendships rekindled, but old feelings start to resurface as well. Did five years change you and your friends too much, or did it change you all just enough?

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Next → Part 2

Being back in Japan filled you with a familiar, comforting feeling that spread throughout your entire body. The country where you had lived most of your life and been educated from kindergarten to high school in brought back childhood memories that you had not thought about in nearly five years.

And now, here you were, attending the wedding of one of your best friends, whom you hadn't seen in way too long, and surrounded by people who shaped your elementary and teenage years.

It wasn't until the reception that you got to actually catch up with your childhood friends, but the ceremony had certainly gotten you thinking. With the beautiful decorations strewn all over the venue and Kiyoko's breathtaking dress—and the way Tanaka teared up after seeing his future wife coming down the aisle—you had begun to wonder, as one who is still single would, if that would ever be you; all dressed to the nines and ready to devote the rest of your life to one person.

The fact that you were deep in thought must have been visible on your face because it wasn't long after that Kiyoko made her way over, gently placing her hand on your shoulder and asking if you were all right.

Startled out of your internal dilemma, you assured her that you were fine and just caught up with your own thoughts. "Sorry," you apologized with a lighthearted chuckle. "I didn't mean to make you worry about me at your wedding."

Taking a seat beside you at the rather empty guest table—more than happy to get off of her feet after Tanaka had been swinging her around the dance floor for hours—Kiyoko sighed contently and brushed off your concern. "Oh, please, make up something if you must." Kiyoko glanced over her shoulder at her new husband, who was currently preoccupied with something Noya was saying to him. "I need a break. If this is any indication of what the rest of my life is going to be like, I'm going to be eternally exhausted."

You laughed, having completely forgotten about what you had been thinking about. "You chose to marry the boy who spent all three years of high school chasing after you and you're surprised that he's over the moon 24/7?" You cocked a brow at her jokingly. "Don't say you weren't warned."

Kiyoko giggled at that and before long you and your best friend were laughing together just like when you were teenagers. It was like nothing had changed; like the two of you had been transported back in time five years.

"In all seriousness though, are you happy?" you asked her as you grabbed for your champagne flute and took a sip. "Because that's all that matters."

A light dusting of pink rose to Kiyoko's cheeks. "I'm ecstatic." She beamed as she looked back at Tanaka again. "I mean . . . that's my husband!"

"Good. I'm happy that you're happy."

Kiyoko nodded in agreement before turning back to you. "So, when is it going to be your turn?"

You thought about asking her what she could possibly be talking about but there was no fooling Kiyoko; she already knew that you knew. Not a week had gone by since you had moved away where she hadn't asked you if you had found yourself a man yet.

You just rolled your eyes. "I would have to be dating someone first in order to start thinking about getting married."

"Okay, so we start at the beginning." Kiyoko started surveying the gorgeous outdoor reception venue as if you didn't already know pretty much everyone who was there.

You scoffed. "I'm sorry, we?"

"You act like I haven't always been invested in your love life." She waved you off, never taking her eyes off of the bustling crowd. "Anyway, back to what I was saying . . . you need someone with a stable career, handsome, and, most importantly, someone that I approve of."

"Yes . . . most importantly." You took another sip of your drink and let your eyes scan the crowd as well, mostly because there wasn't much else for you to do. Eventually, your gaze settled on a table in the back corner where five men sat, engaged in a conversation with one another. It took you a few minutes to make out the face in the dim lighting, but when you did, you were immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.

There, in a convenient group, as if they had all collectively been waiting for you to spot them, were five of your dearest friends from high school: the captains from the various boys' volleyball teams. Since you had been the captain for the girls' team at one of the rival schools, the six of you had started as acquaintances who bonded over being captains and soon grew into an inseparable friend group. The only person you had been closer to in high school was Kiyoko.

Sawamura Daichi, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, and Kuroo Tetsurō.

They all looked just like how you remembered and yet you couldn't help but notice from afar the ways that they had matured over the past five years. You had been given a brief chance during the ceremony to say hello to them, and during that brief moment, you weren't ashamed to say you would admit they had all grown into handsome young men (not that any of them had been hard on the eyes in high school by any means.)

"Oh, so we're going for the classic 'high school reunion' trope." Kiyoko's face was suddenly right next to yours, startling you once again. "Which one are you looking at?"

Ripping your eyes away from the group of men who had thankfully not noticed your staring, you shook your head. "It's not like that," you sighed.

"Oh, yeah . . . okay." Kiyoko's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "That's fine, you don't have to choose right now. You could probably have whichever one of them you wanted anyway considering they all had a crush on you in high school."

It had been a big mistake to try and take your final gulp of champagne right then. As soon as you had heard what Kiyoko had said, you jolted in surprise and the alcohol went down the wrong way, causing you to begin coughing and sputtering rather loudly and aggressively.

Of course, that was when the five former captains turned to look at you after hearing the commotion. To be fair, a lot of eyes were on you then as you frantically reached for a napkin to dry the champagne that had spurted out of your mouth and Kiyoko patted your back comfortingly.

"Jesus," you managed to choke out. "Warn someone before you say something like that."

Kiyoko grabbed another napkin and began dabbing at the little wet spot on your dress. "You act like you didn't already know."

"I didn't already know."

Kiyoko looked up at you in shock, her hand ceasing all movement. Thankfully, she had pretty much dried your dress completely by then anyway. "What do you mean you didn't know?" she inquired quizzically, almost like she suspected you of lying.

"What do you mean they all had a crush on me?!" You remembered to lower your voice at the last second to avoid screaming such a personal conversation.

"How could you not have known?!" Kiyoko retorted with another question. "It was so obvious!"

"We were all just friends!"

"Just friends?!" A deep voice from behind you interrupted before you or Kiyoko could say another word. "You aren't talking about us, are you?"

You could pick that voice out of a lineup and consequently, your face turned bright red and you swallowed hard. Had he heard what you and Kiyoko had been talking about? How long had he been standing there?

Turning in your chair, you looked up at Kuroo, who was standing behind your chair, and the four other guys standing behind him; all of whom had apparently made their way over after witnessing your struggle with the champagne.

Before you had the chance to work out a suitable answer and attempt to explain away what you and Kiyoko had been discussing, Kiyoko stood from her chair and offered it to Kuroo, motioning for the group to sit down with you at the same time.

"Well, I'll leave you guys so you can all catch up." She smiled wide, throwing you a quick wink when no one else was looking. "I'm sure Tanaka will start searching for me soon anyway. I can only leave his side for so long before he starts causing chaos."

"Looks like the chaos has already started." Oikawa pointed to the head table where Tanaka was pouring liquor straight down Hinata's throat while Noya and Tendou counted the seconds out loud at the top of their lungs.

"Oh, good God." Kiyoko excused herself without another word, rushing across the room to put an end to her husband's antics. The six of you were left chuckling and watching as she snatched the bottle out of his hand and made quick work of reprimanding the men.

Shaking his head, Daichi sat down across from you while the other men took their seats as well. Having been the team captain of Karasuno and on a volleyball team with Tanaka for two years, he knew all too well what it was like to have to keep him in check constantly. "I will never understand how he suckered her into marrying him," he commented.

"Because love." You shrugged. "It makes you do stupid things."

Just then, a waiter came by and placed a fresh glass of champagne in front of each of you. "Ain't that the truth." Kuroo rose his glass and encouraged everyone else to do the same. "To love and other stupid things."

"To love and other stupid things," the remaining five of you repeated before clinking your glasses together and taking a sip of the bubbly alcohol.

Bokuto, who already seemed a little too tipsy for his own good, downed all of his in one go before scooting his chair closer to yours and throwing an arm over your shoulders. "So, tell us, what have you been up to?!" he chirped happily. "We all missed you when you left, you know."

After assuring Bokuto about four or five times that you had missed him as well, you gave the group of eager listeners the short version of what you had been up to since graduation. You explained your boring job and the fact that you played volleyball as often as you could. They asked about other aspects of your life as well, and when the topic of significant others came up, you shyly admitted that you were, indeed, still single.

"Hey, it's not like any of us can judge you for that," Ushijima told you. "None of us have anyone in our lives either."

Oikawa scoffed. "You make it sound like I'm hopeless."

"You are hopeless," Kuroo laughed. "You spent how many years in Brazil and still couldn't find a girl to date you? You moved to Argentina and still nothing. Doesn't that say anything?"

"Leave it to Oikawa to make it all about him," you commented, mindlessly taunting the setter like you used to do all the time when you were younger.

Your jab earned a few amused chuckles from the others and even Oikawa cracked a smile; and just like that, it was like you were back in high school with five of your closest friends, shooting the shit like you always did.

Before you knew it, the six of you were talking, laughing, and drinking the night away. Even Ushijima, who was usually the quiet one of the group, was participating more than you ever remember him doing so. The awkwardness from the first few minutes of interaction and the burning embarrassment of what Kiyoko had told you had melted away so seamlessly that you didn't even notice; suddenly you just found yourself comfortable and feeling rather at home.

Daichi told you about how his job as a cop was going and even shared a few exciting stories—stories that the others had clearly heard many times before if their bored expressions were any indication.

Kuroo talked about his job at the Japan Volleyball Association Sports Promotion Division, which he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying. You were kind of envious of him for managing to stay in the world of volleyball without actually having to keep playing.

Then, of course, Bokuto, Ushijima, and Oikawa discussed what it was like playing for the MSBY Jackals, the Schweiden Alders, and Club Atlético San Juan in Argentina, respectively. Oikawa, much like Daichi had been, was very excited to have someone new to tell his stories to—although his stories were about Argentina and not being a cop.

It made you feel a little sad when you realized just how distant you had grown from your friends and how much of their lives you had missed, but you had to admit that getting to play catch up was extremely entertaining.

After what felt like only twenty minutes or so, but was probably closer to two hours, the reception started winding down and guests started heading home for the night.

Pulled from the happy little bubble the six of you were existing in by the sudden realization that the party had a lot fewer people than you remember, you checked the time and noted that it was rather late.

Daichi, who had been oblivious to the rapidly passing time as well, muttered something about having to work the next day as he reached for his suit jacket that he had draped over the back of his chair at some point and started putting it back on, indicating that he was getting ready to leave.

Bokuto began to pout jokingly and tightened his hold on you, his arm never having left your shoulders the entire time. "You're not going home right away, are you?" he asked you, his wide eyes ready to guilt-trip you into staying longer should he need to. "You're staying in Japan for a while, right?"

"I'll be here for about two weeks or so," you told him, patting his cheek lightly and chuckling when his expression changed on a dime and he smiled wide. "Don't worry, I'm not abandoning you again so soon."

"Then we will have to get together for dinner or drinks or something," Kuroo suggested as he too stood from his seat. "Have you changed your number since high school?"

You shook her head. "Nope, it should be the same one you all have."

"Excellent!" Oikawa cheered. "I've got to head back to Argentina in a week or so as well so we definitely have to get together soon. I have first dibs!"

"Y/N is a person, not the last piece of food," Ushijima huffed. "You can't call dibs."

Oikawa just scoffed. "Sure I can, Toshi. I just did."

"I told you not to call me that."

The two professional volleyball players glared at one another and you wondered how it was possible that they stayed friends for so long, let alone became friends in the first place, considering they were always at each other's throats.

"Okay, you two, don't make me escort one or both of you home in a cop car tonight," Daichi warned. "I'm not in the mood to babysit."

"If I promise to behave, will you promise to use your handcuffs?" Oikawa winked, earning a few hushed chuckles and an obviously disappointed look from Daichi.

"Well, that's my cue to call it a night," Daichi announced as he made his way over to you and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. "It was lovely seeing you again. I'll call you and we can do dinner sometime, yeah?"

You smiled and nodded. "I'd love to."

With that, Daichi took his leave and the others were soon to follow. Bokuto, who was the last to leave your side, had somehow swindled you into promising to play a volleyball game with him at some point before he bid you goodnight as well and left you to collect your thoughts before catching a cab and heading back to your hotel room.

On your way out, you thanked Kiyoko for inviting you and congratulated her and Tanaka on their marriage. They too insisted on getting together with you once more before you left and you happily agreed, already dreading having to leave your friends again.

As you climbed into your cab that evening, drunker than you had been in a long while and filled to the brim with joyous memories and content feelings after being reunited with so many old friends, you couldn't help but linger on one thought in particular . . .

The fact that all of your former captain friends had grown into handsome men with stable jobs, they were all single, and the startling new discovery that they apparently all had crushes on you in high school.

Did they still feel the same way? Or, more importantly, did you feel the same way?

[slytherinspired]

Firsts - A Sirius Black Imagine

Pairings : Young Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings : smut, obviously, unprotected sex, swearing, smoking, alcohol and mild drug use.

Hi love! I did it! Beware, it is quite long, I sort of took the liberty to provide some context, but I hope you'll like it! :)

Masterlist

Sirius is looking back at himself in the mirror, wincing at his reflection. He recognizes his traits sparingly; his dark curls falling to his shoulders, his mocking smirk, his overall nonchalant expression. He knows who he is, but the clothes on his back are completely robbing him of his own identity. He glances bitterly at his beloved leather coat sitting on the back of his desk chair and sighs. The ridiculous black suit he’s wearing barely fits him. He knows it probably used to belong to one of his distant cousins and that it has been quickly and grossly recut to fit him by the house-elf. His parents are downstairs in the drawing room, waiting for him to join them so they can leave for this stupid reception. 

He doesn’t even know what it is about, except that he’s going to this apparent important new Ministry guy’s house who threw a sort of lame introduction party, since he just arrived in London with his family. And what he knows is that he’s going to spend the whole night with the type of people he doesn’t want to be assimilated with. From what he heard, the host of the reception just arrived at the Ministry of Magic to help with the passing of some bill for Muggleborn regulations, as awful as it sounds. He’d like to avoid to go, but Walburga has the upper hand on him, and nothing in the world would convince his dear mother to leave her eldest son behind, knowing full well that if she does so, Sirius is going to get the fuck out of there and join these Muggles mingling Potters fools. 

‘You look dapper,’ says a soft voice behind him.

Standing in the doorway, Sirius’ youngest brother observes him, grinning.

‘Shut up,’ he replies, annoyed by the stupid smile on Regulus’ face. 

His brother crosses his arms and steps into his bedroom. He looks around like he just stepped into some kind of freak show. His gaze rests a little longer on a certain poster. Sirius glances at the Muggle woman dressed in a revealing red swimsuit standing straight in the middle of the picture. He smirks, and caught-red handed, Regulus turns away quickly. She always was his brother's favourite, after all. Whether he wants to admit it or not.

‘Are you going to behave this time?’ he asks, stepping in front of his eldest brother.

Sirius shrugs, trying to adjust the bowtie strangling him. For Merlin’s sake, he thinks, it feels like he’s suffocating already. 

‘I always behave, brother dear,’ he replies, trying to undo the knot around his neck. ‘I just don’t behave the way they’d like me to,' referring to their parents.

Regulus shakes his head and starts fiddling with his brother’s bowtie and adjust it perfectly in one fell swoop, as if it were child’s play. Once the knot is properly buckled, he taps Sirius’ chest in an encouraging gesture, and frowns when he feels something hard hidden in the inside pocket of his brother’s vest. 

‘Really?’ he asks. 

Sirius snorts.

‘Just a bit of courage,’ he admits.

‘And how much courage did you drink already?’ 

‘Not enough, apparently,’ Sirius replies, thinking about the full flask of warm whiskey tucked inside his suit. 

He’d honestly rather be stuck in detention with Snivellus for the rest of his existence then go to this lame-ass party. That alone justifies the whiskey amply.

After a few detours in the city, he finds himself in front of an imposing white manor situated in one of London’s richest Square. Oh, this is going to be a long night, he thinks. Not only it seems like the host is wizard-rich, but he’s also everything rich, period. He rolls his eyes, there’s no issue. Walburga is pressing her long and emaciated fingers into his son’s arm as they step into the great hall of the house. The interior is as posh as the exterior, with its grand marble staircase curving up to the upper floor and its giant diamond-like chandelier hanging over their heads. For God’s sake, is it a live classical assemble he hears playing in the back? As his mother pushes him further inside, the sound of light chatter reaches his ears. He sees his father, dressed in his horrible robes, already on his way to speak with some old acquaintances, quickly followed by Regulus. He scans the principal room for a quiet corner, but it’s filled with this bunch of pricks, and he’s fighting with all his might the panic that is taking over his mind. He finally spots a free corner next to a big window and he walks straight ahead in that direction, hoping no one will recognize him on the way. 

‘I heard his son has found some work as a doctor,’ he hears a shrill voice say. 

‘A Muggle doctor? How peculiar!’ says another voice.

This is exactly the kind of chatter Sirius doesn’t want to hear. In no way he thinks he’s superior because he was graced with magic powers at birth. It is so suffocating, and he feels so incredibly small and inadequate, drowning in this sea of close-minded guests. 

He studies them, recognizes some familiar faces from Hogwarts, but most of them are Slytherins and are not close at all to use them as an escape. A waiter walks in front of him, holding a tray where champagne flutes fill themselves up. He grabs one and drink it in one sip. He’s already quite tipsy, but he doesn’t care. He’d rather be intoxicated right now to bury this hatred deep within. God, he needs air. 

He sees Walburga looking for him in the room, and she’s walking next to a tall and handsome man. For Godric’s sake, why is she walking straight in his direction? The man next to her doesn’t look as old as his mother, but the grey strands in his black hair betrays his age. He looks posh, and haughty. 

‘This is my eldest son, Sirius,’ says his mother in a toneless voice. ‘Sirius, this his our host, Mr Santorini.’

‘Pleased to meet your, Mr Black,’ says the man while he extends his hand. 

Sirius gets up on his feet, subtly struggling to find his balance, under the duo’s concerned stare. He rapidly and weakly shakes the man’s hand and nods. Ashamed, Walburga shoots darts at her son and quickly turns away from him.

‘My youngest, Regulus, is doing quite well at Hogwarts, see, he’s - ...’ her voice fades away.  

Sirius closes his eyes; he needs to find some distraction. And what could be better than the little thing he has brought to the party that is currently hidden in his pocket behind the whiskey flask? He needs to feel something else than the dreadful thoughts he has right now. He struts to the giant marble staircase and finds his way on the upper level without attracting attention to him. That is one advantage when no one cares about you; not being seen. The voices downstairs are slowly fading away and he feels already so much better.

He runs a nervous hand in his dark locks, feeling quite hot, with this bowtie strangling him. There must be a door leading outside. He tries to open the first one on his right, but the handle doesn’t bulge; it’s locked. And Walburga has confiscated his wand at the beginning of the summer upon his return from Hogwarts, so there’s no use. He sighs and adventures further away in the hall.

He has more luck with the second door, and finds himself into a deserted bedroom. His eyes make out the giant bed over the central wall of the room, and spots some sealed boxes on the floor. The translucent curtains discreetly veil the large windows in front of him, and he opens one widely and lights himself a cigarette without a care, pacing into the room nervously. He sees some pictures resting on a vintage dresser on the opposite wall. There are rows of books in the built-in bookcases, and even some disperse vinyls taking up some of the space.  He’s clearly trespassing someone’s intimacy, but whose? Sirius walks to the dresser and opens up the first drawer. A tickling feeling in his stomach at the sight of the several underwear – even in the darkness – makes him wonder how long has it been since he’s been intimate with someone. The last time was before school ended, with Mallory, and it was just snogging. He never went all the way... He chuckles discreetly at the thought and taps the ashes of his cigarette on the floor. Fuck this house, fuck this bedroom, and fuck this posh Pureblood family. 

‘Mm, mm.’

Someone has cleared their throat behind him. He jumps, and tries to hide the cigarette away. 

‘Please, don’t stop for me,’ says a girl in the doorway. 

He can’t make up her traits in the darkness, but she sounds young. She steps right in front of him.

‘I don’t think you should be up here,’ she says.

He feels like a child, caught red-handed. He feels suddenly very trapped. 

‘I heard the owner of this house is quite severe,’ she adds, taking the cigarette away from him, inhaling the smoke into her lungs, and exhaling. ‘If he found us in his daughter’s room, I think he’d torture us without any remorse.’

‘His daughter’s room?’ he replies nervously.

She nods, giving him back his cigarette.

‘A real pest.’

There is an awkward silence. 

‘What were you doing here?’ she adds. 

‘Looking for a way out,’ he replies in all honesty. ‘What about you?’

‘Just about the same.’ She glances at the cigarette. ‘You might want to put it out now.’

‘I really don’t,’ he replies, taking one last whiff, ‘but when do I get what I want anyway?’

He throws it on the hard-wood floor indifferently and follows the stranger in the hallway. She turns around to take a good look at him.

‘I’m Y/N, by the way – ‘ 

He feels like his legs are going to flinch. He doesn’t know if it’s the sudden nicotine rush, or the champagne mixed with the whiskey, or the lights in the hallway shinning over Y/N’s green doe eyes staring at him, or her long black hair waving on her back, or her delicious pink lips, or the gentle freckles on her nose, but he’s suddenly feeling quite light-headed.

‘You okay there?’ she laughs. ‘What’s your name?’

He shakes his head, trying to regain his thoughts. 

‘I’m, er. I’m Si – ‘should he really tell her his real name? ‘I’m Sid.’

‘Sid,’ she repeats. ‘Well, Sid, you don’t look too good.’

‘I don’t feel too good,’ he admits. 

Her expression changes. She’s not amused anymore. She’s pitying him. 

‘Follow me,’ she says, grabbing his hand like she has known him forever, dragging him to the end of the wall where they cross a door and end up on a small balcony overlooking the deserted garden. 

‘How to you know this place?’ he asks, resting his arms on the guardrail, humming the fresh crisp air. 

‘Hung out with the pest earlier,’ she replies.

‘Not anymore?’

‘Told you, she’s a pest. I can’t leave, though. I’m sort of stuck here.’

‘So am I.’

She laughs lightly. The moonlight shines on her beautiful face, and her traits are so soft, and if he was much more like himself, he’d try to charm her the way he knows how. 

‘So, Sid. What are we avoiding?’ she asks away. 

‘My parents, I guess,’ he replies, taking out the flask of whiskey of his pocket.

He takes a big sip and hands it to her. She considers it for a moment and grabs it. The wind flies through her hair, and her perfume reaches his nostrils, a perfectly well-balanced mix of vanilla and gentle notes of citrus. The fragrance shoots up his nose and wafts around his brain. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

‘What about them?’ she asks away, wincing when she swallows the liquor. 

He snorts. He doesn’t want to talk about his parents right now. Not when the prettiest girl he’s ever seen is standing right in front of him. He has something else on his mind now. 

‘Your accent,’ he says, switching subjects. ‘It’s not from here.’

Y/N nods. 

‘I grew up all over the place, but mostly America.’

‘You don’t sound American.’

She smiles, revealing a straight row of perfectly pearly white teeth. 

‘My family, we’re from Sicily.’

He nods.

‘It’s in Italy – ‘

‘I know where Sicily is, I’m not stupid,’ he replies harshly, a bit offended.  

But Y/N chuckles lightly, and her soft laugh brings his attitude down. He can’t help but stare at her. She’s a bit overdressed to his taste, but hey, so is he. He wonders what is hiding underneath that navy dress of hers, and if her skin is as soft as he imagines it is. He needs to calm down. 

‘First time in London, then?’

She nods. 

‘What do you think?’ he asks, locking eyes with her.

She licks her lower lip without realizing it.

‘Well, I don’t hate the accent,’ she teases. 

Praised be Godric. 

‘Tell me, Sid, you seem to be about my age, yet you’re drunk like an old man with a drinking problem, and you probably smoke like a city boy. I keep wondering if I really should be alone with you right now.’

‘Are you afraid?’ he asks.

She shakes her head.

‘Rarely.’

‘To be honest, Y/N,’ he says, pronouncing every syllable of her name like he could actually taste it, ‘I was alone up there to find a quiet spot for this.’

He shows up the joint between his fingers. She squints for a short moment and smiles.

‘I see.’

Y/N’s eyes bored into him. He wonders if he has crossed a line. He barely knows her, after all.  

‘Let’s go somewhere more private, then,’ she suggests, grabbing his hand. He doesn’t even have the time to appreciate the softness of her skin when he feels himself disapparating, his body swirling in every direction, and a sudden urge of panic takes hold off him. When he reapparates in a loud pop, he shouts:

‘What the hell are you doing? Are you bloody insane?’

‘What, did you never apparate before?’

‘Yes, I did but -,’ he is freaking out, Walburga must think he’s left and is probably fulminating. ‘My mother, she’s going to hex me! Bring us back!’

‘Why?’ Eliana asks, intrigued. ‘How would she know?’

Sirius shakes his head nervously. 

‘She placed some sort of charm on me, I’m not allowed to leave her sight. If she knows I left the premises, she’ll find me and – ‘ 

He stops himself from saying too much. Perhaps it would be a bit intense to share with the girl what would Walburga do to him. At least, he wouldn’t have to explain the healing bruises on his ribcage.

‘Relax, Sid. We’re still on the premises.’

He looks around and spots the house in the distance through a small window. Are they in some sort of guest house? A garden shed? There is nothing around him, he’s just standing on a mat. Relieved, he sits down, running a hand in his hair. Y/N joins him and creates a small fire by flicking her wand, enough to dimly light the room they are in. 

‘You’re actually scared of your parents. Why?’

Sirius chuckles. He’s not scared, he’s terrified of them. She points out the little stick he forgot he was holding between his fingers. 

‘Shall we?’ she suggests.

‘Who says I want to share?’

She pouts adorably. He lights it up and he takes a good breath of the substance and exhales slowly, indulging the heavy smoke, his lungs burning, and a light sensation rushes to his head. Them Muggles can also do magic, he thinks to himself. Under her curious eyes, he passes the stick in her delicate hands, and observes her. Her delicious lips reach it, and she slowly breathes it in. She starts coughing, tears running to her eyes.

‘Wait,’ he laughs, ‘is this your first time?’ 

She presses her hand to her rounded chest, laughing uncontrollably. Sirius shakes his head, following her laugh, and explains to her how to actually get the smoke to her lungs. 

‘There, yes – keep it still a second, let it -, yes, good,’ it’s like teaching children how to mount a broom, ‘and exhale. Brilliant.’

He waits a second before taking another whiff. Y/N’s mouth curves into a smile and she closes her eyes slowly. 

‘Oh,’ she exhales, ‘this is – ‘

‘I know,’ replies Sirius, smiling. ‘I know.’

‘Oh,’ she repeats. 

He stares at her, admiring her delicate features. Her eyes are still closed and he sees her falling on her back, completely relaxed. If his mother saw him right now, smoking pot with a random girl he met at this rich guy’s party, she’d have a good reason to use the Cruciatus curse on him for once. Or she’d cut his head before he could say he’s sorry. He decides to join Y/N and rests his back on the floor. He lays his head just beside hers and fixes the ceiling. He feels better now, and it’s not just the drugs. 

‘I feel so heavy,’ she says, sliding her hands on her naked arms. 

She turns her head and looks at him. 

‘Do you feel heavy?’

‘Kind of,’ he laughs. 

He doesn’t particularly feel heavy. In fact, he feels relieved, and mostly, he feels horny. Good god.  

‘What is there to do in London at night?’ she asks.

‘Mm,’ he hesitates. ‘Pubs, clubs, walking around Southbank, I guess.’

‘Never went to a pub,’ she admits.

He wants to run his finger on her cheek. He wants to grab her face and press his lips on hers.

‘You’re kidding,’ he replies, still fixing that beautiful mouth of hers. 

She shakes her head lightly, and a stroke of her long hair falls in her eyes. Her little red stained eyes. He smiles at the view, and slowly leans closer, replacing the stroke of black hair behind her ear. 

‘I’ll bring you to a pub, one day,’ he mutters, daydreaming out loud. 

‘Wouldn’t you mother kill you if you did?’ she jokes. 

‘She would. It would be worth the risk, though.’

She turns on her stomach and rests her head on her hands. He keeps staring at her, detailing everything. 

‘What are you looking at?’ she chuckles.

‘Just admiring the view,’ he replies frankly.  

She would blush if she wasn’t all flustered already. There’s an odd adrenaline spluttering inside of him as he feels her close, and his pulse quickens and he’s feeling so hot right now, he’s melting into the rug. There’s a comfortable silence between them, and they both enjoy it for a couple of minutes. There is something about this girl, this nonchalant attitude, and her mesmerizing eyes, and her accent, and the way her body moves when she finally sits down again, pulling her dress over her thighs to sit comfortably, making him lose his fucking mind. If he weren’t so distracted by her presence, he’d be sweet talking to her, like he’s so used to do with other girls. But he’s simply incapable of doing so, like she’s robbed him of his means. 

‘We should go back, they’re going to be looking for us,’ she whispers, showing him her hand to help him sit back. 

But he doesn’t want to go back and mingle with the people he hates. He wants to be alone with her, if it is just to stay motionless on this rug in her company. He takes her hand and sits back up, and their eyes lock again, and they stare at each other, and he’s wondering if he’s hallucinating someone so perfect to help him cope with this emptiness he feels all the time. She absentmindedly licks her lips, taunting him, and he has to remind himself how to breathe, as his lips quirk hesitantly, sighing out loud to stop himself from pining her underneath him. 

‘Yeah,’ he stutters, like a fucking coward, and then he clears his throat and steadies his pulse and sternly instructs himself to get it together, dude. James would be laughing at him if he saw him right now. 

But they both stay there, motionless. He can feel the drugs running away from his bloodstream, he’s on another high now, another rush, and it has nothing to do with it. He can’t stop staring at her lips. Her expression washes over him in waves, and he pins a hesitant smile on his face, hoping it will distract her from the bulge growing down there.

‘Or we could just, you know, stay here for a while,’ she suggests.

For fuck’s sake. 

He’s only able to gulp and nod, his cock painfully growing thick through the fabric. He tries to hide the bump by placing his arm over his legs, but instead it catches her attention down there, and her eyes quickly spots it, but she innocently acts like she’s unaware of the effect she has on him. If he could only smack his lips on hers. 

Her emerald eyes are wide open, she leans in and presses her soft lips on his, and he’s never felt so relieved in his entire life, her mouth is warm and soft, and he can actually run his hands in her soft hair, and he can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and she actually lets out a discreet moan in his mouth, and fuck, there he is, gone, he knows there is no way back from there. 

He feels her hands slowly unbuckling his belt and removing those atrocious trousers, and he follows through, pulling up her dress to reveal her skin. He removes his shirt, he has dreamt all night to rip it off his body from the second he put it on, and now she’s pushing him on his back on the hard rug and places kisses in the crook of his neck, sliding her tongue all the way down, and he knows where she’s heading, but he can’t let her do that, or he’s going to cum already. He grabs her head softly, and while he’s busy sticking his tongue into her mouth, he’s unclasps her top, tosses it on the floor, and starts licking her round breasts, circling her hard nipples with his tongue. He realizes it is actually the first time he’s allowed to touch naked breasts, and Merlin, this is so much better when there’s no fabric covering them. 

He pins her small body under him, and he slowly moves down on her. He admires her ribcage moving up and down, and he can hears her heavy breathing, and he feels like he can’t hold it anymore. He runs his lips on her skin, down her stomach, to the birth of her underwear, pulling them down very gently. Sirius can’t believe he just met her a couple of hours ago; he feels like he has been desiring her for an eternity. There was a before her, and there’s now – and all the shit he’s been dealing with since school ended is now tucked away in the back of his mind. He caresses with his lips the soft bump between her legs, indulging the new sensation, and then just takes a mouthful of her sex. Her breathing stops, her ribcage is suspended for a second, and then she breathes out and grabs the back of his head while he tastes her. It’s sweet, and warm, and wet, and salty at the same time, and it’s so fucking good.

She’s squirming and writhing beneath him, her subtle moans amplifying. The gasps she makes sends sparks of unbearable pleasure through him, and he feels dizzy, like his heart is about to explode, ready to jump out of his chest at any moment. He slides one finger into her, and then another, and she spams around his fingers. He observes her perfect body tensing at his touch, cupping one breast with one hand while she orgasms into his mouth, her fluids mixing with his saliva. Her face is flushed and her pupils are dilated, and he could very well be on this high for the rest of his existence. But she places kisses on his lips, tasting herself on him, and his cock is so hard, he can’t help but groan when he feels her hand grabs his sex through the fabric of his underwear, slowly stroking him. It is pure torture.

He feels the small piece of clothing covering him sliding down his legs, and he kicks it on the floor. She stares at him in the eyes and licks her fingers, then moves her hand down there again, gently applying pressure on his hard-on. Sirius’ head tilt to the back, blood rushes through him. That is a different story when it’s someone’s else hand, isn’t? 

She lays down in front of him, and he follows her as she guides is cock at the entrance of her sex, and it’s so wet, how is he going to pull through? He’s shaking with apprehension but pure pleasure. She suddenly frowns.

‘Wait,’ she hesitates, ‘is this your first time?’

He nods. There’s so point in lying. 

‘Do you want to stop?’

Of course, he doesn’t want to stop. He shakes his head, and her face lits up. 

They kiss and he presses the tip of his cock into her, slowly, to get every sensation right, and he closes his eyes and, oh this feels so fucking good, and he can’t help but exhales of relief when he feels the warmth, and he hears her gasping underneath him. He’s sinking into her, and she pushes his length even farther by raising her hips. Why does it feel so good? He starts to pace inside her, like he has known what to do forever, increasing the tempo, and she moans under him. He moves swiftly now, trying with all his might to not just release himself off the pressure. She throws her head back into the rug, he feels sweat pearling at the birth of his forehead, his locks fall into his eyes, and he accelerates his pace and presses her legs on her stomach, and oh my god, this is even better. 

She presses her right hand on his chest, running her fingers over his hard stomach, avoiding the bruises, detailing each parcel of his body. She looks back up and pushes her lips on his, and their tongues meet, and he’s completely melting into her. She finally bucks her hips tightly and Sirius hisses, he can’t hold up anymore. Oh, he wants to hear her say his name – if only he had given his real one – but she lets a loud ‘fuck’ escape her mouth, and she’s damp with sweat, and he never seen something so beautiful, he slams into her harder and faster, he groans while his grip tightens around her delicate waist. He feels almost he’s in pain and something stronger than life itself is burning him; yes, he’s burning up down there, he can’t hold it anymore, his whole body is on fire, he glances at her one last time, and he lets out a guttural growl, while feeling his insides pushing his soul out, and for a short moment, he thinks he’s dying, spilling his warm seed into her, filling her up while’s he petrified, hanging between dream and reality, thinking his heart stopped beating. 

It is only half an hour later that he comes back to the manor, flustered and feeling out of his body, followed by Y/N. She’s even prettier under the warm lights, blushed cheeks, and he relives in his mind what just happened over and over again. That wasn’t bad for a first time, he thinks. 

‘Y/N! Papà has been looking for you forever, where were you?’, a young girl is staring at her. 

She shares similar traits with Y/N, but she looks younger, about Regulus’ age. Her arms are crossed, and she observes Sirius oddly, in a manner that makes him believe she can easily guess what Y/N was doing all the time they’ve been away. 

‘Where is he?’ asks Y/N. 

The young girl points at the host, the man he shook hands with earlier, speaking with Sirius’ father and a couple of older men in the corner of the room. 

‘Clara,’ mumbles Y/N with a threatening expression. ‘non dire niente a Papà.’

The young girl rolls her eyes and leaves them. Sirius frowns. Wait a minute, is this girl... 

‘Didn’t you tell me the host’s daughter was -’ he mumbles, feeling his hands becoming moist.

‘A pest,’ she smiles. ‘My sister.’ 

[bloody-bee-tea]

Survivor

Jiang Cheng is bone deep exhausted and the only thought on his mind is to finally get some sleep. He has endured his siblings fawning over him and healers from two different Sects checking him over even though he told them all again and again that he’s fine and now he just wants to sleep.

It’s been a long, long day.

The tiniest bit of tension seeps out of his shoulders when his tent comes into view and he releases a breath of relief when he finally steps into it, only for him to whip out Zidian when he realizes that there’s someone in here with him.

“It’s just me,” Nie Mingjue says, his hands raised, but staying right where he is and Jiang Cheng slumps.

“Don’t fucking do shit like that,” he snaps at him, because he’s tired and cranky and Nie Mingjue really should know better.

They are at war. You simply don’t sneak up on anyone but especially not on someone who has been ambushed that same day.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng wants to know as Nie Mingjue walks up to him.

“I was worried about you,” Nie Mingjue admits as he pulls Jiang Cheng into a hug and Jiang Cheng immediately melts into him.

It’s a good place to be, exhaustion be damned, and they stay like that for a long time.

“’m tired,” Jiang Cheng finally slurs out and he feels Nie Mingjue nod.

“We’ll get you to bed,” he says and gently pushes Jiang Cheng towards his bed. “Are you hurt?” he asks and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him.

“Shouldn’t you know? I seem to recall that besides my healers some other healers were there as well. I would think they reported back to their Sect Leader.”

He’s not really mad, despite the bite in his tone, but he nevertheless enjoys it when Nie Mingjue blushes slightly.

“I was worried,” he repeats, his tone defensive, and Jiang Cheng can’t deny that something warm and tingly unfurls in his chest.

“I was worried, too,” Jiang Cheng admits, because while he couldn’t say this to his siblings, he thinks that maybe he can tell Nie Mingjue about it.

He will understand.

“There was a moment where I thought—I was very worried,” Jiang Cheng whispers, and he tenses when he remembers the fight, the screams, the panic, the blood. So much blood.

It wasn’t his first fight, wasn’t even his fifth or tenth one, but it has never been this close.

“But you got them all out, right?” Nie Mingjue asks, coming up behind Jiang Cheng, hugging him to his chest.

“The healers are not sure if two of them will make it through the night,” Jiang Cheng chokes out and Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to his head.

“But you got them out. That’s what matters for now. You got all of them out of there alive. Now it’s up to them. But you gave them a chance. You’re a survivor,” Nie Mingjue lowly tells him and Jiang Cheng spins around in his arms to bury his face in his neck.

“It doesn’t feel like something I should be proud of,” he mutters. “They caught us off guard.”

“And you fought and you won. You made it out and they didn’t. That’s all that matters,” Nie Mingjue says again and Jiang Cheng notes the slight tremor in his voice.

When he pulls back to give Nie Mingjue a questioningly look he is completely caught off guard by the soft look on Nie Mingjue’s face.

“I was so worried,” he says, for the third time that evening and Jiang Cheng can’t help it, he simply has to pull him in for a kiss.

He was worried, too. Worried and terrified and angry and exhausted. But he knew he had to fight or they would all die, and so he fought as hard as he never did before.

And now he’s crashing.

“I need to sleep,” Jiang Cheng says when they part and it earns him a kiss to his cheekbone.

“Then we’ll sleep,” Nie Mingjue decides and swiftly gets Jiang Cheng out of his outer robe, before he strips himself.

Normally, this would lead to very fun activities, but Jiang Cheng is so tired he can barely even appreciate the fact that Nie Mingjue is mostly undressed in his own tent, and so he simply climbs into bed.

Nie Mingjue is right behind him and as soon as they laid down, he pulls Jiang Cheng into his chest again.

“I’m so glad you came back,” Nie Mingjue whispers into his hair and Jiang Cheng turns around again so that he can curl into Nie Mingjue’s chest.

“Me too,” Jiang Cheng says, pressing small kisses to every part of Nie Mingjue that he can reach.

Nie Mingjue presses kiss after kiss to his head and Jiang Cheng is exhausted enough that he almost immediately drifts off.

“I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you,” Nie Mingjue whispers, so quiet that Jiang Cheng almost misses it and his last conscious thought is that this doesn’t sound like they are just fuck-buddies anymore.

He falls asleep with a smile.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng knows what Nie Mingjue is going to say before he even opens his mouth. He can see it in his eyes, can see it in the way Nie Mingjue makes even more of an effort to stay straight and come off as stern, makes an effort to keep himself closed off and away from Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng isn’t quite sure when it happened but over the last few weeks he learned to read Nie Mingjue.

And what he reads now is going to break Jiang Cheng’s heart, he just knows it.

“I think we should end it here,” Nie Mingjue says, and despite how predictable it is, despite the fact that he expected this, Jiang Cheng’s world feels like it’s going to shatter.

“I see,” he still gives back despite how he’s working his jaw in an effort to not beg Nie Mingjue to not do this.

He will not beg anyone. And especially not Nie Mingjue when he so clearly doesn’t want Jiang Cheng anymore.

They both deserve better than that.

“It was a war fling. It happens, but it also ends,” Nie Mingjue goes on and even though Jiang Cheng promised himself he would be calm he can’t do it.

Not when Nie Mingjue sounds like this didn’t mean anything at all to him.

“I said I see,” he snaps at Nie Mingjue who falls silent. “I’m not stupid, and I’m not deaf. I heard you the first time.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue says but then he nods. “We’ll be fellow Sect Leaders then, and nothing more.”

“It’s not like you would have had time for me anyway, what with your two new brothers and all,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that he had hoped for a bond with Nie Mingjue himself.

A very different one than Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen now have with him but it’s very clear that that is never going to happen now.

Yunmeng Jiang will have to fend for themselves going on, just like they always did.

“I wish you the best,” Jiang Cheng forces himself to say before Nie Mingjue can say something to that, even though he feels like crying or screaming or both.

“If you need something—” Nie Mingjue starts, but Jiang Cheng cuts him off.

“Thank you for the kind offer, Sect Leader Nie,” he presses out, overly stiff and formal, and he forces himself into a bow. “Goodbye.”

He turns around without waiting for a response from Nie Mingjue and he has to clench his jaw to keep back the tears.

Jiang Cheng thought that they had a good thing, despite how it was first formed out of mutual terror of the war and grief for their lost people and pent up energy from the fights. He thought they had made something more of it, something that allowed for soft touches and sweet promises, but clearly he had been wrong. Naive and wrong, like always, Jiang Cheng scoffs at himself, because of course he would interpret something more into this when all it was to Nie Mingjue was a convenience.

And going on, Nie Mingjue won’t have much time for conveniences anymore, not with how he’s the hero of this war and with the new bonds he’ll have to form.

But it’s fine, it’s fine. Jiang Cheng will just—he’ll just go on, like he did numerous times already. 

If not even the death of his whole world could break him then a broken heart should be nothing.

It will be fine.

~*~*~

“Did something happen?” Jiang Yanli asks him when he sits down for dinner, clearly reading Jiang Cheng’s bad temper but Jiang Cheng really isn’t in the mood to lay out his stupid heartbreak to his sister, however understanding she would be.

It’s still too fresh.

“Where’s Wei Wuxian?” he instead snaps out, because he’s missing again and Jiang Cheng might have tolerated it when they were still at war, but that’s over now and Wei Wuxian will have to fall back into his role as Jiang Cheng’s second in command.

No more running off on his own.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Wei Wuxian calls out, lazily strolling into the room as if he has all the time in the world and it does nothing to lift Jiang Cheng’s mood.

“Where have you been?” he demands to know but Wei Wuxian only gives him that infuriating smile as he twirls his flute.

Jiang Cheng is too tired to even berate him over the lack of his sword.

“Here and there,” he gives back and Jiang Yanli hides her giggle behind her sleeve.

“And Lan Wangji?” she coyly asks and Jiang Cheng has to watch as his brother goes all suspiciously shifty.

“Ah, shijie, don’t be mean now. You know how nagging and annoying Lan Zhan can be,” Wei Wuxian says, but he doesn’t deny that he was with him.

And that’s enough for Jiang Cheng.

He will not have Lan Wangji of all people ruin his brother’s strenuous reputation any more.

“I am expecting a proper courtship,” Jiang Cheng says, effectively cutting whatever Wei Wuxian was about to say next off and Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he has to bite back a laugh when Wei Wuxian stares with wide eyes at him.

“A what now?” he repeats, because clearly his hearing took a turn for the worse and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“A proper courtship. I will not let Lan Wangji disrespect you like this. Either he is serious about this or he can stop right now.”

“But—Lan Zhan and I—what are you even talking about?” Wei Wuxian asks, trying to laugh his confusion off and Jiang Cheng frowns.

“Is he not serious about you?” he wonders, ready to get up and beat some sense into Lan Wangji, but Jiang Yanli’s hand on his arm stops him.

“A-Xian, is he not serious about you or are you not serious about him?” she asks and Jiang Cheng frowns, because that’s not even a possibility he entertained.

Wei Wuxian has been running after Lan Wangji since their time in the Cloud Recesses; if he wasn’t serious about him, he would have stopped long ago like he did with all his other infatuations.

“No one is serious about anyone!” Wei Wuxian exclaims all of a sudden and Jiang Cheng’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he breathes out, because he didn’t consider that they had a thing like he and Nie Mingjue did. “I see.”

“I don’t! Why would you even—it’s not like—no one is serious about this, right?” Wei Wuxian asks and his voice is suddenly very quiet and he looks pleadingly between Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng.

“A-Xian, it is rather obvious that Lan Wangji seems to be in love with you,” Jiang Yanli carefully says. “And going by your behaviour we just thought you are, too? Which clearly is fine, it’s just—A-Cheng is right. There should be a proper courtship.”

Wei Wuxian can’t seem to find his words at that, because he keeps staring at them, but finally Jiang Yanli’s words seem to have hit him. 

Wei Wuxian gasps and slaps his hand over his mouth, as tears fill his eyes.

“I love him,” he whispers and Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare incredulously at him.

“You didn’t know? How the hell could you not know, with how you’re running after him?”

“And he loves me?” Wei Wuxian goes on, as if he didn’t hear Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng wants to snap at him that the fact that Lan Wangji loves Wei Wuxian is even more obvious but he bites his tongue at the last moment.

He also thought that Nie Mingjue felt more for him than he clearly did, so maybe he isn’t in any position to judge here.

“Of course he loves you,” Jiang Yanli softly says and Jiang Cheng is not prepared for the blinding smile that breaks out on Wei Wuxian’s face.

He didn’t realize it before, but it’s been a long time since Wei Wuxian smiled like this.

One more reason to break Lan Wangji’s entire body, should he hurt Wei Wuxian.

“I have to go,” Wei Wuxian rushes out, already moving and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even have the heart to stop him.

“A courtship!” he still yells after him, because it’s important and Wei Wuxian is liable to forget.

“What an idiot,” he mutters once Wei Wuxian is gone and Jiang Yanli laughs.

“Blinded by love, is what he is,” she gives back with a wistful sigh and Jiang Cheng turns towards her.

If they already are at the topic—

“What about you and the pe—Jin Zixuan?” he wants to know.

Jiang Cheng will probably never like Jin Zixuan, especially not after the last stunt he pulled, but Jiang Yanli always had a soft spot for him and if she still wants to pursue a relationship with him, then Jiang Cheng will support her in this.

“It’s fine, A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli says with a smile but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

He’s tired of Jiang Yanli always doing what’s best for everyone else. 

“It’s not. It never was. Just tell me what you really want,” he insists and Jiang Yanli falls silent for a long moment.

“I always liked him,” she finally admits and while Jiang Cheng still wants to punch Jin Zixuan in the face, if this is what his sister wants then he’ll make it happen.

“But not like this. Not if he doesn’t like me back. I don’t want to be—” she bites back her words, but Jiang Cheng still knows what she wanted to say. 

It would be disrespectful to the dead though.

“I understand. We’ll do nothing for now, then. If he should show that he has a spine and actually knows how to appreciate you, we can talk about it,” Jiang Cheng decides and is not prepared for the proud look Jiang Yanli throws him.

“You’ve grown so much, A-Cheng,” she softly says and cups his cheek in her hand. “But you should have someone at your side as well.”

“I have you and Wei Wuxian,” he immediately gives back, even though he’s sure that’s not quite what Jiang Yanli means.

“Don’t misunderstand me on purpose,” she gently chides him. “You know what I mean. You should have someone you love and who loves you in return.”

It hits a little bit too close, with how recently Nie Mingjue told him to break it off, and Jiang Cheng jerks his head away from her because he can’t quite hide the bitter twist of his mouth.

“Don’t,” he begs his sister, because he’s not ready to talk about this, not ready to admit that he thought he had that already.

“What about Nie Mingjue?” his sister relentlessly goes on. “I thought it looked like there was something between you. You’ve been meeting frequently.”

“You thought wrong,” he snaps at her and then immediately feels bad when she flinches at his angry tone. “You thought wrong,” he says again, much quieter this time and understanding washes over her face.

“Oh, A-Cheng, I’m sorry,” she says and pulls him into a hug. 

Jiang Cheng promised himself that he wouldn’t cry over Nie Mingjue—he needs to be strong and composed for his people—but he can’t remember those reasons when he’s safely in his sister’s arms.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng doesn’t see Wei Wuxian until the next morning, but he has Lan Wangji in tow, who does propose a proper courtship between him and Wei Wuxian, so Jiang Cheng chalks that off as a success.

He allows Lan Wangji to court his right hand man, of course, mostly because he truly wants to see Wei Wuxian happy, but also because it means the Lan Sect can’t quite openly go against them. Jiang Cheng will take any little advantage he can get.

He hates that he has to see Nie Mingjue at the banquet that evening, but he somehow manages a polite bow, before he turns away from him and then he tries to not look at him all night.

It’s harder than it should be and when Jin Guangshan gets up to say something unpleasant, Jiang Cheng is almost grateful for it.

He re-evaluates that when Jin Guangshan brings up a new betrothal between Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. Jiang Cheng is glad he talked about this with his sister just yesterday, because he feels so much better shutting Jin Guangshan down now, especially when he can announce Wei Wuxian’s and Lan Wangji’s courtship in the same moment.

That, at least, gets Jin Guangshan to shut up for a while.

Jiang Cheng pretends he doesn’t see the small smile on Nie Mingjue’s face, because it doesn’t only hurt, it also brings out something bitter and mean in Jiang Cheng.

He turns away before the sneer can make it to his face. It does nothing to hide his pain, though.

~*~*~

When Wei Wuxian comes across Wen Qing, he has enough trust in Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng to ask for help before he blows up in everyone’s faces.

Jiang Cheng can’t bring himself to accept them into Yunmeng Jiang, no matter how sorry he is about it and how he can’t quite meet Wen Qing’s eyes when he tells them that, but Lan Wangji promises that he’ll settle them in Gusu Lan, since no one trusts Jin Guangshan when he tells them he can take care of them.

Jiang Cheng didn’t even dare to ask Nie Mingjue for help, and he excuses that with the fact that Lan Wangji offered and that Wei Wuxian was due for a stay there anyway.

He can help them get settled before he and Lan Wangji return to Lotus Pier and it will all work out fine.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng can’t quite hide his surprise when Jin Zixuan is led into the conference room.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng snaps at him, because he’s not really over how this guy treated his sister and even her reassuring presence at his side does nothing to help calm him down.

“I’m here to—” Jin Zixuan starts and then trails off, his eyes apparently caught by Jiang Yanli.

“Apologise, I hope,” Jiang Cheng finishes for him, because that is the only reason he will excuse his unannounced visit.

“That, yes. And make amends. And—maybe start new?” Jin Zixuan awkwardly finishes and Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrows.

“You want to start new with my sister,” he warningly says, barely believing the gall this guy has.

“If the lady wants it, of course,” Jin Zixuan hastily adds, falling into a deep bow and it allows Jiang Cheng to roll his eyes as Jiang Yanli tries to swallow her giggles.

“A-Cheng,” she says when Jiang Cheng leaves Jin Zixuan in the bow for longer than is really necessary, but he can’t help it.

That guy made his sister cry. He can grovel for a while.

“A-jie,” he questioningly asks, but of course she’s already on her way to Jin Zixuan to ease him out of his bow.

“Where’s your entourage?” she asks him but Jin Zixuan just shakes his head, going bright red in the face.

“There’s only Mianmian,” he tells them and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes again.

“Did you at least leave a letter at home?” he wants to know, because he’s not keen on having the Jin Sect accuse him of stealing Jin Zixuan away.

“I left it in my mother’s room. She should have read it by now,” Jin Zixuan gives back and Jiang Cheng sighs.

It’s clear that Jiang Yanli wants to give him another chance and as long as he behaves Jiang Cheng is willing to give that to his sister.

“Fine. You can stay. But if you even so much as stick one toe out of line, you’re gone again,” he promises him and Jin Zixuan’s hair flies, he’s nodding so hard.

Jiang Cheng just hopes that he’ll do better this time around. His sister deserves some happiness, too.

~*~*~

When Lan Wangji writes him that he and Wei Wuxian are on their way to Lotus Pier, bringing Wen Qing and Wen Ning, dread settles in Jiang Cheng’s gut.

The letter speaks of something urgent, something they have to discuss, something Jiang Cheng needs to know, and he’s not looking forward to that conversation no matter what it is.

It turns out his instinct was right when he learns about Wei Wuxian’s core—his own now—and demonic cultivation and how it’s killing Wei Wuxian and how it could all still blow up in their faces.

That conversation rivals the one he had with Nie Mingjue in terms in how desperately he wants to forget it, but he pushes through anyway.

He has to figure out how to help his brother.

~*~*~

It’s almost to the day a year after the end of the Sunshot Campaign when Nie Huaisang arrives in Lotus Pier, with little fanfare and without anyone accompanying him.

It puts Jiang Cheng on edge, despite Wei Wuxian’s reminder that they all used to be friends.

He thinks he’s proven right when Nie Huaisang asks for a private audience, with just Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang greets him and Jiang Cheng let’s the bitterness get the better of him.

“That’s Jiang-zhongzhu to you,” he snaps out and immediately feels bad when Nie Huaisang flicks his fan open in a defensive motion.

“I am not my brother,” Nie Huaisang presses out before he sighs. “I hoped we are still friends,” he adds and it’s enough to make Jiang Cheng feel guilty.

“We are,” he gives back with a sigh of his own. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” Jiang Cheng apologizes and then invites Nie Huaisang to sit down with him.

“You’re stressed,” Nie Huaisang observes and Jiang Cheng snorts.

“I don’t have that many relations with the Nie’s,” Jiang Cheng gives back and Nie Huaisang winces.

“Yeah, that’s my brother’s fault,” he says and gives Jiang Cheng a meaningful look.

So he knows what they had. Great.

“What brings you here, Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, though he can already tell that he’s not going to like it much.

“I’m here because of my brother,” Nie Huaisang says and immediately proves Jiang Cheng right.

“I don’t talk to Nie-zhongzhu, in case you didn’t notice,” Jiang Cheng snaps out and Nie Huaisang laughs lightly.

“Oh, I definitely noticed. I especially noticed that you two stopped talking right after we won the war. He wouldn’t tell me why, though, until a few days ago.”

“It’s not that hard to figure out, Huaisang. He didn’t like me enough to keep talking to me,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug and he doesn’t even care that he sounds bitter.

He is bitter. Let Nie Huaisang know, what does he care.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Nie Huaisang says and hides behind his fan again. “Though it’s what he said to me as well. It’s a lie though.”

That makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

“What?”

“It’s a lie. He wouldn’t tell me the real reason until a few days ago, when he suffered a qi deviation. Not enough to kill him or even seriously injure him, but. It was still bad,” Nie Huaisang lowly says and Jiang Cheng can’t help the worry in his gut.

He wishes he could have just forgotten Nie Mingjue, could have found someone else to give all these feelings to, but he still wakes up more nights than not, searching for someone in his bed who is no longer there and hasn’t been for longer than he could ever be found in Jiang Cheng’s bed in the first place.

Sometimes he scoffs at himself for how ridiculous it is to keep wishing for something that was just such a brief moment in his life, but he can’t help it.

He loves Nie Mingjue, still, and it hurts. It never stopped.

“How is he?” Jiang Cheng forces himself to ask, because he can’t even imagine anything happening to Nie Mingjue or it will drive him insane.

“Not too well. Shaken, like we all are,” Nie Huaisang admits. “But it brought out some truths. He’s dying, Wanyin. He’s dying and he knew it a year ago. It’s the reason he broke up with you.”

Jiang Cheng blinks a few times because that is just too much information at once. His stomach drops when he registers that Nie Mingjue is apparently dying but his heart picks up when he thinks about how Nie Huaisang refers to their split as a break up.

“We never were enough to actually break up,” Jiang Cheng forces out, because he needs to make that clear right away.

“Yes, you were,” Nie Huaisang gives back without hesitation. “My brother loved you, I could see it back then and I can see it still. He’s still heartbroken, but he thinks he did you a favour. He has accepted that he’s going to die.”

That doesn’t sound right. He hasn’t seen or spoken to Nie Mingjue in a year now, but he doesn’t strike him as someone who would simply accept death as the inevitable outcome.

“Why would he?”

“It’s a family thing and no one could find a solution yet. Er-ge is trying with musical cultivation but I’m not sure how well that’s going. But Wanyin, please, that’s not—we can talk about this later. Did you hear what else I said? He loves you.”

Jiang Cheng did actually hear that, he just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that, even though his heart is telling him very clearly what to do.

“I heard you,” he whispers, though it’s still hard to believe.

Nie Mingjue didn’t look like he loved him when he told him they should end it.

“What are you going to do about it?” Nie Huaisang wants to know and Jiang Cheng huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

“Are you here because I you think I can help your brother?”

“Well—” Nie Huaisang drawls out but then he shakes his head when Jiang Cheng throws him a look. “Not only, okay? Yes, if you are inclined to help, that would be great, I don’t actually want da-ge to die. But I also just want him to be happy, no matter if you can help or not. I didn’t know why he broke up with you but now I do and it’s just so—so stupid! And I’ve been talking to Wei Wuxian a bit and Jin Zixuan too, and they said you don’t seem to be happy or looking for someone else and I just thought you both deserved to be happy.”

Jiang Cheng can do nothing but gape at him, because he didn’t actually think Nie Huaisang cared that much but it seems he was wrong.

“He—loves me still?” Jiang Cheng manages to ask and his heart does a funny thing when Nie Huaisang nods.

“What about you?” Nie Huaisang lowly asks and Jiang Cheng can’t meet his eyes.

He never admitted it before, not to his siblings and certainly not to Nie Mingjue, and it feels wrong to do so to Nie Huaisang now.

“I’ll come back with you,” he says instead of a real answer, but it seems like it’s answer enough anyway, because Nie Huaisang beams at him.

“I knew it,” he whispers but Jiang Cheng can’t find it in him to be mad at him for assuming.

Not if Nie Huaisang is assuming the truth.

~*~*~

“What are you doing here?” Nie Mingjue gruffly asks when Nie Huaisang pushes Jiang Cheng into his private room.

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to glare at the now closed door, but then he turns around to Nie Mingjue. Nie Huaisang has warned him, but Jiang Cheng is still surprised how shitty Nie Mingjue looks; he lost weight and there are circle under his eyes that weren’t even present during the war, when none of them got any good sleep, ever.

It really must eat away at him.

“I’m here to help,” Jiang Cheng says and before he can add that he’s here for maybe something more, too, Nie Mingjue abruptly turns away from him.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Nie Mingjue shortly tells him but Jiang Cheng will not be so easily brushed off.

“Bullshit,” he says and it startles Nie Mingjue enough to turn around to him.

“Excuse me?”

“I said bullshit, you heard me quite well,” Jiang Cheng repeats and angrily crosses his arms in front of his chest.

It’s not the first time since the war that he has seen Nie Mingjue, but it’s the first time that they are speaking like this and Jiang Cheng is more nervous than he would like to admit.

“Oh? And what are you going to do that my Sect hasn’t yet tried, huh?” Nie Mingjue bitingly asks, but Jiang Cheng isn’t fazed by that.

“We found a way to deal with Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation. We found a way to restore a destroyed core. I think we can find a solution for your qi deviation problem,” Jiang Cheng gives back, matching Nie Mingjue in tone and he has to admit he enjoys the dumb-founded look on his face.

“You did what?” Nie Mingjue breathes out. “Restoring a core is impossible.”

“So is transplanting a core but here I am, core and all. I think between Wen Qing’s genius, Wei Wuxian’s unorthodox thinking and my stubbornness, we can make it work.”

“You have a transplanted core?” Nie Mingjue asks, frown on his face but Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that we can most likely help you.”

“Most likely,” Nie Mingjue tonelessly gives back.

“Do not be like that,” Jiang Cheng warns him. “Do not reject this opportunity just because it might not work. There’s more chance that it will.”

“But you can’t promise it,” Nie Mingjue says and it sounds so final, as if he’s already made his peace with dying.

Jiang Cheng would even believe it if he wouldn’t look so haunted.

“No one can promise that and yet we still go out on night hunts,” he gives back, because he will not allow Nie Mingjue to reject this chance.

“That’s different,” Nie Mingjue says but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“It’s not,” he says but he can see how Nie Mingjue closes himself off. “Do you really want Nie Huaisang to watch you die without even trying?”

That brings Nie Mingjue up short.

“You talked to Huaisang.”

“Yes. And he had some interesting things to say, besides the fact that you have qi deviations,” Jiang Cheng says and now the nerves settle back in.

It’s one thing to have Nie Huaisang tell him that Nie Mingjue still loves him. It’s another to confront Nie Mingjue about it.

“That little rascal,” Nie Mingjue mutters under his breath. “It doesn’t matter,” he then says louder and Jiang Cheng stomach drops, though he doesn’t allow it to crush him, not like the last time they talked.

He likes to think he has grown as a person.

“Doesn’t it?”

“I am dying. You already lost so much. I’m not going to add to that,” Nie Mingjue says, though he can’t quite meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes as he does.

Jiang Cheng can even see where he’s coming from, but it doesn’t change the fact that Nie Mingjue broke his heart a year ago.

“You could have just been honest,” Jiang Cheng lowly says. “And you could let me help now.”

“What if it doesn’t work? What if we—try, all of it, and it doesn’t work?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng can see how scared he truly is.

“Then at least we tried,” Jiang Cheng says and he decides to be brave and bold and he simply steps forwards and hugs Nie Mingjue. “At least I know I tried everything I could. At least we’ll have however long the tries will give us. It’s better than nothing, than knowing we could have done something—could have been something—but didn’t dare to take that step.”

Nie Mingjue is completely rigid in his arms but Jiang Cheng is not going to let him go so easily. He believed Nie Mingjue’s lies once; he’s not going to do it again.

“Let us try,” Jiang Cheng whispers after a long moment and Nie Mingjue slumps in his arms.

“I didn’t think you’d—I wasn’t very nice,” Nie Mingjue admits and Jiang Cheng has to snort at that, because it’s a bit of an understatement.

“You broke my heart,” Jiang Cheng admits and he can feel how Nie Mingjue jerks. “It—never really mended, either. I could never forget you. I still want—” he takes a deep breath.

He didn’t realize being honest would be so difficult.

“I still love you,” he forces out, because he will not let them walk away without being honest to each other this time.

The words barely left his mouth when Nie Mingjue’s arms come up around him and crush him to his chest.

“I’m so sorry for what I said back then,” Nie Mingjue mumbles into his hair and Jiang Cheng’s knees go a little bit weak when he realizes what this means.

What Nie Mingjue feels for him.

“It hurt,” Jiang Cheng admits and Nie Mingjue makes a pained noise. “I see now why you did it, back then, even though I truly don’t like it or think it was the right decision,” Jiang Cheng says and he frowns when Nie Mingjue pushes him away.

His face goes soft when Nie Mingjue cups his cheek in his hand.

“You’ve grown so much,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng flushes when he hears the awe in his voice. “And I love you,” Nie Mingjue tells him, before he leans in for a kiss.

Jiang Cheng falls into it—he didn’t realize how much he truly missed Nie Mingjue—but it ends all too soon.

“I will accept your help,” Nie Mingjue mumbles against his lips and Jiang Cheng huffs out a laugh.

“You better accept my courtship too, you buffoon, because I’ll not let you get away a second time,” he decides and watches as Nie Mingjue blinks at him.

“We don’t know if you can find a solution,” he cautiously says but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter if we do or don’t,” he tells him, even though just the thought of Nie Mingjue dying is almost killing him. “I want this with you, regardless of that.”

“You’re always so much stronger than I give you credit for,” Nie Mingjue mumbles and rests their foreheads together.

“You better remember that,” Jiang Cheng warns him, because if he has to he will out-stubborn death itself for Nie Mingjue.

“I promise,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng believes him.

And now that they managed to take this step, Jiang Cheng is going to make Nie Mingjue live long enough to grow tired of him.

(It never happens; they both cultivate to immortality and Nie Mingjue regularly teases Jiang Cheng that he’s still waiting for the day when he gets tired of his husband, his heart, his entire world. Jiang Cheng never really learns to handle that and he never grows out of his blush.)

Jin Zixuan courts the hell out of Jiang Yanli and decides to stay in Lotus Pier and marry in instead, since Jin Guangyao is such a perfect heir anyways. It curbs Jin Guangyao's more murderous urges. Mianmian accompanies Wangxian to the Wen establishment in Gusu and never quite leaves again before she becomes the Second Lady Wen. Wangxian still adopt A-Yuan. Xuanli still get A-Ling.

Everyone lives and no one dies because I said so.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[weelittleweasley]

masquerade (d.m.)

prompt as requested by anon: draco malfoy was your rival in slytherin house. both of you ambitious, bold, and daring. as one of the few pureblood slytherin families left, you promised yourself that you would continue your lineage, but not with scum like malfoy. instead, you would meet a suitor at the annual masquerade ball hosted by the malfoys each year. but what if your prospective suitor is someone you didn’t expect...

pairing: draco malfoy x fem! pureblood slytherin reader

warnings: language

word count: 8.7k

author’s note: let’s say this takes place around 7th year (no voldy) right after the reader’s 18th birthday. also--i took the liberty of naming the reader’s parents just for sake of making things less confusing. 

you guys...would you want a second part to this? i may have an idea for a sequel? depends on how you all like it, but this...kinda went hard ngl

here is a playlist that i found on spotify that works well with the fic! credits to owner! 

Rivalry; nothing like it. It gave you a reason to work harder, faster, and stronger than your rival. You were taught at a very young age that you should never surrender to someone who tries to make you feel inferior. And you took that to heart throughout your time at Hogwarts. You fought wisely with your charisma and charm, earning you the highest marks at school. You were a prefect, one of the top five students in your graduating class, and you were already making plans for your future. 

But that didn’t mean that there weren’t any challenges in your way. Many obstacles stood in your path of achieving greatness. One of those obstacles named Draco Malfoy. The two of you came from pureblood Slytherin families who had been fighting for power that dated back hundreds of years. That only meant that when you both entered Hogwarts in the same year, you had a rival to beat. But Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew how to keep up with you, sometimes surpassing you. Draco was also a prefect alongside you, one place higher than you in your class ranking, and not to mention, Professor Snape’s favorite student.

It drove you ballistic that no matter what you did, you couldn’t outsmart Malfoy. He was always one step ahead of you. He anticipated your every move as if he had studied you for years. But you had something on your side that Draco didn’t expect; divine feminine energy.

You would never fall for Malfoy, not in a million years. But that was exactly the point. Use what you have that Draco wants to your advantage. Your mother always told you that women had the energy of a thousand suns in their eyes and could burn anyone they wanted with just a stare. So that’s exactly what you did throughout Hogwarts. Burn Malfoy.

With just a look in the halls, you would set the boy on fire. With rage, with envy, with frustration, and with passion. You wanted no more but to see the boy fail. But failure wasn’t in Draco’s vocabulary. Needless to say, your time at Hogwarts became full of push and pull between the both of you. A rivalry of the ages.

It was exhausting, being tasked with rivalry at school, but you were thankful when winter break rolled around. You sat in your family’s manor house, the roaring fireplace in front of you as you read an alluring book. The crackling fire warmed up your chilly toes as a green velvet blanket rested over your shoulders. During break, you didn’t have to worry about Malfoy or his every move. You could enjoy yourself. 

As you read, you can hear the footsteps of someone descending the stairs. “(Y/N), dear,” your mother’s voice calls out. 

“In the drawing room, Mother!” you call back.

Soon enough, there your mother was, looking regal as ever as you smiled. Your mother was truly a force to be reckoned with. She stood in front of you, in a beautiful black gown, trimmed with gold and silver, your family crest embroidered above her left breast. Her hair was styled away from her face to reveal her youthful looking face. She was stunning to say the least. “I have news, darling,” she smiles, approaching you before taking a spot on the loveseat that you rested on.

You close your book and smile as you mother sits behind you, combing through your hair, something you always found relaxing. “I hope it’s good news, I could use some,” you tease her, earning a small giggle.

As she combs through your hair with her fingers, she speaks, “As you know, the annual masquerade ball occurs around this time of year.” You remembered watching your parents get ready for the ball as a child. You would sit next to your mother’s vanity and watch her delicately make up her face as her ladies’ maid did her hair. Your mother always wore a beautiful gown from the finest silk, adorned with jewels or lace or whatever she fancied. You remember your father told your mother she could get whatever she liked; your father wanted nothing but your mother to be satisfied. “The ball is open to any pureblood Slytherin who has reached the age of eighteen. And since you’ve have your eighteenth birthday not too long ago, you are eligible to attend,” you can hear the excitement in your mother’s voice. It had always been her dream to see you attend the ball. And yours to attend it.

You smile widely, “I’m delighted. We’ll need to contact the seamstress now if I want a dress in time.”

Chuckling, your mother places her hands on your shoulder. “Yes, yes, dear. But before we talk about what you are wearing, we must discuss the details,” she informs as you sigh. You just wanted to get to the fun part. “The masquerade ball is not just a party, but a tradition. The ball was made for young pureblood Slytherins to meet each other blindly and find a prospective partner for marriage,” you mother reveals as your heart stops.

A partner for marriage? You had just turned eighteen and now you had to think about a partner? You hadn’t even graduated from Hogwarts yet.

But before you can protest the thought of courtship, your mother adds, “It’s how your father and I met in fact. We had danced the whole night and at the end of the ball, he took off my mask and we realized that we knew each other already. He was my partner in my potion’s class at Hogwarts.” She smiles at the memory. “Now, I’m not saying you need to find a fiancé, but it would be nice to be open to it. It’s tradition.”

The thought of finding a fiancé at the ball made your mind reel and your heart race. Sure, the tradition was old, but there was something romantic about it. Especially since that’s how your parents found each other. You nod your head, “Of course, Mother.”

Your mother presses a kiss to the top of your head. She opens her mouth to speak, but instead you hear another voice. “There are some fine suitors attending the ball this year,” your father speaks. He walked into the room a teasing smile on his face as you roll your eyes. “Let’s not overwhelm our daughter with the prospect that she might find her future partner, shall we, Porpentina?” your father tells your mother.

She simply sighs, “Let’s not rule it out though, Samuel. Anything can happen.”

Your father walks over to the two of you, a handsome smile on his face as he shakes his head. Your father was the smartest man you’ve ever met. He always led with logic and had a rational brain. But when it came to you, your father was putty. He loved spoiling his only child, his daughter. “Anyway, I’m glad that you’ve decided to come to ball, my dear,” your father beams as your mother squeezes your shoulders. “I’ll let Lucius and Narcissa know,” he looks to your mother with a nod.

“Wait, Lucius and Narcissa?” you freeze. Malfoy’s. “Are they coming to the ball as well? Will Draco be in attendance?” you interrogate.

Your father chuckles, “Well, I would hope so since they host the ball every year, dearest.” You scoff and let your mouth fall open. Since when was your family alright with the Malfoy's? Last time you were aware, your families despised one another. “I know, it’s strange, but over the last few years, our families have been able to be more level headed with each other. Lucius is still a fucking prick, but he’s been more tame,” your father huffs, making you laugh a bit. “But yes, Draco will be at the ball.”

You immediately rise from your seat on the hardwood floor. “Then I’m not going,” you state as your mother stares at you confused. “You know how much I hate that pretentious, loathsome boy since I stepped foot in Hogwarts. He’s rude and spiteful and inconsiderate and vile. I refuse to voluntarily be in the same room as him whilst I am supposed to be enjoying winter break. I simply refuse.”

Springing to her feet, your mother tries to reason with you. “Think about it, darling. It’s a masquerade ball. You won’t even recognize Draco. He’ll be in costume as well as everyone else. You won’t even know who is who. It’ll be a night to remember, I promise you,” your mother speaks, rubbing your arms. “Besides, I already called the seamstress and she has a beautiful design that she has custom made for you,” she wiggles her brows.

The thought of attending the ball still did excite you. Live orchestral music, beautiful gowns, champagne in golden flutes. It all sounded so regal. How could you let Draco Malfoy stand in the way of your fun? Besides, the chances of you stumbling upon Draco were slim. Sighing, you surrender, “Alright, fine. But if I so much as smell Draco Malfoy, you won’t hear the end of it.”

---------

Meanwhile, Draco stood beside his mother as servants and maids and butlers ran through the Malfoy Manor, carrying fine china, silverware, champagne flutes, and the finest decorations from around the world to decorate the manor in time for the ball. To the common person, this would all be so fantastic to watch. People decorating the manor in golds and greens, preparing for the quickly approaching festivities. But to Draco, this was normal. All the glamor and the splendor was just another day. 

Narcissa holds her son’s arm, linked with hers as she sighs, “Your first masquerade ball. You’ve grown up so quickly, my darling.” Narcissa smiles at her son inspecting his grown face. Where did her child go? All she saw was a fine man. 

Draco smiles kindly at his gentle mother. “I’m not being shipped away, Mother. It’s just a ball,” he laughs, giving her hand a squeeze. “Besides, I don’t expect to find a potential wife at the ball like Father believes...” he trails off.

The thought of marriage made Draco’s stomach churn. It wasn’t like he had a choice. Lucius Malfoy expected Draco to find a wife and a wife soon. Even though the boy hadn’t graduated, Lucius wanted to know that the Malfoy name would continue on for generations to come. He needed to ensure that his boyish son found another pureblood and produced an heir to the Malfoy name. 

Narcissa looks sadly at her son. She wanted nothing but the best for him, but also wanted the same as her husband. “Draco, dear, you know how important this ball is to your father and I. There are some perfectly sweet, beautiful girls in attendance to the ball tomorrow. What about Pansy Parkinson? Pureblood, Slytherin, comes from wealth,” Narcissa starts.

“What about her obnoxious personality or obsessive nature? Parkinson is a hard no,” Draco dismisses the notion. “Who else?”

Narcissa thinks, “The Greengrasses! Daphne will be in attendance since she just turned eighteen. Her younger sister still has a few more years before she can attend.”

Draco shakes his head, “Daphne is a good friend. It would be awkward.” Narcissa sighs and laughs lightly. “Anyone else or am I stuck with Pansy?”

Mrs. Malfoy stays quiet for a while before bringing up the next name, knowing how touchy it is for her son. “Well, I received news yesterday of another pureblood Slytherin who just turned eighteen recently who will be in attendance...” she trails off as Draco looks at his mother, intrigued and curious. “Miss (Y/L/N) will be coming...”

Draco’s face then contorts with disgust. “You invited my biggest rival to the ball?” he exclaims. “Mother, you know how I feel about her! Merlin, at this point let’s invite Potter and his friends to really spice things up shall we?” he scoffs sarcastically.

Narcissa starts, “Draco, please. I know how you feel about (Y/N), but she is a pureblood Slytherin. Her family has money and power and a title. Maybe if something happened between you tw-”

“Nothing will happen between (Y/N) and I, Mother. So don’t get your hopes up,” Draco cuts his mother off who sadly sighs. Draco monitors her sad expression before he feels guilty for his outburst. “I just cannot see myself getting past my feelings for her as they are now,” he reasons with his mother, squeezing her hand as she sadly smiles. “But I did hear that you invited some Beauxbatons to the ball,” he wiggles his eyebrows as Narcissa rolls her eyes.

-----------

Standing in your room in front of the mirror, your ladies’ maid tightened your corset as you sucked in a breath. “Too tight?” she asks, scared that she hurt her master’s child.

“No, Lottie, just fine,” you smile at her as she ties the strings to the corset before taking your gown off of its hanger. “Lottie, can I ask you a question?” you ask as she helps you step into the gown. 

Lottie smiles, “Of course, my lady. What would you like to know?”

As Lottie shimmies the dress up your body, you speak, “When you met your husband, when did you know he was the right one for you? Was there a moment? Or something he said? Or was it love at first sight?”

You hold the dress up as Lottie makes her way to the back to zip it up. “It’s more of a feeling you get in your stomach, my lady. I knew my husband was the one because I felt like my stomach was doing flips and my head was reeling. There’s no feeling quite like it,” she tells you as you smile. Love was so complicated to you. You didn’t understand how it was supposed to work. You loved knowing that there were answers to almost every problem, but when it came to love, you were clueless of its answer. “Take a look, my lady.”

Looking into the mirror, you softly smile. The strapless gown was of emerald silk, hugging your chest beautiful as it came in at the waist as it cascaded down your long legs. It wasn’t puffy or poofy or full of tule. It was sleek and sexy and mature. Your hair was straightened, but pieces fell loosely in your face, framing it. Gold eyeshadow was swept across your eyelids and your lips wore a peachy pink gloss. It was perfect. “I love it,” you smile.

“You look simply stunning,” Lottie added. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their wife, my lady.”

You smile at Lottie, “Thank you, Lottie. Could you call my mother in please?” She curtsies before leaving you in your room. Nervously, you pace the floor, anxious for tonight’s events. Were you really expected to find a suitor? Who was  coming to the ball? Maybe someone from a different country? A bright, handsome wizard might sweep you off your feet and take you away. The thought made your heart race. 

Interrupting your thoughts, you hear a knock on the door before your mother enters. “Darling,” she sighs as you laugh. “There are no words to describe the way you look.”

You beam, “Thank you, Mother. I feel good, but I’m nervous.” She walks closer to you, concern on her face. “What if there is no one there for me? Even worse, what if there is someone there for me and I miss them?”

She shakes her head, “You cannot think of those things. (Y/N), I raised to be confident, powerful, and smart. And that’s exactly what you are plus more. Anyone with a brain and eyes will see how brilliant you are. No need to fret.” You exhale as she smiles at you. “I came in here to give you one last thing before we go,” she says as she reveals a gorgeous gold mask, adorned with pearls, diamonds, and emeralds. “It was mine when I went to my first masquerade ball. The same mask I wore when I met your father when I was eighteen. I thought that it might bring you some luck,” she tells you.

Tears start to well up in your eyes before you hug your mother tightly. “Thank you,” you whisper as she holds onto you tightly. “Thank you so much, Mom.”

Your mother gives you a squeeze. “I’m your mother. It’s what I do,” she says. “Now let’s put this on you and get ready to go. The ball waits for no one.”

-------------

The ball was already bustling and it had just begun a mere twenty minutes ago. Women and ladies wore beautiful gowns varying of colors and textures, adorned with jewels and precious stones. Men wore suits and capes, perfectly tailored, all very clean cut. But everyone wore a mask to conceal their identity. Each mask beautiful and intricate in design. Some masks covered their whole faces and parts of their head, other just the eyes, and some wore masks that covered their whole head. Everyone was anonymous and that just made your excited anxiety increase.

As you stepped into the Malfoy Manor, you took in your surroundings. Their home was lovely. Beautifully decorated in golds and silvers, accents of black and green. Huge diamond chandeliers came down from the ceilings and twinkled as light passed through it. A large orchestra was settled in the ballroom, playing the finest music your ears have ever heard. You swooned. This all felt like a dream. A very real dream.

At the foyer, you were greeted by a butler who took your coat and another who offered you a flute of golden champagne as you graciously accepted it with a smile and a soft thank you. Your heart fluttered as you examined the manor through your mask. 

“May I escort the two loveliest ladies into the ballroom?” your father speaks as he offers his arms to you and your mother. You smile widely at him before you made your way to the ballroom where the rest of the party was.

The ballroom was enchanting. The walls were golden adorned with the most gorgeous architecture you have ever seen. Painted ceilings of pastel colors with tall candelabras that illuminated them. The orchestra played passionately as couples ranged from ages eighteen to fifty danced across the floor, women’s dresses swaying with each elegant movement. 

Your eyes searched the dance floor, trying to see if you recognized someone’s body language or movements. But everyone looked unfamiliar to you. Almost as if there was a fog over your eyes. 

That’s when your question was answered. “There is a spell cast over the ballroom,” your mother speaks. “To ensure that no one recognizes each other until all masks are removed. When the clock strikes midnight, all masks are removed and everyone sees each other for who they truly are. Exciting, isn’t it?” your mother whispers as you smile.

It was truly a one of a kind experience. You stood and watched those who danced around you, quietly sipping on champagne. Your eyes drifted off to the sidelines as you looked at the people who were your age. Everyone looked beautiful. One girl wore a dress of ruby red and a large diamond necklace that hung gently from her neck as she made quiet chatter with what you assumed was her parents. Another boy wore a velvet suit of navy blue with shiny dress shoes. He quietly stood by himself, watching each and every lady in the room, watching out for who caught his attention. 

Every one of the age of eighteen was on a mission it seemed. These people wanted to find their partner for the night and potentially for their life. The stakes were high. It made your heart race and your adrenaline pump. Your competitive nature was coming over you; you couldn’t help it. You were determined to find someone tonight if it was the last thing you did. 

Suddenly, the music faded away and the sound of a clinking glass filled the room. “Good evening, esteemed guests,” a feminine voice called out. “Welcome to the annual masquerade ball!” she exclaims, earning claps from every corner of the ballroom. “As you all know, the ball is designed for young witches and wizards to find a partner. We welcome each of you with excitement for the journey that lies ahead of you. That being said, the time as come for the eligible witches and wizards to come onto the dance floor and mingle. Wizards, you may approach any witch who is eligible and ask to have a place on her dance card. Remember, do not tell each other of your names! The dances will begin in ten minutes, so get to talking!” Another cling resounds in the ballroom as eligible bachelorettes and bachelors flood the dance floor.

You turn to your parents and give them nervous eyes as your mother and father give you a warm smile. “You’ll be brilliant,” your father speaks as your mother grabs your champagne glass and hands you your dance card. 

With a deep breath, you shake your head and walk out to the dance floor. Your heart was thudding hard against your chest. The moment you stepped onto the floor, someone approached you. “Good evening,” the boy bows as you curtsy to him. “Might I say you look gorgeous this evening,” he compliments you.

You smile, “Thank you very much. You look very nice as well.” He wore a simple black suit and a green pocket square. The detail made you think he was definitely in Slytherin house. Was he in your year? Did you know him personally? Was it Malfoy? No, Malfoy wouldn’t be this kind to you. But then again, he didn’t know it was you. 

The boy speaks, “Could I have the pleasure of having a space on your dance card?” 

He seemed friendly and kind, there was no reason to say no. Maybe as you danced he would become more interesting. “I would be delighted,” you respond as you hand him your card. He strikes the card with two x’s before returning it to you.

“Thank you, my lady,” he bows before walking away quickly to the very next girl he laid eyes on. You were startled at how quickly you moved, but quickly realized he had prepared some sort of script to dance with as many women as possible before his time was up. Clever.

You continue to make your way around the ballroom, chatting to a few more suitors here and there. Some men you found more charming and clever than other, while others you found yourself bored of, politely dismissing their request for a place on your dance card. 

Glancing at the dance card tied around your wrist, you think to yourself about the gentlemen who asked for a space and you granted them the honor of a dance. The first space to the boy who wanted to ask every lady to a dance, the next to a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman with the deep voice, the next to a funny gentleman with a thick Scottish accent, and the last space empty. There was only two minutes left of the mingling before you were to dance with your suitors. 

Too distracted by your dance card, you bump into someone else’s body, making you stumble a bit. “Oh my days, I’m so sorry,” you apologize to the body in front of you.

You look up and meet a pair of ice blue eyes that seem to stare into your soul. Your heart stops in its chest as you suck in a breath. In that moment, it felt like the whole ballroom had stopped moving and it was just you two in time. The two of you said nothing and just looked at each other, deep into the other’s eyes. It was if the man in front of you’s eyes held all the secrets to the world. 

Clearing his throat, he speaks in a low tone, “No, I apologize. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You politely smile at him. “But in a way, I’m thankful that I wasn’t or else I wouldn’t have stumbled upon you,” he casually flirts making you blush.

The gentleman bows before you as you curtsy, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. It was like there was some sort of magnet between the two of you. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? You remember Lottie saying it should feel like there were butterflies flying around and your head should be fuzzy, but none of those sensations were happening. You just felt hot in your face and your palms were sweating, thank goodness for your long gloves. 

“I’m glad neither of us were paying attention,” you confess as he smirks. “You are much more interesting than what I was previously focused on.”

The mysterious suitor in front of you chuckles. “I can only hope that you have a spot for me saved on your dance card,” he speaks as you blush.

Teasingly you look at your dance card and fake gasp, “Well, would you look at that? One last spot saved for a special someone...” The gentleman chuckles again as he ticks off the last spot on your dance card.

He slips the card back around your wrist as you suck in a breath as he fingers touch you. “I look forward to our dance,” he bows as you reciprocate the gesture. “Until then, my lady.”

His eyes don’t leave yours until the very last moment as he walks away. You could swoon. He was charming, smooth, witty, and even though much of his face was concealed by his mask, you knew he was handsome. He just had to be. Your face felt hot and your mouth was dry. You knew that you would anxiously await him as your last dance.

With another few clinks against the glass, you are informed that it is time to start the dancing. But before people gather with their first partners, people run back over to where their parents were quietly observing. You excitedly scurry to your mother and father and small smile on your lips dancing as you approach them. Your mother smiles, “Anyone interesting?”

You don’t say a word and take a sip of the champagne that your father offered you. “I know that smile,” he beams. “Which one, darling?” You don’t speak. “Oh, tell us, dearest. We don’t know who any of them are, we are just as clueless as you.”

Sighing, you surrender. “The last gentleman. The one I bumped into.” Your mother scans the room, looking for him. “He has my interest the most out of all of them by far. If the dance goes well, I recon he’ll ask me to promenade outside,” you giggle as your mother joins you.

Your father speaks, “With a chaperone, I assume.” 

You roll your eyes as your mother slaps him on the arm. “She’s eighteen, Samuel. She can walk outside with a suitor. Besides, there is security all around the manor. She will be safe.” Your father sighs as your mother looks at you and hands you your lipgloss to reapply. “Go on. Have fun. Play the field, dearest. Remember what I taught you.”

“Yes, Mother,” you beam before heading back to the dance floor.

There, the first boy is waiting for you, his arm extended. You walk arm in arm to the dance floor as the orchestra begins to play a ballroom waltz. His arm is around your waist gently, his one hand holding onto yours as you begin to dance. “Is this your first masquerade ball?” he asks you.

You nod, “Yessir.”

He smiles, “So you’ve just turned eighteen I presume.” You nod again. “This is my fourth ball. I’m hoping to find my one and only here tonight. Do you think you have met yours?” he asks.

You are taken aback by his directness. “Um,” you stutter, “I’m not quite sure. I mean we’ve just met each other.”

He retorts, “Yes, but sometimes you just know, don’t you. You know what I mean?” His eyes are fixated on yours in a fashion that is full of anxiety and nerves as he anticipates your answer. His eyes have a tired look in them, but behind their exhaustion, there is hope.

You gulp, “Nope.” He furrows his brows. “But maybe another lady here understands what you are saying,” you remain hopeful for him as he sighs.

“I am hopeful,” he speaks. “That’s all we can be.”

Before you know it he spins you away and you land in the arms of your second suitor. The tall, dark, and handsome one. You smile as he smirks down at you. “Good evening, my lady,” he speaks in a deep tone that makes you feel like a school girl. “You are ravishing.” You kindly thank him. “So, are you here like everyone else? To find a partner?”

You speak, “I guess so. My parents would like me to be open to the idea of finding a suitor, but I’m still young. I would like to enjoy my time as a single, free woman of my age and status.”

He nods his head. “I see, I see. My parents want me to find a wife here tonight. Me on the other hand? I really don’t want anything serious. I’m just trying to find someone to shag to be quite honest with you. I’m too young to be tied down quite yet,” he reveals as your eyes widen. His eyes on the other hand remain fixated on yours, but aren’t afraid to wander to look around at the other women on the dance floor. You watch his eyes as they occasionally find another woman’s and he drops one of them into a wink. He was a flirt, couldn’t be tied down type. Bedroom eyes that wandered through several bedrooms type eyes. You’ve dealt with those eyes before and were not looking to deal with them again.

You agreed with him on the part of being free and not finding anything too serious, but just a person to have sex with? That wasn’t what you were looking for either. “I see,” you tell him as he winks through his mask. “I’m not quite sure I want something that casual. I am looking for something more consistent, a little more serious than just a shag. More emotional intimacy as well.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs. “It’s a shame. I found you quite attractive,” he sighs.

But before you can protest, he spins you away from him and into the arms of your next caller, the funny Scot. “Hello there,” he greets you as you meet his gaze. He wears a gentle smile with kind eyes. His eyes are soft and full of childlike wonder. It makes your heart swell to see someone with such eyes. 

You softly smile at him, “Hello again.” 

The two of you dance back and forth, making light chatter here and there, him sliding in a joke when he can, earning a few giggles from you as he smiles. “How has your night been so far?” he asks you. “Has anyone caught your eye yet?”

You sigh, “The night has been tame so far, but no complaints.” He nods. “As for someone catching my eye, I cannot lie,” you smile as his interest peaks. “There was someone I met who I have my last dance with.”

The Scotsman chuckles, “That’s all you can ask for, isn’t it?”

You join in his light laugher. “What about you? Have you met someone yet?” you ask him as you continue to waltz across the ballroom.

You can see a light rosy hue appear on his cheeks as he smiles. “I have indeed,” he looks across the ballroom as you follow his line of sight. And there she was, dancing with the man you were dancing with before. The same girl from earlier with the gorgeous ruby red gown. “She’s wonderful. And I’ve only spoken to her twice and no more than a total of six minutes.”

Giving his forearm a soft squeeze, you repeat his phrase, “That’s all you can ask for, isn’t it?” He smiles. Maybe you didn’t need a suitor out of the Scot, maybe he was a good friend. 

“In that case, we both don’t mind what I’m about to do,” he speaks.

And then he spun you around and off to your last dance. 

And that’s when your eyes meet.

You inhale sharply when his hand finds the small of your back and he takes your hand in his. His eyes were still that beautiful ice blue that stared right into your soul and made you want to tell him all of your deepest darkest secrets. Eyes that could tempt you into making the most dangerous decision. Eyes that could lure you into a trap, but a trap that you wouldn’t mind being stuck in. 

He breaks the silence first. “We meet again,” he smirks as you blush lightly. The two of you begin dancing as the orchestra swells with music, almost as if they waited to play the most enchanting music right now in this moment. The violins hum a hauntingly beautiful melody as the violas and cellos support the sound. The moment was more than you could ever ask for. “I must tell you, I loathe dancing,” he whispers, making you giggle. “But somehow,” he starts. “You make it feel alright. Not good, but alright.”

You lightly laugh, “I’m glad I can make dancing tolerable for you.” The two of you continue to dance, letting your gown sweep across the floor as the music crescendos. “How has your night been so far? Enjoying yourself?” you ask, curious to know where his mind was at. It had only been minutes but you wanted to know everything about the gentleman in front of you.

The gentleman sighs, “It’s been fine. Not particularly a huge fan of balls or dances. But so far, so good.” He drops his left eye in a wink. “And yourself? How have your other dances been?” he asks you.

You bite your lip and take a moment to think. Now was not the time to play a mind game with him, though you so easily could. But you let your heart get ahead of your head and speak, “None of them as good as compared to this one.” The gentleman laughs, turning away from you in order for you to not catch his delighted blush on his white cheeks. “And your other dances? Did they make dancing more or less tolerable?” you joke with him.

Before the gentleman answers, he looks at the ground with a small smile. He looks up at you and gulps. “I actually didn’t ask anyone else to dance. Just you,” he reveals, making you breath hitch in your throat. That was quite the confession. “No other lady caught my eye like you did.” You don’t turn away when you blush at his flirtations. His eyes stare into yours as your mouth runs dry. “You have the most captivating eyes.”

It felt like you were in a storybook in this moment. The way the orchestra played, how he held you tightly against his body, the way his eyes stared into yours. Your eyes harnessing the power and energy of a thousand suns, but his ice blue eyes able to tame the heat they gave off. Why did this feel so right?

“I don’t know if I should say this,” you start, “but I’m going to anyway.”

He laughs, “I love a girl who can speak her mind. Go on.”

You breathe, “I feel like I’ve known you forever. Like this isn’t our first time meeting. I feel like I’ve known you since the dawn of time.”

You can see him gulp and blink a few times. Did your words scare him? Were you too upfront with him? But before you can think of any more questions, he speaks, “It’s like you can read my mind.” You chuckle as he smiles. “I feel like I was supposed to meet you here, tonight, in this moment. Like this dance was...fate. And I don’t believe in fate.”

For the rest of your dance, no more words are spoken. The two of you just sway and dance to the orchestra that swells with beautiful music. You both gaze into each others eyes and watch the expressions that come across each others faces. With the occasional laugh here and there, absolutely nothing is said. Slowly, everyone around you begins to fade and it is just you two in the ballroom. Why was this happening? You prayed that this was a sign. A sign that this was right, he was right. But you didn’t get the feeling that Lottie was describing to you earlier in your room. Your heart was on fire and you felt like you were about to burst, but no stomach churning or head reeling. Instead, you felt like you were burning. Burning for this man. Burning for his touch. Burning for his attention. You could only hope he felt the same.

Before you know it, the orchestra finishes playing and everyone slowly stops dancing. The ballroom applauds the orchestra and you both join in, but don’t leave each others gazes. Soon enough, people begin to leave the dance floor to partake in other conversations or dance with other people or even promenade outside.

You smile at your gentleman and say, “Thank you for the dance. It was...magical to say the least.” You curtsy to him and turn away to go, but wished you didn’t have to.

Without even taking a step away, you feel him grab your hand. “Wait,” he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “Would you...would you like to go for a promenade with me? Outside on the grounds?”

Your heart skips a beat as you sigh and smile, causing him to smile back. He had his answer right there. “I would be more than delighted,” you confess. “One moment please,” you tell him before walking over to where your mother and father watched you in anxious anticipation.

“So?” your mother beams as you nod your head as she smiles. 

You had her your dance card and give your father a smile. “I’m going for a promenade outside with the last gentleman I danced with,” you beam as your father nods his head approvingly. “I will see you later,” you speak before walking back to your gentleman as he extends his arm to you. 

Your father holds onto your mother’s arm, “Porpentina, how our daughter has grown.” They watch you exit the french doors out of the ballroom and into the gardens of the Malfoy Manor.

Still arm in arm, your suitor speaks, “Now, I know we can’t reveal much of our identities to each other, but I would like to know more about you.” You smile at him, holding onto his arm tightly. “What’s your family like?”

Smiling as you think of your mother and father, you start, “They’re wonderful people. My mother has been my sun, moon, and stars since I could remember. She’s passionate and smart and powerful. She’s everything I want to be.” The gentleman smiles as you tell him of your mother. “My father is incredibly kind though many wouldn’t believe that because of what he does for a living,” you laugh. “But he’s my protector. He’s sacrificed so much for me and for my mother. He’s the best man I know.”

He squeezes your arm. “They sound lovely.” You squeeze his arm back to let him know that his sentiment is appreciated. “Any siblings?” You shake your head. “In that case, we are similar. I’m also an only child.”

“What about your parents? What are they like?” you question him next.

This earns a gulp and deep breath from him. “Well,” he starts. “My mother is kind-hearted. Braver than anyone I have ever met. She’s suffered a lot and continues to suffer just to protect me,” he confesses to you. “I’m sorry I know that’s a lot, but-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you cut him off, placing a hand on his. “She sounds remarkable. Please, continue.”

He smiles. “She is remarkable. The best woman I know.” You smile warmly at him. Your cheeks hurt so much from smiling. The gentleman takes a deep breath in before starting, “My father on the other hand. He’s a complex man. We’re not particularly close. But similar to your father, he protects me to the best of his ability. I’m not sure whether it’s out of love for his son or for some other selfish reason...probably the latter...” he trails off. You look at his face as it falls lightly. You feel for him. “But that’s beside the matter. I want to know more about you. What are your passions? What are your ambitions in life? What do you want to do with our lives that can be so fucking meaningless?” 

You laugh at his joke, crinkling your nose as you do so as he watches you contort your face in delight. He thought you looked beautiful when you laughed. “Well,” you catch your breath. “I want to do something that my family never did. I want to pursue a career when I can help people. Other people. And I have no benefit from it. I just want to help others in any way. When I was a child, I used to want to be a Healer. Then when I was a little older I wanted to be an Auror. But now I’m thinking about being a Healer again or maybe do some form of charity work and philanthropy? I don’t know. I have dreams, but I don’t know which ones to pursue.”

You look at the man beside you and he’s smiling from ear to ear. “It all sounds wonderful to me. You seems so selfless. I’m not used to it, I guess,” he confesses. “But whatever you chose, I know you’ll be brilliant.”

The two of you continue to chat and walk through the gardens, discussing future plans, hopes and dreams, and whatever comes to mind. Talking to this man felt like breathing. It was so easy. Conversation flowed like a channel of water. The conversation seemed never ending and you were perfectly fine with that. You had completely forgotten that you didn’t even know what this man’s name was, but to be honest, you didn’t care. You already knew so much about him from your conversations, you didn’t need to know something as silly as a name. 

You walk further and further through the garden until you come across a small area that was covered in rose bushes. It was a strange sight to see, beautiful roses in full bloom in the middle of winter, but with magic, anything was possible. As you walked closer, the masked gentleman plucked one from the bush and offered it to you as you graciously accepted. You continued to walk as he spoke, “There is a game called Rose, Bud, Thorn where you tell someone of the best part of your day, the worst part of your day, and something you are looking forward to. I want to hear yours.”

You nod, “Alright then. My thorn is having to wear this bloody fucking corset top all night,” he laughs at your comment. “My bud is taking said bloody corset off when I get home,” the two of you chuckle. “And my rose...I guess was meeting you,” you bump into his arm playfully. He smiles. “Your turn.”

He sighs, “Let’s see...my thorn is having to dance tonight.” You scoff. “Although, you did make it better...” he teases as you roll your eyes teasingly. “My rose is having the most beautiful, kind, and intelligent woman at this ball with me right now,” he breathes as you blush. “And my bud...” he turns to you as you take a gulp. His soothing icy blue eyes staring into yours made you shiver. “My bud will be taking off this bloody mask of yours and seeing your beautiful face.”

His face is so close to yours, you feel his breath against your lips. Your mouth his dry as you feel him moving closer and closer to your lips. His eyes look at your glossed lips before moving back to your eyes and inching closer and closer to you. Your heart was thumping out of your chest. This was all happening so fast, and yet you were alright with it?

But before he can kiss you, a guard interrupts. “All ball attendees must report inside as per the hosts’ request. It is almost midnight and time for the unmasking!” 

The gentleman in front of you sighs as he turns to the guard and gives him a dirty look. “So much for a romantic moment,” he huffs as you chuckle. He takes your hand in his as you both walk back to the inside of the Manor, retracing your steps. You are only a few paces away from inside when he speaks, “Those guards always know how to ruin a bloody moment of mine.”

You furrow your brows and chuckle, “What do you mean?”

“They always seem to catch me at the worst time to tell me something important,” he speaks as you remain confused. He notices your confusion and laughs. “This will all make sense in a moment.” You contort your face in confusion, but before you can ask any further questions the same woman who spoke at the beginning of the ball spoke again. “Welcome back! I hope you all had a lovely night full of mystery and romance,” she giggles. “But now the mystery is over.” Behind her, the clock strikes midnight and bongs. “The spell over the ballroom has been lifted and you may all remove your masks! Please reveal yourselves to each other!”

Slowly, people reveal their true identities and you start recognizing people from Hogwarts. The girl with the ruby red dress that the Scot took a liking too was Pansy Parkinson. So many other familiar faces are revealed as you chuckled. This really was a magical moment. 

Beside you, your mysterious man sighs. “Finally.” Your heart beats quickly as you turn to him, anticipating who the man behind the mask was. You hoped he was handsome like you had imagined him to be. Was it someone you knew? Maybe an old classmate? Maybe someone from Hogwarts? Who could it be?

Reaching behind his head, he pulls on the silk strings that hold his mask up. Gently he peels it off and runs his fingers through his styled hair. And that’s when your heart stops and drops into your stomach.

The platinum blonde hair, the icy cold, unforgiving eyes, the pink lips that curled into that smirk. It was all too familiar. All too familiar that it made your chest feel tight with venom and anger. How could you be so naive? How did you not remember those eyes? Those eyes that dug into yours. Those lips that spat such cruel and vile words at you when you were just children. 

It was Draco Malfoy.

You inhale a sharp jagged breath as he laughs. “I know, it’s strange, but I’m assuming things are starting to click for you. Especially with how I know the guards and why they let us into the rose garden. But it’s me. I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy,” he speaks with a smile. You feel like you are about to vomit.

Of course, how could you not notice the guards letting you both through the gardens without interruption or protest? How did you not notice his wave of a finger when you needed to be let through somewhere? How did you let him distract you? How did you let yourself become so captivated by the man you hated most in the world?

“I think it’s only fair if I see you now,” he chuckles, waiting for you to take off your mask. 

But instead of taking off your mask, you wanted to run. Run far away. Run so far and forget this whole night happened. Forget every word exchanged with Draco full of such adoration. This was a sick joke.

Draco notices your horror and he speaks, “Are you alright, darling?”

His nickname for you made your stomach churn. You felt ill.

You couldn’t look at him any longer. You turned away and began to swiftly walk away from him. “Wait, where are you going?” he asks as you weave through the crowd. “Please, don’t go!”

Your stomach was churning and your head was reeling. How could this have happened. Then it all clicks. Lottie’s words. My stomach felt like it was doing flips and my head was reeling. There was no way. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. You were in love with Draco fucking Malfoy. This was a nightmare.

That’s when his hand grabs your arm and flips you to look at him. “Where are you going?” he laughs as he looks at you. “Are you that surprised?” he asks with a smile as you just stand there, trying to catch your breath. His brows furrow. “Is there something wrong? Do we know each other?” he asks. “Take off your mask so I can see you, darling.”

In pure anger and frustration, you hastily sigh and undo the masks strings quickly before ripping it off your face to reveal your identity. The smile on Draco’s face instantly drops as he recognizes exactly who you are.

And there you were, two enemies standing in front of each other, glaring at each other in the middle of a ballroom, surrounded by other young couples who were falling in love. The two of you just burning holes into the other. The energy of a thousand suns trying to melt the ice that stared right back at it. Two sworn enemies now destined to fall in love. What a conundrum this was.

“Call me darling again and I’ll hex you, Malfoy,” you breath through pants of sheer anger.

Your stomach was still doing flips and your head continued to reel. Your face was flushed. How could Draco Malfoy and your masked gentleman be the same person? It was impossible. Your gentleman was kind and charming and witty and smart and thoughtful. Draco Malfoy was vile and rude and unkind and selfish and self absorbed and loathsome. There was no way you could be in love with a version of someone who you swore you would hate until you took your last breath.

Draco’s face slowly moves into a cautious one. “(Y/N),” he starts. “I swear I didn’t know it was you. I was just as clueless as you. You have to believe that I didn’t do this on purpose.”

You laugh, “I don’t believe a thing that comes out of your mouth. I was stupid to believe that I could fall for a person as disgusting and despicable as you.”

And with that, you march away from Draco, ignoring his calls out for you as you approach your mother and father. Once they see you, their expressions change from excitement to concern. Before anyone of them can ask what was wrong, you demand, “We are going home. Right now. I want to go home. Please. Can we go home?”

You feel a lump in your throat and your eyes become hot with tears. Your mother grabs your hand as your father pulls out his wand to apparate you back home. The last thing you hear before you leave the ball was Draco’s voice calling out for you to come back.

Before you know it, you are back in the comfort of your own home, face stained with tears as you run up the stairs to your room. You ignore your mother and father’s call to tell them what happened. You slam your bedroom door shut and lock it before letting the sob rake through your body, shaking you from the inside out.

You were foolish to believe you could find someone at a stupid ball. Those fucking masks. Making you believe someone was something they weren’t. It was all a lie. Smoke and mirrors. And you fell for it. You fell for Draco and there was nothing that you could do to forget it. 

You fell for a facade and you would have to live with that forever. How you were supposed to face him at Hogwarts was beyond your control.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hello! I saw a post that said your prompts are open, but if they’re not yet, please don’t worry about this. Anyway, if you’re interested, please take this ‘Wen Ruohan appoints Lan Wangji his next heir with being 1) impressed by him, or 2) bested by him’ Lan Wangji is less than thrilled about this

Modern AU

“I hate this,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “This is so dumb.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to enjoy being kidnapped,” Jiang Cheng said, his arms crossed over his chest. He was scowling. He hadn’t stopped scowling. Nobody blamed him one bit. “It’s not like it’s something that gets advertised in travel brochures or anything.”

“Listen, if it was like in the movies, it’d be one thing,” Wei Wuxian argued back. Lan Wangji suspected he was just arguing in order to hear himself speak, but since Lan Wangji also enjoyed hearing him speak, he didn’t mind. “Getting snatched into a van! Taken to a mysterious secondary location via plane! Villain monologues! Handcuffs! Zipties! Ropes! Chains!”

Lan Wangji wondered if Wei Wuxian had a thing for bondage. He would be okay with that.

Very okay with that.

“Wei Wuxian…” Jiang Cheng started.

“But noooooo, we don’t get jungles or the ‘most dangerous game’ or sexy people in skimpy swimsuits –”

Lan Wangji had a bathing suit. It wasn’t that skimpy, though.

“- we just get kidnapped by a deranged politician who’s decided that the best way to figure out who deserves to be his heir is via a stupid reality show!”

“I think it’s based on the Apprentice,” Nie Huaisang said from where he was sitting. “Possibly the Bachelor? I actually don’t watch that much reality television.”

“You watch the Great British Bake Off like a fiend,” Jiang Cheng pointed out.

“First, Great British Bake Off doesn’t count. Second, if this was a bake-off, your sister would win, instead of not even being here. Is that what you want?”

Both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian shuddered.

“So, we’re all in agreement that the goal is to lose, right?” Wei Wuxian said. “No one actually wants the job of being Wen Ruohan’s heir, right?”

Nods all around.

“Doesn’t he have kids already?” Jin Zixuan wondered.

“Wen Xu and Wen Chao,” Lan Wangji said shortly.

“…yeah, fair, I’d be looking elsewhere too. They’re pretty awful – dumb and dumber. But surely there’s someone else in the family…?”

“I think they’ve been disowned. Anyway, who would want power if it means putting up with Wen Ruohan?”

Nods all around a second time.

“How will this work?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Are there, like – contests?”

There were.

Stupid ones.

Lan Wangji did his utmost best to mess up the archery competition – archery? In this day and age? – but he wasn’t quite willing to turn around and wildly shoot backwards the way Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were doing, if only because the possibility of collateral damage made him shudder. He focused his arrows on a small corner just outside the target.

(Nie Huaisang’s arrows impressively did not reach the target even once. When asked how he had managed to pull that off despite being closely monitored to make sure he was actually trying, he proudly pointed to years of practice in fucking up his brother’s efforts at getting him to train.)

Lan Wangji was also incapable of getting a low score in the calligraphy competition, although Nie Huaisang shared in his misfortune there – being an artist did not necessarily translate to good penmanship, but in Nie Huaisang’s case it did – and naturally no one could quite compare to the atrocity that Wei Wuxian had created.

“It’s still recognizable as words, in my view,” Nie Huaisang declared after several minutes of close study. “So it should be fine to submit…you should really consider taking up abstract art, though. It’s quite nice, from that perspective.”

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said. “I think. Or was that an insult?”

The mathematics segment was even more disastrous for Lan Wangji – his uncle had brought him up with a strict prohibition against lying, including on test answers – and then they’d brought out music…

They didn’t even give Lan Wangji a chance to sabotage his chance, opting to just play a Youtube clip of one of his public performances on the guqin.

He was very, very good at guqin.

At least they’d done the same for Wei Wuxian and his flute – he ended up getting ranked first in music, even above Lan Wangji – but that wasn’t going to be enough to overcome his middle-of-the-road performances in the other subject.

“I think you’re going to win,” Jiang Cheng told Lan Wangji. “I’m very sorry. Seriously, and without sarcasm: I’m very, very sorry.”

Lan Wangji said nothing, but apparently his face managed to convey his misery effectively enough because Wei Wuxian came over and gave him a hug.

Lan Wangji enjoyed the hug, at least.

“Don’t worry,” Nie Huaisang said. He was fanning himself again – where did he even get a fan? Lan Wangji thought all three of the ones he’d seen Nie Huaisang pull out of his pockets had been confiscated, and surely there was a limit to how many “back-ups” a person plausibly needed – and reclining under the shade, having been thoroughly knocked out of the running during the physical portion of the competition. He hadn’t even had the courtesy to be concerned: he was, as always, secure in his uselessness. “We’ve been here for quite a while, haven’t we? Our families will be along soon enough to pick us up, and then we can forget all this.”

“What if they can’t, though?” Jiang Cheng said, wringing his hands. “I mean, we all hate him, he’s awful, yes, but he still has influence and power, for some unknown reason –”

“I still can’t believe there are people who support him. Least of all nearly half the cultivation world!”

“Less than half. Remember, we just counted.” 

“Yes, yes, I know, but still. Regardless, don’t worry – it’ll be fine.”

“Surely if our families were going to do something, they’d be here already?” Jin Zixuan asked.

Jiang Cheng pointed at him. “See? Even the peacock is worried!”

“Also, what if Wen Ruohan wants to keep Lan Wangji as his heir even after we’re rescued?” Wei Wuxian wanted to know. He looked worried, which Lan Wangji appreciated. “Listen, my future boyfriend and I are not going to live somewhere named something as classless and pretentious as the, and I quote, ‘Nightless City’, okay? I refuse.”

…future boyfriend?

“The Nightless City is a perfectly decent name,” Nie Huaisang said. “For a Bond villain. Which I’m not convinced Wen Ruohan isn’t.”

Boyfriend? As in – romantic partner boyfriend?

“A Bond villain wouldn’t be this stupid,” Jiang Cheng argued.

Wei Ying’s future boyfriend?

“I dunno,” Wei Wuxian said. “There were some real stinkers, especially in the 70s…”

Did he mean Lan Wangji?

“Can we get back on subject?” Jin Zixuan wanted to know. “Lan Wangji is on the verge of being selected to be Wen Ruohan’s heir, and I’m not sure that process doesn’t involve brainwashing at some point.”

Wait, why was it future boyfriend? Couldn’t they be boyfriends now?

“I would fight them first,” Wei Wuxian declared. “All of them. Immediately!”

“Or we could escape. I know the guards took our cell phones, but I pickpocketed Wen Zhuliu’s and the GPS says we’re actually just at a warehouse outside the city.”

“We’d need a distraction, though…”

“How about we release the giant turtle?”

“Wait, that thing in the moat is a turtle? I thought it was a snake.”

“I don’t know why you expect me to know anything about amphibians.”

“It’s not – they’re not even remotely – a snake has no legs! What is wrong with you people?!”

“Unrelated, but has anyone noticed that none of the girls got brought in? Isn’t that sexist?”

“Like Wen Ruohan being sexist is a surprise –”

“I still think we need to do something before he tries to adopt Lan Wangji –”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Lan Wangji asked Wei Wuxian, who blinked at him, and then beamed. “Or maybe make out in the corner while everyone’s arguing?”

That seemed like something they’d both enjoy.

It was, too, right up until someone did unleash the giant turtle, at which point it was mostly screaming and splashing and all of their families coming to their rescue at just the right time.

But Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were dating now, so overall, a good experience.

Well, mostly. Wen Ruohan sent him countless letters for the next two months asking him to consider coming back for an internship (to be paid in "experience" and "exposure", of course).

Lan Wangji burned them all.

[tennessoui]

Idk if you are still doing this. But 18 and 40?

i think you're my last one !!!

(all you need to know for this is that on monday i went to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and today i went to the Smithsonian museum of natural history)

18. Someone’s birthday + 40. “It’s just hard for me to forgive you after everything that’s happened.”

"You said you'd be polite," Padmé murmurs just loud enough for Anakin to hear. "Civil. I think your actual words were, 'Yeah of course, Padmé, I won't even look in his direction!'"

"This me being polite," her friend mumbles from next to her, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the lineloium of the floor.

"You glared at him so hard the second he came in that he didn't even approach me," Padmé points out, exasperated. "I'm the birthday girl! He came to see me!"

"You see each other all the time," Anakin defends gruffly, crossing his arms. "You work in the same building. Look even your exhibits are next to each other."

He gestures with a hand to the doors on the other side of the lobby. One reads Hall of Fossils--Deep Time. The other, straight ahead, reads Ocean Hall.

"First of all, you do know we don't actually work in those exhibits, right?" Padmé checks. "And second of all, with the new funding the Deep Ocean Exploration team has just gotten--"

Anakin cuts her off with an angry huff of derision. She hides her smile behind her glass of champagne as she takes a sip.

"Don't even get me started on that, Padmé. I don't understand at all how they chose deep ocean exploration over my team's proposal! I don't think I'll ever forgive him after everything that's happened now! You know we needed that funding! Our satellite designs are flawless! NASA approved, even! We could be out there now, exploring the galaxies! But Obi-Wan Kenobi says a few words about the fucking ocean and suddenly half the nation is putting on flippers and oxygen tanks?"

Padmé has to bite her lip to control her urge to burst out laughing at the angry, petulant expression on Anakin's face.

"I bet he slept with someone," Anakin mutters mutinously as Padme watches him watch Obi-Wan Kenobi move across the room, talking with party-guests and waitstaff interchangeably. The man, in an appropriately tailored and casual suit, throws his head back when he laughs at something someone says to him, and he pats her on the arm. Anakin's jaw flexes.

"I think it's quite telling that you think he's attractive enough to sleep his way into millions of dollars," she says, taking a sip of her champagne. "I can't think of a single fuck in my entire life worth that much money."

Anakin splutters and his face turns red. "That's not what I--" he gets out.

But Padmé has had enough of both of them pretending that they don't think the sun revolves around the other. As much as Anakin hasn't taken his eyes off of Obi-Wan since the man walked in, Obi-Wan has been shooting just as many surreptitious glances at Anakin when he thinks the blond-haired man is looking somewhere else.

It's been years of this. Two years exactly, actually, of Padmé in the middle of two men who are at each other's teeth professionally but can't seem to stay away from each other in their private lives. She's lost track of the amount of times the two of them have broken into deafening arguments over lunch or dinner or drinks because "We should be spending more resources on exploring space!" "Only 5% of the ocean has been explored!" "I can tell you what's down there! Fish!" "And I can tell you what's in space! Rocks!"

Padmé is, quite frankly, sick of it now. She'd like her life much more if her two friends could decide what exactly they wanted from each other. But no, they argue and hate each other when they're together, but she'll post a photo to her Instagram of her and Obi-Wan and a new intern, and Anakin will be texting her not even five minutes later, asking who that guy is and why he's holding Obi-Wan's waist in the photo. Or Anakin will publicly and loudly declare his intention to get back into the dating scene, and Padmé will spend the next two or so weeks fielding questions from Obi-Wan about if Anakin's found any space nerds to date, how those days may be going, if anyone's come back for seconds....

"You didn't let me finish," Padmé says quickly, when she catches Obi-Wan's eye and smiles at him, certain that this will get him to come over. "I was saying that with the new funding, Obi-Wan might not be working at the museum anymore."

Anakin freezes beside her. "What?" he breathes out.

"There's an open position in a research facility in Hawai'i. He's been tapped for it. I don't know really if he plans to accept yet..." she says leadingly, but it's pretty clear pretty quickly that Anakin isn't listening anymore.

"He never told me that," he says in a very small voice.

He sounds so unsure, hurt, that Padmé almost regrets what she's about to say. "Why would he?" she asks anyway. "You were just saying how you would never forgive him for winning the funding. This just be perfect for you. He leaves, you never have to see him again."

Anakin's eyebrows furrow and he looks confused. Hurt. Angry. The perfect expression for Obi-Wan's arrival in front of the pair of them.

"Padmé!" Obi-Wan smiles as he leans in and kisses her cheek. "Happy birthday! Amazing celebration, I cannot believe they allowed you to host it in the museum itself."

"Well, you only turn 35 once," she smiles at him.

Obi-Wan nods seriously with a teasing grin on his face. "Now you're old enough to run for president and everything."

She laughs. "Me? A head for politics? I'm not sure. But," she says slyly when it's very clear Anakin isn't going to say anything himself, too busy staring at the side of Obi-Wan's face with an intense, creepy sort of glare. "If anyone I know does, I think it'd be you. Ani and I were just talking about how they granted funding to your proposal the other day. Congratulations!"

"Thank you, thank you," Obi-Wan says graciously, but his smile has become fixed and his eyes dart over to Anakin.

Anakin, who decides to take this moment to figure out how to speak again. "When do you leave?" he asks in an angry, harsh tone. Padmé sighs to herself. She should have known a surprised and hurt Anakin turns to fury before he turns to acceptance, especially where Obi-Wan Kenobi is concerned.

"Pardon?" Obi-Wan asks politely, turning his body to face only Anakin. Padmé tries not to sigh again. She should be used to this, the way their eyesight narrows to only each other.

But on her birthday, really?

Anakin's jaw flexes as he gnashes his teeth together. There's nothing Ani hates more in the world than someone acting as if his question is a silly question.

That's not what Obi-Wan's doing of course, but Obi-Wan's done it enough in the past to rile Anakin up that Padmé can understand the confusion the astrophysicist is going through.

"To Hawai'i. Padmé said all your water money is gonna get you a fancy new position on the West Coast. Just wanted to know when you're going to go."

Padmé has half a mind to tell Obi-Wan that that is not, actually what she said, but Obi-Wan looks as if he wouldn't even realize she's spoken if she tried.

"Would you miss me?" the oceanologist murmurs, stepping closer to Anakin. "Were I to leave, would you miss me, Anakin?"

Anakin looks like a deer in the headlights for a second, before his face shuts down. "I wanna write it on my calendar, celebrate the day."

Obi-Wan's face flashes with something that leaves his eyes colder than before, and he steps back. Away. Padmé winces and tries to take a sip from her champagne glass before realizing it's empty.

"Well, that certainly makes things easier," he tells Anakin shortly before turning his full attention back to Padmé. "I meant to come over and say goodbye. It's a bit of walk home, and I have an early day tomorrow."

"But you just got here," Anakin sounds confused, as if he'd expected to keep Obi-Wan's attention for much longer.

Obi-Wan summarily ignores him and leans into kiss Padmé's cheek again. "Happy birthday again, Padmé," he tells her gripping her hand in both of his for a second before dropping it and turning back into the crowd.

"What was that?" Anakin says gruffly, crossing his arms. "Why'd he kiss you? He's leaving so early! And ignoring me! What?"

Padmé shakes her head and puts her hand on his arm. It looks like she's going to have to spell a few things out to her silly astrophysicist. "That was you fucking up," she says slowly.

Anakin scoffs. "What? No. We say that shit all the time to each other."

"Anakin, listen to me," she waits until his eyes are on hers and not trying to catch Obi-Wan's receding figure. "Today at lunch, he told me he hadn't decided if he was going to take the position yet. But I think he just did."

Anakin blinks at her. Men are stupid. These men especially.

"If you want him to stay, you have to tell him."

"Tell him--I...why do I--don't be ridiculous--"

"Anakin, I've known Obi-Wan for four years. The only thing he talked about the first two was the ocean. For the last two, it's been the ocean and you."

Anakin stares at her and then stares at the people around them. Padmé knows he's trying to find Obi-Wan in the crowd. "But...he's leaving."

"But he came here wearing a coat," she points out, giving him a little push towards the unmanned coat room.

"I--right," Anakin mumbles to himself.

Feeling like the best friend in the whole world, Padmé takes his champagne flute from him and pushes him harder forward. "Go get him, Ani," she encourages, but she gets the feeling Anakin isn't even listening to her anymore as he moves across the lobby to the coat room.

She watches just long enough to see Obi-Wan emerge from the room wearing his tan coat and Anakin pushing him furiously back inside. The door closes behind them, and Padmé hopes it comes with a lock.

But if it doesn't, that's their problem. She's done enough for one night.

[kindness-ricochets]

I’ve been seeing a lot of thoughts and hc of autistic wylan lately and you seem to also be a fan of the concept. May I ask why? Exactly? I could definitely kinda see it but wanna hear you thoughts you’re always so eloquent

Hey there anon! Sorry for the delay—I’m guessing you already found an answer to this elsewhere while I was off Tumblr for a bit, but just in case, here are my thoughts. This will be heavily personal, but… well, you can’t very well ask an autistic person about autism and expect neutrality!

Autism is different for everyone and can be difficult to pin down, so while Wylan is arguably autistic, he misses several beats that for me would have made him definitively and undeniably autistic. For example, when the bells start to ring, triggering black protocol—I work in a place with a lot of bells and am frequently caught too close to one and normally press my hands over my ears until it’s over because that sound is like shrapnel raking across my insides. All of them. Not just the ear and brain parts. Wylan doesn’t have that sort of visceral reaction, but that may just mean he doesn’t have the same sensitivities that I do, or to the same level. He also never, that I recall, eats meat—as weird as that might sound, eating meat is incredibly complicated with heightened sensitivities to taste and texture. I’m not sure how old I was when I realized it was strange to get up from the table to spit out my food because it viscerally repulsed me. So it might be that Wylan is autistic and has different experiences than I do. Those are things I would include in a story as major indicators of a character being autistic. This might also mean that his father’s way of raising him taught him to hide unusual reactions and stimming behaviors. It’s not that much of a reach to assume a man who tried to abuse the dyslexia out of his son would take the same approach to autism. (More on autism and abuse later.)

So while I’m going to lay out why I read Wylan as autistic, that’s why I think it’s valid to read him as not being autistic as well. Both are valid.

A final caveat, I am well overdue for a reread of the books, so I likely left something out or could have found better examples. Take this as a few of my reasons for a personal headcanon. Anyone who feels differently, that's fine! We can each read things our own way :)

1 - Hyperfixation: The way Wylan loves music

Most of the Crows’ backgrounds color how they see the world: Kaz’s shrewdness, Matthias’s tactical thinking and superstition, Inej’s faith and Suli wisdom, etc. That’s a sign of good character writing. But very little of Wylan’s upbringing seems to have influenced how he sees the world. It comes closest when he thinks about how his father would scorn his new friends, but we never see that scorn from Wylan.

The way a hyperfixation feels, it’s like you’ve always lived in a close parallel world, never fully been a part of the other one where it seems like everyone else lives, but suddenly there’s this bright shining piece of your soul laced through the other world. It lets you connect, it lets you exist in their realm, and you can’t help but filter everything new through that lens because it’s the brightest, most wonderful thing. (I had been between hyperfixations for a while when I started a new job; six months into that work, I read Crooked Kingdom. One of my coworkers thought I had fallen in love, it was that marked a difference.)

So, combining these: Wylan never really acts like he was part of his father’s world, and indeed is in some ways separate from the other Crows, but he parses everything through music, his hyperfixation. He sets words to music to remember them, like he does with the contract. Even his own anxiety is made sense of through music, when in his first narrated chapter, he sets it to music: what am I doing here what am I doing here…. When he’s overwhelmed, his thoughts are “a jangle of misplayed chords”. The Crows have backgrounds that influence how they react to the world, but Wylan’s hyperfixation is his means of experiencing and understanding the world.

2 - Literal thinking: Wylan responds to exact words

In this post, I went into detail on the line where Wylan suggested waking up men to kill them. Wylan is generally unsupportive of killing people—Oomen, Smeet’s clerk, his father… he advocates not-murder in each of these situations. Accepting his aversion to murder, his suggestion to wake men up and kill them seems like a genuine reaction to Jesper saying he doesn’t want to kill unconscious men. Wylan takes things literally.

This happens the most with Jesper, probably because Jesper talks to Wylan the most. Nina and Matthias don’t really register him past how he might be useful, Inej is usually quite direct, and Kaz is very deliberate when he speaks with Wylan. This really interests me because Kaz tends to vary his speech more than the others do, he adapts more to being around other people. He jokes a little with Jesper, spars with Nina, speaks more openly and more sharply with Inej, and he’s precise with Wylan. Kaz may not know what autism is, but he recognizes what’s effective with Wylan.

Another example is when Wylan is sketching the Ice Court plans and Jesper says it looks like a cake. There are plenty of valid responses here: pointing out that concentric circles look like lots of things, that it’s just a sketch, telling Jesper to stop looking over his shoulder. Instead, Wylan says that the Ice Court is sort of like a cake. That… doesn’t sound like something Wylan would normally say. He’s not addressing the whole situation, he’s addressing the specific words Jesper said.

One of the most heartbreaking examples of this (to me, anyway) is with Marya. Wylan does the same thing with his mother, when she asks if he’s there for her money and says she hasn’t got any, and his response is, “I don’t either.” We understand as readers that what Marya is communicating here is that she is so accustomed to being utterly ignored unless she is being used, and if she told Wylan that no one visited but to take advantage and she assumed he was here for the same reason, he would say it wasn’t the case. But he just responds to the immediate statement.

There are a lot of examples of this.

3 — 0% perception, 100% creativity

Wylan can identify things that don’t make sense or that he doesn’t understand, but at the beginning of the series he can’t make leaps, only ask questions. On the Ferolind, he wonders about the source of water at the Ice Court; though Kaz doesn’t say as much, he was clearly wondering, too, because he eventually figured out the underground river. There’s an interesting parallel here where, in the beginning of Crooked Kingdom, Wylan asks a question about how they’ll break into Smeet’s and Kaz tells him to use his eyes instead of running his mouth—at which point Wylan is able to figure it out. I don’t think this is because he never tried before, though, but because no one ever bothered to teach him. Kaz can be harsh but he gives harsh corrections rather than harsh rejections and Wylan learns from him.

It’s hard to understand the world for people with autism. The world is designed and run by and for people whose minds are fundamentally different from ours, whose thoughts and experiences are unlike ours. Imagine trying to learn English or Spanish or Mandarin or any other spoken language if your first language was olfactory. That’s sort of what it’s like for someone with autism to just get dropped into the world and expected to figure this out.

This can be attributed to Wylan’s upbringing, but I disagree with that because none of the others were brought up in the Barrel, either, and Wylan doesn’t understand trade or politics with any special skill. Kaz wasn’t born in the Barrel, but he managed to go from “stealing is wrong” to “wrong isn’t my concern” real quick; Colm Fahey didn’t raise his son on gambling and firefights; the Ghafas never expected their daughter to be away from the family. Only Nina has relevant training—and even that’s precious little, she left school way too early. The others figured it out; Wylan needed a bit more help. He also seems surprised by the way his father conducts business. Wylan takes things on face value—like the time he’s surprised someone would do something, simply because it’s unlawful. This is something he expresses to a group of gangsters. He’s never been taught the way of any world and these things are not intuitive to him.

But Wylan isn’t stupid.

He doesn’t know how to understand the world, but he does understand how things go together. Given a pointy diamond, a handle, and a screw, he cut through Grisha glass. He carries flashbangs and magic napalm, he recreates military hardware—Wylan understands how to make things interact for a specific result. But to me the most telling thing isn’t just that he puts together chemical pieces, it’s that he figured out Jesper controlled bullets. He saw the pieces and put them together.

Wylan can understand when things don’t make sense, but he can’t make sense of them—yet when he understands things at their basic level, he understands them without preconception, for what they are. This is a very autistic way of thinking about things, it goes back to the literalism. He can’t make the leaps of logic other people can, but he also doesn’t make the assumptions they do—“I’ve never heard of a bullet Grisha, so that’s not a thing” vs “Well Jesper’s an almost impossibly good shot and he controls metal and bullets are metal, so why not?”

4 - Broken brain/body connection

Wylan’s great at chemistry and drawing and playing flute or piano—but he’s something of a disaster other times. This is in particular contrast to the other characters, all of whom are physically adept. Meanwhile it’s a challenge for Wylan to climb a rope ladder and he spends a full paragraph trying to figure out what to do with his hands. It’s easy to say, well, he’s used to a sedentary lifestyle, but at this point he’s not. He’s worked in the tannery for months. He’s just physically awkward.

I have less to say on this point only because it’s about something I don’t fully understand myself. I don’t really understand what it would be like to have a body that just… does things? Like normal stuff? Without tics and stims. No idea. Only that Wylan’s discomfort in and seeming lack of mastery of his own body feels very relatable to me.

5 - Abuse

One of the most familiar things about Wylan is how he has been so thoroughly abused and broken down that he’s afraid to do or say much of anything. Again, this is a place his background can be an obscuring factor. Of course Wylan didn’t think to blow up the walls when the first met the parem-juiced jurda and got trapped, he’s a spoiled rich kid! Except, he also startled when Jesper said his name later. Wylan didn’t hesitate because he was spoiled, he hesitated because he had no confidence.

He also thinks Kaz would laugh at him for playing music at his mother’s grave. Now, personally, I can’t see Kaz laughing at Wylan—being indifferent, thinking it’s pointless sentimentality, shaking his head, maybe commenting sharply that they need to go if they don’t have the time. But not laughing. Kaz is a snarky, sharp-edged jerk sometimes, but he doesn’t go out of his way to criticize, he just lets people know when they inconvenience him.

Wylan has been trained to identify attention as negative by an overbearing abusive father who literally saw him as less favorable than a demon. Now, that may have been hyperbole, but Jan criticized everything he could about Wylan—art, music, emotion—and made clear that he was worthless and competent to nothing. (Jan Van Eck can suck a rotten donkey dick but that’s neither here nor there.)

A lot of people with autism experience levels of bullying that have similar impacts. Or as the kids these days are calling it: we go to school. We go to school where we are weird. Where we look weird and move weird and talk about weird things and there’s a whole little bevy of asswipes to makes sure we know it. I got teased more for playing Pokemon and sitting alone reading than the kid who pissed himself onstage at assembly. (This was before Pokemon was cool. I’m old.) And that is not unusual for autistic kids. It’s also not unusual for this to be compounded by relatives or even parents who may be trying to help but don’t understand and can make things even harder.

So we can’t read social cues and we’re taught at a vicious age that everything that comes naturally to us is wrong. Imagine trying to interact in society with that background. There is no guide and most advice from neurotypical people isn’t actually what they mean. It breaks you down.

Wylan’s anxiety isn’t definitive of autism, but isn’t something that was incredibly familiar as someone whose neurodivergent experiences created a strong level of anxiety.

6 — High Compassion, Low Social Competence

Wylan isn’t very good at making friends. In fact, none of the Crows likes him much in the beginning, and only some of them soften toward him by the end. (Matthias and Nina come to respect his skills as a chemist but neither seems to particularly like him.) But you can see throughout the books that Wylan wants to connect with them and be one of them, he just… isn’t. He’s off-beat. He’s weird. He asks questions and mimics behaviors (trying to be cool and tough like Jesper, saying “mission” like Matthias does, imitating Kaz’s scheming face) but he doesn’t quite get how to adapt.

But he still cares about people. Not just them. Everyone. He cares about the people they leave in the ditch outside the prison wagon, he cares about Hanna Smeet, he cares about Alys. He cares about the people who’ll take a hit from Kaz’s sugar caper.

Wylan’s awkward social skills have undeniable big autism energy. I posit his compassion does as well. This is simply who Wylan is, and that means being someone who cares about everyone. I have nothing to back up that this is related to autism. I can say that it’s like me. (Not to brag.) I can’t turn off the part of my brain that says everyone matters. Individuals can opt out of that compassion, but they have it by default. There’s a certain agony in feeling a pull toward and love for just about everyone and yet an inability to develop meaningful connections with them, and that keen loneliness… it just burns.

Again, it’s not definitive of autism, but it’s very similar to an autistic experience.

I said in the beginning that I didn’t think Wylan certainly had autism and I stand by that, but he is a powerfully honest reflection of many people who do. So he can be understood to have autism, and that’s part of the reason some people have that headcanon.

[pearl-blue-musings]

Never Been Kissed: EraserMic

HI WELCOME TO SAD BOI HOURS

so i didn’t technically have an idea for them but yall know how the brain be sometimes....

This will be longer than some of the other ones because SAD and gets a little steamy at the end so I might make a smutty part to get better at writing smut who knows

Warnings: language, suggestive content, 18+ to be safe, also angst whoops

Pairing: EraserMic x fem!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say you were surprised is an understatement. You figured your two best friends wouldn’t be spending their New Years Eve with you in your lonely apartment eating pizza and watching crazy countdown shows.

And yet, here you were. Snuggled in between them with your head on the stoic and quiet dark haired man, laughing at whatever joke the loud blond squawked during a commercial break. To you, this was bliss; just a woman with her two male best friends.

Two best friends who were in love with each other and had been for awhile.

Two best friends that you were also in love with.

But you did as you normally do: squash them down into nothingness, trapping them in a locked box with no means of finding the key.

You had met the duo as a transfer student in your third year at U.A. Since Hizashi was better with English, he was your guide and helper for the first couple of weeks helping you get adjusted to life and catching you up on things you might’ve missed. You can never forget the way his eyes lit up at you upon first glance. His presence was overwhelming but nary in a bad way. He was overwhelmingly sweet and patient with you, despite his enormous personality. 

In time you met Aizawa, his counterpart, the Yin to his Yang. Where Hizashi was large, he was small. Where Aizawa would ponder his thoughts, the blond would blurt them out. They really were perfect together and somehow you had entered into their perfect world.

It was no wonder you had developed feelings and fast.

They welcomed you when no one would. Looked after you when you were stressed, the butt of a joke, or were missing home. They were always there, always by your side.

So why did it hurt so much when you found them together?

You hadn’t meant to arrive at his house early for your study session, but you were in such a good mood! Were you thinking of confessing? Maybe. But that all went away when you turned the corner too early. There they were, your two best friends kissing in the most passionate way imaginable.

And you just watched.

How had you not known? Of course you had known, they were perfect for each other. All you did was complicate the narrative of their life. You knew about the friend they had lost almost a year ago so you understood their close ties even more now. They found solace in each other. And who were you? Some new foreign transfer student stupidly and hopelessly in love with the two guys who gave you attention and the time of day?

You only watched seconds longer for them to break apart and then peck each other on the lips again. You hear Hizashi whisper, “Do you think we should tell her?”

Aizawa sigh’s, “Only if you want to. I know how much you care about her.”

You didn’t dare listen to the rest of their conversation as you turned heel and ran. Tears beginning to cloud your vision as you run back to your place. Once you got your breath and quirk under control, you had sent them both a text saying that something had come up. For now, it was enough for them and for you.

You began to avoid them for a few weeks, forcing yourself to move on and bury your feelings deeper. You had resided to being the third wheel, the one that’s always left out, the black sheep, the odd one out; as if that hadn’t been your life before so it wasn’t anything new. What had shocked you one day as the lunch bell rang, was a pale hand grabbing onto your uniform.

“Hizashi is worried about you.”

You couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’m worried about you. You’ve been avoiding us.”

You conjure up a quick lie that doesn’t get past the observant student. “Sorry, I’ve been really try to focus more on school and graduation and trying to find my own identity. Having to make up internship time while getting a provisional license has taken up most of my time.”

Aizawa was unconvinced but played along. “I get it. Talk to us when you can, okay?”

You only nod and kept your head down to avoid his knowing gaze. You had walked away just in time for a tear to fall, and for you to run into the other person from the dynamic duo.

“You’re lying to us, princess,” Hizashi says surprisingly low. “What’s wrong?”

Soon you were joined by his partner and had both of them boring into you. Well it was better tell a half truth, not like they needed to know.

“Sorry you guys,” you mumble. “I’ve been really stressed with all i have to do to graduate with you all. I didn’t wanna burden you with that.”

And my unresolved feelings

“Is that all?! You had us worried sick! Don’t keep us out like that okay? Ya dig?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread onto your lips at his usual language. “Yeah,” you giggle, “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll tell you two everything.”

“Speaking of truths,” Aizawa interrupts, “there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“You’re dating, I know. I wanted to give you two space so...”

Lime green eyes widen and his jaw dropped. “You knew?! Is it that obvious??”

You full on laughed at that. “It kinda is. You two are perfect for each other.”

Ever since the unveiling of particular truths the three of you were always close. You didn’t always feel like a third wheel to their relationship but all of you were open books to each other. Except about your feelings; that is a secret you are willing to take to your grave.

It was only ten minutes until midnight and the drinks had finally slowed from their free flowing. The three of you enjoyed a couple drinking games of watching the different countdowns and by this point, you were drunk. You had noticed the time and lifted your head from Shouta’s shoulder and began to get up.

“Hey you, why are you moving?”

You had paused and were halfway standing when those almond eyes bore into yours. “Oh, well it’s, it’s almost midnight. Ion wanna get in the way of your kiss so I’ll, I will move.”

The couple exchange a glance, a look on their faces one you had never seen before then back to you. You don’t pick up on it and continue to stand. 

“(Y/n)...it’s a stupid thing it doesn’t-”

“I’ll get the champagne. Sham. Pain. Sham pahgney. Wait there.”

The two men on the floor remain in their same spots. Hizashi trying not to chortle too much at your pronouncing of champagne and Aizawa trying to figure your mood. He never thought anything was awkward between the three of you, but lately it had begun to be. He’d find himself wondering what you were doing or how it would be nice to cuddle you in his sleeping bag. Even Hizashi doesn’t get sleeping bag rights.

And Hizashi can act aloof and unaware, but he’s been having urges for you in a way that he thought he had gotten rid of. He had told Shouta back in U.A. but the first time he saw you he wanted to believe in love at first sight but he was already with him by then. Why? He already loved someone, why did he still feel incomplete? 

As much as they loved you showering them in compliments that they were perfect for each other, the couple had always felt empty. But that feeling would change when you were around. How were they to tell you how they really felt? It should be obvious how much they care and love you, they each cancelled their radio show and patrol for the evening to be with you. Why couldn’t you see?

You had returned with three champagne flutes filled with the golden bubbly drink. You frown a little that they hadn’t moved, so you sat down and handed them their drinks. The only sound that was heard between the trio was the announcement of the final five minutes of the year. You rested your head against the couch and deeply exhaled.

“(Y/n),” Shouta starts, “are you okay?”

“Yeah dove! It looks like you were crying! Talk to us!”

Your head quickly snaps up and you take your empty hand to touch your face. Fuck, you had been crying. When did that happen?

“Oh you two,” you sniffle out while wiping your face. “It’s nothing, nothing! I was remembering my, uh, ex and how we were supposed to kiss at midnight and I guess I got sad. It’s nothing.”

“He wasn’t worth your time, ya dig? You’re beautiful!”

“You can do better. He didn’t treat you right.”

It seems that they both spoke at the same time, making the three of you break into laughter. But once you take in their words, you begin to sober up slightly. Did they really mean it? There’s no way, you need to keep those feelings locked up. Suddenly the flood works were opened.

Hizashi is the first to wrap an arm around you. “(Y/n) princess. Talk to us.”

Lock it up, bury it deeper.

“Like I said, my ex. I was finally going to get my New Years kiss but it’s not gonna happen.”

Throw away the key.

“Dumb right? I’ve never had a New Years kiss and that’s what’s got me so upset.”

They can never know.

And now there’s only 30 seconds left of the year and you’ve already come up with a resolution. Let them go. Let go of your feelings for your two best friends. You had started that resolution earlier in the year with a new boyfriend but he had dumped you at the beginning of December. He claimed that your heart wasn’t in it and that you didn’t love him. You did, you just happened to love two other men too. That’s how it is.

“It’s not dumb, Kitten. You have a right to be sad.”

The timer began to dwindle from 10. You hadn’t realized how your tears were being wiped away from both sides of your face. All three of you had abandoned your drinks in exchange for this moment. Your cheeks were warm but not from the alcohol. You began to smell two distinct scents overcoming you as you began to feel them come closer into your space.

Don’t let them know, and let them go.

“Happy New Year!” 

You had barely heard the announcer say those words when you felt two sets of lips on your cheeks. This is all you had ever wanted but you couldn’t stop crying when they didn’t stop touching and caressing you.

“Please stop,” you whimper out as you feel yourself being pulled in one direction.

You meet lime green irises as he holds your chin. “No, we won’t. Fuck, can’t you see how much we love you?” The blond silences your rebuttal by kissing your lips in a way you had only dreamed of. A different set of hands had rested themselves underneath you sweater and was feeling all of your skin, reaching the front of your bra. 

When you part for air panting, your eyebrows furrow. “I don’t, I don’t understand. Please don’t hurt me anymore. I, I mean... How long have you known?”

You’re turned around to face Shouta and his dilated pupils. “We’ve always known about our feelings for you. We were waiting for you to see how much we love you.” He pecks your lips lightly.

“You love me?”

Their words and actions are incredible to you right now. But you can’t think clearly as Aizawa cups your face to clear it of more tears as he affectionately places his lips on yours, kissing some of your tears and hurt away.

Aizawa nods into your kiss and pulls back, noticing a string of saliva connecting your plump lips to his. “We have, for a while now.”

“We realized our feelings for you a year after we had all graduated,” Hizashi intercepts. He takes the two of you up onto the couch and places you in his lap comfortably. “Well, I knew I liked you from the moment I met you! And I think for Shou it was when you didn’t speak to us for a few weeks. But then,” he stops to kiss your cheek and then trail down to the corner of your lips, “after you had gotten hurt as a sidekick and were severely injured,” his hand draws circles on your thigh, “we realized we didn’t know what to do if you weren’t around, ya know?” He finishes with a kiss.

You pull away, “But that was five years ago?” You feel the couch dip behind you as Aizawa takes your free hand and interlocks it with his, giving you comforting rubs. But he also takes your hands closer to his crotch. He’s hard? “You kept dating shitty guys.”

“Yeah! To try to get over you!” You cover your face in your hands as you begin to remember the people you had dated and how they didn’t compare to the two men beside you right now. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to get the feeling that they had some more plans in mind for your new year start, considering one was already hard and the other hadn’t stopped touching you. The touches went from friendly to lust filled in mere seconds.

“Listener, baby girl I gotta know. Why did you really stop talking to us back then?” the blond pinches your thigh and moves his hand closer and closer to your heat making your heart beat race.

“I, hah, I caught you two.”

The pair stops and looks to you.

“Kissing. Before one of our study sessions. I was heartbroken. I overheard part of the conversation but I ran away crying.”

Aizawa catches your neck and you end up meeting his lips again, as another pair trail up and down your neck. “Kitten, if you had staid longer you would have heard us talk about maybe opening it up to you. It was his idea since he caught feels first.”

The man at your neck whines and bites down, eliciting a moan from you as he pouts at his lover. “Don’t put this on me! You wanted to include her too but you were too chicken to admit your feelings.”

“Guys...”

Aizawa runs his hand down to your ass and gives it a tight squeeze. Your lips involuntarily open and he prods his tongue inside your mouth. Your hands find purchase in his shirt, finding some sort of stability. From how this was going, you weren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow.

Both men look up to you with love in their eyes and hearts and you smile fondly at them both.

“(Y/n),” Hizashi breathes, “we love you so much.”

“I love you guys too.”

Aizawa grunts and mumbles out,

“Let us show you how much we love you, okay Kitten?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@cupcake-rogue

[autumnscribbles]

secret’s out | b.s

summary: y/n and brad have been trying to keep their relationship a secret, but a small accident causes the spotlight to shine on them.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: i got equal amount of suggestions for brad and blake so blake will be next!!! i hope you guys like this, and pls leave more brad requests i adore him! or requests for anyone else :)

                                                             ~

“Meet and greet’s about to start!” someone called, signalling that the boys needed to head out of the room backstage and head to the meet and greet area.

“Have fun boys,” Kirstie grinned, kissing James quickly. Brad kissed you as well, heading off to meet fans, leaving you and the other girlfriends in the green room, which you had to admit, you were happy about.

You, Kirstie and Lucy got along extremely well, and it was exciting when you were all able to be backstage at the same show together, made it much less boring when the boys actually had to do important business.

You pulled your champagne flute off the table next to you, having another sip. The three of you had decided to pop a bottle open before the show, just because you could. The fizziness went smoothly down your throat, relaxing you almost instantly.

“So,” Lucy started, glancing at you. “When are you and Brad finally gonna spill the beans?”

You shifted in your seat, knowing that question was coming. The girls basically always asked you, eager to finally be able to talk about you in front of people and see cute photos on instagram.

“I’m not sure,” you shrugged. “I told Brad he can decide when he’s comfortable.”

“Totally get it,” Kirstie smiled. “I can’t wait though, you two are way too cute!”

“Agreed,” Lucy nodded. “Best couple, truly.”

You couldn’t help but blush, downing the rest of the champagne quickly, not sure if it was from nerves or excitement. 

You guys put music on and began singing together, each of you pretending to be the member in the band you were dating. You laughed as Lucy made a serious face, pretending to play the bass as you belted out the lyrics, not even sounding nearly as good as Brad.

You grabbed the bottle, hoping to pour more for all of you, before realizing it was empty.

“Is there more?” you asked over the music, waving the empty bottle above your head.

“Yeah!” Kirstie exclaimed. “I think it’s out near where the meet and greet is. That table behind the curtain where we had all the snacks and stuff.”

“Do you guys want more?” you asked. “I’ll go grab it quickly.”

“Hell yeah, girl!” Kirstie said, lifting her empty glass.

That was all the convincing you needed to head out of the room, making your way to the table Kirstie was talking about. You knew the meet and greet was going on, so you had to be stealthy. That being said, stealth was pretty hard when you were a couple of glasses in and in an unfamiliar place.

You heard the chattering of fans, and the boys deeper voices greeting them. You giggled at the fact that the term “meet and greet” was so exact. You tried tiptoeing behind the curtain, the boys only a few feet ahead meeting the fans. As you weaved your way around a few chairs to get to the table, you tripped, you foot catching on a chair leg.

“Fuck!” you called out unintentionally, your hand immediately flying to cover your mouth. You hoped no one heard you.

“Y/n?” you head a familiar voice call. It was Brad, of course.

You stayed silent, hoping that if you stayed silent, he would think he was hearing things and continue what he was doing. You couldn’t interrupt the meet and greet over a stupid clumsy fall.

“One second, love,” Brad said to a fan, telling the photographer to wait for him to come back.

A head of brown curls peeked around the curtain, concern plastered over his face as he raced towards you, crouching to your level.

“Y/n, are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you muttered. “I just tripped, I was trying to be stealthy.”

“I don’t think you and stealth will ever mix,” he said, a laugh leaving his mouth.

“You’re right,” you sighed. “I’m fine though, just go back out there! I was just grabbing champagne to go back to the girls.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Let me help you up at least.”

He reached his hand out for you to grab, and you happily obliged. You winced as you stood up, sharp pain in your ankle that shot up your leg.

“Ow,” you said quietly.

“What’s wrong?” Brad asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“My ankle hurts, it’s nothing,” you waved him off, grabbing the champagne and beginning to walk back to the green room, limping your way along.

“Y/n I think you really hurt yourself, love,” Brad cooed. “Let me carry you back to the room.”

“No!” you exclaimed too loudly. “Then people will see us.”

“Let them see,” he smiled. “I can't let you limp back there alone, fragile bottle in hand.”

“Fine,” you whined. “Only because it hurts a lot!”

He scooped you up quickly, stronger than you would have expected, and began walking away from the curtained area. You cradled the bottle in your arms, hoping to somewhat hide it from the mostly underage fans that would be in sight soon enough.

Brad turned the corner, telling the staff and the band that he would be right back, that you were hurt and he was bringing you backstage again. 

“Are you okay?” Connor asked, worry spreading over his face.

“Just took a tumble,” you grinned, knowing they wouldn’t really be surprised by this fact.

You heard all the fans muttering, asking who you were, if you and Brad were dating. Phones began coming out of pockets, aiming at the two of you as Brad walked you back, humming as he went.

He nudged the door open with his foot, placing you back down on the chair you were sitting in before all of this happened. The girls immediately asked what happened, of course, and you kept the details light, knowing you’d tell them more when Brad left.

“Get back to the fans,” you told him, pushing him out of the room.

“I love you,” he grinned. “Put ice on that, I’ll be back soon.” He kissed you softly and left the room, saying bye to the girls.

“That’s really swollen,” Lucy said, staring at your ankle.

“I tripped on a chair,” you sighed. “And then I said ‘fuck’ really loud and Brad heard, then he carried me back even though I said I was fine.”

“Did people see you?” Lucy asked, eager to know the answer.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Holding a bottle of champagne too, they probably think I’m an alcoholic or something.”

The girls laughed synchronously, Kirstie popping open the champagne and refilling everyone’s glasses.

“I’m sure they got cute pictures and will be ‘shipping’ you soon enough,” she said.

She held her glass up, you and Lucy joining her.

“Cheers!” she exclaimed. “To y/n fucking up her ankle in the name of champagne.”

“Cheers!” you all cheered, laughing as you tipped the glasses back, not caring about who saw you, or what they thought of you. All you needed were your friends, and Brad.