#im still pretty sure I'm the only one who still cares enough to even want to fix things

[fxckinemo]

there's so many things i wish i could apologize for and try to be better about but i can't because I'm definitely still owed an apology first but i doubt he cares enough to do so anymore

[amazinglyashy]

HI I LOVE ur lads headcanons ‼️ idk if u do angst but im feeling some angsty/hurt/comfort........... can i pls request the lads men's reaction to the reader rejecting their confession bc we think they deserve better...... someone who doesn't have a heart condition (like the mc) or something........

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! And oh man, I love angst and hurt/comfort, as long as I get to give it a tiny bit of hope/a happy ending! I felt this one though, I've thought about it before with my own MC…….. a few dozen times- Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request! <3

Love and Deepspace Li’s reactions to you rejecting their confession due to feelings of inadequacy

Rafayel -

Rafayel is… surprised, to say the least.

Not only do you not have any memory of him or the things you did together- the things you did to him- but you also are straight up turning him down when he finally realized that he needs to confess to you all over again.

He's pretty upset.

It'll definitely turn into an argument, and you know he's hurt. Damn, you're hurt too, just having to turn him down. He makes you feel something, like you're special. Like you're everything to him. Like you're not…

Broken.

And it'll come out eventually. Maybe not blatantly so, but in small ways, your feelings of inadequacy will start to leak through the cracks that are forming in your resolve as you try to refuse a man who has already been refused his love by fate and prophecy for far too long.

And somehow, that makes it so much worse. Because he can fight fate, he can go against the currents of time and the ever evolving cruelty of human nature. But he can't do anything about the feelings raging inside your own head.

He's sure going to try though.

Angrily but calmly, he will start firing off things he has done for you, just because he's loved you so much, throughout all of your time together and even before. He doesn't know if it'll make it worse, make you feel like he already does too much for whatever it is you see yourself as, but he's going to do it anyway. And slowly, it'll start forming into the things you two do together- the things you've done for him when he needs you.

And you're going to be there a while, because until you start to realize, until he starts to chip away at that dark feeling in the deepest reaches of your mind and heart, he's not going to let up.

Not now, not ever.

Sylus -

He's a bit taken aback, but he's not particularly surprised. He had seen this coming, mentally prepared himself for it, even. He knew after his treatment of you when the two of you had just met again for the first time, that any sort of official relationship between you two would be tricky to get to. Especially putting an actual label on it.

He'll be a lot more surprised when he reads between the lines at your words, and realizes it's not because you're still scared of him, but because you don't think you're good enough for him.

"You can't be serious, sweetie."

He's not going to force you to accept his confession, but regardless of how timid or aggressive you become, whether you escalate it vocally or try to exit the conversation, he's not arguing with you. He pretty much refuses to, as he instead begins to state snarky facts as he crosses his arms, watching your reactions as he does.

"When you patched my wounds a month ago, was I not deserving of your hands caring for me because they were shaky and belonging to you? How about that girl you muttered about that we saw at the café who was mad at her boyfriend to the point of shouting, when he didn't get her the right cake she wanted? Are you saying you're worse than her? Helping me on jobs simply because you want to exist near me is… not good enough for me?"

"Sylus, that's not what I'm saying-"

"Oh don't worry sweetie. I know exactly what it is you're saying. I just know it's a particularly misinformed, self loathing thought for you to be having. Don't you think it's insulting for you to decide who I give my love to? After every calculated decision you have witnessed me make?"

He'll finally soften, reaching out a hand to gently rest on the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gentle back and forth.

"You don't need to be concerning yourself with what I deserve in a partner. You should have faith in my opinions, if not for yourself, but for your confidence in me, sweetie. After that, the rest is up to what you truly want in your heart."

Zayne -

His reaction is definitely the most reserved initially, especially until he realizes why exactly you're turning him down.

He definitely has the passing thought that maybe you're just misunderstanding him again, just like back with the snow seals when the two of you were still kids.

When he realizes that's not the case, and instead, it's your own internalized feelings, he's first a bit relieved, and secondly- pretty perturbed.

"It's interesting to know that's your perspective, given how much you enjoy those fictional stories with ironic pairings. I would think that it would be the most romantic thing for a heart patient to be in a relationship with a cardiac surgeon.

His biting but well-meaning quips aside, he's not quite sure how to break it to you that he used to be in a similar boat, and still is to some capacity. Which is partly why he's a bit upset to understand your perspective.

He's genuinely surprised you haven't processed the timeline of the two of you and your lives. Your accident that caused the state of your heart, his leaving to study medicine and become a specialist in cardiology and a renowned cardiac surgeon- are you not able to see that it's not an inadequacy for him, but his own lack of knowledge when you first started having issues made himself feel inadequate? Why he left without a word for years in the first place?

And not just that- it also applies to other fields too. He has no issues helping you where you need him, because he knows the extent of your capabilities, much like he knows his own. And he will spend forever if he needs to, to show you that loving is not about who does more. It's about doing what your partner needs, no matter how much or how little that is, and loving each other through every hard moment.

And you're about to hear every ounce of his convincing, opinions, and own feelings, until you start to see. Until you finally see.

Xavier -

Unless you tell it to him straight, he's not going to know why you rejected him. He'll be hurt, but he'll accept your rejection graciously and politely, before trying to figure out just how to get you to accept it.

There's an increase in claw machine dates, movie night invitations, and how much he helps you with missions or even just around your apartment. Eventually, you process the weird behavior and you're all but forced to confront him on really truly why you rejected him.

It's Xavier, so you try to play it off as a lighthearted situation or a joke, but you can see his expression darkening, and you're not sure if it's because of him being upset at your words, or realizing just how much time he has sunk into you with how... broken of a person you are.

Turns out, it's the former!

It's hard to not realize such, as he's pulling you into the tightest hug he's probably ever grabbed you into.

For a while, it's just you and him standing there, with him squeezing you tightly and you not knowing what to do with your hands or the lump rising in the back of your throat. He doesn't really know what to say, but he does know he needs to say something.

"I'll definitely make you see that you're more than enough for me."

"Xavier- that's not how this work-"

"I know, and I don't care. I- I need you to know that you're everything to me. You're not inadequate, or broken, or anything you've been telling yourself. You're more than enough. You're more than everything to me. And I'm not going anywhere until you finally understand that."

[luvyeni]

𐙚 : SOMEONE WALKING IN ON YOU W/ ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE (reaction) ֶָ֢ !

content warning. oral ( f. receiving ), unprotected sex, getting caught, mean dom sunghoon

request: reaction to being cockblocked with enhypen plzz 🩷?

authors note. i hope you like it 🤍😌!!!

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

𐙚 : HEESEUNG ֶָ֢ !

neither one of you would notice at the moment, but will quickly question it when it's long over and you're just laying in bed — both of you fucked out completely unaware you've just traumatized someone. "sh-shit." heeseung held your thighs as you rocked your hips back and forth. "fu-fuck you feel so good -shit- please go faster." he groaned, his hand squeezing your boob as you bounced on his cock, your cunt squeezing perfectly around him , forcing a whimper like moan out of him. "shit im gonna cum." he breathed. "im gonna fucking cum." both of you were moaning and groaning, trying to chase your highs — that neither one of you noticed jake who quickly walked muttering a sorry , both of you continuing on until you reached your climax. it wasn't until you both were finished, laying against his chest watching a movie that you couldn't shake the feeling. "seung?" your boyfriend hummed, eyes still on the movie. "did someone walk in on us?" he turned to you. "i dont know." he shrugged. "why do you ask that?" you sat up. "i swear i could've heard jake." heeseung checked his phone and sure enough there was the text message 'lock the fucking door if you're gonna have sex in the dorm' he smirked putting his phone down. "well i guess he did." your face heated up. "im so embarrassed." he laughed. "baby it's fine , he probably barely saw anything." he said, kissing your temple. "i guess."

"but it would be kinda hot if he did though."

𐙚 : JAY ֶָ֢ !

it don't think jay would have sex in the dorms; let alone forget to lock the door; so it would most likely happen in the morning, and then he'd be too tired to even be really mad, but he would be a little annoyed. "jay." he sighed feeling you place kisses along his neck, his eyes that were closed; fluttering open. "i-i need you." he cursed as you guided his hand into his pants, feeling your wet cunt on his finger tips. "i thought about you." he groaned , turning to face you, slotting his thigh into between your legs. "yeah?" he watched you get off on his leg. "what you dream about princess?" you struggled to tell him ,he wasn't helping bucking thigh. "fu-fuck jay, m-more, i need you." he freed his cock from his pajama pants , ready to slip inside your warm waiting cunt. poor sunoo didn't know that, he just wanted to know if you both wanted breakfast; opening the bedroom door; jay was quick to cover your bodies , sighing heavily against your back. "hyung— sunoo knock please." he tried to not sound annoyed, but he also wanted sunoo to get the hit, and the young boy did. "i-i'm sorry." he quickly left, closing the door. "that was so embarrassing." you whined, he kissed your shoulders to soothe you.

"next time we'll just wait and lock the door."

𐙚 : JAKE ֶָ֢ !

shameless mother fucker does not care, if you're here they should know to not come inside his room. "fu-fuck jake wait." you grabbed his hair, trying to stop him from lapping at your cunt the way he was, covering your mouth to keep from moaning out. "pretty pussy taste so good." he licked your clit. "i need to taste you so more." he hooked your legs , the feeling off your legs closing around his head made his cock jump in his pants. now you two were being loud, but your moans didn't stand a chance against heeseung who had his headphones in, opening the door to see of jake wanted to play the game, only to register what was happening and turning right on his heels, walking out. "ja-jake." you pushed at the boys — who seemingly didn't even register what was happening, and kept going. "fuck, i thought you locked the door s-someone—" jake finally pulled away from your cunt , his face covered in your essence along with a cheshire like smile.

"you must've like it princess, your pretty little pussy clenched as soon the door opened."

𐙚 : SUNGHOON ֶָ֢ !

annoyed as hell, but doesn't stop; no he keeps going, you feel too good for him to stop now. "fu-fucking hell." he hissed his hands tangled in your hair, your ass bouncing back against him. "that's right, fuck yourself on me." he slapped your ass. "sunghoon fuck!" your head was thrown back as he plowed into your cunt, his balls slapping against your cunt , sweat dripping down your body as you both went at it like wild rabbits. "fucking wet cunt." he growled. "gonna fill this pretty pussy up with my cum." both of you were ready to cum, when the door opened, a frightened jay who heard a yelp thinking someone was hurt, quickly realized that it wasn't that type of yelp— immediately shut the door, sunghoon just fucked your poor cunt harder. "fu-fucking hell can't get any privacy in this dorm." he hissed, tears wielding in your eyes as he abused your poor cunt, he slapped your ass extra hard. "don't think i didn't feel your slutty pussy clenching around my dick when he came in."

"fucking slut, you like when people watch you being fucked past your limits."

©️LUVYENI

[amyispxnk]

Silent Night

Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.

A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.

Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.

Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.

But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.

-

Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.

Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.

Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.

But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.

If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.

When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.

He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.

So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?

He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.

“I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.

That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.

Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.

-

The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.

The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.

You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.

“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.

“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.

You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.

“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.

“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His mind is back in the gutter.

Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-

“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.

He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.

-

Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.

“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.

“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.

Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.

Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.

“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.

“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.

You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.

“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.

“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.

-

Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.

Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.

‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.

Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.

When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.

“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.

“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.

His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”

He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.

He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.

“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.

“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.

That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.

The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.

Instead, you wait until the movie.

Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.

Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.

He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.

He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.

The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-

“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.

“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.

His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.

As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.

“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.

“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.

You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.

“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.

“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?

“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”

Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.

“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.

Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.

His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.

-

Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.

The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.

You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.

Fuck this.

If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.

He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.

You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.

“Joel, I-”

“Not another word.”

It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.

“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”

You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.

“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”

You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.

Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.

“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”

You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.

“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.

You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.

“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.

“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.

“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.

“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.

He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.

He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.

“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.

“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.

“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?

“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”

His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.

“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.

It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.

“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.

“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.

“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.

“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.

“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”

You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.

-

The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️

[starburstminibot]

Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

[yanderefarm]

I need me a silivan request, like vampire reader is at one of those vampires parties, silvan was sitting on reader’s lap all dolled and pretty, and then one of a high statue vampire would be memrized by silivan and would ask reader to buy silivan fron him, and at that time reader was getting confused by his feeling, he got attached to his pet, and acted jealous on the other vampire.

cw;; dehumanization, fluff,

this is such a cute idea. thats your pet!!!

this was your first party with silvan as your pet after centuries of seemingly looking down on the practice of pet humans. you still weren't sure about keeping him, he seemed fragile and delicate and stupid. even now at a party where he should be passed around and adored by every hungry horny vampire in the place he was clinging to you. his little hand gripped the back of your shirt tightly like a child afraid of getting lost. was it cute? maybe.

you decided to be generous to the frightened human and grant him permission to sit with you while you talked about work. he sat in the chair next to you and you pulled him back up immediately.

"humans don't sit there."

"im sorry... where do i sit, sir?"

that's how he ended up in your lap. it attracted many eyes to you but they still kept to themselves. they were smart.

the bold idiot who approached you wasn't.

you were minding your own business when this fool came up to you. you recognized him as someone who had recently came into ownership of a large human farm, he was still only a baron though. he smiled at you and then even wider at the pretty thing on your lap.

"did you get a pet, my lord?"

you let out a heavy sigh. "i haven't decided yet."

"how much would you sell it for?" the other vampire reached out and grabbed one of silvan's curls. silvan tried his best not to move but he pulled back into your chest slightly.

".... i don't know."

"it looks pretty high quality! where did you get it?"

this guy's voice was uniquely grating on your nerves. how he kept referring to silvan as an it, how he looked at him like an object. there was this feeling in your stomach that he wasn't just seeing silvan as an object but as an object that would increase his own value. he didn't even like silvan properly! he only cared because silvan was with you.

"i had him bred specifically to be beautiful. if he were for sale I'm sure he would be worth more than anything you own."

you could tell you hurt his pride with that. "that's... I'll have you know I've come into a lot of wealth recently, my lord!"

"oh?" you feigned ignorance. "oh i did hear about you acquiring some land."

"the 5th largest farm in your territory and 3rd in quality." he puffed out his chest in pride. like you don't own number one on both of those lists. god this guy is annoying.

"then you can have him if i can have that." you smiled smugly watching his face immediately falter.

"h-huh? but that's..."

"you don't want my specially bred pet?"

"he-he's certainly beautiful!! if-if you get into the breeding market you should let me know first thing!!!" he scurried off.

you hugged silvan's small frame tight against your body without thinking, wrapping yourself around him like a protective blanket. the silver haired boy was blushing in your arms his entire face red while you were pouting.

"sir... are.. am i.. yours..?" silvan asked tepidly his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

you felt his warmth from his embarrassment seeping into your body and you held him even tighter. your cold heart yearned to beat.

"yes. you're mine. no one else can have you."

[n3ptoonz]

Part 2 of MK1 men pushing the reader to a wall while kissing them, please? 😊

i mean i GUESS i can do that 🤭 since you asked so nicely! part one here

how liu kang, reiko, sub-zero, havik, johnny cage, scorpion, and geras go about pushing reader to the wall while kissing them

just know it may not show the long pauses i took while writing this but know IT HAPPENED!! THE THINGS I DO FOR YALL🫵🏾don't say i never did none😫

havik's regeneration mentioned. i've also been told havik looks like that on purpose so like, let's act like he can make his face go back to where it was for the sake of shits, giggles, and pandering XD

tags: @luna18night20 @momopad

warnings: suggestive, fluff elements, sphinx tried her best, there will not be a part 3 im sorry y'all 💔 BUT shao and kenshi are here

Liu Kang

Liu Kang was rarely ever rough with you. In fact, the only way he'd do it is if you either verbally say it's fine, or if he knows you're poking the bear just to get a reaction. And when you get a reaction...there's no going back. You've kissed with your back to the wall several times, and every time was gentle and loving and laced with care. However, if you've presented that you were that desperate for him to give you the attention you deserve, he will gladly be a little rougher in pushing you back with his lips on yours. Just be prepared for him to leave some handprints on your waist.

Reiko

Reiko is a warrior. Hardened by battle and discipline, so the way he kisses you usually starts off that way. He can't help it. Not only is it the way he was raised and what he was told a man is "supposed to be", but it also came with how his partners were to be treated. When it came to you his sense of duty and protection spiked every single time. So here you were, well within his unintentional bear hug as your back was against the wall. His kisses always started off like he was going away to war/fight (because he usually was) but he would eventually melt and become smoother because you're by his side.

Sub-Zero

Bi-Han, a truly complex character. I believe that whoever captures his heart will be the main obsession in his life. In this case, it is you. He constantly needs to be on you, around you, see you, hear you, you name it. He can't get enough of your lips and this is especially apparent the way he's almost always pushing you to the wall while kissing you. Can we blame him? He's a tall hunk of touch-starved and the only thing that will satiate that hunger is roughly making out with you every chance he gets all while still knowing how to treat you like a porcelain antique.

Havik

Havik...this guy. Even though I'm pretty sure it's not canon I still feel like he'd regenerate and degenerate for fun and for different purposes/occasions. For the sake of my sanity I can say I found him fine as hell before his face got fucked up, and so did you. But you don't mind him either way because you love his crazy ass. Allow me to set the scene: You say something snappy to get his attention and boom...he regenerates his facial wounds just to back you against the wall and shut you up with pure smugness and arrogance behind his kiss. But, this is what you wanted, nonetheless. And you'd do it again!

Johnny Cage

Who's to say Johnny Cage wouldn't try to get you in one of his films just so he could keep getting takes of him backing you to a wall and kissing you? For Elder God's sakes, he's the one who wrote the script! And of course it's something dramatic like him being a villain that captures the hero and tries to convince them to ditch their position to be with him. Dude would totally think he's Loki (did i say that bc i think it would be hot if Loki did that to me? ..don't worry about it!) He's for sure fucking up his takes on purpose and you know this, but you only pretend to be irritated and maybe even fuck up a few yourself.

Scorpion

Kuai Liang, the romantic this man is. Like Liu Kang, he's never rough with you. Except it would take a little more convincing to let him know it's fine for him to act on his feelings when he wants to. With him, his kisses are slow and gentle. They will always start off like that even if he has a hard day. All he wants is to hold you, but it's like whenever your back hits the wall a gear starts turning in his brain. The idea of you having nowhere to go and enjoying it? Not even an Elder God is pulling him from your embrace. He gets handsy and a lot more affectionate around this time; he's kissing your face, neck, and shoulders too, because why the hell not?

Geras

Geras is a special case. He's an immortal who has never experienced romantic love before. So naturally you will have to teach him some things and even point out things he has observed that can be taken as romantic love. But he's still a man who has seen a lot, so this guy knows what kissing is and how to kiss. Surely you didn't think this giant fine ass immortal being didn't know how to treat his partner? Crazy talk! Understand that when you introduce the classic wall kiss by showing him what to do, he's leaning in to kiss you as he lifts you in his arms with no effort to be found and there won't be kissing going on much longer!

a/n: thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed! collapses onto the ground

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 44 KISS ON THE COURT

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes

NOTES | and that's a wrap on LOTC ! thank you guys for reading ily all so much! I had a lot of fun writing this smau and I loved all your comments/reblogs/asks about it 🫶 I love LOTC and she's lwk my baby, being the 1st smau i wrote (and finished because im still distraught over cherry flavoured...) but I also think I've learnt a lot in the writing process and I'm pretty sure I can do better (or I hope so at least 😅) so stay tuned for a jeno smau otw !

more cute jaemy/n moments should follow in bonus chapters (if i write them...)! but this is the official end to lotc because I'm impatient and want it to be over 😭 thanks for reading ❤️

"You think we can win?"

Up until now, the room had been quiet, and a lingering sense of uncertainty that no one had spoken of was present.

But Heeseung had never been scared to speak his mind, not directing the question at anyone in specific.

Still all eyes undoubtedly fell to the two captains. Jaemin and Y/n, who sat beside each other, hands clasped together, fingers interlaced. It was only natural that at a time like this, the team would turn to the two of them, and they had no intention to disappoint.

As she looked up, Y/n lifted her head off Jaemin's shoulder, sucking in a breath before rising to her feet.

She refused to back down, standing tall despite the heat on her face, even though every part of her wanted nothing more than to be alone, curled away and to have kept to herself.

She had a team, and she owed it to them to stay strong. They had come so far, there was no way she would let this stop them from making it to the finals.

"I know we can win."

She reached behind herself, for the clipboard she had been messily scribbling notes on for the better half of the morning, until Jaemin had forced her away from strategising. "We have higher points than team B who we played last time, and we're tied for points with team C, so all we have to do is play our best," She smiles, looking at everyone in the room, and though no one mirrors her expression, the feeling of hope begins to rise from the dejected players, slowly, "There's no way we're losing our last game, and we're especially not going to let it be our first loss of the season."

Jaemin smiled, noticing the slightly concerned glint in her eyes, but not speaking much of it, only standing to his feet beside her with another even brighter smile. He wouldn't say it, but for a moment, the thought crossed his mind, maybe she was the better captain after all. That being said, he didn't care all that much about being better than her anymore, as long as he was with her, it would be enough.

"You haven't lost until you think you have," he speaks, remembering what he was intedning to do, "We're in a bad situation but we can always make the most of it. Let's play our best, and we'll walk out exactly how we planned." Jaemin nods, voice full of strength.

Still, the room feels cold, like the wind rushes past them, and happiness with it, low spirits and sighs of disbelief filling the room

Y/n let's her eyes meet Jaemin's beside her.

"We don't say it much" she starts off, "have to keep ourselves humble somehow don't we, but" she scans her eyes across the room, "you guys are some of the best players in the country, that has to count for something."

Jaemin chuckles, "I'd say it counts for a lot"

He hears the way Y/n gulps beside him, her eyes watering as she realises their words aren't being received as well as they'd hoped, his hand finding hers beside him. Though it's loose, his grip is comforting, motivating in the best of ways.

There's a moment of silence.

"Winning is a mindset." Y/n finally states, with perhaps the most rigidity she's ever presented in her voice, confident, and somewhat assertive, "You walk onto the court like you've already won and you will. That's what we’re going to do" she speaks with such certainty. It's almost hard not to believe, "We will win, it's just what we do."

"You're right" Isa stands up, triumphant "Losing is for losers."

"No shit" Chenle hums, sitting up from his previously slumped position, a couple others following as the quiet room begins to grow warmer, laughter echoing off the walls. Conversations follow, like usual pre game protocol, some tactics, some motivation. It doesn't take the room much longer to return to normal. Whatever normal was.

Things would be okay, whether they won or whether they didn't. But losing wasn't exactly one of their options tonight.

Y/n turns to Jaemin again, smiling with more conviction than earlier.

"You know, we make a good team" she looks down for a moment, "even after all that mess"

Jaemin let's his hand rests over her cheek, not specifically worried about who was watching, "Especially after all that mess"

Y/N and Jaemin stood at the centre of the court, the sound of the final buzzer still echoing in their ears. It was over.

The team had fought hard, each possession, each pass, each moment fraught with tension and determination.

The last few minutes of the game had felt like an eternity, with their opponents pressing them to the limit, but it was all over now. Just above, the scoreboard flashing the final score confirmed what they’d worked so tirelessly for—victory.

Jaemin, his chest heaving with each breath, looked over at Y/N. Clear in his eyes, triumph, and an unmasked sense of adoration. Everything he had once been so bitter for, so hurt over, it seemed like a small hurdle to pass, to finally be here today, watching Y/n smile his way with pride. The warmth in her smile, the passion, it was all he wanted to see, now, and for the days to come. This wasn't just winning a game. It was more than just state championships. It was knowing this was exactly where he wanted to be, going through the ups and the downs in life with her. The past seemed so small, so distant now, like all the struggles had never really been. But Jaemin wouldn't forget it, the pain, the heartache, and perhaps he preferred it that way, knowing just how much it took to get to being here, how much it meant. Because to Jaemin, Y/n was worth every struggle in the world.

The sweat on his forehead mixed with the tears that were starting to blur his vision. His eyes, usually full of confidence, were now wide with a slight disbelief and brimmed with joy.

Y/N, equally breathless, met Jaemin’s gaze. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background. The court was alive with celebration, the crowd shouting in exhilaration, but in that instant, it was just the two of them. Alone, like nothing else mattered.

Y/N's heart raced, not just from the adrenaline of the game, but from the raw emotion they had fought through together—every late-night practice, every setback, every moment where doubt had tried to creep in.

As they approached each other, Jaemin couldn’t help but pull Y/N into his arms, his hands pressing against her back as he held her close. “We did it,” he whispered, the words soft but full of meaning. Y/N laughed, the sound light but genuine. “You didn’t doubt us for a second, did you?” Y/N teased, lifting her face to look up at him, her hand gently brushing his cheek.

Jaemin smiled, brushing his lips against Y/N’s forehead, a kiss that was tender, full of everything they had been through and more. “Not when you’re by my side.” The words came out low and steady, carrying a depth that couldn't quite be fully explained. It didn't need to be.

Truly, they were in their own world, up until Jaemin heard his name being called from somewhere behind him, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her.

"Jaemin, don't be a wuss give her a real kiss."

It was jeno shouting from the courtside bench, laughing at the way both of their cheeks flushed bright at his words along with Renjun.

That didn't sound so bad, Jaemin thought.

For a moment, he let his gaze meet Y/n's once again, "That alright with you peach?"

"More than alright."

When Jaemin pressed his lips to hers, soft, tender, and promising, Y/n couldn't help but smile. She hadn't expected to be doing this here, for everyone to see, her lips locked against his,but she didn't mind all that much, not when she was right where she wanted to be.

The arena around them was electric—teammates running to congratulate them, the crowd still roaring with excitement—but in the middle of it all, they found their moment of peace, a quiet connection amid the chaos. They had fought for this victory together, and it was theirs. Their love, their effort, had carried them here—through every tough game, every tough moment, and now, they had this championship to prove it, more importantly they had each other.

“Let’s go celebrate,” Y/N said, her voice soft but dripping with excitement, grabbing Jaemin's wrist.

He shot her a teasing smile, in true Jaemin fashion. “After we have a few more moments to ourselves?”

Y/N felt her heart swell, her cheeks darkening.

"I love you, you know" she chuckles, "I think i could tell you i love you as many times as there are stars in the sky, and it still wouldn't be enough."

"I love you too peach, more than all the stars in the universe combined."

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[fan-goddess]

If he’s a ghost, I can be a phantom

Authors Note: So this has taken way too long for me to write. I hit way too many blocks last year so hopefully i won't have the same with this one. I think though I'll be taking a haitus just to clear my head, as i want to take some space while i focus on other things

Word count: 14.2k words

Taglist: @hoosbandewan @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Heavy sexism, patriarchal views, cheating, angst, sexual tension, does reader come off as i'm not like other girls? kissing, blood, descriptions of bullet wound, talk of one night stands, alcohol, arousal, threats of murder, pervy men (if i miss any which im sure i did let me know so i can add it.)

The mission was not supposed to go like this.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy mission, but you suppose simplicity is not as easy to maintain or even believe to be true, when you’re bleeding with a gunshot wound to your shoulder and at least a litre and a half of blood spilled on a once pristine white carpet.

Tom Bennett is supposedly one of the best of the best. He was recruited when he was still pretty young from the army, and since then, had been trained ruthlessly to know how to shoot and where the places had to be to look like somebody else’s vengeance.

You yourself were similar, but you actually had the smarts going for you rather than the brawn. Soon as you graduated from university with a degree in foreign communications, two men in suits were sitting on your sofa describing what’ll happen and how in very painstakingly detailed ways.

You’d never met Agent Tom Bennett before the mission briefing, but you had certainly heard of him. Son of a pacifist from Manchester, who ironically likes to get into one too many fights that the agency, while not being happy about paying the damages for, does not mention since Bennett does the job needed. What you hear most however from your coworkers, is how he never leaves a mission without a notch in his post, even if it’s from his fellow agent.

So when being told your mission and your partner, your male supervisor gave you a once over and told you to keep your head high and your legs firmly shut. And like the good girl you pretended to be, you just nodded your head so you could work and die someplace better than the dreary country that is mother England.

Even sitting in that briefing room waiting for Agent Bennett to grace you all with his presence you swore you could feel the eyes of every person in that room making bets in their heads whether you’d sleep with him on the mission or not. And by how you analysed everyone watching you, the probability of it being yes was quite frankly staggering.

“Hello hello hello!” A man's voice says, and when you turn to look at the intruder unlike everyone else who simply didn't care enough to turn, you’re met with such a cocky smirk you know exactly who this is.

“And who is this pretty little lady?” Tom says, finally directing his attention to you who just continues to sit there with a blank face.

“It’s Agent to you Agent Bennett.”

“Oh is it now? Well I’m very sorry, agent. I’ll be sure to address you right from now on shan’t I? Though I’m sure with our mission we’ll get on like a house on fire by the end.” Agent Bennett grins, sitting down directly next to you and plopping his arm round your neck. Though to his own amusement only, you immediately shove him off you and move yourself further down the sofa with a huff.

The supervisor overseeing the mission's progress thankfully manages to distract him by beginning the debriefing.

“Agents, we are sending you to France in a few weeks to-“

“Fuck off!” Agent Bennett shouts which even after all your training still manages to make you jump in your seat.

“As I was saying,” The supervisor starts again, glaring hard at Agent Bennett who sulks in his seat like a child on the verge of a tantrum. “You’ll be going to France to infiltrate and retrieve some information from a corrupt politician's estate that he keeps in a hard drive inside of a vault in his office.”

“What’s the security on the estate and vault?” You ask, as Agent Bennett it seems is still acting like a spoiled child after being told he needs to go to France, when already off the top of your head you could list so many other much worse places he could’ve been told he needed to go.

“The usual security protocol. He has security cameras equipped with night vision, guards to patrol the grounds as well as guard dogs trained to attack on site, and sensors in regards to lights, doors and of course the safe, which you two need to get into. We couldn't find anything about it in our extensive research, so you'll both need to use your heads when faced with that later on in the mission.”

“Sounds impossible…” You can’t help but comment.

“Oh come on, love don’t sound so negative!” Bennett grins. You can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye but it appears you’ve already managed to grow tired of his bullshit, so instead you merely look to the supervisor who, like you, appears to be attempting to ignore the guy. “I’m sure we’ll be done before suppers on the table!”

“Sure.” You simply say, rolling your eyes while the supervisor already looks ready to chuck Agent Bennett into the enemies home arse first.

“Now, you two will be our main operatives with the surveillance team being ready to assist whenever they’re needed. It took some work, but we managed to get a good enough alibi to get you both inside as it turns out our politician has a fancy for private masquerade balls.”

As he says this a much younger recruit who looks barely old enough to drink in Europe passes you and Agent Bennett your individual case files, and when you open it to look at your latest identity, you find yourself having to hold in your disgust.

“Mrs Dahlia Carrington?” You can’t help but question out loud, already dreading what Agent Bennett will say.

“Yes wife?” Like clockwork, his annoying voice rings out boiling your blood with every syllable. “As Mr Thomas Carrington, I suppose it is my duty to make sure my beloved is dressed to her best!”

“Never call me that again.”

“Just getting us both into the mood sweetie!”

“Don’t call me that either!” You snap, turning to him with a clenched fist that you oh so desperately want to damage his pretty smirking face with.

“Enough the both of you!” Your supervisor begs, glaring at you and Agent Bennett and making you feel like a child being lectured by their parents. “Agent Bennett, I for one can say have had enough with your playboy nature and how it constantly affects your missions. Will you behave this time, or will I need to prepare another incident report for your arrival with an extra year or two suspended field training?”

And like a child who’s been lectured by a parents, Agent Bennett pouts with a furrowed expression.

“No sir…”

“Good. Now learn your documents and meet with your team. They have the necessary equipment you’ll be needing to get familiar with. Formal wear included.”

You take the supervisor's ending nod as your dismissal and take the file in your hand as you leave. You do not dare look at Agent Bennett, especially as he begins to moan again only this time because he’s been told he has to wear a suit and tie, yet still you manage to get the feeling of goosebumps erupting on your back as you swear you feel his gaze roam your behind.

You cannot be bothered to snap at the man again, so you just sigh loudly to let him know of your annoyance at his actions, and his deep chuckle rings through your mind as you walk away.

As you sit on the stool waiting for your outfit to arrive for you to try it on, you read the file carefully making sure to try and memorise every word possible.

The man whose house you are to sneak into, with help of Agent Bennett as the supervisor had spoken in the debriefing, is a pure French blooded politician whose work slowly turned more and more poisoned against the good of the people. Most recently, he’s gotten access to certain information that could bring about war if placed into the hands of the wrong people, and like the idiot he is, he’s kept it on his computer in his estate.

So what you and Agent Bennett are simply assigned to do, is act like you’re both members of high society to get inside the politician's home and retrieve the information stored most likely on his laptop.

It seems very simple. But then again, all the files of Agent Bennett's other missions seemed simple too, and most of them ended up in millions of pounds in property damage and at least a couple hundred dead bodies needing an explanation only the government could provide.

“Here we are my dear!” The stylist says as he walks through the door with your dress in his hand.

Before you had been given access to missions and was stuck on desk duty, you had never realised that being an agent stylist was an actual job offered here at headquarters. But now that you’ve been upgraded and done a good amount of missions you definitely see why it’s necessary, especially since the bulletproof vest has certainly saved your skin once or twice.

“Oh Stan, it's gorgeous!” You gush as he hangs it on the rack and steps back to allow you to see it in its full glory.

The dress's colour is mainly a deep blue, similar to that of a sapphire, but in the middle where the deep blue fabric separates the fabric is a much lighter shade that you can only describe as being like the cornflowers you see in the fields. The dresses shoulder cuffs are short with a barely noticeable belt keeping the dress firmly fitted. The same sapphire shade continues down the dress till the very end, which happens to be just around your ankles which is the just the way you like your dresses to be.

Overall, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“I’m glad you think so.” Stan smiles, stepping back towards the dress so he can show you the extra special details not seen by the public. “Now the fabric this is made out of is bullet resistant thread. It’ll stop the bullet going in you, but it’s not perfect. If you’re under fire and hit one too many times it’ll rip and you’ll get shot. Understand?”

“Understood.”

“Good. The dress is tailored for your preference, as I remember you saying you didn’t like too long dresses. Also, it’s not too short so it shows the knife or pistol that you will no doubt have strapped to your thigh. Other than those two things the dress is pretty explanatory and simple. Still, anything you wanna ask about?”

“Why blue?” You can’t help but ask. Usually you’d be asking all about the dynamics and the science behind it. But right now, you can’t help but feel curious when looking at the colour of the dress that you rarely ever see on your other wardrobe items.

“Cause Agent Bennett said it’d bring out your eyes.” Stan simply says, full on cackling with amusement when he sees your face melt into an untimely scowl.

On the day before the mission, the supervisor claimed that to get into a better mindset for the roles you and Agent Bennett needed to play, you both needed to spend a night in a nearby hotel.

Though you should’ve known that bastard was up for something when he smiled whilst he said this, as after speaking to the female receptionist, who seemed all too eager in your opinion in eyeing up your pretend husband, and heading to the room, you discover only one bed. And what’s worse, if it somehow could’ve been, is that it was covered in rose petals.

The supervisor had booked the two of you a honeymoon suit.

It was like he was enticing Agent Bennett to attempt to sleep with you, not that you’d ever let him get near enough though of course.

“Well could’ve been worse I s’pose!” Agent Bennett sniffs as he walks around the room. He opens every cabinet, leaves every door open, chucks his bags and other belongings on the bed until eventually his unique bout of chaos settles and he’s sitting on a sofa chair by the open window with an open bag of peanuts in one hand, a bottle of soda in another, and an old fashioned movie playing in the background.

“What?” He muffles with his mouth full. “If the agency is paying for it all, which I know they are, better make the most of it Mrs!”

“Don’t call me that.” You simply say, refusing to admit he’s actually correct for once in his statement. Instead you just take the time to organise your suitcase and your belongings so everything is where it should be and in a discreet place in case housekeeping decides to visit while you’re away.

This evening, you and your pretend husband were going to go, or rather are being ordered to go, downstairs for dinner to further push this idea that the two of you were just a regular married couple.

So about an hour before the dinner reservation in the hotels restaurant while Agent Bennett was too busy trying to find a channel on the hotels tv that wasn't all in bloody French, you slipped into the bathroom to attempt to slip yourself in a dress suitable enough for an evening meal, but not too revealing as to look like you're trying to be invited to work undercover in the red light district.

You stare at the five differently styled dresses you narrowed your two suitcases to, and can't help but sigh to yourself. How on earth have you managed to get yourself in this particular situation?

"Oi! You gonna be any longer missus? Think I'm gonna piss myself here with how long you've been on the loo for!"

"Piss off the balcony for all I care, I'm changing!" You yell back, not looking away from the line of dresses hung up on the shower curtain line.

"Touchy touchy... well if ya want I could always come in and-"

"Over my dead body!" This time, you sharply turn to the door and glare as you picture Agent Bennett on the other side with his smug smirk and his crossed arms that manage to somehow make his biceps bigger than what they were. Ugh it makes you sick in the stomach just thinking about them.

"For god's sake love open the door and I'll choose the god damn dress so you can quit fussing and I can quit trying not to piss myself over the carpet! I don't wanna barge in cause you're a lady and all that but i'm a desperate man over here!" He says, and you can't help but giggle for a moment as you imagine him hopping about with crossed legs and his arms crossed over his bladder. Still, with a straight face you unlock and open the bathroom door and stand aside as to your amusement, Agent Bennett just as you imagined, shuffles into the room with his legs fused together.

"The red one." He simply says, barely managing to get a look at them all before deciding on one you suspect at random.

"But it's got that massive slit down the side that shows my knee. I want to be formal, not like I'm looking for a good time."

"So go with the yellow." He quickly fires, definitely making eyes at the toilet.

"Washes me out like Edward Cullen."

"He an ex of yours or something? Green looks charming."

"I'm gonna respectfully choose to ignore that statement and accept your apology. Besides, I don't have the shoes to go with it."

"Choose the black one or I'm pissing with or without you in the room. And a word of warning, I think a number two may be coming up on the horizon sweetheart."

"You're disgusting." You snap, grabbing all the dresses from the shower curtain rail and swiftly retreating from the room. You can hear Agent Bennett's unique chuckle echo as you begin shutting the door behind you, and you refuse to believe it's why your heart feels like it's beating a million beats a second hard against your rib cage.

You stare in the mirror as you place the black dress in front of yourself in an attempt to see how it looks, and you can't help but think damn. You look fucking hot.

As you walked beside Agent Bennett arm in arm into the restaurant, you swore you could feel somebody's eyes resting on you. Even after the two of you had sat down and ordered some drinks, the back of your neck felt sweltering from the eyes of another.

“It’s cause of the dress.” Your pretend husband insisted as he sipped on some of the red wine. Apparently ordering a plain old lager wasn’t very upper class of him. “Your tits look really good in it.”

“Don’t look at my breasts agent Bennett!” You scowl, moving your arms to shield his and possibly even the other set of eyes from your slightly revealed skin.

“Maybe don’t call me agent Bennett whilst we’re undercover wifey.” He smirks, choosing to blissfully ignore your previous demand.

“Fine! Husband, do not stare at my breasts in public.”

“So you’re fine with me going it in the privacy of our room? Good to know.”

“If we weren’t in public right now I swear I’d-“

“Are you both ready to order some starters?” A voice interrupts you admittedly with a start. When you turn around a relatively young man possibly even younger than yourself stands there in a fancy suit and a small notebook in hand. He’s got a charming smile you suppose, but the eyes tell an entirely different story as you can see him very clearly taking the opportunity to look down the front of your dress.

“I’ll take the dived scallops with charred leak, onion broth and pink purslane.” You snap the starter menu shut loudly which thankfully draws the attention of the waiter from your breasts. He even seems to be bashful as his face turns a light pink and he coughs a few times as he adjusts himself.

“And you sir?” He finally squeezed, turning to Tom who looked at the man unimpressed as if he wasn’t doing practically the same thing not even five minutes ago.

“I’ll take the same as my wife.” Tom emphasizes those last two words firmly while he glares at the poor boy who begins to stutter out an apology towards you.

"I-I'm sorry ma'am! I'll send someone else over to take the rest of your order!" And like that, the lad runs off with his tail between his legs, leaving you with a distinct yet mixed feeling of both shame and gratitude, while Tom begins to chug the rest of his glass of wine and refills the empty glass with a smile like the cat who ate the canary.

Five minutes go by filled only with the background noise of the restaurant's classical music and the conversations of other hotel guests, and finally another person comes over dressed in the same looking suit.

"Hi my name is Henriette and I shall be taking the rest of your order and helping you with any issues you may or may not face for the rest of the evening. I see my colleague has already taken your starters, but could I please have the rest of your intended food order?" Compared to the other guy, this woman certainly acts like she belongs here.

"I'm afraid to say my dear that my husband is very particular with his food order so I will be deciding for him or else we'll both end up going hungry! I shall have for my main the ratatouille, while he'll have the beef carbonnade. For desserts, me and my husband will each have a chocolate ganache cake with the amarena cherries.”

“Perfect choice Madame!” Henriette smiles as she takes the yours and Tom’s menus before nodding her head to you slightly and walking away.

“I’m very particular with my food?”

“Yes. Like a child who refuses to eat their vegetables because they’re green.”

“I would take offence to that if it wasn’t true.” Tom admits, even shrugging his shoulders while you giggle slightly at his action.

The rest of the evening is filled with chatter and smiles that are not as reluctant as you’d like to admit. That stare you felt at the beginning of the night washes away as you concern yourself with Tom and his antics that leave your cheeks aching from how relaxed you've been with him.

The food soon arrives one after another, and each time a plate is placed in front of Tom he gives you a look of untrustworthiness as he raises his fork and moves to take a bite. Yet every time he does this he gives you a look of satisfying defeat which you always respond with a smile.

By the time the desserts arrive, Tom has eaten every bite of the food you chose for him, and you remember that fact distinctively so you could rub it in his face later on.

"So... how's the food been?" You can't help but ask as you savor the way too overpriced little cake that's about the same size as the distance between your thumb and your palm.

"They've been pretty good." He grunts, eyes focused on the cake he doesn't care about the size of, only the rich taste and the thought of how younger he would've killed for this sort of food.

"Pretty good? If we weren't in public I'd think you were about to lick the goddamn plate."

"Not my fault the portions are small as fuck."

"Tom, don't swear in public, it's unbecoming!"

"Jesus what are you my father now? Or my sister?"

"Tom, what are you talking about?" Your brow furrows in confusion at Tom's sudden change in mood. Where was that person who half an hour ago was joking and riling you up with only the topic of your own boobs for gods sake and who is this moody teenager that replaced him?

"Cause I know you're just putting up with me cause you were assigned to me." he begins, but pauses to refill his glass. That's when you realise exactly why his tongue seems to be so loose and why his mood is so well, moody. Tom Bennett has allowed himself to indulge practically at the very start of the mission and is now sitting in front of you pissed as a sea sailor on bloody red wine of all things. "You're probably thinking about how pathetic I am right now! Oh how pathetic is it that top agent Bennett is getting drunk so early!"

"Jesus Christ Tom, can you keep it together!" You attempt to whisper, but ultimately fail as you see everyone is slowly beginning to turn to look at the two of you including the waitress from earlier.

So in an attempt to halt the damage already made, you grab Tom's arm and try to pull him from his chair so you can drag him back to your room and let him sleep this mood swing off. Though that's about as effective as running through water as he just slumps against you and nearly knocks you straight to the floor, training be damned it seems.

"Do you wish for me to help you Madame? I could get someone at the front desk to help?" The familiar voice of Henriette says.

"No thank you I am perfectly capable Henriette. I am used to dragging my husband away when he's gotten into one of his moods. As much as he denies it every time he has never been very good at holding his alcohol no matter the amount of times he does it." You have to force yourself to act calm and like a true high class lady, but anyone with eyes could see how frustrated you were at that moment as you refrained yourself from whacking Tom over the head and teaching him a lesson.

You somehow manage to get Tom out of the dining hall with the stares of every man and woman in that room no doubt judging your sham of a marriage with their eyes and tongues. Just as you're about to leave though, you suddenly remember the bill and almost go straight back leaving Tom in the middle of the corridor whilst you sort it out, but then with a sigh of utmost gratitude you also remember how it'll be charged at the end of your stay.

“Where are you taking me, wife?” He grumbles, feeling you stop him so suddenly he gets the urge to throw up.

“Back to our room husband. Because of you and your inability to hold your alcohol, our mission may have failed before it even began.”

This time, the hotheaded agent doesn’t have a response to give you. Instead, he just closes his eyes and leans himself against you, allowing himself to be dragged to the room. In the elevator though there is some elderly woman decked to the dimes in diamonds and sapphires who gives the two of you a knowing look from where she stands.

“Long night?” She asks you, staring straight ahead as the doors close behind you.

“Tell me about it…” You laugh, grunting as Tom begins to slip and you’re forced to pull him up further against you. She laughs with you with a look in her eyes as if she’s remembering something long ago, and with that the conversation between you ends.

She gets off on the next floor, and you and Tom manage to make it back to your room giving the impression of a young dutiful wife just taking her drunk husband back to their room.

Soon as you get inside, you chuck Tom off you onto the sofa and chuckle as you imagine him waking up in the middle of the night with a sore back and his evening clothes.

You change into comfy pajamas you packed and get into bed, almost falling straight to sleep with how comfy the bed and pillows are, but not before listening to the sound of Tom's snoring that sends you into a deep sleep.

When you wake on the morning of the mission to the sound of your alarm, you can’t help but allow your eyes to be drawn to the sofa where you expect to see Toms drooped over a wine stinking body. Only there’s no one there.

“Tom?” You call out as you step out the bed and make your way to the bathroom thinking maybe he’s in there throwing up his insides. Only when you hear no response or even any throwing up noises do you enter to find it in the exact same way you left it this morning.

When you touch the sofa you take note of how it’s slightly cold to the touch, and can’t help yourself but think about Tom possibly staggering from his seat late at night whilst you slept and got himself in trouble.

The anxiety gnaws at your mind as the possibilities of what could’ve happened to him keep coming at you.

Where did he go?

What if he went looking for more alcohol in a dingy bar somewhere and got caught?

What if he’s lying somewhere dead?

By the time you come around your nails are half shredded and your legs are shaking slightly from how long you’ve been standing up. And to keep yourself sane for the time being you find yourself for the first time ever texting Agent Tom Bennett.

The agency for every new case assigns the agent a different phone with all the information and numbers needed. You’d been given yours after the debriefing, and yet somehow Tom had already begun to spam you with random texts throughout the day.

What is your favourite food? What's your drink of choice? What’s your favourite colour?

You never answered, partially because leaving him on read was an exhilarating experience. So texting him now felt strange to do.

Where are you?

You texted him that first. But after five minutes of watching the pixilated words be left unanswered and unread you sent him another.

I hope your having the worst hangover of your life. You deserve it after last night and how you acted. Show up to the mission sober if you can go so long without a drink I’m surprised the so great agent Bennett is an alcoholic

You take a break staring in order to take a shower and hopefully clear your thoughts. As you step out the bathroom and begin to towel dry your hair you hear your phone ping with a notification, and it’s as if rocks have been tied to your feet with how heavy they feel walking to your phone.

You open it with a hitched breath, and you almost get the urge to chuck it straight out the balcony doors when you see the message.

Didn’t think you’d have worried about little old me that much Mrs. And don’t worry, my hangover, which I’m sad to report is practically non existant, will probs be gone before the mission even begins. I’ll meet you there when you need me.

And when you think it’s over, he sends another

By the way it’s you’re when speaking bout my headache love, not your ;)

“Bastard.” You groan this time chucking yourself against the bed. Why does he take such pleasure in your annoyance? Why does he seem to enjoy making your life so hard?

In the end in an attempt to take your mind off the hurricane that was Tom Bennett you switch your phone off and spend the whole day in your hotel room fixing yourself up for this evening.

You firstly treat yourself to room service breakfast involving pancakes, croissants, bacon and the whole nine dimes. Then after cleaning yourself up you got onto the actual dressing up aspect.

The dress as soon as you had arrived in the room yesterday was hung up on a hook from within its protective bag in the wardrobe, and when you retrieve it and unravel it you go just as breathless as you were when you first saw it.

The blue is still as breathtaking and the length still as satisfactory. You almost get the girlish urge to put it on now and twirl around like how you did as a child in your Disney princess costume, but stop yourself as you remember Stan warning you not to crease the dress at all, so to be safe you zip the protective cover straight back up and close the wardrobes door firmly to be safe.

So you move on to trying on everything else. The bra you plan to wear isn't too important as the dress will cover up your shoulders so that's out of the way.

The shoes take up some time but in your opinion not long enough. Since practically as soon as the questions come at you their answers come shooting in quick succession behind them. The question on what was nonexistent as since you knew dancing was going to happen whether by the agencies demand or even Toms, heels were out of the question. And since there were few other shoes packed for you in your suitcase you soon found yourself with some dark navy kitten heels that managed to make you feel elegant and safe at the same time.

Makeup though was your biggest time consumer though. You spent hours thinking about what was suitable and what was not with all the products that had been packed all laid out on the dresser table in front of you.

You couldn't put too much on, as then everyone would stare and you might as well cancel the mission before it's even begun. Though you couldn't go without any or be super subtle with it all or else even then you'll get judgemental stares from people. So you spend quite a bit of time in front of the mirror putting various different products on your face and finally after what thankfully feels like forever, you find a style that suits both you and the mission at hand perfectly.

When experimenting, you did debate on possibly wearing something you think would interest the man whose house you're infiltrating, but you soon put that thought to bed when the con list became longer than the pros, not that there was even anything on there in the beginning. You had no idea what he was truly like behind closed doors apart from of course betraying his country and his people that is.

Though the one you wear now, it makes you feel powerful.

It’s a good mixture of subtle yet striking, with the use of eyeliner forcing people to look into your eyes. There’s only a little conditioner and foundation to cover up a few spots and blemishes. The only other thing you decide to use make-up wise is some lipstick that’s a little darker than your natural lip shade.

You decide to take it off as it’s still a while before you need to leave before the ball, so to waste time you do what you never would’ve done before this mission.

You sat on the bed in a complimentary dressing gown, ordered some fancy lunch, and watched reality tv. You watch it all as you eat without any complaints. It feels like you were a teenager all over again without a care in the world.

Though soon the time ticks away and it’s about time for you to get changed into your outfit and prepare your weapons. A small pistol strapped to your thigh. A signet looking ring on your ring finger that when activated, could deliver 50 thousand volts to whoever is unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of it. And your personal favourite, a pepper spray that’s disguised to look like a shade of red lipstick.

When that’s all sorted though and hidden away from the public eye, only then do you dare turn your phone back on. You don’t really know what to expect. Messages from Tom begging for forgiveness? A message from your supervisor saying you’re gonna be extracted as Toms blew the mission?

You will say what you do find when you turn your phone. Nothing. No messages, no notifications, nothing.

It’s a blow to the stomach but you take it on the chin and deal with it, especially when it's Tom you’re dealing with.

Walking down to the lobby to get to the car that’ll bring you to the rich guy's mansion, you can feel the stares of others on your skin as you walk. To keep appearances you simply sway your hips as you pass to show you are unbothered by your past, and smile at yourself like you own the world.

Which you certainly feel like when you realise the car that’ll be dropping you off is a smaller yet still classy limousine, even equipped with an equally handsome man who opens the door for you to get in.

“Good evening Mrs Carrington,” The kind man begins as you slowly sway closer. “My name is Webster, and I shall be your chauffeur for the duration of this service. There are drinks within the back as-well as many small snacks in case you were feeling particularly peckish. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No thank you Webster I believe any I thought of have already been answered.” You just simply say with a smile of gratitude as you duck into the car and let out a sigh you didn’t even realise you were holding as you sat down on the soft leather.

You turn your head slightly to get a look at these drinks and small snacks on offer, and it truly does seem all your questions have been answered as you meet the eyes of your pretend husband for the evening as he drinks at a bottle of unlabelled substance.

“I’d have thought after yesterday you’d avoid alcohol…” You can’t help but snidely comment, watching as he grumbles at it.

“I came back didn’t I? Ain’t that the most important thing?”

“The most important thing Bennett, is you making sure you don’t screw this mission over with your day drinking.” You respond, and in an act of retaliation that shocks even you, you make a grab at the bottle of drink and sniff at the top to try and tell what it is.

Though you suppose it’s even more shocking for you to discover that the bottle doesn’t smell like cheap booze as you thought it was, but actually it was the scentless yet still recognisable scent of water.

“Not had a drop since yesterday.” Tom sneers, grabbing back the bottle to take another swig. "Wouldn't want to embarrass the perfect little agent anymore than I already have."

"Don't call me that Bennett." You snap, looking at him with hate in your eyes as you try to think back to the nice man you talked with yesterday.

"Why not Mrs? Aren't you the one who's got the 100% success rate in all their missions? The one who always catches the bad guy with not a single scratch on her soft delicate skin?" Tom continues to antagonise you and you swear you're this close to yanking that bottle from his hands and whacking him to death with it in this very car.

"Let's just focus on the mission, husband, so then this can all be over and done with and we can go back to never talking too or even better not even seeing each other again. Alright?"

"Fine..." He amusingly grumbles as he slumps further into the seat. "Run the plan by me again Mrs as I'm sure you've memorised it all already."

"I actually have, but if you insist. We get into the venue posing as Mr and Mrs Carrington, then socialise for a bit to appear as the average bourgeoisie couple, maybe even dance a bit if we need to. After that we head to the politician's office to extract the information from the hard drive within the vault. Hopefully we should be out and back in bed before midnight. Any questions?"

Tom, deciding to be the class clown in a car of only three people, raises his hand as if in a classroom. "I've got a question Mrs! Who said anything about dancing?"

"The supervisor did. As according to him we need to fit in as much as possible and that includes dancing whether you like the idea or not. Oh, and one more thing silly old me forgot to mention. Don't flirt with any lonely wives or daughters."

"Oh come on Mrs don't you think I have some self restraint?" He attempts to laugh with a smile on his face that soon much to your own amusement however, is quickly wiped away when he sees the dead seriousness of your expression and voice. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"Well within the first full day of knowing me you got drunk as a sailor after being honest for two seconds with me, then left in the middle of the night to do god knows what in the streets. So yes Agent Bennett, that is what I think of you."

"You remind me of my sister... I don't say that often or with great pleasure..." Tom grumbles while you yourself find yourself acting surprised at his words.

"You've got a sister?" You find yourself asking.

"Yeah. Lois. The brains of the family while I got the looks. Was a singer in a pub before she got the qualifications after having a baby to become a nurse at some great big hospital. Dad's little brainy-box while I'm sitting in a jail cell for another night." This time, you don't say the words that immediately pop into your head. As even as helpful as they will try to sound you know he'll take it as pity whichever way you say it. "Though I suppose I got the looks at least! We can agree on that, can't we missus! What you say after this we go to the pub? My treat!"

And with not even what you could say a snap of the fingers the energetic careful Agent Bennett returns. Along with the urge to smack him round the head with one hand while with the other you call HR.

"And do what? Just drinking?" You find yourself asking.

"Sure! And maybe more if you feel like it. No pressure at all! I do like my ladies, consenting I'll have you know!"

"Oh great you like the basic rules of sex. Good to know..." You grumble, and with your last strand of patience snapping, you find a small bottle of fruity cider you remember drinking back when you were a uni student and taking a swig.

"Now who needs to be told to watch their liquor!" Tom laughs.

"Shut it or I'm throwing you out of the car myself and making you walk."

"But I dunno where I'll be heading sweetheart!"

"Then ask a local for directions."

"But I don't speak french?"

"39% of the French population say they can speak English. With how much of a talker you tend to be, I'm sure you won't have much of an issue finding someone!"

After yours and Tom's little marital spat, as Tom himself called it as he grumbled like a toddler slouching against the seats, the rest of the ride to the estate was filled with silence. Occasionally the sound of a honking car or the regular noises of the bustling city life broke the silence, but apart from that you and Tom made no effort to get along.

You sometimes take a sip of the cider you opened without much thought, and you regret very soon as the taste washes over your tongue. There’s a reason why you drank this at uni. It’s cheap, it’s strong, and after a couple bottles you can’t remember your own name.

“We’re about five minutes from the location Mr and Mrs Carrington,” The driver says through the little intercom. “I suggest you start thawing out before the entrance.”

You and Tom look at each other from the corner of your eyes, and deep down know the man is right. Even if the two of you couldn’t stand each other right now, for the sake of the country as much as Tom claims to hate it you both do not want the innocent people to suffer.

“Fine.” You spit.

“Fine.” Tom grumbles back.

So like the loved-up couple you were both playing to be, with neither knowing who began moving first, yours and Tom's hand found each other and clutched together in a firm embrace.

When the both of you get out of the car at the front of the politician's house, your hands still clutch hard against one another as you both adorn the masks you’ve been given to conceal your identity.

In an almost ironic turn of events, you were given the mark of the devil, and Tom the mask of the angel.

"Looking good Mrs." You hear Tom say.

"Save it!" You simply snap back with your eyes facing straight forward. If he wants to try and make you begin liking him again with simple words, he's gonna have to try much harder than that. Preferably on his knees, but you don't mind as long as he truly shows his regret.

And with how you can practically hear him rolling his eyes at you, you know he'll at this point need to be doing a lot more than getting on his knees for you if you had anything to say to him.

The target as expected wasn't at the door to greet his guests. Instead, he simply walked around the rooms like God's greatest gift and allowed them the honour of approaching.

Only he wasn't going to be the spider standing idly by waiting for the fly to come to him. Tonight, he was the ignorant fly while you and Tom sat perched in your little web, venom ready awaiting the right moment to strike.

"You seen him yet angel?" Tom murmurs against your ear as he leads you into the main ball room with his hand perched firmly on your lower back. You can feel the warmth of his palm alone through the fabric of your clothes, and you hate the way it makes your stomach churn in a way that leaves you craving for more.

"If I saw him, I'd tell you." You just simply say, turning your head away from him as you still feel where his breath had tickled you. Somehow though, you didn't manage to pluck the courage inside you to move from his hand that still firmly imprints itself against you.

You can hear him lightly chuckle beside you, and with a quick yet heavy sip of the complimentary champagne you were offered when you both walked through the door, the mission began.

With every step forward you felt daggers piercing the back of your neck, and with every sudden high pitched laugh belonging to some man's wife you felt the grip on Tom's arm suddenly tighten.

"What you doing that for?!" He suddenly whispers after the fifth time.

"Something doesn't feel right..." You try to reason, resisting every urge to turn around.

"Oh I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realise I was partnered with the bloody girl who saw dead people."

"If we were not in this room full of people I want you to know I would've smacked you round the back of the head for that."

"Careful love. If you do it I may just like it."

"Save it for the gullible women you manage to con into sleeping with you." You attempt to seem disgusted at his actions as you think about how many women seem to be affected by Tom's typical charm, but then you're reminded that you were one of the women who'd fallen victim to his boyish-like smiles and his dopey laugh. You'll never admit this to anyone, but your face may have turned a little pink at the memory.

"Only if that gullible woman is you my sweet." Tom quips right back, smiling at you in such a way it feels like your heart may beat out of your chest. Yet to stop him from charming you anymore, you just roll your eyes and nudge Tom into the direction of the bar.

"Thought you said I wasn't allowed to drink?

"I did. It's just the extra cherry on top of the milkshake being able to drink in front of you. Like eating chocolate in front of a child past its bed time." You grin, ordering a double gin and tonic and finishing that first sip with an exaggerated sigh. "Husband, would you mind paying the bartender for my drink pretty please? I seem to have left my purse at home!"

"Any man that makes his wife pay for her own drinks looking like that in that dress is no man." The bartender comments, looking you up and down as he takes Tom's card and puts it through the machine. While the man's back is turned for a moment you can't help but observe him.

You recognise him from the list of employees you looked at before arriving tonight. His name is Henry Clarkes, a ginger middle aged man from Exeter currently on his 3rd marriage collapse. Though to be fair, that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't gotten another girl even younger than yourself pregnant with his 4th child. Though that's just your opinion...

By your side Tom grumbles something illegible as he stares daggers into the back of the man's head. And to your surprise, he only manages to push out an obviously strained thanks that even the man behind the bar chuckles at. So before Tom takes it upon himself to leap across that bar and beats the man black and blue, you take Tom's hand firmly in your own to squeeze it tight and drag him away from the scene.

"Bet you loved that." He says soon as you're far enough away. "But you would've taken him into our hotel room if I wasn't there!"

"Fucks sake Tom if i'd have known you were just as a dickhead sober I would've gotten you a drink before we came here. Maybe it would've made you more bearable..."

"So you don't deny it!" He growls, pulling you with a yelp as he forces you to a wall at the edge of the party. "You would've fucked him in our bed?"

"Jesus Tom no I would not have fucked that random man in our hotel bed!" You try to whisper, but it's sort of hard too when there's gossipy women practically circling you where you stand. "Unlike you, I don't sleep with random people I've met in the span of less than a minute!"

"I don't do that anymore!" Is that his defence? Really?

"Since when? This morning!?"

"Since I realised I'd be working with you a few weeks ago." It's the way he says it so quickly you suppose is what makes you so flustered. The way he had no hesitation in the words as if he had been waiting to say them all his life.

"Tom... I-"

"My my and who are these two lovebirds tucked away in the corner?" A voice suddenly says, bursting the two of you out of whatever trance you were entrapped in. You both turn to this person, and you have to physically stop yourself from reacting when you recognise them. The exact man whose home and party you just sneaked into, the corrupt french politician.

"I'm Dahlia Carrington monsieur, and this is my husband Thomas! I apologise for our behaviour, we were just having a little argument and-"

"Oh no need to apologise mademoiselle! I myself have at least one argument a day with my own wife!" That's cause you've been cheating on her with the nanny of your four children all under the age of 12. If it wasn't so sad to think about given the age gap, you'd have laughed at the cliche of it all. "Let me guess! She's been hitting the cards and the drinks a little too hard huh?"

Did this man really just manage to call you a gold-digger and some kind of alcoholic all in one insult? You think he did. Tom thinks it too, by the way he seems to glare the same kind of despising glaring at this man just like how he did at the bartender.

"Sure." Tom grits out, his jaw clenched down hard. You look down, and see that even his whole body is reared up.

Yet it seems this man is as dense as his security is, since he just keeps on talking.

"You know what you need to do son? Need to get her on a tighter leash if you ask me!" If Tom doesn't hit him, you definitely will at this point. "Maybe even give her a child! Cause I can tell from her figure alone that she hasn't had any yet! But trust me on this, only have a single son! Cause then you've got the heir, the wife off your back, and a still tight one when you need it! Oh, and by the way mademoiselle, you may want to smile a bit more. Makes you look all wrinkled and old."

How is this man smiling right now at you? He has just told you that you were pretty much just at best, a childbearing sex doll for your husband, and he's just standing there with the biggest fucking grin on his face drinking some million dollar looking champagne. How fucking dare?

"Ooh! I must be off now! There are so many guests to see and so little time... au revoir my good friends!" He smiles, disappearing into the crowd of the bourgeoisie, leaving you and Tom at the edge with anger written clearly on both your faces.

"I'm gonna kill him." You say first.

"Not if I do it first." Tom responds immediately after. "I'll push him down the stairs so everyone will claim it was cause he was drunk."

"I was just gonna shoot him in the head."

"Wouldn't that blow our cover?" Tom curiously asks, turning to you while you look back at him with a unique smile on your face that Tom can't help but cause a shiver to run up his spine.

"Doesn't matter to me. At least I get the satisfaction of knowing I rid the world of another patriarchal dickheaded twat..." You firmly say, watching Tom's mouth slowly turn into an almost impressed smirk.

"Fair enough wife. Fair enough."

Tom takes your hand in his as he slowly directs you through the room till you get to the staircase to the upper floors. Thankfully they haven't been shut off to the public, and instead people are being encouraged to look around and marvel at all the weird and frankly sort of disturbing memorabilia adorning the walls, such as stuffed animals being glass and paintings of worryingly young girls.

"His office is another floor up. If we continue looking like some regular prissy couple then we can get there easy." He says directing you further down the corridor to yet another set of stairs.

"If I knew I'd need to be climbing up so many stairs I'd have requested the costume team to have packed me more comfortable shoes..." You grumble as Tom looks over his shoulder to merely laugh at your pain.

"Awe, is the poor little lady unhappy she has to climb some simple stairs?" He pouts as he tilts his head, laughing loud at how you scowl at him. "I would've thought little miss perfect would've actually looked at the mission plans before this. My my was the mrs slacking?"

"Idiot." You simply sigh, rolling your ankles as soon as you get to the next floor. "I did look at the plans I'll have, you know! It's not my fault that it was never specified the height of the stairs..." You mumble. You can see Tom laugh slightly with a delighted twinkle in his eye as he looks at your pouting lips. He sure loves to see you suffer....

"I mean I could've carried Mrs up if her royal highness had asked me." Tom shrugs, laughing as you take the time to wack him on his upper arm with the back of your hand. "Hey hey hey Mrs don't hit our loving devoted husband! I did offer!"

"Yeah, when we were already up the stairs!"

"At least I offered at all! Besides, the office is just up here. You've stretched your ankle enough." Tom groans, grabbing you by the wrist this time to lead you. You grumble behind him as you look around at the corridor for any cameras and any extra security.

You spot three cameras already by the time you both get to the door, and tap Tom's hand to let him know. Thankfully you can't see anything else that would get in the way of the mission like a keypad or a retinal scanner. If you had to admit, it was sort of basic considering what information the man was storing and with how much money he had.

"You got it?" He pulls you in close to murmur against your ear. To those currently watching, it would've looked like a husband leaning in to whisper some romantic words to his wife.

"Of course." You simply murmur back, fiddling with your earring as you find the tiny switch and press it. It's amazing what kind of technology the intelligence lab can come up with, as to any other person looking at you they may have thought you were wearing simple ordinary earrings. But, in actuality they were specially designed in order to, when having the switch pressed, would expel a small burst of electromagnetic waves that'd disrupt the cameras feed, giving the organisation enough time to replace it with a fake copy. "Should be replaced now."

Usually, the organisation would have people on hand to hack into the cameras and change the feed. But apparently they couldn't do it within the time they got to the secure location and the time you'd be getting to the location. So for the time being, the earrings had to do.

"Then let's get inside. Stupid bastard doesn't even have a lock on the door." He laughs, stepping inside and closing it behind you. "He even left his safe in clear view of the room! What a twat!"

"Careful Tom!" You can't help but say, watching as he strides across the room with no possible caution for danger. "We don't know exactly what sort of security this man has on his safe!"

"Then I suppose we better figure it out then Mrs." He continues to smile, this time walking directly up to the safe as he puts on a pair of gloves you didn't know where he was even hiding them. "Seems pretty simple to me..."

Tom puts his head against the cool material of the box and slowly begins to turn the dial ever so slowly so he can hear the distinct clicks from within. Slowly you walk up behind him and watch him as he works, which gives you a view of something you had no idea you'd be interested in viewing.

From where you stood you could see Tom's long nimble hands work as they touch the dial and in a strange way stroke the surface of the safe as he moves his hand. If you had to be honest with yourself, it's sort of hypnotising.

"You know I can feel you staring at me right Mrs?" Tom's cocky voice suddenly says, breaking you from whatever strange spell Tom's fingers had on you. He even turns to stare at you as he says this, and you can't find yourself even in the position to lie to yourself that Tom's grin doesn't make you feel like you have butterflies swarming right now in your stomach.

"Just open the safe Agent Bennett." You snarl, admittedly the nickname feeling strange against your tongue.

"My my back to the origins are we missus? Then it's a good thing I've got the perfect nickname for you and I'll never be using anything less for my favourite girl!" Tom turns back to the last few digits of the safe, and you're left with a blush you pray this man does not see. He still calls you Mrs after seeing how annoyed it got you. Just how long would it take to shake off the fact you blushed due to his charm?

"Are you almost done?" You ask, attempting to distract yourself and hope it goes down quickly.

"If you let me listen I'd be done quicker." He quips, letting out a loud "Aha!" when the final distinct tick sounds, and he's able to turn the wheel and open the safe door with a self-satisfied smile. "And you thought to doubt me?"

"Shut it." You sigh, stepping out the way as Tom swings the door out towards the two of you, to reveal another door.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tom groans, the sound of which you ignore as you walk up to it and see what it is you're dealing with. Unlike the security on the last door, this one is equipped with a key pad with numbers zero through nine, and no real indication on how long the sequence needed to be.

Yet that doesn't appear to stop you as you try putting in the birthday of the nanny, to which an annoyingly loud noise sounds out indicating a failed attempt. "Two attempts remain." A male robotic voice says.

"What did you do!?" Tom shouts, forcibly grabbing your upper arm to turn you around and look at him.

"I took my shot." You simply say, taking Tom's arm in your hand and shoving it away so hard he steps back once. "And don't you dare touch me like that again Tom."

To your relief, he doesn't seem in the mood to pick a fight with you as he just grumbles under his breath staring at the door keeping the both of you from your mission.

Admittedly, you both stay where you stand for a few minutes thinking about possible numbers the politician would hold dear to him. Anything to do with his wife is immediately off the table such as anniversaries or her birthday. You'd thought he'd maybe take advantage of the nanny more than he had already, but that seems to be just as effective as the wife. That's when you suddenly get reminded of something he's said to Tom early while he was halfway through a misogynistic ramble he'd been on.

'But trust me on this, only have a single son!'

"Tom," You begin to ask, turning to said man who at the sound of his name looks back at you recognising the thinking expression on your face. "What was that thing the bastard was saying about his son?"

You say this rhetorically as you step closer and closer to the keypad with a grin as you enter the birth date of the politician's only son and youngest child, and are welcomed with the same robotic voice as before. "Welcome monsieur, to the vault." It simply says, before this time Tom's voice breaks through the silence.

"Fucking smarty pants!" He says as he moves in front of you. At first you think this is just another insult, but then you see the way his face is actually lit up in pride and realise quickly he's actually proud of you. "Knew you could do this Mrs!"

"Really?" You can't help but ask, watching as his face quickly turns serious as he looks at you. It's strange.

"Of course. You're smart, you are. More smarter than I could ever be. I mean, you actually listened to the French bastard while he was talking to us."

"You weren't?"

"No. I was just imagining my fists pummelling into his face till he swallows his own teeth and is forced to be put on life support in some shitty hospital that without him knowing bleeds his money dry as he fights for his life." He admits, watching you closely as you blink in surprise at the level of violence this man in front of you is willing to express.

"Damn... he must've pissed you off good Tom." You try to make the mood lighter, but still Tom's face stays oddly serious and calm.

"Of course he did. No one should get to talk about you like that in front of you, or even away from you, and get to smile like that ever again. Now let's get into this vault thing." Fuck. Here comes the blush and the feral butterflies in the stomach. A double whammy...

"Y-yeah lets!" You quickly say, standing close behind Tom as he opens the door and thankfully this time not revealing another door, but instead revealing a large room filled with a variety of things that would no doubt add up to millions, possibly even ranging into a billion pounds.

"Who even needs this?" Tom's voice suddenly rings out. You turn to the direction of where his voice came from, and begin to laugh hard when you see exactly what Tom is so confused by. A large bottle of what looked like it used to hold port, but now holds a deep amber coloured liquid that took you a second to realise what it is as well as some other bits floating about.

Agent Tom Bennett is holding in his hands a witches' bottle. AKA, a bottle filled with some random person's piss, toe nails, hair and other various bodily things.

You must've made him nervous as for the first time you think since the mission started he says your name in a meek manner. "What am I holding..."

"You, you're holding some poor person's piss!" You laugh, practically wheezing with no consideration for noise levels as you watch Tom's face contort into one of pure disgust and horror. He manages to put it down as gently as a man who just discovered he's holding a bottle of piss can be, yet it still manages to make you laugh so hard you almost fall over.

"That's fucking disgusting!" The poor man shouts, staring at the offending item with deeply furrowed eyebrows and hateful eyes. "Why the fuck would anyone want that?!"

"I dunno. People used to make them in order to draw in and trap harmful intentions directed at their owners like evil spirits or counteract witches spells. It's sort of cool, when you get past the fact that it's basically just piss and nails and other bodily stuff in a jar."

"Still fucking disgusting. Let's just find this stupid hard drive..." He grumbles, rubbing the hand that touched the bottle on his suit.

You continue to giggle behind Tom as you follow him through the assortment of items. By the looks of it, basically all of it has been organised into sort of sections, making the look for the area with the electronics much easier for the two of you.

After some time looking through some boxes of various things, you find a hard drive labelled with the dangerous info the politician was storing. You'll be honest, it almost felt too easy finding it.

"That's it?" You hear Tom comment from behind as you turn around to face him with the device within your pointing finger and thumb.

"That's it." You shrug, stepping forward to adjust Tom's suit jacket so you can get to the small inside pocket and place the device inside it. It's a little bigger than what was expected, but it still fits just fine within its containment.

"Are we done now," Tom starts to murmur, making you realise the position you were in. You were standing barely a breath away from him, still holding his jacket lapel with your hands keeping him close. You swear you can feel his breath fan against your face, your own face though being pulled straight out of your lungs when you for certain feel his hands slowly move to touch your waist. "I was beginning to enjoy my time with you. Maybe we can fit in a dance before we leave, huh missus?"

You can barely find yourself able to speak as you're frozen where you stand. You can barely manage to nod as you can only find yourself praying for your life that the blush on your face isn't as noticeable as you feel it being.

"Y-yeah." You finally manage to strain out, not even able to look at him as you try to focus on instead of his face a small stain near his chest pocket. Yet it seems Tom has other plans, as he removes one of the hands from your waist to your chin, which he uses only two of his fingers to gently move your head up and force you to look at him eye to eye.

You feel your eyes drawn upwards to look at his face, yet even that action doesn’t last long as you suddenly find yourself staring at his lips while he moistens them with his tongue. They’re a pretty shade of pink, and under the harsh light overhead you can swear you find them glistening slightly.

You murmur Tom's name under your breath lightly, and your eyes close as you feel his hands curl tightly around your body with a sense of possessiveness you never thought you’d get from him.

As you begin to lean closer, feeling his warm breath slowly cause goosebumps to raise all along the length of your arms, you can feel your eyes slowly close as you begin to wonder how this situation has occurred, and why the hell does it feel so right to do?

That is however, till you hear faint footsteps that sound like they're coming closer.

"Do you hear that?" You murmur as you open your eyes slightly to look at Tom, who to your slight amusement is still stuck within the moment. His eyes are still closed, and his mouth slightly puckered as he still tries to inch himself closer and closer.

"I didn't hear anything." He quickly says, not opening his eyes or anything. "Just get over here so I can-"

"They're over here!" A voice shouts in the distance, finally forcing Tom to accept the moment is over, and open his eyes to see your 'i told you so' expression.

Tom grumbles some incoherent words under his breath as he takes his gun out from his hidden inner pocket before turning to you. "Don't think this is over missus." He simply says, before turning to the direction of where the shouting came from.

You yourself just roll your eyes as you retrieve your own pistol still firmly strapped against your leg, and follow behind Tom as you both try to get some cover underneath all the ornaments and objects placed amongst each other.

There is only one main walkway that is designed to showcase every item as you walk around the room, but that doesn't mean people can't make their paths, as demonstrated when Tom walks head first through a rack of old animal fur coats. As the two of you begin to get closer to the exit, the sound of talking gets louder the more steps you take, and you both duck for cover behind a huge set of antique chests of drawers.

"Do we know how many are here?" You hear one of them say, followed by a symphony of guns being reloaded one after another. By the sounds of the guns alone, there's got to be around an even 10 guards ready to shoot you if given the command.

"The boss says can't be more than two." Another says soon after, most likely the squad leader if he's the one answering the questions. "They can't be too far, so fan out and shoot only to disarm or incapacitate. The boss wants us to question them to find out who they work for."

You and Tom from where you both are hiding look at each other in mutual understanding as the promise makes its way through both your heads at the same time. Don't leave the other behind no matter what.

Even though you had both gone through with missions that slipped last second and been tortured by one too many people, even though you both knew the other could handle it the silent declaration still happened without a shadow of a doubt. Neither Tom nor you could bear to think of the other person being hurt by this French asshole.

"Any idea how to dodge these French pricks?" Tom asks as he turns to you, much to your surprise.

"Huh... and here I thought that you'd be all ready to shoot first escape later. What's changed? Did you hit your head when I wasn't looking? Trip on some old Victorian teddy bear?" You can't help but laugh, watching Tom's face doesn't even turn to a simple smirk as he answers.

"Can't have my missus getting hurt. So have you got a plan or do we need to fall back onto the shoot first plan?"

You hate to admit it, but it's at that moment when you finally realise why it had felt so right to be in his arms. Somehow between the chaos of the mission and the short but sweet moments together, you'd fallen for the man worse than James Bond himself, Agent Tom Bennett.

"I think I can see the entrance door from here. The guards have started fanning out more in the middle of the room, which is their mistake thinking we'd still be cowering in the back corner. If we're silent and don't draw attention, then I think we can get out of the room without gunfire and any unnecessary attention. Got that?" You finally say, turning to him and watching as he nods his head in return to your question.

"Got it missus. Take the lead." He says, gesturing his hand in a random direction. You roll your eyes at the nickname but less due to annoyance, and more due to amusement that he still insists on using it even though by now, the disguises have long since crumpled away.

Still, you say nothing and just gesture for him to follow you, which he does in a heartbeat. You can hear the heavy footsteps of the guards in the distance but to your and Tom's relief they go quieter instead of louder, indicating that the group were still making their way to the back of the room.

You make your way through all manner of objects in an attempt to stay away from the main path that stays primarily visible most of the length of the way. You pass rugs, more furniture similar to those earlier sets of drawers, faberge eggs, and even coincidentally old stuffed toys.

Soon, the view of the office you had passed to sneak in came into view. It was so close. You could not tell if there were any guards on the outside which was good for the both of you, as it seems these guards were dumber than they looked.

You turned around to check that Tom had successfully followed behind you with all the twists and turns through the junk, only as you did so, you managed to catch just in time Toms shoulder banging into wobbly piece of display furniture, causing an expensive yet boring looking vase to come toppling down and smash against the hard floor.

"For fucks sake..." You mumble as shouts go off in the distance in chime with heavy footsteps that inch close and closer towards you both.

"Sorry!" Tom yells at you as he leaps up and begins firing like crazy in an attempt to get these guys before they get either of you. You have to sigh in defeat at the turn of events before you also begin to fire at these men with everything you got while also moving backwards towards the exit.

For a minute, all you could hear was gunshot after gunshot, mixed in with the sounds of the guards screaming in pain when either you or Tom managed to get one. But that all changed when you felt one of the last guards bullets burying itself within your shoulder, bringing you down hard against the floor with a surprised scream.

You can hear Tom yell out your name as the last rounds of gunfire go off. As soon as the sounds stop you feel Tom's arms enveloping you so he can pull you closer and assess the wound.

"Shit shit shit you ok missus? Where'd it hit?" Tom begs, his voice frantic as he sees the hole in you gushing blood by the second. He doesn't know if the bullet has done any more damage other than the initial tissue damage, such as bone fracture or nerve injury. If Tom doesn't get you help soon, there's a chance with those nasty ass bullets you could get an infection within the wound.

"Come on darling let's get you safe." Tom says as he takes off his suit jacket and rips off a large section of the back to create a make-shift sling for you. As soon as he deems it tight enough, Tom pulls you up and places your uninjured arm around his neck so he can support you and make sure you leave this place by his side.

Every few steps Tom takes with you on his arm he is watching the surroundings carefully with his gun in easy reach. The previous gunfire must have alerted someone else about their presence, but to Tom's surprise there was no one. No other guards springing out of walls with their guns ready to blow his and your brains out. No evil bad guy with a pathetic monologue on the tip of his tongue. It's as if they were letting him and you walk out of there free with just the gunshot wound. How the hell could it be that simple?

"You still awake missus?" Tom asks, his lips crooked as he attempts to smile for you to show nothing could be worse, even though it easily most definitely could've been. You manage to groan a small response in return, and even if he couldn't make out a single syllable, he'd recognise that smart mouthed sass of yours anywhere. "Yeah yeah I hear you... There's a car out front we can get away in fitted with medical supplies for yourself. Why we don’t get some small basic med kit to keep on hand in case this shit happens, I've got no clue..."

The mission was not supposed to go like this. It was supposed to end great. With the hard drive in the hands of the supervisor and Tom and you having dinner somewhere. Not with you leaning on him for the support while you practically bled out all because of him.

Tom can hear the blood droplets hitting the once pristine white flooring of the hallway, and each soft individual splatter sends a shiver up his spine. He has no idea why he cares so deeply about you right now, and why even the thought of you being permanently injured sends pure nausea down to his stomach. Yet he pushes the thought process down as he makes sure you don't end up losing consciousness right now. The hallway cameras should still be under the control of the organisations tech people by now, but Tom doesn't want to risk chances by lingering when he could be getting you to safety as quickly as possible.

So while making sure your body is fully supported, Tom leads you down the stairs and the other hallways to a more discreet exit away from the crowds of people still there in the ball. The music from before had been so loud that he doubts they heard anything. Plus, they were no doubt distracted with the copious amounts of alcohol they'd all been ingesting in the last couple hours. 

The camera's tom spots are all pointed away from the two of you as you make your way through the halls. The blood coming from your shoulder has slowly begun to lessen, yet still with the way your shoulder and the surrounding areas were beginning to go numb, you still could feel the faint trails trickling down your legs and hear the odd droplets fall to the floor.

"Almost there missus almost there..." Tom mutters, seeing the last door separating you both to the outside world. When he first tried to get through, the door stayed firmly shut even after Tom attempted to slam his body against it in an attempt to loosen it.

"Fucks sake!" He groans, looking down and seeing the simple key lock needed to escape. "Can afford to purchase all that useless shit and keep it behind an electronic keypad but can't be bothered to purchase an electronic lock for the front door..."

Tom carefully places you upright against the closest wall so he can kneel down and get a closer look at the problem. It's just a simple titan key needed, but seeing at how simple it is and where the door leads, it's probably in the pocket of one of the many waiters walking around, and Tom didn't exactly have the time to ask all of them which person had the key. So he did something he never thought he'd be putting to use in real life. Tom grabbed a bobby pin from within your hair, and stuck it within the key lock.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to get it right, but eventually after a couple hundred swears and scratches on his fingers, the door opens with a soft click and a small 'hurrah' from Tom himself. He even turns to you with a victorious smirk, which you return with another exhausted groan and even an exaggerated eye roll even though you begin to feel lightheaded with all the blood that's come out of you within the hour.

"Let's get you help missus."Tom grunts as he picks you back up from the floor and directs you to the direction of a car parked not too far from the entrance. It's smaller than the original limousine that brought you to the mission in the first place, but you can't help but faintly smile when you see the familiar face of Webster watching you from the driver's seat.

As soon as Tom sets you down inside the vehicle, you feel your body slump in the most unladylike of ways against the soft exterior of the car's seats and let out a sigh of relief that it's all over.

"I trust you know about removing a bullet Agent Bennett." Webster's voice rings out through the speaker as you feel the engine begin and the car drives off.

"Sarcastic bastard..." Tom murmurs as he swiftly takes the med kit from underneath the seat and opens it to take out the tweezers and the gauze and place them beside you on the seat. Next, he removes the piece of his suit he had used to originally stem the blood flow of the wound and rips your dress slightly so he can see your shoulder better without it interfering. You'll no doubt be pissed later, but he'll just send it to Stan later to get fixed.

With the barrier gone, blood flows more steadily than what it was a few minutes ago, but it doesn't matter right now as much as it does to make sure the bullet comes out fully. "This is going to hurt." Tom simply warns before he picks up the tweezers and begins to poke and prod his way inside of the wound.

It truly breaks his heart to hear your screams of pain, but he needs to persist and find this damn bullet. Thankfully it doesn't take too long, as with the combined layer of your dress and bra it managed to not let it go in as deep as it could've. So soon enough as the pesky bugger is soon plucked out and thrown somewhere within the car space while Tom quickly takes the gauze and wraps the wound tight.

"Feeling better missus?" He asks, forcing you to look at him as your eyes slowly regain a look of focus you minutes ago were losing fast.

"Yeah..." You manage to say, wincing as you move your shoulder slightly. "I'm alright. Thanks, for not leaving me in there."

"I'd never." Tom quickly says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows to further his point. "And besides, now that I know you're ok, I can continue where we left off."

"What do you mea-"

Before you can begin to question what Tom is trying to say, his lips capture yours, and your heart feels as though it stops mid-beat between your chest. You have no thoughts running through your head right now. Your focus being only on the calming warmth of Tom's lips and the faint taste of mint.

His hands cup your waist and face delicately as if you were made of pure glass. Yet as much as you enjoyed his tender touch, you didn't want Tom to think of you as delicate. You wanted him to hold you with the knowledge you could never crumble from him. For him to know he could never hurt you.

You never want this strange feeling of right to end, but when it eventually does, with the two of you both silently attempting to catch your breaths.

"Was that good?" Tom eventually asks, staring at you with hopeful eyes. "If I made you like uncomfortable or anything I'm sorry-"

"You didn't." You say with a smile as you lean forward to peck his lips again in a sweet kiss in reassurance. As you pull away, you can see Tom's lips turned in a bashful smile and his cheeks heat up to a light pink. If you were being honest, it was really fucking adorable. Words you never thought you'd ever say about agent Bennett in your life.

"Good." He simply says, focusing on the curves of your face and trying not to think about how his face is probably bright red due to embarrassment from being so soft with a girl. "Now let's get back to the hotel."

"Why are we going back to the hotel?" You ask, confusion in your voice.

"Cause I want you to get dressed up before I take you out for a date tonight. So shower, take as much time as you need to get ready, cause I want to make this as special for you as I ever could for you. Tell me your favourite food so I can book the best restaurant available for you. I'm sure Webster can deliver the hard drive when he returns the car."

"I can indeed sir." Webster says through the intercom, scaring the two of you as you both jump slightly in your seats. "Just pop it through the slot and I can take it straight to the supervisor no issue."

"Thank you Webster!" Tom grins as he takes the device and puts it through to the other side.

Webster takes it in his hand and places it within his own suit jacket pocket. His eyes are focused on the road, but he can't deny the warmth in his chest when he sees the two of you giggling and smiling between yourself in the backseat like a couple of lovesick teenagers. He drops you and Tom at the hotel as told, but he can't stop himself from watching the two of you enter the hotel together.

As soon as Tom had stepped out before you, he made sure to reach for your hand and help you step out like a proper gentleman, and the entire walk up to the hotel doors none of you made the step to let go.

Webster watched the two of you with a smile, as he thinks to himself, he has never seen a pair of people so in love with each other.

[savannahsdeath]

hiii I love your work! could you pretty please do some toxic ellie? :)

TOXIC!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

summary: a miserable attempt to leave your toxic girlfriend

warnings: preferably 18+, just lots of toxic shit, manipulating, reader is crying

writers note: probably the only toxic post you'll see on my profile. honestly, i dont even know why i wrote this and im posting it just for the anon. i dont support any toxic behavior, cuz even a simple fanfic can bring some harm. dont read it if youre sensitive to such topics and if you decide to read it, dont romanticize it and dont blame me for any bad feelings you felt while reading - youre responsible for your own media consumption, im not forcing anyone to read. as i said, i just post it for the anon and also because i dont want it to just sit in my drafts (i dont have the guts to delete it). ugh its kinda long but i just want to make sure everyones safe, please take care🩷

you were sitting in your bed with your head buried between your knees for half an hour now, ignoring the buzzing of your phone. you caught her with another girl. you should cry and feel miserable, and all you could think of was; 'finally! finally a reason to leave her!!'. all you could feel was happiness.

but leaving her wasn't easy. you tried a few times before.

'maybe it'll be different this time', you hoped. but the way you kept receiving notifications from her said otherwise. 'maybe if i ignore her for a few more minutes, she'll let me go.'

you tried to put your phone down, but your hands won't let you. your thumbs kept reaching for the screen in a desperate, involuntary action. you were powerless to stop it. you knew you shouldn't respond. you know you should walk away, but you couldn't. every time she messaged you, your heart beated faster and your breathing quickened. you knew this isn't the best thing for you, but a part of you was still clinging to hope.

'enough, stop it.' you ordered to yourself.

you picked up your phone, deciding to call your friend. she'll make you remember all the cruel things ellie did and leaving her will be easier.

your hands were shaking and you were truly scared of what's going to happen. you hestitated for too long before clicking on your friend's profile and.. lost your chance.

ellie was calling you. she wasn't giving up and she was probably pissed off by now.

you sighed and whispered; 'sorry' to your future self, before answering the call.

"why aren't you answering to my texts, huh?" she asked in an accusatory tone, as if you were the one who did something wrong.

your breath hitched as you heard her voice. there's no going back now. "i'm sorry, ellie, it's over." you mumbled and shook your head in disbelief. 'i'm sorry'?? for what? where was your confidence?

she took it from you, just like she's going to take anything she wants.

"i'll pick you up in a few minutes." she announced and you felt tears starting to well up in your eyes.

great. so she's on her way here.

you took a deep breath to stop your voice from quivering. "i'm not going anywhere- not with you."

ellie laughed, thinking it's all a joke. "you're funny, honey. you know you come crawling back to me everytime." she replies calmly. "so get ready. i'm coming to pick you up, and then we can talk about this. like grown-ups."

ellie was good at controlling you. she'll say she's coming to pick you up, and you'll be waiting on your porch when she arrives. she had a firm grip on you and she knew it.

not this time.

"like grown-ups?" you nervously laughed. "you cheated on me. again."

ellie didn't get angry. she wasn't even surprised.

"don't overreact, babe." she replied in an irritated tone. "it's not like it was anything serious. it's just some random girl. i'm still with you. you should know that."

you were stunned by her cavalier attitude. she really thought it's no big deal.

"leave me alone." if there was even a little bit of toughness in your voice before, it all left. now, you were just simply begging her to stop. "please."

ellie's confidence and her nonchalant attitude was getting to you. you felt angry, but at the same time, you were starting to doubt yourself.

you wanted to hang up, but you couldn't. you just waited for her reaction, praying this'll be the end. but you knew everything depended on what ellie wants, and for her, only her own good mattered.

ellie chuckled. "oh, sweetheart. you think you can just break up with me over the phone? we're not even having a fight here. come on, be reasonable. let's just talk this through. i'll be there soon."

you proudly raised your chin, even though she couldn't see that. the tears ruined your confident facade anyway. "i locked the door."

she stayed silent for a moment, not expecting that from you. but she always had a plan b, and you realised that as soon as you heard her laugh. "i'll check that myself."

you heard her car arrive outside your house, and an instant wave of regret washed over you.

she knocked on the front door. "i'm here, love. open up." her voice was gentle, with an apologetic tone.

you knew it was all a ploy to get you to open the door. you knew this was just another manipulative tactic she was using, but it was starting to work.

"come on, be a smart girl." she continued in a sweet voice. "or we'll do this the hard way."

you cursed yourself for how weak you felt, even though it wasn't your fault.

"ellie, please..." you begged, with as much authority as you could muster, but your pleads still sounded weak.

"what's that, babe? are you crying?" she responded in a mocking tone.

you felt powerless to resist her. your stomach twisted in knots, but your fingers reached for the knob. your other hand quickly wiped away your tears, though there were some visible smudges left. you stared at the doorknob in your hand, fighting every instinct in your body to open it and let her in. but you knew she'll get her way, sooner or later. you just wanted to get this over with.

with a shaking hand, you opened the door. you saw that ellie was holding a set of keys - there was definitely one to your house too. she could just unlock the door, but she wanted to check if you'll listen to her. you didn't even want to think about what would happen if you didn't give up.

she walked inside like she owned the place, and she didn't even look at you. she knew she's got you wrapped around her finger.

"good girl." she said, with the same mocking tone.

ellie's eyes darted around the room, and she walked over to take a closer look at a framed photo of the two of you on your shelf. she smirked, letting out a sarcastic 'hmph, so cute'.

you stood there, defeated, as she walked past you and paced around your home. she made herself comfortable, as if she belongs there. you tried to keep a brave face, but she could see right through it.

she sat down and turned to you. "tell me, why we ended up here?" she asked, her voice was cold and unforgiving, but it also sounded curious. "why are you trying to leave me? aren't you happy?"

you felt your lips tremble, as you parted them to speak. "you know damn well what you did."

she stood up and walked up to you, standing right in your face and leaning a little to match your eye level. "fucked another girl? huh? is that it?" she stroked your cheek with the back of her fingers, mocking your pout.

you flinched away from her touch, but she grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you towards her.

"i just had some fun." she said calmly. "besides, you can't blame me for wanting something different. just trying to make up for what you lack." she caressed your face, tracing your lips. it was almost gentle, as if she wasn't even trying to hurt you. but her words cut deep. "now, stop acting like a baby." she let go of your face. "i'm trying to have a mature conversation with you."

the obedient, scared side of you wiped your tears away and straightened up without thinking, but everytime you closed your eyes - everytime you blinked - another wave of salty liquid streamed down your cheeks.

you sniffled and tried to keep it together, but your body was shaking and feeling dizzy. still, you stood your ground.

"please, ellie... i can't do this anymore." you begged in a shaky voice.

"sh, shhh..." ellie wrapped her hands around you, rubbing your hair in a soothing motion. "don't say dumb things. i already know you can't live without me. you know that too." she grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to look at her for a second. "don't you?"

her embrace felt somehow comforting, not matching the poisoning effect of her words. you clinged onto her, hoping to get as much from this rare moment as possible.

but you knew, deep down, that this is just another manipulation tactic. you shouldn't fall for her games.

"there, there." she whispered to you. she held you even tighter, as if she was trying to absorb every ounce of energy you had left.

she pulled back and looked you straight in the eyes. "do you see what happens when you try to leave me, babe?"

"i am leaving you." you said with as much conviction as you could muster. "i'm serious this time."

but ellie just smiled, treating your words like a joke. "that's funny, honey. this is just another one of your little tantrums. you're just upset because you haven't gotten enough attention these days. but you don't want to lose me." she ran her hands along your cheeks and caressed your hair. "you'll come back to me. you'll come crawling back, just like always. because you can't live without me."

you instantly buried your face in her chest, as she started stroking your back.

she sighed. "are you finished?"

you felt ashamed. you failed, once again. you let her win.

you lifted your head up so you could see her expression. her smile was even more mocking and cruel now that you've given in to her.

"that's more like it, babe." she said with that same condescending tone. she pulled you in for another hug, as if nothing happened. "now, let's forget all about today, okay?" she whispered in your ear. "my pretty girl."

[pumpkinmetaphor]

im pretty sure its a running joke in the kyokao fandom that they actively make each other worse which i think is absolutely hilarious (because like, yeah annoying capitalist x annoying capitalist) but what are some of the ways you think they improve each other? :D /gen

Great question!

I think Kyoya makes Kaoru more ambitious. Kaoru is smart enough to skirt by most of the time without much effort or forethought. I would not hesistate to believe that he and Hikaru are only doing like half their subjects and then taking tests for each other. I also think Kaoru is immature and nebulous about the future and what he wants from it.

Someone like Kyoya, who is very goal oriented and future focused would be somewhat of a motivating factor. Hikaru and Kaoru's decision to go to Tokyo University is more triggered by Haruhi and Nanako than Kyoya's still pending decision to stay in Boston, but I think Kyoya seeing what he wants and going for it is impressive. I think Kaoru would take his work more seriously, maybe take more of an interest in the business side of things if Kyoya made it more fun.

Meanwhile, I think Kaoru would motivate Kyoya to reevaluate what he thinks freedom means. Freedom is Kaoru's family motto and something Kyoya strives for and thinks he has- but has he? I think in the same way Tamaki makes him reevaluate the box his father has put him in, Kaoru would help recontextualise that a bit more. Yes, you don't have to be trapped in the expectations of your birthright, but maybe you don't need to be beholden to anyone's expectations of you- Kyoya himself said it doesn't matter as long as the people he cares about knows who he is, so maybe he should live by that instead.

The host club in general convinces Kyoya to have a bit more fun, but I think even Kaoru's specific situation- overshadowed by his elder brother, possibly disinherited due to reasons unrelated to merit- and the fact that Kaoru would be entirely unbothered by it would allow Kyoya to maybe reevaluate his options and pick ones that allow him that freedom. After all, those who live freely are the winners, right? And Kyoya wants to win.

I think this "Kaoru makes Kyoya a freer spirit" stops slightly short of Kaoru getting him on a motorbike at any point.

Basically, I think they mellow each other out. Kaoru works harder, Kyoya becomes less of a workaholic. Kaoru becomes a little more self-possessed, Kyoya becomes a little bit freer.

I also think, as me and @pilindiel were only discussing earlier, they mesh pretty well with each other's anxieties. They're two people who believe that they can only be love for the mask they put on, and two people who quite easily see through each other's masks. As long as the people you care about know who you are, nothing else matters- is as much about Kaoru as it is about Kyoya. It's an inadvertant, egotistical admission by Kyoya that he does know who Kaoru is and Kaoru does care about him, and vice a versa. Platonically, and bewildering to Kaoru at this point, but important nonetheless. Kyoya proves his point by even saying it and articulating it as a viewpoint that Kaoru would share- because he does know who Kaoru is, and nothing else about it matters.

But yeah, Kyoya believes that it is more important for the people he cares about to know him than it is for them to love him. And Kaoru is kind of into the whole evil scheming ambition thing so that negates that concern. And Kaoru meanwhile is terrified of being made obsolete and being left behind. Which is negated somewhat by Kyoya being the kind of guy with the dedication to stick to his convictions, one of which he has decided is the perpetuity of the host club. And one would be Kaoru too, of course.

Also just tacking on at the end because I'm rambling too much. I think Kyoya would make Kaoru more independent-- something Kaoru already strives for a bit more of, but there's nothing like giving someone a reason not to share a bedroom with their sibling anymore as that final push. And I think Kaoru would encourage Kyoya to be less self-isolating, less of a lone wolf. Mainly because he likes getting into other people's business. Kaoru loves teamwork <- freak.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

i read your horcrux post, its fascinating and very well done! im just stuck on one thing: while i agree that tom definitely has a good share of self-hatred, enough to cause himself pain and endure an agonising process to become immortal, doesnt the whole idea of "killing yourself" for the ritual seem very risky? like what if you actually die lmao then the whole thing was all for naught. i mean i can also see him being confident and arrogant enough to believe he COULD do it without mistakes, but still. seems like a big risk considering his whole shtick is avoiding death as far as possible. anyway thank you for all your metas they are very enjoyable to read and think about!!!

Thank you so much! 💕 I'm glad you liked my Horcrux theory, it's one of the earliest ones I made here and I'm still pretty proud of it.

As for the risk — yeah, it is incredibly risky, that's kind of the point. This is a ritual we know Tom was crazy to attempt multiple times, a ritual in-universe that even just doing it once is considered insanely risky and potentially damaging, not to mention multiple times:

‘Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction. ...’I mean, why mention it then?” she said impatiently, slamming the old book shut;

(HBP)

That was what you told me he said. ‘Further than anybody,’ And I thought I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did not. He was referring to his Horcruxes, Horcruxes in the plural, Harry, which I do not believe any other wizard has ever had. 

(HBP) - only part of the quote since the rest of Dumbles' analysis of Voldemort's character in the above section is questionable.

JKR stated in an interview there is a final horrible step that must be taken to make a Horcrux, something beyond just murder. Cannibalism, physical self-mutilation, or masturbating over the corpse (Yes, I have read this theory somewhere) don't make sense because then Harry couldn't become a Horcrux. It doesn't really leave us with many possibilities.

Additionally, Voldemort talks of how only he was skilled and brave enough to attempt it more than once, to go "further than anyone" ever had:

I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal — to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked . . . for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it.

(GoF)

If there was no risk, more people would make Horcruxes and more people would make multiple Horcruxes. Voldemort himself calls it an "experiment". He wasn't sure it would work at any point but the risk was worth it for him.

when he asks Slughorn what would happen if you made multiple Horcruxes he already made two Horcruxes. He experimented with Horcrux when he had little to no information on them. He experimented magically on himself. Multiple times. (He also mentioned "experiments" in plural so I wonder if he had another method besides Horcruxes that he attempted...). This is not a person who cares about "risk" like a normal person. Riping your soul apart to make a Horcrux, even without my theory, is in itself, a huge risk — and he does so consciously 6 times!

Dumbledore, Slughorn, and Voldemort all talk of Horcruxes like an unknown magic, barely attempted by anyone throughout history. Even Magick Moste Evile doesn't give more than a mention to the concept of Horcruxes because no one actually makes them. (It's the spider georg meme: "average dark wizard makes 1 horcrux in their lifetime factoid actualy just statistical error. average dark wizard makes 0 horcruxes. Horcrux Tom, who lives as a wraith in albenia & made 7 horcruxes, is an outlier adn should not have been counted").

If you need to temporarily kill yourself to become immortal it would explain why not more people have tried it. I mean, Grindelwald wanted to be the Master of Death, so why not make a Horcrux, I'm sure he was familiar with the ritual?

Becouse the risk was too great for him to take.

I talked about this a bit here and @iamnmbr3 has this post about this, but Tom, for all that he is the heir of Slytherin, acts a lot like a Gryffindor. He is prideful, sure, but he is so incredibly brave. Experimenting on himself with a super dangerous ritual 7 times is incredibly in character for him. Yes, he's arrogant, he's sure he'd succeed, but unlike Grindelwald or (younger) Dumbledore, he is willing to take the ultimate risk for the sake of his immortality.

It also makes sense symbolically. Like, to become immortal you have to risk your life — to live forever you must be ready to go through death. It makes sense in a symbolic sort of way. It just feels right.

[activesplooger]

for the kinktober reqs, worshipping adam’s body…… ouh…..

a person after my own heart, here ya go!

𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕯𝖆𝖞 1 » 𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

»»—-𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕—-««

𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: (MDNI) Kinktober day 1 whoop whoop!!!! enjoy! also trying to describe Adam's mask mechanics was very difficult so if it doesn't make sense, sorry. Also im writing this while sick asf (mono) so sorry if it doesnt make sense my mind is soup.

𝕮𝖂: Body worship, oral (m-receiving)

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: One-night stand with heaven's first man! However, he refuses to take off the mask. The poor guy feels so vulnerable without it - time for some much-needed body worship!

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1,629

»»———-————————————————-««

Your lips crash against the hard lips of his mask, the stiff material making it uncomfortable to kiss. His 'tongue' invades your mouth, the weird mechanical texture making your skin crawl.

You knew it was normal for angels, especially ones of the exorcist army, to wear these types of masks. But during times of 'intimacy'? That was unheard of. You try to cope with it, leaning into the rough kisses and trying to be gentle so it wouldn't hurt. But eventually, enough was enough and it was time to say something.

"Hey, Adam?" you muffle out against the angel's lips. "Hm?" he hums, still relentlessly kissing you. Your hands grab at the bottom edge of his mask, lifting it slowly as you speak, "Could we maybe take this off-". "No!" he snaps, pulling away from the kiss and pushing the mask back down.

You stare at him wide-eyed. Why did he react so strongly over something so little? The angel looks to the side bashfully, embarrassed at his accidental outburst. The two of you sit awkwardly on his bed, an uncomfortable silence filling the room.

Ah well, the mood's ruined. All you wanted was a simple one-night stand and now it's complicated and weird. Great. "Maybe I should g-". "What no, don't go!" he pleads, "c'mon baby just ignore that happened. C'mere.". He leans in for a kiss again but his lips are met with the palm of your hand, "I'm sorry I really can't keep kissing your mask, it honestly kind of hurts.". "It doesn't fucking hurt," he argues. "...does it?" he quietly asks. You inhale through gritted teeth, oh God does he really not know? He recognizes the expression and immediately groans, bringing a palm up to slap the forehead of his mask, "Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding me! How come none of the tons of bitches I've slept with told me?! What the fuck?!".

Yeah, okay, that's your queue to leave. You wanted to get laid pretty badly, but not badly enough to where you'd have to listen to all his bitching about other girls he's slept with. His complaining drones on in the background as you get up to leave. As you get up off the bed, his large hands grip your waist and pull you down onto his lap. "Where are you going?!" he asks a bit frantically, an almost desperate look in his eyes.

"Uh... I'm leaving, sorry. This was uh, surely something! But, I should go-". "No no, stay!" he pleads, "we can just do it without kissing it's fine! Who cares about that stupid part anyways?". Okay, now you don't even feel bad for leaving anymore. You glare at him, "Wow, how charming of you to say.". He smirks pridefully at the comment, his expression changing into an insulted frown as he realizes the sarcasm in your comment, "Oh shut the fuck up! But, seriously, babe. You're hot as fuck and brutally honest, which is a virtue or whatever, but it's also pretty fuckin' sexy!".

You sigh exasperatedly, "Fine, but only if you take off the mask.". Adam mutters some swears under his breath before begrudgingly taking off his mask. Under the mask is a handsome brunette with sharp features. His left eyebrow adorns a gold bar piercing that perfectly highlights his rugged features. The angel looks away bashfully, "Stop looking at me like that, fucking creep.". Your eyes almost roll out of your head, "Be quiet, or else I'm leaving.". More angry murmurs leave Adams's lips. Why was he so adamant about keeping his mask on? He's a good-lookin' guy! Who hurt him? "Adam," you reposition yourself higher up on his lap, "just relax, it's a stupid mask. It doesn't change anything.". "It doesn't?" he asks with wide eyes. "No, not one bit," you begin, a smirk appearing on your lips. Maybe he needed some more convincing...

"Alright, big boy," you coo, tugging at the hem of his robe, "let's take this off.". Despite Adam's clear insecurity in his facial features, he had no problem with his body. This was made abundantly clear by how quickly and eagerly he tossed his robe off. Adam’s left in his boxers, his cock stretching the confines of the material as he smirks confidently. His expression falters as he notices you not looking at his body but rather his face, "Again with the fucking staring?!". You press a finger against his lips to shush him, "Quiet and let me do my thing. I know exactly what you need...". His cock twitches in his boxers as you speak, your soft and sultry voice sending shivers down his spine.

Crashing your lips against his, you mutter words of praise to ease his tense insecurity: "Pretty boy~"

"So handsome"

He's practically putty in your hands at this point. You pepper kisses all over his face, each kiss coming with a different compliment. Once he felt comfortable and relaxed, you trailed kisses from his lips, down to his body. You kept muttering praises as you worshipped his burly body, lips trailing down every curve and crevice. Adam was fucking loving every bit of it. Aside from the whole 'mask' insecurity, his ego was about as huge as possible.

The angel tangles his fingers in your hair and massages your scalp as you continue with your worship. Small, suppressed moans and grunts escape his lips as you display your reverence. Your lips stop just above the waistband of his boxers. Looking up at him, you tug on the elastic with your teeth and stretch it for silent permission to continue. He nods ecstatically, not even a hint of hesitation in his approval.

Gripping the tight fabric, you slowly pull it down, revealing his throbbing cock. You had to suppress a gasp at the size of that thing. It was long and girthy, with veins protruding out of the underside. A trail of hair connected from his belly button down to his hefty balls and the base of his dick. Beads of pre-cum leaked from his glistening tip. Truly a breathtaking sight.

Now you see why he's always bragging about his dick, he kind of has a point. Why doesn't heaven make them like this anymore?! Probably because it comes with being totally egocentric and prideful.

Adam looks down at you with a smug expression as you admire his manhood, "Like what you see?". You wish he could be quiet. Of course, you like it, hell, you love it. But you weren't about to outright admit it. Instead, you continue your praise to show how you feel.

Pressing kisses to the insides of his thighs, you gently nip at the plush skin, tongue darting out to taste his flesh. His grip on your hair tightens, his restraint weakening with each kiss. You kiss down his legs, making sure to properly pay tribute to every inch of him. "Beautiful," you mutter against his skin as you kiss his calves. Adam exhales softly, relaxing in your gentle embrace. You move back up to his groin, now feeling properly prepared to praise his cock.

Moving your head down, you press kisses along his bulky length. Adam's pupils dilate as you give his dick much-needed attention, a soft "Fuck" escaping his lips. Your hands work on his balls, massaging the mounds tenderly as you lick strips up and down his shaft. He pats your head, hands smoothing over your hair as he shakily speaks, "Good girl.".

Your tongue laps over his tip, smearing the pre-cum all over the fat head of his cock. Adam's hips start to involuntarily jerk as he seeks more of your touch. Your hands press his hips into the bed, a warning for him not to move anymore. He whines at this, desperately craving for release as his aching cock twitches.

Pressing a final kiss to his tip, you wrap your lips around it tightly and sink down. You take him inch by inch until you have him fully enveloped by your mouth. Looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, Adam's voice wavers, "Fuu-hhhUUCCKK.". His eyes shut tightly as he succumbs to the pleasure, already close to orgasm. You bob your head up and down on his dick, hands moving from his hips back to his balls.

Your cheeks are hollowed as you suck his cock, trying your best not to choke on his length as his tip touches the back of your throat. Adam shoves you down onto his cock which causes you to gag slightly. "Ah fuck," he snarls, "take it all, babygirl.". Your nose presses into his pubic bone as you struggle to breathe around his girth. But still, you swallow around him, trying to relax your throat to accommodate his size.

His cock starts to spasm, balls tightening as he feels his impending release. Adam starts to control your movements, grabbing your head back and forth at a brutal pace, "Shit... Shit- SHITSHITSHITSHIT". Loads of hot cum pour down your throat, his movements slowing as his orgasm washes over. You pull off him with a lewd pop and swallow the ocean of cum he left in your mouth.

The angel looks down at you with tender and wide eyes, "That was... The best fucking head I've ever had in my entire life AND afterlife!". He pulls you up onto his lap and hugs you. You practically disappear into the mass of his chest as he embraces you tightly.

You attempt to escape the confines of his chest, but your attempts are futile. Adam chuckles, "After that little performance, you're not going anywhere.". In a swift motion, he flips you on your back and spreads your legs, head settling between your thighs, "Your turn...".

the end!

---

KINKTOBER DAY 1 RAHH FINALLY!!!!! i hope ygs like!!!

[mins-fins]

feel like a fool

&&. na jaemin hates strawberries, but maybe he'll deal with them for the sake of a cute guy.

pairing: na jaemin x m!reader

genre: fluffffffff

warnings: na jaemin vs strawberries

word count: 0.8k

notes: hiiiii.. i didnt mean to not update in a while its just the summer depression is HITTING and now im sort of kind of becoming a workaholic.. also im finalizing moving out… and getting ready for classes starting in a few weeks, life is in shambles, illuminati is confirmed 😭😭 anyway, this was for an idea for an smau, but i'm never making another one of those until im in a good mental headspace for it!! so take… jaemin 😇

na jaemin's eye couldn't have twitched enough in these past few minutes.

someone is baking.

and usually that wouldn't be a problem, jaemin doesn't care about what his neighbors do. he usually doesn't mind if people bake, or party, or blast loud music in the wee hours of the night.

but he's pissed right now.

because wafting through the walls is the smell of artificial strawberry flavoring. strawberries. good fucking lord. the smell wouldn't be that irritating if jaemin wasn't already pissed enough because of donghyuck's natural sense of.. well, being annoying.

he tried to keep himself calm, spend time playing with the babies and cleaning things which don't need cleaning before plopping onto his bed to stare at the ceiling for hours on end.

oh fuck this cheap apartment for having thin walls, because not only does jaemin have to lay here and take the flavoring of strawberries assaulting his ears, no! he also has to listen to the inhabitants of the other apartment get it on. lord they seem to do that a lot, are they never tired?

maybe the strawberries are the least of his problems tonight, but they still are a problem.

"who even bakes with strawberries at.." he feels around his bedside table for his phone, listening to the silent meows of his babies as he tries to figure out the time. "three in the morning?"

a frown tugs at his lips, it's so early and he can't sleep. lucy is the only one of the babies that is asleep, luna and luke are attempting to wrestle each other.

he chuckles at the display before almost startling when his doorbell rings, falling backward. oh he really needs to work on that.

jaemin rises from his place on his bed to shuffle over to his door, still irritated by the smell of artificial strawberries. he's ready to give the person who rang his doorbell a piece of his mind, mustering up a scolding for the inevitable culprit, the smell of strawberries simply getting stronger as he nears his door.

he swings open the door with a rough vigor he definitely plans to use when giving the person a piece of his mind; "do you usually ring people's doorbells at three am—"

but then he pauses when he sees whose at his door.

it's his neighbor. jaemin doesn't know your name, but that doesn't really matter in the current situation. jaemin can't help but think you're adorable, there's an insanely cute guy at his doorstep, he's pretty much won the lottery.

except then he grimaces.

the smell of strawberries fill the air, you're holding a container with strawberry shortcake in it. "oh, hi.. you".

you clear your throat, glancing down at the cake you baked. "hi i um— i baked all of this but i made too much so now i'm going around to see if anyone wants it but the last guy opened the door with a gun soooooo i didn't want take my chances with him.."

jaemin blinks, then laughs at the amusing display. you stare for a moment, still waiting for an answer to your question. "the guy in 164 pulled a gun out on you?"

"i'm pretty sure he was asleep".

you frown, and jaemin laughs again, not at your misery, but simply the delivery. who knew you could look so sad while presenting such humor?

"do you want some strawberry shortcake?" you mutter, extending the container forward, and jaemin steps backward, grimacing.

he glances at you, and you patiently wait for his response, smile stuck to your face. there's no reason for you to look so cute while doing literally nothing!

but jaemin guesses that sometimes things just happen in that way.

"if you don't want any it's okay i can just go ask the old couple down the hall—"

"it's okay".

"oh really?"

"yeah yeah it's fine" jaemin takes the container from you, noise again scrunching at the smell of strawberries in the air. "you always bake early in the morning?"

"i never sleep, but it always tires me out enough so it became a little routine of mine.."

jaemin lets a small 'ah' escape his lips. "well thank you for the strawberry shortcake.. uh.."

"y/n".

so that's your name. "y/n, thank you".

"no problem, please don't tell me if it's awful though because i'll cry".

you laugh at your own choice of words, which amuses jaemin again, because he has to stifle his own laughter. "i'll only leave good reviews, swear".

"you better" you raise an eyebrow as a way to appear threatening. "sorry for interrupting your night, also your cat is super cute".

jaemin looks to where your pointing, catching sight of luna hiding behind his legs. "oh.. thank you, good night".

you coo at the sight of the cat, but not for long, you also bid your own good night and go back to your unit.

now jaemin doesn't exactly know why he decided to agree to taking the cake in the first place. he went an hour long mental tirade on why he couldn't stand the irritating smell of strawberries in the apartment.

well.. maybe they're not so much of an issue now. the baker is cute, he can let the strawberries stick around.

[just-null]

your yan!noritoshi is so wisnwonwpwjw RAAAHHHH going absolutely feral ... i want him . ive had so many thoughts abt him as like a yandere n then i saw your art n absolutely lost it /pos

IM ALL EARS, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!

GOD FUCK OKAY, HOLD ON, I ALSO HAVE SOME RAMBLES AND THOUGHTS ABOUT YANDERE NORITOSHI BUT IM GOING TO PUT THEM UNDER THE CUT.

I AM IN NO WAY RESPONSIBLE FOR UNLEASHING MY TJOUGHTS OFFICER. IT WAS MY GLORIOUS CULT MEMBER RIGHT HERE.

MERRY OCTOBER YALL

[disclaimer: im not a writer, but I want to get better. think of this as my practice. it ended up being so fucking long, but i swear it's just rambles, not a fic]

[warning for blood under the cut? keep that in mind for future posts]

OKAY LETS GO.

Bro ok so. if I'm not too delusional (yet) and don’t see him as a yandere, then this guy (Noritoshi) is still a strict fuck. he'd put you on the same level of importance as his clan if not a bit higher. but only by a bit. Your relationship would gradually bloom into something meaningful to him that he’d cherish you wholeheartedly. Only then would you grow in importance to Noritoshi significantly. He'd keep his resolve and all those healthy green flags. Because honestly? Noritoshi is just a green flag, he's so sweet..

But let's twist that into a yandere setting. I don't even need to twist too much, Noritoshi as a yandere is way too fitting.

Noritoshi was abandoned by his mother as a child, thereby fueling his lifelong goals to do as she said and bring her back. He didn't even think on his own accord, nor did he try to find a different way, or even follow her! He accepted his fate and made it his mission to accomplish the goal he was given. Despite the intense pressure of his worth being determined by an ability he was born with and the high expectations from the Kamo clan, he perseveres. That is until [spoilers] Noritoshi is exiled by his clan because of some Kenajku shit. All his hard work and future goals were ripped away from him without a second thought in an instant. Noritoshi was always the second thought time and time again, and now left as a man with nothing but the failure of his desired future.

That wasn't even the yandere part, that was all canon, what the fuck.

Yandere Noritoshi is the type to cling to scraps... He reminds me of an obsessive and protective yandere. obsessive about you because you become his everything.. his goal, his will to keep going, the light at the end of the tunnel. he wants all of you, from the best parts of you to your worst. He's also protective, because he cant handle losing yet another person so important to him. He'd rather tear himself apart than lose you.

He also seems mostly self-aware but can overthink to the point of delusion. For example, you pat him on the back and tell him he did a great job on something. He knows it's nothing to dwell on, but why does he feel like there's more to your words? Should he read in between the lines? but there's only one line! From then on, his mind would reel until he landed on a favorable conclusion. You meant that he was the only one who did great. The others paled in comparison in your eyes therefore you must favor Noritoshi in some way.. right?

Since Noritoshi was pretty deprived of any emotional support, you won't even have to try too hard to get his heart thumping. If you were to give him even just a bit more attention and care than the average person, like making sure he's eating alright or remarking that he's paler than usual after restocking his blood bags, he's hooked. He's self-aware enough to realize his blooming fondness for you is one-sided, so he simply admires you. that is, at the start. Note that Noritoshi is still new to these feelings so he's.. awkward. It's really cute.

Though these moments were cute to you, they slowly became horribly blissful to Noritoshi. Poor you, completely unaware of how you're slowly corrupting him in, what he thinks, is the best way possible just by giving him your attention. He thinks you're the last and only person still believing in him, so much so that everything and everyone else slowly becomes minuscule in the grand seam of things. He feels happy around you, like he matters, like he has someone to trust, like he has someone who won't abandon him. Because of this, he sees you as a new goal. A new hope. Failing you is not an option. Disappointing you is not an option. Hell, even a frown from you is unacceptable in his eyes.

Noritoshi tries to cling to you at this point in his own way... He enjoys it when you speak to him, or even sit next to him, so much so that he seeks you out when you're not there. You'd feel eyes boring holes into the back of your head, a sense of being followed, sometimes seeing your shadow accompanied by another, every time you turn around to be surprised by a familiar face. His footsteps are so quiet that you barely notice Noritoshi walking around.

Unfortunately, due to Noritoshi’s inexperience, the only way he knows how to impress people is by being “perfect” a.k.a. his strict, pain in the ass, annoying heir shtick. He would be the type to get on your case, scold, coddle, nitpick, correct you, and practically look like he's trying to bully you when in reality he's trying to hear praise from you for "helping" you. He’s waiting for you to see the affection and adoration behind his nagging, is he not being obvious enough? oh well, at least your eyes are on him for now. When most people in Noritoshi's life have either put him second or flat-out abandoned him, he's satisfied with anything he can get from you. Though he'd prefer praise, the thought of your attention being given to another even for a second makes his stomach feel like it's tying in knots, so he settles for your annoyed tuts and glares.

Of course, after a while, you'd get tired of this and tell him to knock it off. Or some variation of what a decent human being would do like, “Do whatever you want, but don't meddle in people's business.”

You KNOW he's going to be picking that apart in the middle of the night while looking up at the ceiling. What did you mean by that? Do you mean ANYTHING he wants? As long as he doesn’t bother anyone? Were you talking about yourself and everyone in general? Were you talking about someone specific? Did you leave it up for him to decide? Thoughts and questions circle in his head until he twists your words enough into something that he favors again. Ah, you allow him to do whatever he wants so long as he doesn't get in your way. But he wants to be alongside you... Did you mean in your way to the point of annoyance? Noted. From then on, Noritoshi's strictness softened into light nagging and bearable hovering. He'd knock it off completely through gritted teeth and furrowed brows if you threatened him with the silent treatment. He'll slowly start it up again until you begin ignoring him, only then will he get the hint and relax a bit. only until next time, of course.

The intensity of Noritoshi's coddling can fluctuate depending on your actions. (recklessness, obedience, shyness, etc.) it's his love language.

It's a completely different story if someone else decides to nag you as Noritoshi does... If someone scolds you, Noritoshi's on the offense. He's known for his occasional bluntness and sassy remarks, but this time... He's contradicting himself all in an attempt to get the other person to back away. If the one scolding you brings up points Noritoshi used in the past, he firmly denies them all and stands by your side. He'd rather sound hypocritical than let someone else care for you the way he does. Noritoshi stands in front of you, almost guarding you with his body and begins his barrage of deflective comments through his clenched jaw such as “That's not your place to say” “Shut it, they did no wrong.” “You don't know the reason why they did so, leave them alone.” and other things similar to that. Jeez, take your advice Noritoshi.. He’d argue and become antagonistic towards someone scolding you, even if it's exactly what he was about to do.

The same goes for someone who tries to be gentle with you to a lesser degree. It's nice that people see how wonderful you are, but having your smiles and kind words directed at anyone else other than Noritoshi is... Upsetting. The resentment gradually pools in the pit of his stomach and suddenly finds himself impulsively moving towards you and this "friend." He stands in between you and the kind person, trying his best to conceal his sneers. He wants nothing more than to have the third party get swallowed up by the ground or hit by a car, but he keeps his composure. Noritoshi sternly states how he’ll handle everything from then on and gives the third party a glare that's much more hateful than usual… Finally! Noritoshi has you to himself again! All is right in the world once more...

Noritoshi has always been on a very tight rope... Any wrong step and it’s going to snap. The more Noritoshi gets attached to you, the easier it is to convince himself that it's okay to cross certain lines to make sure you're safe with him. Even if that line he’s crossing, includes murder. It'd happen quicker if he caught feelings after the whole incident with the Kamo clan. You'd be the only thing he has left, the only thing he'd cling onto with every fiber of his being, emotionally and sometimes physically.

And like every fairy tale, a problem unconventionally shows itself much to Noritoshi's dismay... Noritoshi is shown to be prideful at times. Because of this, he'd try to conceal his more embarrassing emotions and reactions towards you. He wants to be seen as someone strong you can rely on, a steady pillar to your stability, someone who will do anything you wish at the drop of a hat, but it’s almost impossible to execute when he feels like he's nothing but putty in your hands at the slightest sign of positive reciprocation.

If Noritoshi felt his face heating up because your laugh caught him off guard, he'd turn his head to hide how that simple action made him nearly melt into mush. If your hand brushed against his, he'd quickly swipe it away. Not because he doesn't want to touch you, but because you'd feel how shaky and sweaty his palms got with just a graze. Noritoshi's gaze always lingers on his bow if you ever touch it causing his aim to decline in accuracy significantly.

He mentally curses himself out every time he pulls away from you because he knows he's sending mixed signals. Noritoshi loves you endlessly, but please spare his fragile heart. Your presence overwhelms him like no other, and he's utterly conflicted on how to act. He can handle being by your side like he wants, but the second your 100% focus is on him and only him, he’ll start to squirm under your gaze. Noritoshi wants to impress you! Stop being so mesmerizing for just a second so he can gather his thoughts and not embarrass himself! A-ah, but don't look away!!!

Tl;dr Noritoshi as a yandere is needy and petty as hell, but will explode if he gets an ounce of affection! He’s also! A creepy hopeless romantic who sends you mixed signals!

[bonefall]

i know u dont rework arcs untill theyre complete but im very excited to see what you do with a starless clan, theres so much exciting things happening in this arc to work with. do you have any changes you already know for sure you’ll be incorporating?

No for-sures. I don't want to make any for-sures. I have ones I'm feeling but I don't want to call ANYTHING a for-sure yet. I need to find out what the ending is, WHERE this is all going, because I have a strong philosophy in my writing that a story is like a spear;

IT'S ALL ABOUT GETTING TO THE POINT.

But we are 4/6 of the way in, so I CAN start talking about thoughts!

I'm actually leaning pretty heavily towards axing Nightheart as a POV. There's still time for the books to turn around and justify it, BUT HEAR ME OUT

(Saying AS someone who is a Nightheart Enjoyer)

So far I'm really feeling that his character would benefit from us never being inside of his head, or seeing what he's been going through. As much as I WILL stand by that I enjoyed books 1 and 2 and liked his perspectives there, I'm starting to think that it would serve the story a lot better for Sunbeam and Frostpaw to be guessing just as much as we are.

We'd get introduced to Nightheart on the journey for catmint.

Sunbeam connects with him immediately, because she's tossed on this mission while she's in the middle of a swirling tide of drama. With nothing but Clerics and a hardened Rootspring to the left and her ex-bestie (exstie) to the right, he's really her only other choice for companionship. She's chronically unable to stop problems before they get out of hand, the sort of person who becomes frozen by indecision, and then here comes this Glorious Bastard

In her eyes, he's so caring, and bold, and fun! He's the first one to jump headlong into danger, to really be interested in her problems and just let her talk, and his story is so heartbreaking! A mother who's so hard on him... and his Clan is so mean all the time, but he wants to prove to all of them that he's more than just Firestar's descendant... but he was so brave to choose his own name.................

And then, when she follows him into ThunderClan, she learns he fucking lied. She changed Clans based on SOB STORIES

When she first comes, no one knows what he's been saying behind their back. Even if they did, they don't want to start trashing Nightheart right to his new mate's face. But then he LEAVES, and Sunbeam will bring up,

"Maybe it was because you were hard on him?"

And then Sparkpelt tries to agree, just to take blame onto herself and stop all this, but Finchlight's had eNOUGH and ends up setting the record straight;

"No this is DEFINITELY another tantrum. He already ran off once before."

"NO he didn't pick his own name, he stopped the whole ceremony to complain and Bramblestar gave him a compromise"

"MEAN to him?? I had to do HIS WORK because he couldn't STAY ON THE GROUND"

"Oh he's buckling under the weight of his legacy? that must be so hard. I was cat-fifteen when i punched my first fascist and he was wearing the face of my grandpa."

"His mom aba-WHAT?? ABANDONED???? OUR MOTHER WAS EXILED AND HE STAYED HOME!!!!! WE WERE CAT-FIFTEEN!!"

With this false hope shattered, Sunbeam is thrown into a devastating situation where... her mother was right. She was tricked. And now she's stuck in this new Clan without any of her old friends, without this mate who was too-good-to-be-true, the ONE impulsive choice she's made on her own in her WHOLE LIFE turns to ashes in her mouth. She can't go back, either, because Berryheart would NEVER let her live this down.

But... it's okay.

It's a slow shock, to make a choice SO impulsive and SO self-concerned, and find a safety net below her. It's going to be okay. The trials are fair. The cats of ThunderClan interrupt and speak over each other, but, that teaches her to be more assertive. Sparkpelt and Finchlight are not the mean assholes that Nightheart built them up to be, and they'll support her no matter what she chooses to do with her possible mate.

I want Nightheart TO get better, but, in order for that to happen, he has to face, and, more importantly, ACCEPT consequences. He needs to develop the maturity to say, "I acted like a brat and didn't appreciate what I had. and I'm sorry. you don't have to forgive me."

Bottom line being, Nightheart is striking me lately as a character that works best as unpredictable, because we have NO IDEA what's truly in his head. It would be interesting for him to have a novella later, but as it stands, his POV has consistently just been a duplicate since he joined ShadowClan. We gained NOTHING from splitting the Frostpaw Journey of the newest book in half POV, and VERY little from splitting the ShadowClan one into half POV.

I might reduce the POVs to 2, just Sunbeam and Frostpaw, or change Nightheart's to Lightleap. If I NEED 3 main characters, then they should all be a consistent camera on different parts of the conflict.

Again. I do not commit to changes until the arcs are done. Nothing in BB!ASC is set yet.

But here's some other little things I'm thinking,

Bramblestar is VOTED out.

He does not step down. The little "game" he played with Nightheart to create a situation to yell at Squilf, who hasn't been his mate in a long time in BB, was the LAST straw for ThunderClan.

They had sympathy for him before that point, because of what he went through with Ashfur, but his leadership was long and controversial even before the Impostor.

And there's a really strong sentiment that IF Bramblestar had been a good leader... they would have realized he was possessed sooner. So, there are those who partially blame him for the tyranny of the Impostor.

Basically; enough is enough.

Berryheart's hate group has ACTUAL consequences. Someone gets killed; probably Antfur, who survived the last arc to die here.

More fights. This arc has been too bloodless. Already planning SEVERAL sudden, random brawls in RiverClan as tensions boil.

Heartstar is going to be MORE controversial. Not controversial enough in canon imo. I don't like how Leaf and Squilf seem like they have "hypothetical" issues with the invasion instead of being able to point at REAL ones.

riverclan didn't forget how to do the chores they've done their WHOLE lives, no. I'm going to talk about POWER VACUUMS and create ACTUAL factions that begin to coagulate in RiverClan.

if we're going to have a brainless plot about how "Well Ackshually democracy has enough problems to make us reconsider not having unaccountable, tyrannical dictators, because a vote could maybe be called over One Single Issue" then I'll talk about shit like the spoiler effect, mob mentality, and factionalism. Get the hell out of my way ERIN I'll cook

No Smoky. Society has progressed past the need for Smoky. No Smokyng Area.

Whistlepaw should to try and take care of her ALONE, not trained enough to take care of SUCH bad wounds and barely able to keep her trembling paws straight, and Frostpaw realizes that she's making her watch her own friend die.

Is this how her life is going to end? slipping away under the paws of someone she loves, for what? pride? to do what her mother told her-- trust no cat?

As she TRUSTS Whistlepaw? Trusts her SO much, that Frostpaw will force her to be the only witness to her death?

FROSTPAW CALLS THE HUMAN

...which in BB, is a team of researchers. She drags herself to them, and collapses. This is why they just HAPPENED to have the proper equipment on them; they're WILDLIFE VETS.

Not sure how I'm going to handle Frostpaw's Journey though. In BB, the Park Cats are already a foundational part of Clan Culture.

In all honesty, while I HAVE to praise the fact that the Erins have FINALLY created ONE outsider group that isn't malicious or defenseless... I don't much care for them.

sending frostpaw on a side quest to what's essentially a big DOTC reference. Look! It's that group we introduced in the last 5 chapters of our latest glorified recap! cooool.

We're just going to get nothing but fucking founders in every dream from now on. I'm SURE of it.

As a consolation prize to myself though I will be writing cool angel scenes of the absolute BEING that Riverstar has become in heaven.

Riverstar (normal cat): "Elder Bones I'm going out!"

"not dressed like THAT you're not!!!"

Riverstar (the manifestation of the river, the rain in the sky above, and the abyss below, and how through water we are all truly connected as one being): "better?"

I will probably keep the Park Cats and rework them significantly, but I'm leaning pretty heavily towards Frostpaw visiting a LOT of places. A holy pilgrimage.

ESPECIALLY one of the Tribe's three wards; the River Ward. The Tribe of Rushing Water believes (it's even in the name) that water connects all things.

So I think it would be really fitting for Frostpaw to learn from MANY perspectives, starting with this philosophy put forth by the River Ward.

And she realizes-- that's what Riverstar is, as well. As a being. He is mentoring her on this pilgrimage, while barely saying a word. She can feel him wherever she is, because he isn't JUST the God of the River.

He is connection. He is peace. He's water. Too much and you'd drown, not enough and you'd thirst.

EDIT FROM THE FUTURE: Here is the rough draft of Frostpaw's Journey