#it’s a fucking mess ever since they started having an affair they can’t handle being at the same institute event

[sparky-is-spiders]

Y’know the whole “Peter and Elias are constantly marrying and divorcing” thing well consider: Jonpeter on-again off-again toxic affair.

[eadanga]

The Press Secretary Part 13

Summary: Chris the mayor of town is married to his wife Becca. When he hires a new press secretary who happens to be his lost love old feelings resurface and Chris finds it hard to resist the desire he once had for her

Parings: ChrisxMC

Chris looks out his office windows and sees all the reporters outside he grinds his teeth “This is so fucking stupid” He closes the shades

Jackie places a hand on his shoulder “You ok?”

“I’ll be fine”

“I can’t believe your wife”

Chris shoots her a look “Don’t ever call her that again”

“Sorry I can’t believe Becca would do all this”

“I can she’s a spiteful bitch she’s the main reason of our problems I know I shouldn’t have slept with Emily while I was married to her but we could have handled this quietly not bring all this drama but Becca being Becca loving the media” He turns to her with a sad look “Go ahead say it”

“Say what?”

“I messed up I know you wanna say it I ruined my campaign”

“Chris you didn’t mess anything up”

“You’re not mad?”

“No in fact” Jackie smiles “I see the way you look at her you’re completely in love with her”

“You’re right but still I feel like I let people down”

“You didn’t all you did was act on your feelings”

“And we’re gonna use that” They turn and see Emily enter the room

“Hey Em what do you mean?”

“Well Becca wants to take this to the press so can we we are gonna do a press conference”

“But what do I say?”

Emily smiles “Just be honest and so will I and show people your personal life doesn’t affect your agenda”

Chris sighs “That’s not the way people will see it”

Jackie scrolls through her phone “He’s right look at the comments on the article He acts like a saint but he’s not why would we vote for a cheater I knew he was fake”

“Ok Jackie we get it no more”

“Sorry didn’t mean to”

“Well let’s spin it around with this press conference”

Chris nods “Ok if this will would work I’m kind of nervous”

“You’ve got this Chris I’ll be with you every step of the way”

****

“There’s a lot of people and cameras out there” Chris peaks out the curtain and looks at the crowd

“I know but we can do this let’s just be honest”

“Still you know these people are vultures they’ll twist it around and say other bullshit”

“I’ve got someone recording in case of any stupid editing we’ll get the truth out there one way or another”

Chris smiles “Thank you Em you’re amazing” He kisses her cheek then fixes his tie “Well let’s do this”

Emily smiles as Chris walks out the podium and she follows him immediately cameras go off and reporters start asking millions of questions

Chris holds up a hand to silence them “Now I know you all have questions and I will gladly answer them but first I wanna say my piece” He looks at Emily and she smiles giving him an encouraging nod “Now my soon to be ex wife Becca has released into the public about my affair with my press secretary Emily I’ve come to inform you that those rumors are true” The crowd murmurs “I know I made a mistake by doing that while in a marriage and that was wrong of me there’s really no excuse to cheat but let me just say that my personal life should have no effect on me being your mayor as mayor my job is to serve this state and make sure everyone is well taken care of and if I may ask do you all believe that I’ve done that since being mayor?”

The crowd looks at each other then back at Chris and they nod

“I’m glad you all think so let’s all keep my personal life out of the campaign I want a clean mayoral election we don’t need any dirty laundry aired out and please don’t attack Emily she’s a good person and doesn’t need to her name dragged into the mud that’s all now I’ll take some questions”

A reporter raises her hand “Hi Chris June Adams for channel 3 news you and Becca always seemed like the perfect couple what happened?

Chris sighs “Well our marriage wasn’t a happy one we’ve been fighting and arguing almost everyday and even if I hadn’t been with Emily we still would have divorced”

“Hi Chris Jeff Smith from the Daily Paper was your press secretary Emily a fling for you?”

Chris shakes his head “No she’s much more than that in fact” He takes her hand and squeezes it “Emily is the girl that I love she’s an amazing hard working girl and I don’t want anyone bashing her online or in person” Emily blushes as he looks at her like he just realized what love is “I love her with everything within me and if she’ll give me a chance it’ll make me super happy”

Emily grins as the crowd waits for an answer “Of course Chris”

Chris grins as he kisses her deeply and the crowd cheers he pulls away and turns to the crowd “That’s all the time we have for today”

He walks away with Emily following behind she turns to him “Did you really have to do that on TV?”

“I would have shouted it from a mountain I want the world to know you’re mine I love you Emily”

“I love you too”

He kisses her again

A/N: @peonierose I used the quote in the story thanks for it you're awesome

Tags: @mfackenthal @indiacater @jared2612 @the-soot-sprite @darley1101 @choicesgodfanatic

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Helping Billy and Stu on their murder spree would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This might not be exactly what you were expecting but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Sorry it took me longer than expected!)

- Wrong. That was the best way to describe your relationship with Billy and Stu: wrong, fucked up, and dangerous …but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was exciting. 

- You were no saint. That was a fact you’d come to terms with a while ago. You were no saint but you certainly weren’t a killer; at least not when all of this started. No, back then, you were just a really, really bad girlfriend.

- Truth be told: you weren’t single when you’d gotten involved with the boys, though, to be fair, neither were they; not that that made things any better.

- You’d had a boyfriend, a boyfriend you’d once really cared about, but somewhere along the line, you’d begun to have problems and instead of resolving them, you’d both chosen to ignore them and resent each other instead. Which is probably why it was so easy for you to fall into another boys arms; especially when they were as charming as Billy was or as sweet as Stu was.

- You’d always had a bit of a crush on Billy. The two of you’d been acquaintances ever since freshman year and for a while you sort of thought that you and him might get together. But then he started dating Sidney and you got asked out by your boyfriend and you just sort of tried to put the idea out of your head.

- Unbeknownst to you, the idea never left Billy’s head and he found himself plotting all the ways that he could make you his; all while finding out that his partner in crime was seemingly just as interested in you as he was.

- Stu ended up playing a crucial role in your “arrangement”. The two of you found yourselves made into lab partners and thusly, you were invited over to his place after school and later given the perfect excuse to spend time with him; and/or Billy, without causing suspicion.

- The first few times you go over to the Macher place, nothing of value happens. You do exactly what you’re supposed to: work, study, joke around a little and get a bit more comfortable being in each other’s presences. It’s a few study sessions in that you get a curveball thrown at you.

- It’s late one evening, Stu’s parents are out and you’re both studying on his living room floor when all of a sudden the doorbell rings. Stu gets up to answer it and who else would it be but Billy.

- Stu pretends to act surprised and tells the boy that he forgot they were going to hang out and that he’s studying with you. Billy assures him that it’s alright before Stu tells him to wait a second and reappears in the room, saying that he thinks the two of you have studied enough and that Billy’s got some horror movies that the three of you can watch if you’d like to stay and chill. How could you possibly refuse?

- And so, your makeshift friendship with the boys begin; a friendship which very quickly leads into something more once Billy decides the time is right to make a move.

- You obviously don’t expect it the first time it happens but you find yourself wanting more the minute it’s over.

- Sure, sometimes the guilt will kick in when you see Tatum and Sidney or when your boyfriend is being particularly sweet, but it never seems to be enough to stop you from coming over whenever they ask or letting them in whenever they knock on your door.

- But the longer the three of you keep up your affair, the more things you start to notice.

- Billy isn’t stupid. Regardless of how he feels about you, he isn’t going to jeopardize his whole plan by making one wrong move and trusting someone he shouldn’t have. He’ll take his time analyzing you, picking apart your every move and reaction until he’s sure that you’re the one.

- You’ll start to pick up on little things about your boys that some might consider weird: all the horror movies and Billy’s knowledge in them, strange questions, indecipherable looks, things like that.

- As Billy comes closer to making up his mind, more of the mask will slip; though not enough to scare you off or make you think that anything’s really wrong. More odd inquiries, questionable sexual activities, and Billy testing your loyalty; oftentimes by asking you to cover for him or Stu to see how far you’ll go for them.

- You might be asking what I mean by “questionable sexual activities”, well, Billy has, on more than one occasion, demanded that you only watch whatever gory film he’s put on instead of looking at him as he pleasures you. He watches you closely, muttering lowly in your ear about the movie and talking dirty as you lock your eyes on the screen.

- When the boys first confess to you about the murders, you don’t believe them. You think it’s a bad joke but once you see just how serious they are, your smile drops and you say “you’re serious aren’t you?”.

- It definitely takes you a while to get used to the fact, but you find yourself opening up to the idea more and more as Billy explains their motive and butters you up with his charming words.

- Your involvement starts with little things: patching them up when they’re hurt, analyzing horror movies, giving them ideas or intel and telling them what won’t work.

- Stu likes to bump your shoulder or ruffle your hair and call you smart whenever you offer up good advice. Billy is much more subtle in his praise but his reactions are usually the ones that make you want to help them more and more.

- The blonde enthusiastically recounts stories of their slayings to you, jumping around the room and making a bunch of noises and hand movements while he does so.

- The first time you mention that you’d like to help them “...more”, both their faces break out into shit eating grins. They don’t immediately hand you a mask, knife, and mission but they do start to ask more of you.

- Helping them hide evidence, giving them alibis, waiting outside of their crime scenes for them and helping them lure people right into their traps all becomes second nature to you.

- Then comes your initiation. 

- There’d always been some jealousy involved in your relationship; mainly on their parts. You had a boyfriend and they had girlfriends which meant all three of you had to; at some point, act all lovey dovey with your partners in front of the others, if only to keep up a façade. 

- But, as obvious as it was that none of you particularly cared for your significant others, that didn’t stop Billy or Stu from absolutely hating your boyfriends guts. This hatred would eventually play a key role in solidifying your role in their lives.

- Your parents aren’t home and you’re in your bedroom with the boys, doing exactly what one would assume you’d be doing, except, unlike all the other times you’d done “this”, your bedroom door swung open and revealed a very unexpected visitor: your boyfriend. 

- Maybe it was the pent up jealousy or the fear of his plan potentially being ruined or maybe it was a little bit of both but when the boy immediately began to just book it towards your front door, Billy followed after him. 

- By the time you make it out into the hall, Stu has him held in place and Billy is turning to look at you, telling you to “come on” as they walk the boy into your kitchen. 

- Once you get there, Billy pulls a knife from the block and walks up to you, telling you that you said you wanted to be a part of things and that now's your chance.

“Go on.” He says, nodding his head back towards the boy who Stu’s restraining and watching you closely as you slowly take the knife from his hands. Stu’s grinning excitedly as you approach him, cheering you on while Billy remains silent behind you. 

- The blonde whoops and hollers as you cut into the boy, audibly expressing his pride in you, and when you turn to look back at Billy, he’s got a tiny little smile pulling at his lips, showing that you’ve just proven yourself and done exactly what he wanted. 

- The brunette locks eyes with you before he walks up and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest and tilting your head down to look at the boy who’s currently bleeding out on your kitchen floor. “Would you look at that.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says it, his hand trailing up to grope at your chest as he stares down at the gory sight before you.

- There’s no going back after that. You’re now officially one of them and get your very own father death costume. 

- It’s perfect really. More hands, more confusion for the police, more bloody sex.  

- Billy gets turned on by the sight of blood and the adrenaline that he feels after a kill; and Stu has never been one to turn down sex, so don’t be surprised if you end up pressed against the floorboards of a victims house or thrown on one of their beds the minute the three of you get back to their house. 

- You and Billy tend to make the plans while Stu just goes along with whatever you say. 

- Helping them get Neil Prescott.

- Going along with Stu while Billy talks on the phone. 

- The two of them both baby and yell at you. They tend to do most of the dirty work because they think you can’t handle it but at the same time they; namely Billy, will get angry if you mess anything up in the slightest. The brunette will yell or insult you because he’s a control freak and wants everything to go exactly as he planned. 

- On the drive/walk home, you’ll stay quiet, wondering if maybe you’ve made a very severe mistake when deciding to be with the boys. But then Billy will grab your arm and pull you into a kiss, asking if you’re alright and apologizing so sweetly and for better or for worse, you’ll fall right back in again. 

[gr0vndz3ro]

Sweet Somethings

(Sweet Nothings Pt.2)NSFW

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, cursing, sugar daddy, daddy kink, size kink (if you squint), slight oral, finger fucking, loss of virginity, praise kink

Word count:6,906

Tag List (permanent): @keigod @dragonhrte @mrs-takami-keigo @fanfic-me-up @gallickingun  @royal-after-dark @hawks-senseis @bnhabookclub

Crossed off: Virgin x Veteran

A/N: I’m so surprised with the amount of love I’ve been getting with Sweet Nothings, it’s almost at 1k when I’m posting this and I can’t put into words how shocked I am. I honestly didn’t think anyone would care for it. I love y’all so much so I hope I did you guys proud with this. 

Pt.1 Here

One would expect nice things out of a sugar daddy, but that did not mean you were prepared for them. And you were certainly not ready for the luxurious sports car that stood in front of you. Pitch black with orange accents, a monstrous growl emanating from underneath the hood. The nicest car you had ever seen, yet the only thing your brain could focus on was the warmth pressed against you back. The way you could feel Katsuki’s hard pecs through the fabric of both his shirt and your dress was enough to make your thighs press together. What surprised you the most was the way that this man, who was almost a complete stranger to you, was able to control your body with such little effort.

You felt yourself almost let out a whine when he removed himself from behind you, making his way to the passenger side door and opening it for you to make your way inside. Stepping forward, you try to regain what little composure you had, and make your way to the seat, promptly reaching for the buckle when your wrist is stopped by his calloused grip. In confusion, you move your head up to meet eyes with the man attached to the hand now holding onto you. 

“Please, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t buckle the lady’s seat for her. You do take me for a gentleman, don’t you?” The kind smile upon his lips telling a different story from the devious look he was giving you. You nod your head in agreement, not truly trusting your words as you move your hand away to allow him to do what he was wanting. His fingers wrap around the metal clasp and drag it across your body, bringing it closer to the fastener. Yet as he did so, he allowed his hand to graze against your semi exposed thigh. A tingle rushing throughout you at the simple touch. How are such small things affecting you so drastically?

While the drive was fairly quiet, it oddly wasn’t uncomfortable, yet the hand gently placed just above your knee was quickly going to become your undoing. You had given up on trying to figure out where it was the two of you were going soon after you 4th time asking him, only getting excuses in response along the lines of, ‘What’s the fun in you knowing’, ‘That will ruin the surprise’, and many others. So instead, you have resorted to taking in the passing scenery. The tall buildings that passed you by slowly started to thin out until eventually the only buildings you could see were little convenience stores and well kept historical homes. But it got to the point that they too soon left your view and the only thing that laid outside of the glass were the colossal trees that blocked out the sky. 

After some time, the vehicle slowed down as it approached a gated fence. Saying it was a gated fence felt like an understatement as it was equal to what you would see guarding the homes of Hollywood celebrities. While nearing the entrance, Katsuki rolls down his window while tilting his head to the camera that was positioned on top of a speaker. Words were exchanged between him and whoever was on the other side of the speaker, and while you couldn’t make out everything the man was saying one phrase caught your attention, “Welcome home sir.” Your brow dips in turmoil as you try to convince yourself that the thoughts that were racing through your mind, were not the reason he was bringing you here. Surely he didn’t think that all the money he had donated meant that he had ownership over you and your body. Because if that was what he was thinking he had another thing coming. Almost sensing your inner dilemma, he let out a chuckle before lightly brushing his thumbs against your knee.

“You have nothing to worry about. I told you I was a gentleman, didn’t I?” The smile that pulled at his lips was enough to calm your anxieties. Your head travels to the window to watch as you pass by more trees. How big was this property? When you realize that the tires beneath you had come to a halt, you turn back to him only to watch as he steps out of the car. After unbuckling your seatbelt, you didn’t even have enough time to reach out for the handle before he was opening your door for you, extending his hand out for you to hold onto as you step out of the vehicle. Your mouth opens to ask him what you're doing here but feel yourself quickly get silenced by the warm presence of his hand on your back and his mouth close to your ear. “It’s a surprise, remember? Trust me, you won't be treated like anything less of the princess you are tonight.” A blush dancing across your face as he interlocks his hand with your own, gently guiding you away from where you were parked. 

He led you down a stone path that trailed right along the edge of the small forest, lanterns lighting the way. Smaller trees draped over the path way, shielding you from the slowly setting sun. It wasn’t dark out yet, but the shade that the leaves provided created a cozy aura to the whimsical path. The whole walkway was almost something out of a fairytale. But it almost was fitting with the knight in shining armor on your side. Looking up you watch as his hair just slightly moves with every step he takes. You could tell it had been styled out of his face, but it was almost as if the unruly hair was attempting to fight back the products holding it down. But while you were entranced by the man on your side, you had almost missed the new breeze that swept past you. As the trees start to clear, you turn your head to find yourself shocked. Not because of the chill that was now running down your spine due to the cold wind, or even the gorgeous colors of the setting sun reflecting off of the water. No, instead it was because of the massive yacht that was docked at the pier of this beautiful lake. 

Your jaw drops as he takes you toward the pier and closer to this magnificent boat. As you walk along the side you read the S.S. Lady Explosion Murder. It was kept in pristine condition, almost making you wonder if it had ever even been sailed. When he brings the two of you to a halt, you finally manage to bring your eyes away from the boat and look to see that he stopped in front of the stairs that lead onto it. You look up at him to see if you were supposed to go on, to which he responds by extending his free arm and doing a slight bow as if to say ‘after you’. He releases his hold on your hand to allow you to stabilize yourself on the handrail. As you make your way onto the ship, you see a table romantically decorated for two in the middle of the deck. Roses lay in a vase on the center of the table and candles placed strategically around the area to allow for just the right amount of light. Your jaw slightly drops at the lovely table that he had set up, turning back to him, catching his eye in the process.

“Did you do all of this for me?” In genuine shock, since no person had ever gone this all out for you before. He takes a step toward you closing off the distance before lightly grazing your cheek with his hand, tucking the loose stand behind your ear.

“Of course, you deserve nothing less than the best. I would have done more but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I just thought a nice dinner on the lake would be good for our first date.”

“You sound so confident that there is going to be more, quite the confident one aren’t you?” A slight smirk making its way to your face as you question him. But he quickly steals the smirk away from you as it travels over to him as he speaks again, his voice now a low purr.

“I have plenty of reasons to be confident. If you’re lucky you may find out why.” Your face turning a dark hue at what his words could imply. A chuckle emits from him as he watches you turn red. “You’re so easy to mess with princess, here let’s go and enjoy our nice night.”  he once again places his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your chair before promptly pulling out your seat for you. You say a quick thank you to him as he pushes you forward, before making his way to the other side of the table to sit across from you. As you both got seated, you felt the boat start to move as it departed from the dock and started making its way further out on the lake. You couldn’t help but watch the water as it hits the side of the boat, mesmerized in the way the colors of the sky reflected off of it. You turn back away from the view to look at the stunning man in front of you.

“So I’m guessing that this must be your yacht?” You assumed that it was but you were curious to see if you were in fact on his property or not.

“It is, this is just the boat I keep here up here at the lake. It’s not often I’m actually able to come up here and enjoy it as I tend to be a workaholic you could say.”

“I do have to ask then, is there any meaning behind the ‘Lady Explosion Murder’?” A smile on your face as you ask him about the bizarre name. You understood men naming them after women they love for good luck, but you couldn’t imagine anyone being named that. He started to laugh at the memories of how he came across the name.

“Do you know what it is I do for a living?” He asked and it caused you to pause, seeing as you hadn’t actually even thought of it. You shook your head no and waited for him to continue explaining. “So, I’m the CEO for a large weapons and ammunition company. We mostly work with the military and deal with trading in foreign affairs. But when I was in school for my business degree we had to come up with a name for a mock company we worked on for a school project. I wanted to name the company King Explosion Murder then Lord Explosion Murder but the teacher said that both of those were too violent so I eventually ended up picked Ground Zero. When I open my own company I choose the same name I had used back then. But as a little homage to the ‘good ole days’ I decided to name the ship in favor of the rejected names.” 

The two of you ended up laughing as he started talking more about his times in high school and you found yourself intrigued at all his stories about him and his childhood friends. He casually was able to switch the conversation over so that it was now on you and as the dinner for the night made its way to the table, you were telling all about your embarrassing memories and the horrible dates you had gone on.  

“So you're telling me he tried to kiss you after that?” Bakugou had never laughed so hard in his life, yet it came so easy when he was with you.

“Yes he did! He spilled his entire glass of soda on me, attempted to ‘wipe it off’ and then proceeded to go in tongue first for a kiss at the end of the night. Needless to say I went home alone once again. I was convinced I was doomed and never going to be able to get past a first date with a decent guy let alone get a boyfriend.” A slight chuckle leaving your lips as you reminisce on all the horrible first dates you had been on. He paused in his laughter as your words processed in his brain.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’ve never had a boyfriend? You’ve got to be shitting me. There’s no way.” A light blush covering your cheeks as he stares at you in disbelief. You shrug your shoulders to say that it was true and he shakes his head. “Please tell me that this hasn’t been at least half as bad as any of your last dates with those wanna be’s” You smile as you watch him stand up from his seat and make his way over to where you were, extending his hand so that you could take it once again.

“It has already been a thousand times better, might even let you kiss me at the end,” Bakugou pulled you up from your chair, but since you weren’t expecting the force, you ended up tripping on your feet and landing dead center of his chest. You glance up making eye contact with him, your cheeks heating up once again as a familiar, devilish smirk spreads across his face. He tilts his head down and lowers it just above your ear, allowing his hot breath to fan across your neck as he speaks again.

“It looks like I already have you falling for me love, are you sure I’ll have to wait for the end of the date for that kiss?” As he goes to pull away from your ear, you move your hand to the back of his neck, keeping him there as you speak.

“Good things come to those who wait Mr. Bakugou.” You release his neck and are relieved to see that for once you weren’t the one with a tint of red across your face. Looking over his shoulder you could see that the sun was starting to set and you got excited at the opportunity to watch the sun set on this beautiful boat. “Oooo, let’s go watch the sun set,” A innocent smile on your face, ignoring what you had previously said to him, instead taking his hand and leading him to the railing on the side of the ship, wanting the best possible view of the setting sun. As you stood with your arms resting against the rail, Bakugou’s arms wrap around your frame, securely holding you against it and his warm torso. Resting his chin on the top of your head, you both stay silent as you enjoy the view together.

As you look off into the distance, just enjoying the peaceful quiet out on the lake, it is disturbed by a man walking up to you. He had cleared his throat, startling, only further pushing you against Bakugou’s  chest. You could feel his hard pecs through the thin material separating you. As you go to move away from his chest, the grasp of his hand on your waist holds you tightly against him. For the hundredth time that night, your face goes red but with a new reason. Not because of any lewd words, or any innuendoes. Instead it was because of the pressure that was now on your butt. You were almost positive he wasn’t hard and the size of it in this state was enough to make your thighs clench. Just how fucking big is he? Your hips unintentionally rock backwards at the thought. The grip that was on your hip tightens as a light groan emits from his throat at the contact. If you weren’t turned on before, that sinful noise definitely had you soaked. As your thoughts continue going south, the man that had startled you in the first place spoke up.

“Sorry to disturb you sir, but there seems to be a malfunction with the engine. It’s nothing major but we aren’t going to be able to get anyone out here until the morning. I can call for another boat to bring you to shore, but I don’t know how long that will take to get here.” He stood by, awaiting an answer from Katsuki. He slightly steps away from you giving you just enough room to turn around to face him. Once facing him, he asks you,

“Would you like me to call for a boat so you can get back to your hotel? It should only take a few hours hopefully. But if you are tired, you can always stay in one of the bedrooms on board the yacht. It isn’t a problem, there’s multiple bedrooms if that would be an issue.” Looking into his eyes it didn’t seem like he had an ulterior agenda, but instead genuinely seemed to want to make sure you were comfortable, and was willing to make whatever you wanted happen. That thought made a smile cross your lips, as he made you feel safe and comfortable, even only knowing him for a small amount of time.

“I’m alright with just staying on the ship. Don’t stress yourself with ordering a charter boat.” Katsuki returned your smile as he slowly turned away from you to inform the crew member that the two of you would be spending the night on the ship but he was free to call for a charter boat if he wanted to go back home. After the man gave a polite bow to the two of you, he turned around and left to go back to the wheel. Now that the two of you were alone, he turned back to you taking your hand in his once again.

“Did you want to head to bed now? Or would you like for me to show you where your room for the night will be?” You nod your head saying yes, after which he guides you to the undercarriage of the boat. There was what seemed to be a living room and jetting off from the room was a hallway which had 3 doors. His other hand that wasn’t connected with you reached out toward the handle of one of the doors. He twists it open and a large bedroom presents itself. Stepping to the side, he makes enough room to allow you to pass by him to enter the room and explore for yourself. You make your way toward the dresser that was next to the wall before turning around when you hear him speak up again. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to grab you some clothes for you to sleep in.”

As he exits the room you take the time to examine the room. Your hand runs up the bed, the soft sheets almost calling your name to plop down onto them. But you hold yourself back and instead just sit on the edge of it, almost sinking in as the bed welcomes you in cozy arms. Just as you were about to get lost in the relaxation this mattress was tempting you with, Katsuki walked back into the room, a few clothes in his hand. He placed them on the side table before sitting next to you on the bed.

“I only had some of my clothes in the other room, so I hope you don’t mind but I just grabbed you some of my stuff.” He moved his head to look over at you and paused at how close your faces were. His eye brow slightly raises as his eyes travel down your face before landing on your lips, lingering before returning to meet you stare. His hand ghosted over the side of your body before traveling behind your neck, entangling in your hair at the base of your head. “Did you need help with anything else before I go?” You felt frozen under his lustful stare, unable to get the words out of your mouth as there was a lump in the back of your throat and an intense burn in your core. Swallowing the lump you speak up.

“I think I can think of a thing or two you could help me with.” Slightly leaning your head forward, feeling yourself getting drawn closer to him. But he must have felt the same because you could feel his word fan across your lips as he replied.

“And what would that be, princess?” His voice so smooth it came out almost as a purr. Yet instead of responding you push yourself forward, closing the small distance between the two of you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, perfectly molding together as if they had been created to only meet one another's lips. Your hand runs up his arm to tangle in his hair, gripping it as you try to drown yourself as the kiss makes you almost lightheaded. His spare hand moves down to your hip, squeezing it before relaxing it. The hand that was buried in your hair grips down, tugging at the strands, making a soft gasp leave your mouth at the pulling sensation. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Bakugou dives his tongue into your mouth, exploring the new area. Your tongues battle before his hold on your hair and hip tightens causing you to submit. Your hands travel down from his hair to his chest before you break away from the kiss by pushing his torso flush against the mattress. As you both attempt to catch your breath your hands make quick work to unbutton his pants, his hand grabbing your wrist before you could continue.

“Hey, I don’t want you to think we have to do anything alright? You pause to look up at him taking in deep breath taking in his appearance. His hair messier now from your hands messing it up. His face coating in a thin tint of red from the heat of the situation. Your eyes start to travel down, looking at how the top few buttons of his shirt had come undone, allowing his collarbone to poke out and letting you catch a glimpse of the chiseled pecs that had yet to leave your mind from the first time you had video called each other. Continuing your exploration, your eyes stop when you reach his pants. the tent in his pants prominent under your devouring stare. Reaching your hand out, you let your hand lightly grasp his member, earning a throaty groan from the man under you. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as you slowly palm him through his dress pants. Even semi hard you could feel just how thick he was. Moving your hand, your eyes shoot back up to meet with his, his hooded eyes watching your every move. 

“Oh I know. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do something,” a smile on your face as you separate yourself from him, reaching for the zipper to your dress allowing it to slip past your shoulders and fall to the floor with a soft thud. Strutting your way back to where he was, you connect your hands with his waistband, tugging both his pants and his underwear along with it as you pull them down his muscular thighs. His dick slapping against his abdomen as it is released from its tight confines. Your eyes widen as you feel your jaw slightly drop at the view. Sure you had felt how large it was, but it was nothing in comparison to seeing it in person, right in front of your very eyes. Lowing yourself in front of him, the temptation to lick it was overwhelming as you felt your mouth watering at the sight of it. Taking his length in your hand, you give it a gentle squeeze as you open your mouth, running a long stripe up his length, tracing the pronounced vein that ran underneath of him. You hear him suck in a breath as your tongue flickers over his swollen tip, his hair immediately flying to your hair, needing something to hold onto at the sudden feeling.

“Shit baby girl, don’t mess with me like that.” You would have smirked at the comment but you were preoccupied at the moment. Opening your mouth further you take his head into your mouth, flicking your tongue against him again as you suck on his tip before releasing it while an audible pop. Bringing your head back down you take him into your mouth, relaxing your jaw as you attempt to take him fully into your mouth, almost being successful, but with how big he was it was nearly impossible for you to get him all in. You hold yourself near the base of his dick, tears swelling in your eyes as you try to relax so as to not choke around him. You feel yourself start to gag around him but the low groan that left his mouth made it completely worth it, the sinful sound sending a surge straight to your dripping core. Pulling yourself off of him, you gasp for air as he brushes your hair out of your face.

“Fuck princess, get over here.” He pulls you up to him and connects his lips to you, the kiss much messier than it was before, heated, but amazing to say the least. You break away from him still trying to catch your breath from before.

“Why’d you stop me, I could do a lot more you know.” You walk your fingers across his torso as you give him a playful wink.

“Oh I bet you could, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make you into a sobbing mess before I cum.” You couldn’t hold back the whimper that manages to escape at the thought of him ruining you. “But I bet you’d love that huh princess, want me to make you feel so fucking good.” his lips travel down to your jaw, kissing his way down your neck making it to the dip in your collarbone before licking a strip all the way back to the sweet spot just under your ear. He started moving back down kissing and nibbling as he explored your neck, searching for which spots made you the loudest. That was until he felt himself physically have to pause at your next response, just barely louder than a whisper.

“Yes please daddy...” He groans deeply into, the low pitch sending an electric feeling down your spine and resonating in your core. His hand makes its way to your throat as his finger lightly wraps around it, gently squeezing the sides.

“Say it again. Louder this time.” His fingers pressing into you as you feel a rush going to your head.

“Please daddy, I need you.” He released his grip on your neck and you feel the blood rush to your head. You go to take a deep breath but as you inhale Bakugou grabs you by the waist, flipping you so that he was now inches above you as you're practically pinned to the bed. The very breath you took caught in your throat as he lowered himself to your ear as his deep voice makes chills travel throughout your body.

“What exactly do you need, princess? Come on, I want to hear you use your big girl words.” A whimper involuntarily escaping you.

“I want you to make me feel good. To-- to stuff me with your fingers an- and prep me for your big dick.” Your face a bright shade of red as every drop of confidence you had earlier left with the lewd words he demanded to hear from you. But when you made eye contact with him you could see in the way his eyes darkened and by the smirk on his face that he was satisfied with what you had said. His hands roamed across your body, his rough fingertips slightly scratching you as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your legs before discarding them across the room. As his hand moves back up to your legs, you press them together at the cold feeling against the newly exposed area. He raised an eyebrow at the action and placed both of his hands on each of your knees.

“Spread them.” Was all he needed to say for you to slowly open your legs, putting yourself completely on display for him. Embarrassed at how exposed you were, you went to cover your face, but that didn’t last for long when you heard him groan as he took the sight of you in. Peeking out from under your arm you watch as he licks his lips as he stares at you, looking as if he was ready to devour you then and there.

“Fuck baby girl, you’re so good, doing exactly what I tell you to do -shit.” He started to talk more to himself as he ran his finger over your entrance, sucking in a breath at just how wet you were. A string of profanities leave his mouth as he dips a finger in after completely coating it in your slick. A whimper leaves your lips at the slight stretch. Slowly pushing himself further in, he curls his finger upwards and brushes it against your spongy wall. Your hips jolt up to try to meet his hand but he is quick to place his hand on your stomach, pressing you to the table making you stop your movements. “I’m going to need you to behave princess or you aren’t going to be getting anything from me, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes daddy..” you take in your lip, hoping that the response you gave him was what he had wanted to hear so that he would continue doing whatever it was that sent that electric surge throughout your body. But when you heard the deep groan come from his throat you knew that was exactly what he had wanted to hear. Slowly he pulls his finger out of you only to push it back into you, enjoying the way you clenched around his digit. After sliding out of you a few more times, you are forced to bite down on your lip as he slips another finger inside of you in a swift movement. Each thrust of his fingers slightly curling up to make sure to press lightly against your g-spot, making a tingle shoot to the tips of your toes. A moan rips from your mouth as he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing against your wall with more force. His pace picks up as the noises coming from you do as well. Just as you start to feel a warm feeling build up, your head shoots up at the sensation of another finger being added into you. You shake your head at him trying to tell him that it was too much but you're silenced as his head dips into the crook of your neck. He leaves a trail of hot kisses all the way from your collar bone to just below your ear before he speaks again.

“You’re doing so good princess, taking my fingers like this- fuck- I know you can take it. I can feel just how close you are. Cum for me baby girl, cum all over Daddy’s fingers.” That was enough to make your body take over in a flood of white bliss as your orgasm soars through you. Your hand gripping his back, nails leaving a trail as you hold onto him. You moan out his name as he speaks in your ear. “Yess fuck baby just like that.” As you come down from your high he pulls away just far enough from you to watch as he pulls his fingers out of you. His fingers dripping as you watch him pull them to his face, his mouth wrapping around them, cleaning them and you feel yourself clench around nothing at the sight alone. His hand travels down from his mouth to your thighs, gently squeezing them before spreading them so that he could be between them. His length pressing against you as he puts each of your legs around his hips. You can feel yourself already getting wet again as his tip rubs against your swollen clit. A smirk on his lips as he watches you squirm against the sheets at the feeling of his length pressed against you. “Do you think you're ready for me? Think you’ll be able to handle it, baby?” He teases you, moving forward so that his head rubs against you again. He continues doing this, loving the way you keep moving your hips in any attempt to earn something more from him. He grabs the sides of your hips, halting your movements, causing you to whine. You try to move again just to get any kind of friction and you hear him suck in through his teeth. “Nuh uh princess, I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please Katsuki-- god please I need you so bad. I just want you to fill me up. Please daddy, fuck me until I can’t walk.” A chuckle is all you can hear before you feel his hand ghost over your thigh, goosebumps covering you as he travels over your inner thigh to where his length was resting against you. 

“Your wish is my command, your highness.” was all you heard before the room was filled with the sounds of your moans as he pushed into you. As he slowly bottoms out inside of you, your hands shoot up his back and bury themselves in his hair, pulling him close to you. The slight pain of him stretching you out causes you to furrow your brow and bite down on your lip. Noticing your pain, Bakugou dips down, connecting his lips with your own, distracting you from the pain you were feeling. His hands lightly massaging your thighs and hips as he finally is able to press against you fully. He stills himself giving you the much needed time to adjust to his size. Even with the preparation he was so much bigger than you had expected. After some time you pull away from the kiss, your eyes meeting his as you take in a shaky breath.

“Please- move.” He gives you a smile before pulling out of you, immediately leaving you feel empty before he pushes himself back into you. He leans forward while keeping a slow pace and kisses away the tear that, unknown to you, managed to escape your eye. Pressing his forehead to yours you watch him close his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing as he sucks in a breath.

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking tight.” You didn’t know if the statement had even been for you as he was so focused on not railing himself into you. You could see on his face the struggle he was going through at the antagonizing slow pace he was holding. Taking a hold of his face you bring his attention back to you.

“You can go faster. I can handle it, just give me all you’ve got.” You watch as a sinister look takes over him as one of his hands removes itself from your hips and is planted down beside your head, his other hand’s grip on your hip tightening.

“You might want to hold on then princess.” You were just barely able to comprehend his words before you feel him pull out of you and quickly slam back into you. Not being able to hold back the moans he was pulling out of you as he repeats this action, burying his dick deep inside of you, each thrust causing his head to crash into your soft, spongy wall. While you had told him to give it his all this isn’t what you had been expecting. The pure pleasure coursing through you as his unforgiving speed and power only seems to increase. You drag your fingers down his back, sure that your nails were breaking through his skin, but at the moment, that was the least of your concerns. You threw your head back against the pillow as you feel him attach himself to your neck, his mouth leaving hot open kisses against you. As one of your hands pulls against his hair, a deep groan rumbles through his throat sending the vibration straight into you as he connects himself to you again, his kisses turning into harsh sucking and nibbles. As he moves down your neck he stops at where it connects with your collar bone when he hears the broken moan that leaves from you. As he licks a stripe up the length of your throat back to his new favorite spot, a chill runs through you and you clench around him. 

“Fuuuck baby girl, You keep that up and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you all night long.” You whimper at the thought alone. He continues his brutal pace as your grip in his hair tightens, holding on for dear life as you try to keep up. The way he was slamming into you was unforgiving but you loved it. Each thrust making you stretch around him, barely able to handle his size. You could feel your high coming again, and coming fast. But Bakugou must have noticed as well as the hand that was grasping your hip was now rubbing circles into your clit. The pressure was overwhelming as he also somehow picked up the force as he rams harder into you.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby? Go ahead, cum for me. I want to hear you scream out who is making you feel this good. Let them all know who’s princess you are.” His hip tilted upwards and mixed with what he said was enough to force you to come undone. You scream out his name as your body is taken over in euphoria. “That’s it, baby girl- fuck,” was the only thing you were able to make out as you feel his paint your walls white. His thrust starts to slow as he helps the two of you ride out your highs. 

His head presses against your own as you both attempt to catch your breath, the sounds of your breathless pants were now the only thing filling the room as you feel him soften in you. You feel your body go limp as he pulls himself out of you, feeling incredibly empty. You feel the bed dip as he gets off, heading into the bathroom before returning with a wet cloth. Gently, he cleans away any mess, making sure to be careful when he gets to any sensitive areas. Afterwards he places the towel on the nightstand before sitting back on the bed. Your hands gently run over the raised skin of his back, trying to calm the now irritated skin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scratch you so bad,” You felt bad for the marks you left on him. But when he encases your face in between his hands and makes you look into his eyes, you feel a wave of relief take over as he speaks.

“Don’t feel bad princess, you are perfectly fine. If anyone should be apologizing it should be me, I may have been a little rougher than I had originally meant. I didn’t hurt you did I?” A look of worry on his face as he realizes he had sort of lost control. But when you smiled at him he felt a little bit of his stress go away.

“It was perfect. It was better than I ever could have imagined. So thank you.” He slightly smiled while his eyebrow cocked at your statement.

“You say that as if you’ve never been fucked properly before.” He chuckled as he pulled you to lay against his torso. Suddenly a wave of nervousness washed over you as you fiddled with your fingers. He looked down at you. “What is it?”

“Well that would require me to have been fucked before...” You felt him freeze under you.

“You’re kidding right?” You avoided his gaze, but his hand gently grabs your chin pulling you to look up at him. “I wish I would have known.”

“Why, would you have been gentler?” You ask him, worried that he regretted it.

“Of course I would have. It’s your first time. I wouldn’t have gone that all out, I would have held back a bit.”

“Well then I’m glad I didn’t say anything because that...” you pause taking a moment to plant a kiss against his lips. “...was amazing.” He smiled against your lips before pulling you into another kiss, this one much slower and filled with emotion than the ones you had shared before.

“I’m glad that you enjoyed it, next time I’m just going to have to make it up to you.” He brushes your hair out of your face.

“Next time?” You question him and a soft smile spreads across his face as he looks into your eyes.

“Of course, I meant it when I said you never have to worry again. You're my princess, and I’m going to make sure to take good care of you, okay?”

Bold could not be tagged: @terrifying-testicles @loxbbg @mycrennycalromance @skylan666 @wifunozomi @urmomsshousee @kellyyween @niko-su993 @cookednoodlez @guzmagirl @bleakerspath @explicitbun @qunibunisartblog @succulent-momma @anjadolly @bakugou-is-my-daddy @wessoninc @lovinthesiz3 @katsuki-bakubae @hot-pocket01 @sir-knight-slytherdor @katsukiswhore @death-to-the-patriarcy @plusultrabitches @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @angxlicwanda  @ninjafirewitch @hellyeahbakubby @green-beanie-chan @ktsuukki @morenabambinii @kagomefan27 @anxietys-a-bitch @azgucci @theofficialhufflepuff @seungcheolieeesblog @artgirlwithglasses @sleepysuneater @justanormallyabnormalbitch @hsixen @sincerelyyrosemary @liviitehe @arsenic0tine @maddoxrabbit

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough  Am I giving enough  Have I paid my debts  Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker -  and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

[britishassistant]

The Villainous Paranoiac Has Visitors

You’re a fool.

A blind, tunnel-visioned, desperate fool.

There’s no one you can blame for this mess but yourself.

You were moronic enough to think that a promise would’ve been enough to stop Grim from going after more overblot stones.

And now where are you?

Lying in a bed in the infirmary, bandages and gauze wrapped around you from your collarbone to your chin, because the one creature in this fucked up magic world that you were stupid enough to trust unconditionally tried to rip out your throat over a rock.

Your neck aches. You’re so tired it feels like you can barely even move. Your head is a weird weight of white noise, making it hard to think about anything other than your current predicament and how you should’ve seen it coming a mile away. How you should’ve stopped it.

Maybe—maybe it was because you’d made him hold out too long. Maybe that’s it. Maybe you were wrong to make him swear not to eat any more, and him lashing out at you over Vil-senpai’s stone was just-just temptation that had been pushed too far. Why weren’t you looking after him more closely anyway? You’re his supervisor, you’re supposed to make sure Grim doesn’t get into trouble, you should’ve noticed he was gone sooner. Then maybe this whole mess wouldn’t have happened. And it’s not like Grim wasn’t working hard to uphold your deal, you were the one who wasn’t meeting his efforts halfway. After all, he hadn’t eaten anything after Jamil-senpai’s overblot, had he?

...

Had he?

No stone ever turned up after Jamil-senpai’s overblot.

And you were so out of it that night, riding out the aftereffects of the overblot’s venom and the anti-venom warring in your system.

Grim could’ve easily left during the night and eaten it, and so long as you never asked, never pressed him about it, you’d have been none the wiser.

And you didn’t ask. You just trusted him.

You’re a fool. A pathetic, misguided, twisted, worthless fool.

Your family was right about you.

You would grind the heels of your hands into your eyes, but even lifting your arms towards your face feels like more effort than you can spare right now. Luckily it takes no effort to stare up at the ceiling and just hate yourself for your stupidity.

You’d have thought you would have learned that trusting people is an awful idea already. Hopefully this will finally get the message through your thick skull—

“Yuu?”

You tilt your head and blink up at Deuce. He grins, blindingly bright. “Guys, he’s awake!”

You weakly smile back, ruthlessly squashing the urge to correct him.

Epel pushes the divider back as he rounds it, pretty face worried. “Prefect, how are you feeling? Nurse Kamac said you lost a lot of blood.”

“M okay.” You mumble back, your tongue feeling thick and sluggish in your mouth.

“What the hell happened to you, Prefect?” Deuce moves to pull up a chair and sit down next to you, shooting you doubtful looks. “Was it an attack by another overblot or something? Some kind of monster? Did you get jumped by some punks from RSA?”

You wonder what you should tell them. You know that all you have to do is tell him the truth, say the word, and they’ll all be off after Grim like a group of hunting dogs, just like when you used to ask Ace and Deuce to help you catch him back at the start of the school year.

But Grim might get hurt. Or he might hurt them.

Can you put them through that?

Ace collides with the foot of the bed, interrupting your internal debate, eyes wide and panting. “Guys, bad news. Crewel’s outside asking for us, he looks pissed.”

Deuce and Epel stiffen in tandem, darting nervous glances towards the door like the potions and alchemy teacher will burst in at any moment. “What’d you do?!” Deuce hisses.

“How’d you know it wasn’t you, ass?!” Ace protests. “Seriously, we can’t keep him waiting! I think he’s even madder than the time Grim turned his coat pink and green.”

All four of you shudder collectively.

Epel grabs Deuce’s arm, squaring his shoulders. “We just gotta—need to see what Professor Crewel wants right? It may not even be us he’s piss—irritated at. Just gotta man up and face him.”

Deuce nods, even though he looks like he really, really doesn’t want to. He and Ace follow Epel away from your bed and towards the infirmary exit. You loll your head back onto your pillows and resume your staring at the ceiling.

“But Ace, no one’s...?”

“What the—?!”

There’s a bang as the infirmary doors slam shut.

You look over in time to see Ace slide a mop through the door handles, and drag a chair over to prop under them. He then points his magic pen at it all and a padlocked chain loops itself around the whole affair and clicks shut. You can hear Deuce and Epel hammering on the other side, demanding he open up.

“Ace?” You struggle to sit up, your throat aching. “What—”

“Shh, sh, easy, we gotta be quick.” He darts over you, helping you to sit up and pulling up the pillows behind you to lean back against. “Do you need me to get your shirt for you?”

“W-what?” Your brain is still struggling to catch up.

Ace gestures impatiently to your chest.

You look down.

Oh.

Oh.

You look back up at Ace, cold sweat drenching you.

Please no. Not him too.

Ace reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out—!

He holds up your binder. “Figured Kamac might not have let you keep it. It hurts your ribs, right?”

Wait. What?

“H-how...?” You stutter, fumbling with the buttons at your collar.

He shoots you a look. “I basically carried you back here from Dwarf Mines. It was easy to tell something was up when Kamac wouldn’t let me or Deuce stay in the room while you were getting patched up. Plus this was kinda dangling out your back pocket when you came out”

Well. That’s. That’s...

“Look are we doing this or not?!” Ace hisses, shooting a nervous glance back at the door where Deuce and Epel’s voices are being joined by others and growing louder. You think you hear Kalim-senpai’s twittering, Vil-senpai barking orders, and Jamil-senpai’s drawl.

You begin working on your buttons with newfound determination.

Ace helps you get your head through the top hole of the binder without pulling on the bandages around your neck too much.

You struggle your arms through the arm holes, and then shrug the hospital pajama shirt back on. He’s already done over half the buttons by the time you’ve recovered from your discombobulation.

“Feel okay? Not hurting your breathing or anything?” You nod, still disoriented. “Okay, let’s just get you back under the covers, and then I’ll let in the circus.”

There’s another metallic clang from the door and a cry of pain that sounds worryingly like Ashengrotto-senpai.

“W-why?” You rasp, an odd swooping feeling catapulting in your stomach, like you’ve just jumped off the bleachers again. “Why would you...?”

Ace heaves a sigh and gives you a look normally reserved for Deuce and Grim. “Because you’re my friend, you little dumbass. Getting something like this for you isn’t a big deal or anything.”

You gape at him so hard it feels like your eyes are burning.

Something inside you feels impossibly, uncontrollably warm.

Turns out getting a lump in your throat really hurts when you’re recovering from having it slashed open.

“Aw, jeez, what’s with the waterworks?!” Ace leans over you, ungloved hand swiping at the tears on your cheeks. “C’mon Yuu, if they get back in here and see you crying, you know Deuce’ll kill me.”

“Good. ‘S a-all your fault. I won’t f-forgive you until you give me a hug, you big jerk.” You sniffle, opening your arms and holding them out.

He huffs a laugh, before following your orders. “You’re a tyrant, ya know that? You’re as bad as Vil-senpai and Dorm Head Riddle.”

“I’m worse than they could ever be.” You mumble, hiding your burning eyes in his shoulder. “Don’t you forget it.”

“Oi, you better not be wiping your nose on my jacket!” He tries to shrug you off gently. He still hasn’t stopped hugging you though. “Get your snot and tears offa me!”

You cling onto him tighter, unable to stop giggling even as a few hysterical tears slip down your cheeks. “Suffer.”

“Tyrant.” He fakes an exasperated groan, but you can feel him chuckling along with you.

There’s not many things you can think of that would ruin this moment.

“King’s Roar.”

...Being bathed in sand as the doors to the infirmary disintegrate certainly wasn’t one you had in mind, though it does the trick well enough.

Lucky you had Ace hugging you to act as a human shield for the worst of it.

He sputters once the deluge has subsided, shaking his head and rudely dumping the excess sand into your lap. “Ugh, senpai, what the hell?! Would it have killed you to wait one minute?!”

“You take too long.” Leona-senpai shrugs, pocketing his magic pen again and sauntering in to stretch out on the empty bunk next to you. “These guys wouldn’t stop whining until I did something.”

Deuce rushes over to your bedside with Epel and Kalim close behind him, kneeling down next to you. “Prefect, are you okay?! What’d he do to you?!”

“His eyes are all red an’ swollen!” Epel points out before you can say anything. “Ace, you bas—”

“Epel.” Vil-senpai stalks in, looking much better since you last saw him at VDC. Healthier, somehow. “But yes, Potato #1, what exactly were you playing at, locking everyone out like that?”

Ace stammers under Vil-senpai’s cold glare, so you take pity on him, clearing your throat weakly. “Ace just didn’t want any witnesses to him fussing over me. He’s allergic to showing kindness, after all.”

For some reason, being able to say that and have Ace elbow you playfully makes you feel...buoyant, somehow.

Everyone stares at you. The weight of their disbelief is heavy.

Kalim places his hands over yours. “Yuu, you don’t have to be afraid to tell us the truth! You’re among friends here!”

“Oi!” Ace protests.

“Who’re you calling ‘friend’?” Leona-senpai interjects, because he’s still a huge bag of dicks.

Ashengrotto-senpai has his magic pen in its cane form and is leaning on it heavily, limping. “I wouldn’t worry Kalim-san. I’m sure whatever the Prefect experienced can’t be worse than having a cauldron drop on you.”

Deuce inches closer to hide behind you and Epel sheepishly.

“Technically Azul, it was rebounded onto you off the doors of the infirmary.” Jade-senpai interjects cheerfully, switching a bouquet from one hand to the other. “Though I’m sure Spade-san would be glad to reimburse us for damages through labor if necessary~”

Deuce lets out a squeak.

“Eeeeh~~ Crab-chan, were you doing something naaauughty with Shrimy all alone in here~?” Floyd-senpai drapes himself over Ace’s shoulders, arms looping around him. “No faaaaaiiir, I wanna play too~~”

Ace stiffens, face growing to match his hair as Floyd-senpai’s arms begin to tighten. “J-Jamil-senpai—!”

Jamil-senpai cruelly ignores him. “Kalim, make sure you’ve still got your magic pen when we leave. The Prefect might try to add to his collection.”

You shoot him a look. “When are you going to let that go?”

He sits on the end of your bed and smiles sweetly at you. “When you stop making a nuisance of yourself by sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Prefect.”

You try to dissect that statement, then give up and settle for attempting to kick him off the bed. You only end up depositing more sand into your lap under the covers.

He laughs at you, because for all his talk about reputation, Jamil-senpai is also a huge bag of dicks.

The dust and sand irritates your nose and throat, making you cough hard. It’s not as bad as it was after Vil-senpai’s overblot, but you feel the warning tugs on your weakened lungs and torn throat. You gratefully accept the glass of water Epel hands you, gulping it down.

The sand around you gently shifts and seeps out from under and on top of your covers as you swallow, pooling into a large pile at your bedside.

Leona-senpai’s tail flickers as he tucks his magic pen back away and pretends to be sleeping again.

Deuce begins to fret over you, taking the empty cup from your hands and ineffectually trying to fluff your pillows. You let him hover as Ace rolls his eyes and playfully ribs at him for his mother-henning.

Jade-senpai places the bouquet in a small vase on the table next to you with Vil-senpai and Epel fussing over the arrangement every time Floyd-senpai delights in deliberately poking the flowers out of alignment.

Kalim-senpai promises to bring you a carpet next time, maybe even an elephant if you want, much to Jamil-senpai’s dismay. Ashengrotto-senpai begins trying to negotiate for even more presents.

Leona-senpai half-heartedly growls at everyone to shut up and let him sleep.

You’re a fool if you think trusting these people will turn out any better than trusting Grim did.

But somehow, you feel like you’d rather be a fool and enjoy the warmth blooming in your chest right now rather than anything else.

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Remember Me (4/???)

I AM SO FUCKING SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH. Honestly I lost a lot of motivation to write after Bloodbound because PB has greatly decreased in the quality of their books. I am still trying to find the time and motivation to write and am forcing myself to finish my series at the very least but if I am being completely honest I feel like the Kamilah fandom has died, PB’s books mostly suck and I don’t even really play choices anymore. Who knows, I’m trying to learn to write the code for episode so maybe I’ll start posting my own stories and choices on that platform with better plot, smut and less diamond focus since it would be a hobby. This chapter is ASS and mostly just moves the plot along - so if you want action I would wait for a different series or later chapter - okay bye!

Pairing: Adrian x MC x Kamilah (Amy)

Tags: I paused the tag list since it’s been so fucking long but if you want a tag please let me know because I’m pretty sure most people think this series died with me :)

Words: ~1500 (Short because I needed to finish a chapter to motivate me to finish the next)

Kamilah took a deep breath as she knelt on the floor beside Adrian, carefully wrapping her arms around her brother, her heart sinking with every sob that left his lips. She didn’t speak, she knew her words would come off too harshly and she couldn’t blame Adrian for feeling that way, after all she knew how much he loved Amy. 

“Adrian, I’m sorry. I...I truly don’t know what to say.” As their eyes met Kamilah saw exactly how devastated he was, and even in her two thousand years of life, she had never been in his situation. 

“Kamilah, do you think she’ll...well she says we’re just friends but do you think she’ll fall in love with me again?” His lips trembled, his hands shaking and his eyes glistened with tears. 

“I don’t know. As much as I believe love is a silly mortal affair, and a simple chemical reaction, it can’t be forced but I’m sure if you just be yourself and do your best to be her friend that any romantic feelings will follow.” Kamilah moved away as Adrian calmed himself, both of them passing a nod of agreement as he wiped his face clean with tissues. 

“Your wisdom has always guided me well Kamilah.” 

“I suppose that is two thousand sixty three years of experience speaking.” 

“Heh, I guess my two hundred years don’t nearly compare...” 

“You’re still a simple child in my eyes, I just took a liking to you.”

“Well, thank you Kamilah. It seems I owe you quite a bit.”

They both stood from the floor and took seats on Adrian’s office couch, Kamilah folding her legs and crossing her arms and Adrian crossing his ankles and folding his arms. 

“We’re practically siblings - you don’t owe me anything. Just try to take care of yourself and well...don’t expect anything from Amy. I’m sure this is difficult for her, difficult is an understatement. I can’t imagine what she’s experiencing.”

“Maybe I’ve been too selfish Kamilah...I’ve been thinking more about what I want from her instead of focusing on if she’s okay or what she wants.” 

“Sometimes it’s alright to be selfish, and I can understand why you felt that way but you are correct, we need to focus on what Amy wants now, not what she wanted before the accident.”

“You’re absolutely right. I can only hope for the best...I just really...I really wanted...I believed she was the one.” 

“I know you did. I wanted her to be the one for you as well, I still hope she comes back to you Adrian.”

“Me too.” 

Adrian’s phone buzzed at the same time Kamilah’s did, Lily having texted both of them to rendezvous with her and Jax at Amy’s old apartment to talk about the recent events. 

“We should go, but do you feel okay?” Kamilah patted Adrian’s shoulder as they both stood from the couch.

“Yes I think so.” They hurried to the elevator and got into Adrian’s black Mercedes as they navigated towards Lily’s apartment. Once they arrived Lily greeted them before guiding them up to the apartment where Jax waited on the couch with a beer in hand.

“Hey guys...how ya doin?” His words were slurred and he was obviously under the influence to a decent extent. 

“Tell me you have something other than beer Lily.” Kamilah grimaced as Jax took another swig of the beer. She had no problem with beer but she hated that brand and would rather remain sober than allow herself to drink that brand. 

“Yeah, vodka or wine?”

“Vodka.” Kamilah spoke without hesitation while Adrian grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a seat next to Jax on the couch. Lily began to pour Kamilah a shot, and once the glass was full Kamilah took the bottle from her and took two large gulps before sitting on the leather chair and holding the bottle with one hand. 

“So we’re here to get drunk? I thought we were supposed to talk about Amy?” Kamilah’s voice broke the deathly silence that filled the room. Adrian leaned in the door before removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and, grabbing three bottles of the cheap beer and sinking into the recliner opposite of Lily and Jax. 

“I didn’t want to drink...well grieve...alone. I mean I can’t do this with Amy anymore...well I could but it wouldn’t be the same... and I have my friend back but it’s really just...it’s not the same. I don’t know I just didn’t...you can leave if you want but I didn’t want to grieve alone…” Lily began to sob, her tears falling into her glass of wine as Jax and Adrian frowned. Kamilah held her stoic expression, but even the alcohol could not erase the ache she felt in her chest.

“I see, well I guess we all process grief differently…” Kamilah spoke calmly, but deep down she felt her own sense of grief. As she gazed around she realized how messy Jax’s hair and clothes were, and how exhausted and drained Lily was. “You guys look a mess…”

“Thanks Kamilah.” Jax drunkenly snickered and Lily sniffled. Adrian remained quiet, taking a long drink from the bottle in his hand before switching to the other glass and downing it just as quickly. 

“Does this not fucking hurt you?” Lily drunkenly scolded as Kamilah flinched ever so slightly. None of them had ever heard Lily so fragile, so devastated. She had every reason to be - she had lost her best friend - even though Amy had survived the accident, the memories were all gone and everything they had once shared was gone. 

“It...does...I was just remarking on-”

“I don’t care about your remarks, at least not now. Don’t you fucking get it? I lost my fucking best friend and I have to watch her find everything again! Do you know how that fucking feels Kamilah? I’m sure you do from all your time as a vampire, but please, for the love of god and for the sake of our friendship just shut the fuck up. I can’t handle this.” Lily’s hand gripped on her bottle as it shattered against her palm, the beer pouring onto the tile floor and seeping into the edges of the carpet. 

“I...apologize Lily…”

“It’s fine! It’s fine! Everything is fine I guess. I don’t know I just...I’m not coping well...and I feel guilty for saying that because Amy has it the hardest of us all and yet here I am getting wasted to be in her position - to forget everything while also being the person who put her in this position in the first fucking place. I don’t think it’ll ever be the same as it was before…”

“Maybe that’s for the best…” Adrian finally joined the conversation. Kamilah, Lily and Jax turned to face him as he swirled the bottle around in his hand - his brown eyes shiny from the tears that had built up. “...we all lost someone...Amy was a different person to each of us...but maybe we have to lose that person for some reason…”

“Adrian, do not try to give me that ‘it’s for the best’ bullshit.” Lily took a deep breath as Adrian shrugged. 

“I’m not. I guess it’s just the alcohol talking, but I was going to propose to Amy that night and maybe it was a sign I shouldn’t have, or maybe the world is punishing me for my sins...but fuck all of that...it’s...it’s a forgotten memory and we need to forget just like Amy...”  

---------------- Amy’s POV ------------------

It was a weird feeling that I couldn’t describe. Having people who seemed like strangers tell me all about the things we’ve done together gave me such comfort and anxiety at the same time. I wanted to believe and trust each of them but at the same time, it would be so easy to lie about it. Maybe I’m just being paranoid about the situation - nobody would really benefit from creating an elaborate story just to mess with my mind. 

God this IV really stings...and now that I’m thinking about it, my ribs really hurt too. I should call the doctor or nurse but it’s nearly midnight. I mean it’s their job but they’re humans and I don’t want to be that super needy patient…

At least that Lily girl seems genuine, I can see why I was her best friend. I appreciate her sincerity more than I can verbalize to her. I’m still wary of Jax though - that man looks like he could kill in an instant and I don’t want to get on his bad side. I’m glad they’re friends with each other though - they seem to get along really well and...Adrian. Poor bastard. I broke his heart. I broke his heart and I can’t even help it. How am I supposed to even really process that whole fucking mess. He’s so sweet and gentle and genuine and I can’t even reciprocate it back to him...but maybe with time I could…? But Kamilah...she makes my heart skip a beat too...but she’s so unlike anyone I’ve even taken interest in - callous and stoic most of the time with very few soft spots. It wouldn’t be any type of understatement to claim my heart is as confused as my head. 

[tosikoarts]

Modern AU Ogata BF HC

Hey-hey! It took some time but there you go, honey ♡ Got carried away thinking about how Ogata feeding stray cats >>> everything else.  Hope you enjoy these headcanons!!  You can check tosikowrites tag for more.

General:

Noda once said that in a modern setting Ogata would be a dentist but let me disagree with him. I can clearly see Ogata as a photographer, a successful one, the one that allows himself to be arrogant without a fear that his client will drop him. Thanks to the unique style and skillful handling of light, Ogata quickly became popular among ordinary photography lovers and pompous snobs and now he does not miss a single opportunity to prick the latter. Knows he is good at what he is doing and takes full advantage of this.

Despite what is written above, Ogata still lives in a small apartment on the outskirts of Sapporo and doesn’t plan to move out in the nearest future. Partially it is due to the feeling of emancipation from beloved father and the sweetest stepbrother who cannot stop prying into his affairs. Last month Yuusaku has sneaked to the private galleries where Ogata was presenting his new photoshoots two times leaving Hyakunosuke in a state of stupid stupor when he was welcomed with a warm brotherly hug.

Still a salty little bitch online. Has few throwaway accounts to start a discourse on any topic that is even minimally discussable. Is immune to death threats at this point. Has met Vasily online and can’t stop discussing Russian politics with him from whatever crazy thing Vladimir Zhirinovsky has said (Ogata loses thousands of brain cells reading articles about him) to the news about the alleged Putin palace. He now knows some Russian too, mostly swear words and basic phrases.

Constantly torn between I don’t need anybody and if I don’t interact with a human being in a less hostile manner I will go apeshit. Meets up with Shiraishi, Sugimoto, Tanigaki, and Kiroranke once in a while to piss off Sugi and teasingly ask Tanigaki if he wants another nude photo shoot. By the way, he lives on black coffee with no sugar or milk so Ogata often runs into Tsukishima when the man orders a triple espresso and teriyaki chicken sandwich. If Koito is not here, they chat for a little secret wish to never meet again. Then they meet next week and the situation repeats itself as in a Groundhog Day.

There is no place for another cat in his apartment but Ogata loves cats and makes sure to feed and pet every one on his street. Once raised a whole litter of kittens whose mother was sadly hit by a car and became an adoptive father for three big bois who visit his apartment complex for free head pats and treats. Doesn’t share this part of his life since Ogata doesn’t want to be seen as a kindhearted person lmao.

BF HC:

Where could you meet Ogata if not on Tinder? The description of his profile was extremely cryptic and consisted only of name, height, and weight, nothing else. The first few days of talking to him feel like you are being looked down on even though Ogata acts pretty friendly and puts some effort into getting to know you out of casual wyd and you up texts. Goes offline for a few days then comes back with no explanations whatsoever. This first stage is a pure test of patience because Ogata knows he is not the best man around and can be a real pain in the ass. The sooner they get to know his bad side the better.

He doesn’t get fancy dates like candlelight dinner or going to the theater. Doesn’t mix work and personal life either so do not expect an exclusive invitation to his personal exhibitions. Ogata prefers hasteless walks along the river, ice-skating under the myriad of holiday garlands, playing mortal combat late at night with empty takeaway boxes chilling on the table. Cheap and comfy. If his newfound partner doesn’t know how to skate or rollerblade, Ogata will be twice as persistent: he likes to see them slowly learning how to skate as much as holding their hand through the night.

Vasily likes to draw. Ogata loves to take photos. For the first anniversary, he has collected a whole ton of photos for a cute collage. He took one when they were spinning in the kitchen like a whirligig making sure soup wasn’t too salty and noodles were just right for adding a sauce. Another one was taken when they both were trying old-fashioned pieces from the thrift shop looking like a modern-day John Lennon and Yoko Ono. They fell asleep right on top of Ogata and he managed to take a selfie kissing them on the top of their head. Put all the pieces together with texts and custom ring and voila – Ogata’s present is ready.

Teasing borders with light insults though he does not always realize it. Calls his partner silly in the sweetest tone before showing how to do the thing right. Pillow fights last until fluff flies from the pillows and Ogata won’t stop tickling them until tears stream down their cheeks. Says fuck me both as call to action and disappointed sigh with the same intonation so have fun figuring this man out. Absolute treasure and curse in one person and he won’t ever admit it but he is trying so hard to suppress the urge to push them away as a defense mechanism. Never apologizes but crawls back to them after every argument.

Speaking of which, arguments are common but rarely end up in loud door slam or hysteria. Usually, it happens when Ogata can’t control himself and pushes too many buttons of theirs so his teasing ends up being too harsh… Anyway, the cat got Ogata’s tongue and he doesn’t know how to use words to ask for forgiveness but! When he feels like it is definitely his fault, Ogata will cook ankonabe as unspoken sorry, I’ve messed up a big time and don’t know how to fix it, please don’t be mad, please talk to me. It’s rare but if he really feels this way Ogata will be stick like glue to them fearing that this time they will definitely leave him and his shitty camera all alone again.

[infernalrevenge]

I’ll Cover You, My Love

Fandom: Choices - Foreign Affairs

Pairing: Ayna Seth x M!MC (Magnus Quezon)

Rating: T (for some self-deprecating stuff)

Summary: Ayna feels guilty about Magnus taking the brunt of the scandal, but he is having none of her negative talk.

Notes: Ayna betrayal plotline? Who's that? Never heard of her. That never happened. I don't know what you're talking about. Anyway, here's a comfort fic for my favorite TA, because I will not take any Ayna slander, not even from Ayna herself. I would just like to say that before I locked in my scandal partner, I had such a hard time picking between Ayna and Blaine, but I went with the latter for maximum drama. Doesn’t mean I still can’t ship my current MC with Ayna though, because I can do what I want. I hope y’all enjoy!

Also hi, I know you asked to be tagged in this :P @robintora

----------

Ayna leaned against her hand propped up on her desk, the words on the paper she was reading starting to blur as she tried her best to stay awake. Ever since she saw the front page cover of the stupid tabloid and Magnus had been the talk of the proverbial town, she hadn’t been able to get a good night's rest as she was wracked with anger and guilt.

Anger at the people who have passed judgement on him so quickly, who decided they knew exactly what kind of person he was based on one stupid picture and the speculations not just on the company he kept, but also on his character...

...and guilt for not being there to take the fall with him. A part of her kept wondering what might have happened if she didn’t get the chance to cover her face the way she did that night. Another part wondered what would have happened if she had just come forward earlier, but Magnus quickly shot the idea down. He explained to her that it was for the best, that he wanted to protect her from the scrutiny.

"You don't have an entire PR team that can spin the story around or make sure it gets buried. This won't just ruin your image -- if you lose your job because of this, it could ruin your life. Please don't say anything to anyone. Let me do this for you, I can handle it," he told her the last time they talked in person. She knew he was just trying to reassure her, but even she can see through the sadness and stress in his eyes, despite the smile he gave then.

At the moment, she simply was not in the best state of mind, and adding to the pile the other things she had going on in her life... she was damn near close to bursting. She was just about to take another sip of coffee, desperate to stay awake, when she heard a knock on her office door. "Come in."

In popped up a familiar head of fiery red hair, his eyes seeming to dart around cautiously before realizing she was alone. A bright smile shone on his face as he came in, waving off to someone from behind the door.

"Magnus, what are you doing here?" Ayna yelped in surprise, standing up.

"I came to see you," he said like it was the most obvious thing, slowly closing the door behind him to make minimal sound.

"What, w-what if someone saw you? Someone might've tailed you o-or people might get suspicious--"

"Hey, don't worry," Magnus stepped toward her, laying his hand on top of hers. "If anyone saw me, they might just think I needed to talk to you about something -- you're also my academic advisor, after all. Plus, Tatum checked and not many other people are out there. I told him to take a short walk so people won't suspect that I’m here for too long."

"Yeah, but we need to be more careful still, I don't want you to--"

"Ayna, I promise I've got it covered, okay?" He squeezed her hand in his, and laid the other one on top. "Just trust me."

She looked up at him, sighing wearily as she let her shoulders relax and sat back down. The young man offered a smile of reassurance, taking a seat from across her desk and carrying it over to the other side to sit next to her. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Honestly? Not great,” she replied, leaning back as she glanced at her laptop screen, multiple windows and tabs opened. “This manuscript isn’t exactly easy to write,” she added with a chuckle. Working on it had been her way of distracting herself from other problems recently, but it wasn’t entirely successful. Her mind had still been brewing with “what-ifs” -- it was much easier to be told not to worry than to actually do it. But she didn’t want to dwell on herself for too long.

“What about you, though? I know the last few weeks have been...” she trailed off, looking down as she was unsure.

“It hasn’t been all bad. I did get Joaquin, after all.” Ah yes, that lynx he got at the pet store during that live interview. Ayna had tuned into it then, and she remembered her fists clenching when the host brought up the scandal unprompted. She almost wished she could have told off that nosy woman to keep out of his personal life, but the way he was able to take back control of it was quite an admirable sight.

“You wanna see pictures?” He excitedly brought out his phone, leaning closer to show her the whole album he had dedicated to the small feline.

“You’ve had him for all of two weeks and you’ve already taken, what, a hundred pictures?” She couldn’t help the amused laugh that escaped her, listening to him coo at nearly every photo he swept through -- some of Joaquin jumping around, some playing with toys, and even some with Dionne in the frame. She had to admit, the combination of the adorable pictures and the equally adorable sight of him describing each one did help lift her spirits a little.

“I can’t help being a proud papa now,” he said, stopping on the picture of the one he took of Joaquin’s first day in the suite. “He’s been helpful in... distracting me, I guess. He somehow just knows what I’m feeling, coming in to comfort me at the right time. The break from reality is always welcome.”

Magnus looked at the woman, noting how her eyebrows furrowed and the frown she wore as he talked about his experience. “Sounds like you might need a break too.”

“This dissertation isn’t gonna finish itself.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Ayna.”

Guess he managed to learn a thing or two from the lynx then.

“I know you said not to worry about it, that you’d handle it, but...” she sighed, shrinking into herself as she avoided his gaze. “I can’t help it when it’s about you. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, having thousands of eyes watching you, like they’re waiting for you to slip up.”

The Rutherlandian reached around and wrapped an arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer. “It’s not really anything I haven’t dealt with before. In a way, I’ve kinda gotten used to it.”

“But a scandal of this proportion? That... that has to be different,” she replied, trying to allow herself to lean into him, but not feeling like she deserved his comfort. “It’s not just people waiting for you to mess up now, because they already think you have and they want to watch the whole downward spiral.”

Magnus knew she had been feeling guilty over not getting to step forward and take part of the “blame” (if one could even call it that), but he had no idea how much this was eating at her.

“I can’t help but feel awful that you’ve become the target of such harassment. It wasn’t even your fault! And your mother shouldn’t blame you for everything either, you’re just living your life!”

“Ayna--”

“And here I am. I’m not the one being swarmed by paparazzi and having personal details of my life picked at, but I’m the one who’s stressed and anxious about it. God, how fucking selfish is it of me, feeling sorry for myself when you’re the one dealing with it all. It’s stupid of me to just--”

Ayna felt her face turned up, a gentle yet firm hand cupping her cheek as she met another pair of brown eyes. Anything else she might have wanted to say died off as they looked at each other, but she felt grounded by the way his thumb caressed her cheek.

“You don’t have to feel bad for worrying about me. I love that you care,” he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “But it’s not your fault either. What happened already happened, we can’t change that.”

I still wish I could.

The teacher’s assistant let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch as she brought her hand up to cover his. “I... don’t deserve you, Magnus.”

“No, no, don’t say that. You are kind and beautiful, and you just have-- you have such pure intentions. I know you want to weather the storm with me on this, but I’m doing this for both our sakes. I want you to come out of this safe. Even if they did somehow know it was you, I’d still be keeping you out of it. You shouldn’t have to go through what I do.”

She shook her head, her eyes starting to look glassy as she took in his words. She wanted to believe what he was saying about her, but it was so hard. She didn’t know how he could see those things in her, especially now, vulnerable as she was. She could feel her throat start to choke up, but she spoke anyway. “I wish you didn’t have to... go through it alone. This... this isn’t worth it.” I’m not worth it.

“It is worth it, because you are absolutely worth going through this for.” He started to brush away the tears that rolled down her cheek, before digging into his pockets to find a handkerchief.

“And I’m not going through this alone. I still have you here with me,” he patted her face dry gently, wanting to let her absorb the meaning of his words. He wanted her to know that he meant every word -- that he was sincere in his feelings for her. “Even if you’re not out there with me, knowing that you have my back helps give me the strength to get through another day.”

His patient reassurance lightened the burden inside, if only a little. He knew it wouldn’t be so easy to get her to believe it all, but he would make her see it someday, no matter how long it took.

“I care about you so much, Ayna. You mean more to me than you know.”

Even though it didn’t fully relieve her of the heaviness, those words struck her in a way that helped pull her out of her head. For the first time since the day started, she smiled. A genuine, loving smile through her tears, from knowing that the person she adored so deeply felt the same way about her. If earlier her heart ached with sadness and guilt, now it ached with affection and love for him.

“I care about you too, Magnus,” she said with a sniffle, clearing her throat as it came out rather soft and high-pitched. “I care about you so, so much. I just kinda wish... I could, like, smack away every paparazzo trying to get near you right now.”

Magnus laughed at her exclamation. Sure, he expected that kind of outburst from his friend Blaine, but from Ayna? It was both amusing and endearing.

“Well when we become public, maybe you could. Tatum might even help you with that,” he replied, giving her the handkerchief.

A simple word gave her pause, making her look up at him again, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “When?”

“Well yeah. I... I really like you, Ayna. And I’m not just saying that, I really do. I was kinda hoping that, one day, when things are more, uh, quiet, we could actually be... you know, like, together together.” If his arm wasn’t around her then, he would have been wringing his hands together out of nerves. Was it too soon to bring up that kind of talk? Too soon for them? What if he just jumped into this? He hadn’t even considered if she wanted a relationship yet. Wait wait, he should backtrack--

Ayna pushed forward to kiss him, hands cupping his face as she kept him close. It didn’t take long for Magnus to fall into it, returning it just as eagerly. He could practically feel her smiling against him, a light and fluttering sensation filling his stomach. After a few moments in bliss, they slowly pulled apart, a wide smile on both their faces.

“I would love to be together together with you,” she teased, earning an exasperated sigh from the First Son.

“I get the feeling you’re not gonna let me live that down, huh?”

She only laughed in response, pecking him quickly on the lips again. “Thank you for everything so far, Magnus. I hope I didn’t seem ungrateful for your protection.”

“Not at all, don’t give me that talk.” He rested his forehead onto hers, his gaze turning soft. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Her thumb gently caressed his cheek, smiling fondly at him. “Would you... let me meet Joaquin some time?”

Needless to say, he said yes.

.

.

.

(The next time Magnus visited her, he came in with an odd lump tucked in the front of his hoodie.

“You know, when I asked to meet Joaquin, I didn’t mean you had to sneak him into my office.”

“...do you want me to go then?”

“No, show me the kitten.”)

[sly-merlin]

killing me - 5 | n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings of this chapter : slight mention of weapons , cursing

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

     or              

                          “  curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: (not tagging the old ones because they have read it already bt if u want , lemme know! )  @yiyi4657​​​​ @sorrywonwoo​​​​ @sillywinnergladiator​​​​  @suhweo​​​​ @exfolitae​​​ @minejungwoo​​​ 

{reposting because of the stupid tag problem}

K.M masterlist

k.m 4   k.m 6

tuesday

“How’s everything doyoung?” taeyong’s deep voice echoed through the spacious basement.

“I have double checked, just in case. CCTV’s are handled, there would be no interference, like always, but -”

“But!” taeyong raised his brow at doyoung.

“You can’t deny that yuta is best with knives so why not just let him join as well?” he verbalized his opinion. Despite only doyoung speaking, it was beyond doubt that every single men in the room agreed with him. Yuta paired well with his knives and pistols, proving to be an asset for the already well packed, trained squad.

“It sounds more like you chickening out than your concern for the assignment do!” taeyong replied, giving doyoung a smug smile. Doyoug would rather fix affairs outside the business than being involved directly but taeyong loved teasing him for choosing the more sheltered option.

“When have I ever done that!” doyoung’s high pitched voice earned him few laughs from the room. “But you know-

“I’m not going to fall for your sweet tongue. Save it for others!” doyoung sighed loudly, focusing again on his holster.

“I CAN’T FIND THE SUPPLEMENTARIES” mark shouted from other side of the room addressing no one in particular. Taeil grimaced at his voice, running to join him near the cabinets he was rummaging through since forever.

“What are you missing? And don’t shout next time!”

“Aah sorry hyung. I want some magazines. Last time I fell short of them.”

Taeil nodded briefly and went on helping him in finding bullets for his personalized gun.

Everyone was getting ready for some action at the centre of gangnam. Some protection fee disagreements had led to a clash with some other faction, needing immediate action. A strike at the centre of well-protected city was never easy but that was the reason that mafia in seoul was mostly underground and well hidden. People knew what was taking place in their surroundings but no one was aware of the sources from which it materialized.

“Am I not invited?” all the heads turned towards the rather small metal door. Yuta was standing on the stairs, his body leaning forwards, supported by his hand on the upper frame of door.

“No. you are not.” taeyong said while moving his head playfully, flinging a knife back and forth to show yuta what he was missing. thrill

“Oh come on, you guys can’t go without me. They are called dagger’s troop for a reason.” he descended the stairs, making a dramatic slow entry to the room. “And to handle them, you need me. The dagger king himself!” his exaggerated hand gestures were now irritating taeyong.

“It’s a no again. And besides we have our switchblade prince so we’ll hardly need you.”

“Ten has never handled them before and you need someone experienced to wrap up quickly. He is short-

“Short and skilled who taught you to use knives in the first place, yuta. Don’t make baseless arguments. If you want to do something, then go, sit with the techies. Maybe you’ll learn some tech from min or hyuck or you can join renjun and xiaojun in the med facility. Absorb their energy and acquire some patience! You need it more than they do actually”. Everyone was now focusing on their heated convo.

“Taeyong, I agreed to your proposal that is clearly not in any way beneficial to me, so now, you have to restore me here. I’m needed and you know that!”

“You are needed indeed. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it without you. You are useful until you are not dangerous. This is underground yuta. An apology won’t make up for something that you’d lose forever and you understand what I’m saying. So please move out.” taeyong’s stern voice echoed in the room again. Yuta wanted to argue back but the words got stuck in his throat. His hands went through his already messy hair whilst he eyed a chair with infuriation.

Glancing one last time at taeyong with his hooded eyes, he hit the chair with extreme force, leaving the room immediately. Ascending the stairs he felt too many emotions at the moment. He has never felt like an inconvenience to his own people before, his most slips ups just going unnoticed by everyone. Others, rather than being seen as a trouble appreciated the expertise he acquired here. Until specific someone decided to barge in!

*******************

Wednesday

“We should eat here more often, I’m so glad the café was full!” yugyeom and yeong nodded their heads in agreement. The three of you were sitting in the garden next to the cafeteria, eating your sandwiches. The sky was filled with grey clouds, the cool breeze brushing your skin and shirts flowing in the wind’s direction. The weather was happy and so were you all.

“Give that scarf a break y/n. it’s been two days. This combination is an eye sore!” yeong told you off earning an eye roll from you.

“It’s the 3rd day!” gyeom corrected her.

“Yaaah! Who bought you the sandwich!” you huffed at him. As you expected, yeong pinched her nose, showing how disappointed she was in you.

“Y/n. you need to start the exercise again.”

“Noooo” you whined at her, wriggling your whole body. you’d rather choose staying in the dorms than doing her fashion exercises!

“Before leaving the room in the morning, you will send me a picture of your outfit. I don’t want to do this like last time so please don’t argue. Thank you and now please remove this fashion blunder” she said everything in a honey dripping voice, reminding you of the last time when you disobeyed her same order.

Yugyeom chuckled with the sandwich still in his mouth before responding to her demand. “Leave it yeongie. The scarf is hiding her sinful deeds. I’d prefer you see her with it, not otherwise. Maybe wonwoo gave a standing ovation worthy performance this t—-aahhh! Don’t hit me doofus.” But you kept attacking him with your bag, yeong was watching you both with a dissatisfied look but it was nothing she wasn’t used to already. He tried to dodge your actions but you were tougher especially with the weapon in your hand. He was sprawled on the ground now, laughs turned into recurrent coughs. “Sorry y/n. y/n

“y/n” you both looked at each other when you heard a third voice calling your name.

You straightened yourself, visage turning jovial, neck craning to face the visitor.

Your relaxed posture stiffened at the sight of the said caller.

Yuta.

Yuta was standing there, beaming towards you. He waved at you, which you couldn’t return because of the initial shock you were in. what was he doing here. Yugyeom and yeong were also staring at the stranger.

Yuta extended his hand for you to lift you up from the ground, but you didn’t move an inch. He inclined his head a bit, questioning you silently. You took his hand to rise up. Your friends were now curiously watching the awkward exchange.

Yuta gave others a toothy smile, waving energetically at them as if they were long lost friends he just found today. And he did indeed looked like one of you. with black polo tucked in his washed jeans, blond hair down and earnings adorning his earlobes, he looked like a normal extrovert student , who could turn people into friendly puppies just with a flash of smile.

“Can I borrow y/n for a minute? I won’t take long , I promise” he blinked his eyes at them , assuring your friends that he wasn’t abducting you , which was, you guess, his first instinct, assuring people of his virtuous intentions . He took your hand and started dragging you towards the concrete path. As soon as you were out of other’s eyes, he jerked your hand away making you groan loudly.

“Why are you so rash? Don’t you have sense? What the hell are you doing here and how the fuck did you find me in this goddamnit big campus!” you growled at him.

“Stop bitching at me! I’m not Johnny or taeyong, watch you fucking tongue in front of me!” yuta fiery eyes bored into yours. The previous cheerful expression already changed into one of frustration.

“Then don’t treat me like one yuta. Simple as that! You might not be used to this, but I am not a servile flatterer.” you retorted, mirroring his aggression.

You crossed your arms against your chest, titling your head to reciprocate his look. “Now say why you are here cause unlike you, I have work to do!”

Yuta scoffed at your words, his hand graciously fixing his now messed up hair. You took this time to give him a once over. He was distracted by the wind, and you by his face. At first blush, he looked devastatingly fuckable but your self-esteem was of far more importance right now. You hated men who had no regard for women and at this point, yuta’s behaviour was fulfilling all the essentials.

“What did u mean that day when you said you’d be leaving,” he was still giving you the same stern look but his voice came surprisingly calm “what is there between you and taeyong that I’m missing?”

His question confused you. You were sure that the conversation between you and taeyong was not so classified. So maybe yuta was there just to bother you.

“See! I’m not at all obliged to answer you. So you better ask your boss. And never show up here again, unless you are called, which would obviously never happen!”

“Just answer me! I’m not here for your bloody lecture!” he tiredly blurted at you. But you were adamant so you just turned away from him.

You were about to successfully dodge him when he caught your forearm and in a flash, pulled you against himself. You were now eyeing his chest, which was soon replaced with his face. He had leaned down to face you, his eyes scanning your now alarmed expression. His eyes lowered to your chest which was stuck due to the breath you had sucked in.

“Breathe baby. I come in peace. No need to be afraid.” he said softly and you’d have believed him, if you were blind to his capabilities. You struggled to step away from him but his grip was tightening enough to bruise your arm. He found your little effort very amusing.

“At least you are entertaining hmm.” he jerked away your arm again, this time you let out an audible yelp. “I just came to check your status, nothing else” he said looking particularly nowhere.

“my what?” You asked him, rubbing your arm to soothe the stinging sensation. You were also perplexed at how he simply forgot about the previous topic.

He feigned hurt, rubbing over his chest “don’t be so hostile. I wanted to know about your status with your friends. The one you were hitting so cutely! He’s one of your friends who know everything about you right.”

“You don’t need to be so friendly. Bear with my hostile attitude coz that’s what you’ll be getting from now on.”

“At least you are acknowledging this union.” his mocking tone was nauseating you. “So when are you going to introduce me or do I have to take the initiative!”

“Stay away yuta. I’m not your laughing stock.”

“Okay, so you are not going to do it!” he gave you a once over mid-sentence. “Fine. I’ll do it by myself.” he started walking down the path to the garden your friends were sitting in. but before you could stop him, you saw both of them coming your way. You hurriedly ran over to them, passing yuta. He was seriously enjoying your distress.

“Shorty, your bag.” gyeom handed you your bag. “We have to go to class .your sandwich is in the bigger one. eat it before going to library and we are going to 67th street again. Meet you there tonight”

“No I’ll pass”

“And who is that hunk? Your secret boyfriend?” yeong questioned wiggling her brows. Before yuta could take charge of the situation, you spoke to fit it to your own mould.

“n-no. He-he’s a junior’s older brother. Just here to talk about his poor situation.”

“Okay. But he’s so your type. You can try something you know” she whispered, your eyes widening in pure horror.

“He can hear us yeong!!!” but she took a back step before you could say anything else.

“Ok bye bye. see you later. And don’t wear that scarf again or I’ll increase the time period of exercise.” she shouted. You showed a middle finger to her which was returned with a flying kiss.

“The scarf! I totally missed it!”  you rolled your eyes before facing his smirking self, his breath fanning your neck hair, his face being too close for your liking.

“You look quite fond of hickies. Just let these one disappear then I can decorate you myself.” he whispered, voice meant only for you to hear.

“Meet you on Saturday, babes. I think I’ll lose my sleep if I admired you anymore!” he whirled around leaving your fuming form behind. it was as if he was fond of having his last say in every conversation.

“These hickies would only disappear in your fucking dreams boy!” you murmured, glaring at his back.

The true intentions of his sudden appearance were masked by his fake excitement but that had struck a chord in you. You couldn’t avoid it for too long. Sooner or later, it had to be done.

starting with your roommate.

******************************

Your vision was almost blurry for the time you spent staring at your door, takeout from her favourite restaurant dangling from your arm. Chelin was inside waiting for you. She was busy these days like any other student but you always had some tricks up your sleeve to get her to agree. Today it was her favourite authentic Chinese dumplings. You shifted from one foot to another to calm your nerves, like it was going to make any difference. You had to tell chelin and this laborious task was to be accomplished today. Now or never, you decided finally, knocking on the door.

The door opened almost instantly.

“Why do you make me walk when you have the key!” she said, pretending to be irritated at you.

You stuck your tongue at her whilst shoving the food bag in her face. Sniffing the bag, her eyes widened, sparkle adoring her black orbs and lower lip trembling to form the most stupid fake emotional look she could muster. You lifted yourself up to flick her frowned forehead playfully. Both of you broke into laughter, the room turning lively.

“What is it this time?” chelin asked you curiously, making her way to the small corner you both called kitchen. You removed your bag and shoes meanwhile.

“I just wanted to spend some time with you and talk, you know. It’s been days since we have seen each other properly.” you replied gently. Chelin was 4 years younger than you in age but only 2 years behind in classes. Her intelligence was hard to be matched. That’s why even being younger than her classmates, she was the smartest. A deadly combo of beauty with brains.

“ohh.” she returned .you reached out for the food boxes and moved to let her sit on your bed. “Now tell me what it is. This restaurant doesn’t deliver inside uni and you have to wait 45 minutes for their delivery and unless you want something-

She trailed off, wiggling her brows at you.

You have always been the most amusing subject for her psychology projects, defying everything her books said. You were suprising, yet predictable.

“I’ve got an internship” you blurted out a lie, eyes setting on the food instead of facing her.

“Nothing new in that. You get them all the time without even applying, unlike us. But what happened to your mantra, Chois or nothing!!!” she declared her surprise.

The only way to make your story credible was to avoid her eyes and occupying yourself with dumplings was the best tactic at this point.

“Yes, but I’m not going to do freelance writing anymore. It’s boring and its paid internship and not a servant service so I’ll give it a try.”

“Hmm. good. But you didn’t spend your precious money just to inform me of another shot right! So get on the point.”

You chewed the food in your mouth, before putting an end to her queries.

“Umm. I might be moving out” you said sheepishly to gauge her reaction. The dumpling which she was about to put in her mouth was now messily dipped in the sauce pot.

“You are what?”

“I’m moving out!”

“But why and where?” she straightened her back at the seriousness of your statement, the food long forgotten now.

“It’s not finalized yet” you stated shrugging your shoulders. “I want a place near the northern or eastern court complex. It’s going to be easy if I start already. And chois are also located there.”

“Which company?” while bundling your lies, you had missed this. Nervously, you picked up the chopsticks again trumping up an answer to satisfy her.

“Aah umm moon industries!”

An audible gasp escaped her mouth. She was shocked at first but regained herself in no time.

“Anything is possible if it’s you.” you knew that this would work. you were a graduate so job offers were not anything suspicious.

“you can finally have your peace.” you made an effort to lighten up a bit but chelin went quite for a moment.

“So you are leaving me. Just like that.” her voice came out as a mere whisper. You looked up to find her glossy eyes, a heaviness in her voice. You didn’t expect her to be such responsive!

“You know I hate sleeping alone.”

“don’t do this chel-

“And who would buy me ice-cream when I breakup with jay again. An- and who will remind me to change my toothbrush. My hangover pills. And moreover how are you going to make your food. Your only source of homemade food is me. You are still scared of the beeping of the bloody oven. You always eat cold takeout’s when I’m not here!” as she ranted, you felt your own legs trembling at her voice.

“Take me with you” she said abruptly making you shook your head at her. You knew she won’t be easy but you hadn’t anticipated this at all. You had to lie again, for her own sake.

“it’s not feasible chelin. I’m gonna be an hour away. but my job demands that’s why I’ll have to move out. you can’t afford living outside of campus right now. don’t make this harder, please.”

And you saw visible stream of tears leaving her eyes. You wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly and cry out your own sorrows but you couldn’t. You were not allowed to express your feelings just yet.

“Why can’t you just stay? I don’t want to live without you!”

“It’s just a year more anyway.” you tried to justify your departure.

“A full year! And that’s different. I’ll also be leaving next year but now it’s just you!”

“Move in with jay, chelin.” you suggested. “He always nags at you for refusing him. It’ll make him happy and maybe your intermittent breakups would stop as well!”

“I don’t want to”

“You do want to. It’s me who’s been holding you back till now. You just don’t want to leave my grown up ass alone.”

“No! I’ve been refusing him cause I’ll chose you over that asshole any day.” she said while rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. You both were closer than sisters. She even spent some of her vacations in the campus just so you won’t feel like a loner. She was the closest to the family you could have at this point. And no, you were not ready to let her go.

“When are you moving out?” her sniffling was now replaced with soft breathing.

“Maybe next week” you lied again.

“Are you happy?”

“Leaving you? No. I could never be. But it has to be done.”

“I hope your roommate knows how to cook. Otherwise you’ll die from takeouts. And let’s spend the week together. We’ll go shopping for new skirts. You won’t be wearing any trousers this time!” she proposed, trying to smile again.

“We are still in the same uni and you’ll find me here all the time. The internship demands weekend working hours anyway so it’s manageable.” you reasoned as an attempt to satisfy the budding questions in her mind.

“But it won’t be same”

Nothing would be same from now on! you thought.

*********************************

Saturday morning

The dreadful day came sooner than you desired. Sprawled on your bed, you looked around the small room, which has been your residence from the day you left the orphanage and that you still planned on inhabiting until the end of next year if nothing has changed but now it was better to dust it off and move on.

What were you even supposed to call it! Wedding day? Or effective date? You weren’t even sure of it being a contract or an arrangement! Maybe contract to keep your mouth shut! But it also requires a free consent that was hard to find in your current position. A legal agreement binding you with taeyong’s will or an arrangement! Arrangement to make your life easy while being driven away from the one you were somewhat content with!

You could make any assertion to console yourself.

You were alone this morning for chelin has gone to jay’s apartment. You were somewhat glad that she was gone. Moving out in her absence would be good otherwise she won’t let you go out alone with all your stuff and you weren’t ready to explain her anything yet. As per her knowledge, you were leaving next week. your all braincells were spent while satisfying her that packing a week before was just out of convenience and nothing else.

You got up from the bed to shower your worries away. Following a forty minutes of comforting bath, you opened the small closet to choose something from the clothes you were yet to pack. As if on cue, your phone made a very familiar sound.

Ping. The fine tune was now set for a very fine person.

Little shit: I can’t wait to meet you noonaaa! Please wear something white!

White! You gave your closet and packed boxes a once over. There was plenty of white but nothing white! There was a white dress –with cherry blossoms on it. Then there was skirt, with black stripes. The only thing you had in crisp white was 3 pairs of shorts and sneakers.

And you were definitely going to wear those. After all, jaemin did say something white! It’s not daily that you get to have fun with interpretation.

After contemplating for 5 minutes straight, you chose the red bell sleeved round neck crop top to wear with your white high waist denim shorts. from nowhwere were you looking like someone about to get married! But like your everyday chant- who cares!

You were brushing your hair when a sound from the phone distracted you from flattering yourself.

Johnny: are you ready?

As decided earlier, Johnny was going to pick you and your stuff from the dorm. He was more cordial than doyoung, parking the car just near the dorms.

You: yes, I am.

Johnny: good. Let me in.

And you did. But instead of one, there were two of them. You looked curiously at the shorter men who was glancing you up and down.

“He’s ten. And ten this is y/n.” the said guy waved, giving a sweet smile.

“Hi!”

“So how many boxes do you have?” Johnny asked looking around the tiny space.

“7 in total.” you started explaining. “Two boxes of shoes and clothes each. And other one for the accessories and random stuff. One medium sized luggage of my books. I have yet to pack some clothes from the closet and my desk space needs to be cleaned up as well. So I think it’ll take about 30 minutes to do everything.” you finished.

“Only 2 boxes of clothes?” ten asked, a look of judgement all over his face.

“Yup. I’ll take winter clothes afterwards. My roommate is going to keep them so I’ll collect them later and 3 boxes! I’ve yet to fill one.”

“Aah ok. Let’s do it then.” that being said you showed Johnny the side of the little hallway where you had placed your plastic boxes.

“Johnny, please be careful. The boxes are all rented and keeping upside down would ruin the shoe package. Just a li-“ you stopped midway when Johnny started giggling at your distressed tone.

“Don’t worry. Just pack the other stuff.”

You nodded and started with the packing. The closet was clear of your belongings. The only place left was your desk. You crowded your backpack with laptop, chargers and other stationaries that you kept out as an act to cover from chelin.

Johnny and ten made several trips up and down and finally after about forty minutes, you were finally done.

“Shall we go?” ten asked you. You didn’t reply instead choosing to walk outside silently.

**************************

You reached the destination in about 40 minutes. The area had a different ambiance than the city side. It was not secluded but wasn’t crowded either. The house looked more like a closed off architectural 2 storey building, giving a “enter with caution” feels.

You only took your phone with you as you were going to the new place in few hours anyway.

As you entered, déjà vu took over your senses. The couch in the hallway was jam-packed just like the last time. And if it was not enough, you saw few younger boys coming down the stairs from other side of the hallway. And one of them was too hard to miss.

“Noonaaa” jaemin ran down the remaining stairs coming to stand in front of you. He gave you an electric smile, your own lips curving upwards.

“I told you to wear white!? He whined at your choice of clothing.

You visibly rolled your eyes at him. “And this is white! The shorts and shoes are crisp white. What else do you want?” as much as you wanted to be polite but your nature didn’t allow you to take offense.

“Ok ok fine. I only saw red. This’ll also do. You look good.” he stated, eyeing your sleeves.

“Come inside.” he took your hand, swiftly moving you towards the centre of hall. Once he left your hand, you bowed a little in greeting, hoping you won’t have to do that again and again.

Johnny had told you the other day that few of them were older than you including him, yuta and taeyong. So you had to greet them with respect. you were a women with manners!

“No need for formality y/n. just sit down.” taeyong also descended from the same stairs. You sat at the only unoccupied chair in the room whereas taeyong sat on the arm of the bigger sofa.

“You got everything?” you nodded at his question.

“Ok then. Yuta is arriving in few minutes. Until then if you want, you can go explore the house.”

You shook your head at him. You were sure everyone could tell how apprehensive you were being. A roomful of boys was staring at you like hawks. It was confirmed to you by now that you were only girl in this house. You were fiddling with hands, crossing and uncrossing your legs to make yourself more comfortable but your fidgeting only made others awkward as well.

“Stop making her nervous!” Kun’s voice reached your ears before you could see him. It looked like he came from outside. At the lack of seat, he made a beeline for the space you were filling , sitting at the arm of your sofa. Maybe it’s a habit, you thought.

“I knew you were coming, so I made a special meal for you. Jaemin helped a lot though.” at your mere bob as an answer, kun realised that he couldn’t do anything to make you feel any better. the immensity of the setting was far more on your conscious than others.

“noona , this is jisung and chenle, you didn’t meet them right!” you saw two boys whom jaemin was dragging to stand in front of you. they looked quite younger than the other ones. their charming smiles directed at you finally turned your stoic expression to mirror theirs.

your little interaction was interrupted by light footsteps on the marble floor.

“Were you all waiting for me?” yuta’s voice resonated in the silent room. “why couldn’t you complete this mission in my absence taeyong. It’s not like you don’t have substitute!” he sneered at his leader, looking around to find a seat.

jungwoo got up from his seat, motioning yuta to sit.

“I have to be somewhere else, so the sooner we start, the sooner we’ll get it over with!” yuta offered. taeyong nodded at him, directing doyoung to get something from inside.

doyoung went away and came back with a bundle of files. he opened a file and placed it in front of you.

“you can read it first. i completed the registration forms, your bio data is filled. just check for any misinformation. there was no poof of your permanent residential address so jaehyun got exception for you because you are a student. but you both might need to visit district office as they won’t grant exemption from appearance.” doyoung pointed everything and explained it to you.

the papers were legitimate, you bio data including your identity number, parents name , everything was correct. the only astonishing thing was the name of your legal representative. you thought I’d be doyoung but you were wrong.

through counsel,

jeong jaehyun.

your fingers lingered on his name. it was not possible as johnny told you he was just about same age as you. you looked at doyoung with a raised brow.

“jae was chosen by our own company so he started working under taeyong immediately after graduation” doyoung mumbled and you snorted at his statement. obviously , he had it easy!

“where do I have to sign?” you asked in a small voice.

and you scribbled right where he marked.

he passed the papers to yuta.

with a frown on his face, yuta also did the same. throwing the papers in doyoung’s face, he rose up from his seat, turning towards the door.

“wait yuta” taeyong’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“what do you want now. do I have to kiss her?” his questioned carried a mocking tone, making you straighten your back. you were just as disgusted at the thought as was him. but you were not throwing tantrums like him.

“the rings. you have to make it believable right” taeyong extracted a velvet rectangular box from his pocket, placing it on the table. he signalled you to open it.

you reached out for the purple box. inside it were two platinum bands with a single diamond shining right in the centre. they were beautiful but meaningless.

“your hand yuta. why do I have to tell you everything?” yuta scoffed at him and snatched the box from your hand, pulling your arm in the way.

he took out both bands, tossing the box in taeyong’s lap. he wore the one meant for him, in his left finger and grabbed your hand to put the ring on. you flinched a little at the force but he didn’t seem to give a shit about you felt.

“oh the ring is loose.”he commented at the band being not of your size. you jerked away your hand to remove the ring, instead placing it in your forefinger.

“you are not supposed to have what isn’t yours baby!” he remarked slyly before modelling his way out. his mouth was acidic, that you were sure by now.

“CONGRATULATIONS ON THE WEDDING MRS. NAKAMOTO!”

and yuta’s words kept ringing even when he was gone. mechanically, your hands were balled into fists, anger rising. you were not feeling bitter at his words for didn’t expect anything better from him. but he shouldn’t have attacked your dignity in front of strangers.

only five minutes had passed and you were already encumbered with the weight of the ornament!

************************

where do you think this is going?? do you like it so far? please lemme know if you get time to leave some feedback!

and welcome all the new readers! i hope you are enjoying this!

[loveactionsspeaklouder]

we belong together - kylian mbappé and julian draxler fanfic

6| Playing with Fire

a/n: very smutty

october 2023| paris

"I can't believe that is Molly man," Neymar gasped as he spoke to Kylian, both players were in the canteen on their scheduled break. It had been two weeks since Kylian and Molly had their heated argument over her actions with Julian, the Frenchman was still raging with the brunette. But that didn't stop their affair, it only increased it. They would fuck at every opportunity; at work, her apartment and even Kylian's when his poor fiancé was away, which luckily for him, was most of the time. "What happened?"

Kylian looked over to where Molly was sat, he wasn't surprised to see her intense stare on him. He observed her face, emotionless and stern as always, he mentally sighed. He was unaware how naturally programmed she was, she knew when to; laugh at a funny comment, smile at someone she knew and constantly retain her cunning grin, it was the thing that scared Kylian the most. "I'm trying to find out," he exhaled, unable to remove his eyes from hers. "This isn't an act she's putting on, she's like this all the time and it's fucking draining."

Kylian watched as Molly removed herself from her seat and made her way towards them. Her dark eyes met his; he felt himself cower slightly under her gaze, which penetrated his with much more power than it ever had before. She smirked and ran a hand through her hair, she made him uncomfortable and she loved it. "Can I have a word in my office please? John wants us to talk about you potentially attending a tour."

"Sure, I'll be right there," he replied. She winked and swayed her hips away from them, Neymar watched with his jaw hung open. He shook his head, turning to face the younger man.

"Bro, you need to do something," he started. "You need to bring her back. It's only you or Julian that can."

....

october 2023| paris

"You didn't really want to speak me, did you?" Kylian questioned.

Molly stood up and made her way to her office door, making sure it was locked. She turned around and attached their lips, laughing into the kiss. Kylian let out a moan at the feel of her lips on his. She pulled away and shook her head, placing a finger over his lips. "You need to be quiet, these walls aren't soundproof."

She bucked her hips against his, slowly rubbing herself against the bulge straining against his tracksuit bottoms, they gasped into each other's mouths. Molly shoved a few things of her desk onto the floor, clearing the space for her to lay her back on. Kylian removed his bottoms, her darks eyes eyed his as she took his length into her hand and stroked him a few times. He returned the favour and used his own fingers to prepare her already wet folds. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, whispering into his ear. "Just fuck me already."

And he did, without hesitation. Kylian entered her fast and hard, the only way she enjoyed it. He instantly let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut. She quickly connected their lips, trying to muffle any sounds. "Is this what you wanted?" he muttered, lust-filled and against her neck. She nodded, he quickly upped his movements.

Molly was numbed to feeling the emotion that came with love. She had months of practice to prepare herself and right now, knowing her actions were mentally hurting Kylian, she was thriving. Every day she was getting stronger, smarter and feistier, she had managed to fool everybody around her. They were all merely characters in her game of life.

"Molly, you feel so good," she was snapped out of her thoughts by Kylian's low groan. She mentally rolled her eyes, I wish he would stop fucking talking. He closed his eyes and squeezed his body tighter onto hers. He picked her up and sat them on the chair.

"And who said you make all the decisions?" she sniggered. He tugged on her hair, her back arched and her head tipped back. He moved his lips to her neck, sinking his teeth into the skin. She teasingly moved herself up and down his length; Kylian growled in her ear and grabbed her waist, forcing her to move quicker.

He moaned her name against her skin as she came down harder and faster on him. "Just shut up and ride me," he hissed. She smirked at his sudden outburst, slightly proud at the change of tone in his voice. He gasped as he looked between her legs, watching her fingers rubbing hurried circles along her most sensitive part. "Fuck me."

"I am," Molly spat. Kylian positioned a hand over her mouth, pushing her head to the side, he didn't want to listen to her sarcastic words anymore. She threw her head back in pleasure, releasing herself from his grasp. She bounced quicker before she eventually reached her high, biting on Kylian's jacket to stop herself from screaming out loud.

Molly knew he was close to finishing, she was debating whether to allow him the satisfaction. She gripped his shoulders and continued bouncing, whispering the dirtiest words she could think of in his ear. Just this once, she thought. He means nothing, she reminded herself. Kylian's body started to shake, he released himself on her thigh, quietly muttering in French. She removed herself from his body and shook her head. "You've made a fucking mess."

"Next time, I'll keep inside of you," he challenged. "But don't come running to me if you get pregnant."

Molly rolled her eyes and mockingly laughed. She liked that he was challenging her fiery ways. She seductively walked over to him and pecked his lips, pulling away a few millimetres. She crooked her head and looked into his eyes. Kylian wondered what she was about to say, she was unpredictable with the words that left her mouth. He didn't know what version of Molly he would get. "We are finished here, goodbye Kylian."

....

october 2023| paris

Kylian couldn't believe he was doing this; he knew he needed answers about Molly and he only had one option, somebody who was apparently oblivious to her wicked ways: Adam. Kylian was jealous of the older man, he had the one thing he wanted to have, the thing he needed in his life. He had the love of Molly; he had her warmth, her laugh, her touch and she didn't have to fake it. Well not all of it. She did love Adam, he was the one person that had helped her through the trauma of her father's death, but he wasn't the person she needed.

"Mr Lawrence will see you now," the blonde receptionist spoke, a flirty tone in her voice as she gazed at the Frenchman. Kylian politely nodded and walked towards Adam's office door, he knocked and waited until he was allowed in. He took a seat across from the Englishman, who focused his full attention on the footballer.

"This is a surprise Kylian," Adam lightly chuckled. "I thought Anna was lying when she said you requested to see me. I think I know why you're here."

"I just need to ask you a few questions," Kylian responded. "I wonder how she's changed so much. I don't even recognise her anymore."

Adam sighed, removing himself from his seat and taking another one next to his guest. "I wish I could help you," he sighed. He too wanted answers; unknown to Molly, he had noticed some of her personality changes. She was getting used to acting like she didn't care, she started to wonder how it was so natural for her. "I've noticed the difference, I'm guessing you've seen more?"

"A lot more, when did she start to change?"

"After the year anniversary of her father's death," Adam started. "She told me she wanted to do things differently, she wanted to cry less and that happened. The last time I saw her cry, was during the second anniversary. But it was unusual, it was like she had to force herself to shed the tears."

Kylian ran his hands over his face, resting his head in his palms. He wondered if things would have been different, if he had handled their situation better. He knew it would have been tough on Molly, he remembered the look in her eyes so vividly. She was broken. I had broken her. All he wanted to do was fix her, but with her resentment to feeling any emotions, he knew it was going to be tough.

"If I'm being brutally honest Kylian, the major turning point for her was your engagement. I remember the day we found out; we were watching TV and the news flashed on her phone. She blinked once, faced the phone in my direction and stared at me. She had no emotion in her eyes; she was cold, distant and emotionless. I asked her if she was okay and her response shocked me; I will never forget her voice, it was low and almost threatening."

"What did she say?"

"She said she wasn't bothered, but I know she's not telling the truth. What scares me the most, is that I don't think she realises she's lying."

....

a/n: oh look.. an update!!! so i have two days of from work a week and i will post on them days.

back to the story... so kylian has finally gone to adam!!!! the next chapter is based in the past, you’ll get a glimpse of what molly has been through and why she is so against her emotions.

until next time xxxx

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty. || 17

All For You.

A few months later

April

I walk the gardens, appreciating the crisp air and the morning fog, accompanied by the grounds’ quietness. For the first time since my father passed, the grounds are quiet, no civilians are waiting and paying their respects, the flowers have gradually decreased, and the palace is relatively untroubled— a little too quiet.

I haven’t seen Harry since he left my room at four this morning. Ever since Henry’s passing a few months ago, I haven’t seen much of Harry during the day. Harry has been pulled in one-hundred different directions and forced to balance everything.

He is handling things better than I ever could have. The Henry situation would have tipped me over the edge. Harry has been the one to deal with Pippa. She hasn’t had much to do with me; she seems to avoid me for the most part. I’m not sure why she would instead work with Harry, but she appears to be a fan of him.

Madeleine and Louis have stayed at the Palace, staying under the radar and staying out of the public eye. It’s probably the best option for now. I haven’t observed much of Madeleine; she has spent most of her time with Louis and walking the grounds, and finding various places to read and write quietly. Madeleine has always been the type to keep a journal, and when she gets stressed, she writes her thoughts down. I, on the other hand, let the ideas run wild until I break down and snap.

“Her Majesty?” Oliver breaks the silence.

“It’s Anna, Oliver,” I correct him.

Oliver nods his head. “Uh, sorry,” he nervously chuckles, “Are you ready to head inside?”

I nod my head, “I guess you and Harry don’t let me stay out long, huh?”

“It’s just protocol not to stay too long out here just because of how open it is, especially with people coming and going.”

“I know,” I sigh, understanding the reasoning behind things.

I’m hoping that come summertime. The restrictions won’t be as stringent. It would be delightful to be able to roam the gardens or sit outside with disturbances. If we were to move palaces, I would be able to have more freedom, but for right now, I don’t think Matthew will agree to travel, although I plan to ask Harry. A change of scenery would be nice, even if it’s to go to Kensington or the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Scotland, any of the crown estates would be pleasant.

A small smile forms on my lips the moment I recognise Harry marching closer to us, “Good morning,” I welcome him cheerfully, delighted to see him.

Harry kisses my cheek, “Morning… Did you give Pippa permission to announce our relationship to the staff?” Harry questions, his voice deep and far from impressed.

I shake my head, unsure of what he’s talking about, “No?”

“Well, she took it upon herself to announce things on our behalf. Since when does she have any say on what the fuck happens at the palace?” Harry’s voice sounds like bottled thunder, and his eyes are dark with fury.

“Harry, I do not know… She doesn’t, and she has no say at the Palace… When did this happen?”

“Just now, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go strangle her,” Harry mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket before I grab his wrist and pull him back towards me.

“Calm down.”

Harry shakes his head, “I’ve had enough of her shit.”

“Harry, we had to tell them anyway. Let me handle this. Go back to the security room.”

Harry becomes speechless for a moment and takes a breath, “It wasn’t her business to tell. She doesn’t know if the staff will release it to the press. The press is always writing articles about us. One minute you’re dating Louis in the media, and the next minute you’re having an affair on him with me. I’ve had it.”

“You sound like you’re having a shitty morning. Just relax.”

“I am having a shit morning. I have shit to do. I love you,” Harry mutters, kissing my cheek before hurrying off.

“Pippa is about to get an earful,” I sigh, watching as Harry walks towards the palace. Oliver hums his response and continues to unobtrusively walk beside me, not giving me any queries, genuinely allowing me to wander the grounds at ease.

I am not sure who killed Henry, nor am I sure when the next attack will be or on whom it’ll be, but I do know that at some point, this will end. I can't point fingers on who’s to blame, and I wish I could. I wish I could say it’s Pippa or the government, but truth be told, I don’t know specifically who it is, and I don’t have much proof. For all I know, it could be one member of the staff who is in control of it all, one of the maids could be the mastermind of all the plans and running a circle of mass chaos. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if Harry and Matthew will ever figure it out, they’re not detectives, and all their leads seem to fail them, as do my own. I haven’t heard anything from Harry about the list of names I gave him. I don’t think he believes that it is anyone that works at the palace.

“Are Matthew and Harry working on who has killed everyone?” I ask Oliver, curious as to how much information he knows.

“Yes, Princess… That is why Harry has been hard to find lately.”

“Have they found anything?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you. I’m sorry,” Oliver shakes his head. “Please don’t threaten my job,” Oliver quickly emphasises, referencing the morning I threatened his job if he didn’t allow me to go to the security chambers. In my defence, it was the morning of my fathers funeral, and I didn’t want to be alone.

I wanted the comfort of Harry, and Oliver was not comforting me the way I needed.

“I said I was sorry about that,” I grant him a soft smile, “I really just needed Harry, nothing personal.”

Oliver nods his head and chuckles, “I know, Harry told me, but I am not letting you live it down.”

“Go figure,” I roll my eyes before I chuckle to myself.

There are days where nobody can fix the void that you feel, and the morning I went on a rampage and threatened to fire Oliver if he didn’t take me to Harry was a morning where I just needed Harry. Nobody else would suffice.

“We need to go inside. It is time for you to get ready for your coronation.”

I stop in my tracks and look at Oliver, “You and I both know it isn’t mine.”

“Anastasia,” Oliver begins, “For what it is worth, you will make a great Queen.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “I will not be crowned Queen. Pippa will not allow it,” I respond, dreading today.

I am not envious of Harry for him being crowned. I am somewhat delighted that he has to handle the mess of the monarchy. But, I am disappointed that the monarch is binding and controlling.

This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself, nor is it the life I envisioned for Harry and me. I never thought the monarchy would control us to the extent it does. I knew it would have its ties, but I thought it would be imperceptibly more manageable. I never imagined my husband would take my crown and the problems that go with it. I applaud Harry for being capable of handling things with such strides. I don’t think I could— Hence why Pippa refuses to permit me to have the crown.

Harry’s pov.

As with all royal events, coronation day accompanies its own sets of rules and regulations. Westminster Abbey has been the environment for every Coronation since 1066, and today it will be no different. I succeeded to the Throne when Anastasia should have succeeded. She will be the first successor to have not succeeded as rightfully anticipated. What a strange read in history books this will be when the public finds out about it.

We were escorted from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey in the Gold State Coach – drawn by eight grey horses, selected by Anastasia and myself. The public is anticipating a closed ceremony for Anastasia to become Queen. What they don’t know is the scandal behind it all and how they’re accepting a King.

Everything has been precisely placed and designated to accompany all coronation protocols for the day to be impeccable. The coronation Bouquet was made up of white flowers – comprising of orchids and lilies-of-the-valley from England, stephanotis from Scotland, orchids from Wales, and carnations from Northern Ireland and the Isle of Man. Every little detail is intricated for a specific reason. It has meaning— all of which I do not understand, but I am sure Anastasia knows the reasoning behind every painstaking detail. The only thing that is not a part of the royal queue is Anastaisa’s dress. On coronation day, most Queens wear neutral colours for a coronation. Anastasia, however, came down the stairs in red. She looked beautiful, but her attire was not what was expected of a royal. Buckingham Palace housemaids, chefs and gardeners gathered inside the Grand Hall at Buckingham Palace to see Anastasia. 129 nations and territories will be officially represented at the Coronation service, and I have been more concerned about Anastasia’s dress.

I smile at the members of parliament, eager to announce to them my first order as King. Pippa is intrigued and waiting for me to reveal what she had planned. She told me what my first executive order should be. To her disappointment, I’m about to cause her whole world to crumble.

I clear my throat and take my position, “As reigning King, my first executive order to be signed will be reinstating Anastasia’s title. Anastasia will, as a result of this be titled, Queen. She will be the reigning monarch,” I instruct, watching Pippa’s eyes grow wide and parliament members’ jaws drop at my words. I wander towards Anastasia and her mother, who is trying to conceal her smile. Her mother nods her head towards me, granting me her approval.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Anna softly challenges me as I take off the St. Edward's Crown and place it to rest on her head. This is rightfully hers.

I delicately take off the purple robe of estate before I move to place it over her shoulders, “I believe these belong to you, my darling,” I beam at her, honoured to be the one to crown her. I kiss her forehead before taking my place beside her, “I give you, your Queen.” I place my hands behind my back, watching as an undivided room of officials gazes at me in utter silence.

There’s absolutely nothing they can do— I played the monarchy and successfully so.

The Archbishop standing before us who administered the Coronation Oath to me, steps forward with a smile, handing Anastasia the same bible I was delivered, “Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, the Union of South Africa, Pakistan, and Ceylon, and of your Possessions and the other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?”

Anastasia takes my hand and arranges it on the bible before placing her hand over mine, “We solemnly promise to do so.”

Anastasia continues her oath to the bitter disappointment of Pippa. I accompany Anna to the alter before stepping back, enabling her to independently take the Bible’s oath. “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me, God.” Anastasia speaks the oath's last words, and I take a glance at her mother, who winks at me. I nod my head— our duty is fulfilled.

The Queen, having thus taken her Oath, smiles over at me before I return her to her Chair, and the Bible is handled by one of the martials to be surrendered to the Dean of Westminster.

Anastasia turns to the parliament members, “Members of both Houses of Parliament are required by law to take an oath of allegiance to the Crown. I require you to do so formally… Pippa, you’re first.” Anastasia takes me by surprise when she halts the coronation to force the parliamentary oath.

Pippa leisurely steps forward and Anastasia stands to her feet, “What are you doing?” Pippa whispers, not charmed that we have transformed the entire plan.

Anastasia sincerely smiles and gestures for the archbishop to walk closer. “Swear her in,” Anastasia commands, and the man does as he is told. He holds the Bible out and proceeds to request Pippa’s hand. “Say the oath,” Anastasia presses.

“I, Philippa Louise Westbrooke, swear by Almighty God that I will be faithful,” Pippa trails off with a stutter before she clears her throat and composes herself. “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty, Queen, Anastasia, according to law. So help me, God.”

Anastasia shakes her head, “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Anastasia, her heirs, husband and successors. So help me, God,” Anastasia changes the oath, adding the fact that Pippa is swearing under oath to be faithful not just to Anna as Queen but to our children and future successors.

I’m just as astonished as everyone else. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Anastasia has been planning this.

Pippa swallows hard and glances towards me for a saving grace— I view Anna with a first-class smile alternately. “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Anastasia, her heirs, husband, and successors, according to law. So help me, God,” Pippa repeats the oath.

“You may take your seat now. We can get back to the coronation now,” Anastasia views everyone else.

“Do you have any other requests or announcements?” The archbishop questions, appearing intrigued and finding the coronation humerus. I don’t believe he thought this day would go as it has— I don’t think anyone did. Madeleine Noelle Veil even appears to be somewhat bewildered.

Anastasia nods her head, “If there is to be an intermittent King or Queen, the spouse of royal blood can rule on the conditions the royal spouse is unfit or unwell, but only the royal blood can make the decision on the stand-in ruler. While I reign, Harry can sign on my behalf if only I give him consent— We rule the monarch— not parliament. Do you need that in writing?” Anastasia questions, causing my eyes to grow wide. I had no clue that giving her an inch of power would turn out to become this. “May I sign the declaration after?”

“That would be best,” George, one of the members of parliament, speaks up, the same man who declared that Henry was the new King once Anna’s father passed. The Coronation ring, known as 'The Wedding Ring of England', makes an appearance, slowly becoming placed on The Queen's fourth finger of her right hand following tradition.

I’m not sure what Anastasia’s plans are for the nefarious parliament members, but something tells me that she has some sort of devised method to execute her dynamism and shift them out of office. I am not sure if she can overthrow Parliament as she wanted to destroy the monarch and abolish it, but I feel she will try. Anastasia will be one charismatic woman, and I would hate to be the one that has stepped on her toes. She is coming into her power a lot quicker and with more intensity than I ever imagined. I am not sure what changed in her, but she went from the grieving woman who couldn’t get herself out of bed to the woman who is about to govern the monarch with an iron fist.

*** ***

The day has been long and eventful. The return route was designed so that the procession could be seen by as many people in London as possible. The 7.2 km route took us two hours to complete. I’m exhausted, and I know Anastasia is, but she’s currently wound up on adrenaline and awe. Anastasia stepped into her power today, and she has been humble about it all, but I can see the twinkle of excitement in her eye.

She has won. We have won.

Although we have won this small battle, we have more to go through, and as much as Anastasia is thankful for taking control, I can tell she’s anxious and unsure of how or what to do. Anastasia has self-doubt, and she made the obvious on the car ride to the palace when she asked me if she would make a good Queen. She wanted assurance that this is the best decision for the monarch and her. Nothing I do or say will convince her that this is one-hundred percent a good idea. She will always have doubts. After all, look at the people who have pushed her down and doubted her. For months she has been told she is unfit to rule and doesn’t deserve her fathers legacy, she has been beaten down to the point I wasn’t sure she’d manage to get back up, but she has.

“Anna, darling,” I gesture for her to walk closer to me. At first, she’s hesitant, unsure of what I want, but begins to step closer with gleaming eyes and that winsome smile of hers, “This… this is what you need to remember any time you have doubts about being Queen,” I instruct before I shift to open the glass windows, enabling the crisp air to flow into the room, along with the sweetness of her people cheering, “God save the Queen,” applauding her coronation. “Parliament might want to see you fail, but the people don’t. This is all for you; they believe in you, you better bloody believe in yourself, too.” I show Anastasia the stance she has and how she has the backing and endorsement of her people.

Anastasia grins and nods her head, “Would the King join me to express my gratitude?” Anastasia questions, taking my hand and beginning to wander to the large glass doors with the gold trim that only opens on exceptional occurrences. Anastasia stands at the doors, and I reach towards the handles, pushing down on them before gingerly opening the doors that lead to the balcony. Anastasia takes a breath and peers at me, “It’s my pleasure to greet the people as Queen formally, even more so do it with you as King, will you?” Anastasia signals towards the balcony that overlooks the people below. I swallow hard and stare at her, unsure of what to do.

If I step on the balcony with her, that’s it. That’s the end of our secrecy; our relationship will be in the public eye. “Anna, there’s no going back if I do this.”

“I know… but if you don’t want to—“

“Baby, that’s not what I mean,” I shake my head, “This announces us as well as a couple.”

Anastasia nods her head, “I know, it’s what we want, right? To no longer hide?”

I grow withdrawn for a minute. We are finally getting what we want, and somehow I’m still nervous and fearful—going public concerns me for various reasons. We aren’t just dodging the bullets of parliament. We will now be avoiding the people’s bullets if they disapprove of me. I’m still nothing but a simple man who fell in love with a woman with a royal title. No matter what has transpired or what will follow, I will never be royal. I may honour the title dubbed upon me, but my blood is not royal. I’m a commoner.

I kiss her forehead before taking a step back, “After you, Queen,” I smile, motioning for her to step out on the balcony and address her supporters. Anastasia steps out wearing the Imperial State Crown and the Royal Robes to greet the cheering crowds. I move behind her, in awe at how the people applaud her the moment she is regarded. I do not doubt in my mind that Anna is going to go down in history as an astonishing Queen.

Anastasia glances over her shoulder, and I step closer to her, placing my arm around her as she does an honorary wave, “Your Dad always said that you could tell a lot by the way a royal greets their people— But I think you can tell a lot by the way the people greets the royal,” I comment, still in awe at how welcoming and pleasant the crowd is towards Anastasia. I have never witnessed such an event. They love her, absolutely love and adore her. They approve of her reign, and I think that’s something Anna didn’t realise would occur. Although Parliament is against her, the people are living proof of where true loyalty and power lies.

“You can tell a lot by the person standing next to the reigning ruler,” Anastasia answers, leaning up to kiss my cheek, sealing our fate of publicly expressing our relationship. “I love you, Harry. I love you today, and I’ll love you tomorrow and the day after. The monarch, the people and parliament do not define that. They do not control us– we reign,” Anastasia informs me, “As quickly as we have gained this monarch, I’ll gladly give it up in a heartbeat for you. You once asked me to surrender the crown for us to be together, and I denied you… standing here, with the crown, I’ll happily give it up if you have second thoughts about this.”

Even at her highest moment where she should be proud of herself and what we have contrived to do, and even after how hard I fought to not only keep her crown but to hand it back to her strategically, she’ll still selflessly give it up for me. I shake my head, “This is your fathers legacy to live on. I don’t want you to surrender for me.”

Anastasia does not know, but I have fought Pippa for weeks to let Anna take her crown back. I have contended and pleaded until I broke and spoke to Anastasia’s mother, where we devised the plan to double-cross Pippa. I allowed Pippa to believe I would support her dream and take the crown officially today; I allowed her to think that I recognised that Anastasia was unfit to rule and that it should be left to me. I kept the crown and what the King worked for safe. I protected the palace against the media and spread of false rumours, I defended the castle from the backlash of Victoria and Henry’s murders— I worked diligently to be able to give Anastasia her rightful crown— I worked hard to provide her with the right to choose to do as she wishes with the monarch. I will stand by her with whatever decision she executes if she rules; I will stand by Anna and proudly watch her govern the country. If she abolishes, I will stand beside Anna and hold her as she makes the hardest decision of her life. If she chooses to overthrow parliament, I will stand beside Anastasia and grin as she takes back the control they have taken from her family. I will honour Anastasia as my wife, and I will protect her as her husband and security detail. Still, most importantly, I will love her no matter what decision she chooses to make regarding the crown.

The crown has broken her, but it has also made her who she is. It has challenged her to no ends, but she has perpetually come out on top. She’s a fighter and doesn’t back down from a fight, and I don’t think she’s going to back down from the monarchy now.

“I love you,” Anastasia breathes out.

“I love you, too,” I respond, straightening her crown that has fallen a little too forward. No matter what occurs in this life of ours, I will always be here to adjust her crown, literally and metaphorically.

Anastasia presents the people one last wave before she turns on the 'Lights of London'. Lights cascade down the Mall, kindling the tremendous cypher on Admiralty Arch and transforming the fountains in Trafalgar Square into flowing silver until all the floodlights from the National Gallery to the Tower of London have been enkindled.

The lights illuminate, as does her reign. Anastasia wanders inside, and I follow her, relieved to support the people on our side. Parliament and the monarchy’s dictates may disagree with our marriage. Some of the staff may not even agree, but possessing the people’s blessing makes things a bit more permissive.

I close the doors behind us and concede the sheer curtains to slide across so the people cannot see in. As this may be the closing of a chapter, it’s just the beginning for us and our story.

[deanwanddamons]

All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You - Part 2

Summary: You were driving alone after getting into a huge fight with your now ex-boyfriend. You had spotted a guy standing on the side of the road in the rain, hitching a ride, so you gave him a lift. That guy happened to be Dean Winchester and you had an unforgettable one night stand with him. Part 2 continues the story and there’s a surprise in store for both you and Dean.

Find part one here: All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, You, Sophie (OC)

Pairing: Dean x You (kinda)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning: Pregnancy, mentions of suicide, angst

Song inspiration - https://youtu.be/OAfxs0IDeMs

Heart - All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You

A/N: So, this started as a one shot, but lots of you have asked for a second part so here it is! I found this one a challenge as I have never written angst before. I hope you like it! Once again I have had so much help with this and can’t thank you all enough for your advice, love, support and for being my beta’s @mummybear @negans-lucille-tblr @winchest09 @princessmisery666 @deans-baby-momma love you girls ❤️

Three Months Later

“Shit, shit, shit,” you groan, tears filling your eyes as you stare down at the positive pregnancy test in your hand.

How could this have happened? Nothing had gone right for a few weeks. You’d had to change your job to avoid your ex, office romances weren’t ever a good idea. You had to move home since said ex boyfriend had moved the woman he had an affair with into the home you’d once shared and now this.

Maybe it had been a mistake to pick up a hitchhiker and screw him in a motel room. But you’d needed the comfort, the small escape. Besides, Dean had been the best sex of your life. One night stands were supposed to be forgotten, but any girl would have trouble forgetting Dean.

Everything about the night was as vivid as reality, even the look of shock on his face when you’d bolted from the room, guilt and shame not allowing you to stick around.

Shaking your head, you refuse to believe that the first test was right. They were not always accurate so you had bought two, just in case. Looking to the side of you, you focus on the second test inside the box. You rip the plastic open and sit on the toilet. Maybe you should have drank some more water.

You had expected to hear from Paul, your scumbag ex. Maybe a text or phone call. Especially when he would’ve returned home to find all your belongings gone. But you’d heard nothing. Your best friend had offered you her spare room but you hadn’t wanted to be a burden so a few weeks later you found a small apartment to rent in town. Thank god she wasn’t here now because she’d have been the first to tell you how much of a mess you are in.

The second test would need a couple of minutes to develop so you place it on the countertop and wash your hands. As if landing the only job in town as a maid for the motel you’d spent the incredible night with Dean in hadn’t made it hard enough to forget him, the two little blue lines have now made it impossible.

“Fuck!” you yell into the mirror.

It had been a stressful couple of months, it was understandable you’d miss a period. You’d thought nothing of it, brushed it off as stress and the shitty diet you’d been keeping of late.  

Then you missed a second period and the second test has confirmed what you’d wanted it to deny.

Pregnant.

It’s Dean’s. The timing fits perfectly and you hadn’t slept with your ex for months before the split. Dean had worn a condom, but it had obviously failed.

“Fuck!” you scream again, punching the countertop, bringing your hand to your mouth when you notice a trickle of blood on your knuckles. Panic and fear are washing over your body like a tidal wave.

Sitting heavily back down on the toilet, you bury your head in your hands, and start to cry.

A Year Later

Working at the motel still reminds you of Dean, but thankfully the room your tryst had taken place in isn’t on your rota. But you’d have traded that to not have to clean room 237. Approaching the door you take a deep breath and enter your card key into the reader. Green Light.

Opening the door slowly, you enter. As usual, you feel the noticeable temperature difference from the corridor. Looking around you shiver. This room always gives you the creeps, the sense of foreboding heavy and thick. As the rumour goes, a young maid - having an affair with the motel Manager, Tony - had committed suicide after he ended the relationship. She chose to slit her wrists in the bathtub of room 237, where they used to meet. Three months later, Tony had done the exact same thing.

Pulling your cart through the door, you move quickly to the bed to change the sheets. A scratching sound from the bathroom takes you by surprise. Even though your heart rate quickens, you decide to ignore it. Gathering up the dirty linen, you dump them in the cart. There it is again. What the hell is it? There’s no one else in or near the room. The atmosphere is getting heavier, the pressure getting stronger. The need to flee is becoming overwhelming.

Again; louder now. Walking towards the bathroom, palms sweating, hands shaking, you reach for the handle and pull the door open.

It’s empty. Pulling back the shower curtain, you scream as the image of a figure materialises in the tub.

Bolting from the room, heart almost bursting out of your chest, you fall to your knees, sobbing. The need to be with your daughter, to hold her, to smell her is the only thought in your confused mind.

Grace was born on a bright, cold fall day in October. It had been a fairly easy pregnancy, but a difficult birth, so you were in the hospital for a week.

Luckily, she’s a pleasant and placid child, with the most intense green eyes, a smattering of freckles across her nose and her lips were plump and full. Every time you look at her you can see her father, which makes your heart ache, but you know you have to keep on going for her sake.

She is your world, your everything and you love her more than words could explain.

Your friend had not approved of you keeping the baby at first, as she had said it would ‘ruin your life’ but you knew there was no way you could get rid of it. Plenty of people managed to bring a child up alone, and you knew, with hard work and perseverance, you could do it too. Eventually, your friend came around to your way of thinking, even offering to babysit when you had shifts at the motel. As you didn’t get paid maternity you had to go back to work almost straight away.

The motel - you hate the place.

After the encounter in the bathroom, which had haunted you since it happened, you had done some research online, and discovered this was not the first time this had happened. Twenty years ago, the same scenario took place in the exact same room.

When the new manager started, you asked why the room was still being used. The answer was simply, “Money, honey,” so you never mentioned it again. Either the public were unaware of the history, or didn’t care, as it was almost always occupied.

Your day starts out the same as any other. Leaving Grace with your friend you drive the short distance to the motel.

Entering the reception area, you are surprised to find it empty. Sophie is usually behind the counter, but she is nowhere to be seen.

“Sophie?” you call out as you walk behind the desk to collect the key to the supply cupboard.

“Hey Y/N,” you hear from the back office, “come in here a second?”

Putting your bag on the floor, you open the door to the office to find she is not alone.

A very handsome man, with floppy brown hair wearing a smart suit is sitting at the desk. As he rises to shake your hand, you are amazed at how tall he is. He must be well over 6ft 4.

“Y/N, this is Agent Taylor from the FBI,” she introduces him as he shows you his badge.

“Hi Y/N,” he smiles, shaking your hand. “My partner, Agent May and I are here to discuss the death of Tony Phelps. He’s just getting a glass of water. He will be with us shortly. Please, take a seat.”

There are two doors in the office. One, which you just came through, leads from the reception. The other leads into a small kitchen area. You sit, with your back to the door to the kitchen.

“Why are the FBI investigating a suicide?” you politely ask Agent Taylor.

“We are not sure it was suicide,” he responds, “so we are talking to all the staff to find out if they saw or heard anything strange or unusual the night he died. Anything out of the ordinary. ”

As he is speaking, you hear the door behind you open, so turn in your seat. You realise who has just walked through the door. The man you hadn't forgotten since that night. How could you forget him?

Dean.

Your heart stops as the room suddenly loses all its oxygen. Your lungs cease to take in air, a weight on your chest pressing down on you like a vice.

Staring at him, eyes wide and glassy, a lump forms in your throat, and for a brief moment you lose the ability to form words.

What is he doing here?

He stares back at you, an expression of realisation slowly changing his features. He goes to speak, but you briefly shake your head and force your gaze from his, looking back to Sophie.

Agent Taylor clears his throat, so you turn your attention back to him.

“This is my partner, Agent May,” he explains.

Dean is frozen to the spot, hand still on the door, glass of water in the other.

“Yes..um…” he begins as he moves further into the room placing the glass on the desk. He fumbles with the inside pocket of his jacket, removing his badge, which he shows you. It’s upside down. Smirking, he flips it over. “Agent May,” he croaks. You notice his hands are shaking slightly.

“Hello,” you nod at him, glancing at him briefly, then turning away. Attempting to take in a full breath, you count to 10 silently, hoping this will slow down your increasing heart rate. That smirk has brought all the memories of your night together crashing back. The way his hands touched you, the way those lips kissed you, the way he made love to you.

“So Y/N,” Agent Taylor continues as Dean sits down next to him. He gives him a confused, side eyed glance, “were you here the night Mr Phelps took his own life?” he questions.

“No, I was not on shift,” you respond, trying hard not to look at Dean who is fidgeting in his seat. He has a pen in his hand, and he keeps clicking the top.

Click, click, click.

Snatching it out of his hand and placing it on the table, Agent Taylor scowls at him. Dean's eyes meet yours with a questioning look. He shrugs his shoulders.

Holding his gaze for a second too long, you swallow. A wave of nausea washes over you, the gnawing in your stomach getting stronger.

“Can I just get a glass of water?” you hear yourself say as you rise from your seat. With shaking legs you drop back down as beads of sweat form on the back of your neck and your vision blurs.

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you hear Sophie ask, “are you ok Y/N?”

As your vision clears, you see that Dean has also risen from his seat.

“Yes, yes,” you responded quietly, “I just need some air.”

“I’ll help you outside,” Dean says as he walks around the desk.

“No it’s fine,” you protest, but he is already by your side, taking your arm. His touch sends a bolt of lighting across your skin. Gently helping you up, he slips his arm around your waist, and leads you through the door into reception.

The silence between you is palpable as you head to the courtyard out front.

Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the cold spring air as Dean turns you to face him.

“What was that about in there Y/N?,” Dean asks “why didn’t you want anyone to know we have met before?”

“Hi Dean,” you respond sarcastically. You don’t know why you are feeling so hostile towards him as you were the one who walked away after you had slept together, not the other way around, but a feeling of anger rises inexplicably in your throat.  

“What are you doing here Dean or should I say Agent May? You’re not from the FBI.”

“Never mind that, I’ll explain later. I want to know why you left so suddenly that night?”

“It was a long time ago, Dean. I didn’t expect to see you again, so just leave it,” you say as you turn to walk away.

“No Y/N, I want to know what I did wrong? I thought we had a good time, and then you just upped and left with no explanation. Were you married or something?” he protests.

“No. Everything I told you about my ex was the truth. We did have a good time, but it should never have happened,” you admit. “I was in a bad place, and not acting like myself.”

“Okay,” he agrees, “But an explanation would have been nice.”

“Oh, so you have never slept with someone then left them hanging have you?” you snap.

He stares at you with an indignant scowl.

Your cell rings. Pulling it out of your pocket you look at the display and see it’s your friend who is with your daughter. She only calls while you're at work when there is something wrong with Grace.

“I’ve got to take this,” you tell him, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Y/N, sorry to bother you but Grace is running a temperature,” she says, “she’s really cranky and I’m not sure what to do.”

Shit. Perfect timing.

“Okay, F/N. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you tell her as you hang up the phone.

“I have to go Dean. My daughter isn’t very well and the sitter just rang.”

“Your daughter?” he asks, surprised, “How old is she?”

“Six months,” you tell him quickly, not thinking as your focus is now on getting back to your daughter as quickly as possible.

“S-six months?!” Dean stammers. Your eyes go wide as you realise your mistake, the panic rising in your stomach when you look up at the green eyed Winchester. You could see the cogs whirring in his brain, working it all out. You should have lied about her age.

“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning around to begin to walk away from him and this situation.

“Is she mine?” His question made you slow down slightly but your mouth was unable to form the answer. You swallowed hard but before you could make your next move, Dean was behind you, grabbing your arm as he whirls you around to face him.

“Let go of me, Dean!” you demand, attempting to pull away but he keeps a firm grip on you.

“Y/N, is she mine?! I have a right to know,” he pleaded. With a bone dry mouth, your heart almost beating out of your chest, you look up at him as his green eyes search yours for his answer. This was it, you couldn’t hide it from him so you slowly begin to nod your head.

“Yes.”

Part 3

Tags - @sherlock44 @adoptdontshoppets  @for-a-brothers-love @ilovetoread44 @supraveng @jawritter @sandlee44 @prettydeaneyes @moonlessnight126 @maddiepants @in-deans-arms @magssteenkamp @zpandaqueen @thevelvetseries @sonofabringmesomepie​ @fandom-princess-forevermore @cleighwrites ​ @linki-locks11​ @dancingalone21​ @chocolateheart​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @shademered​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ @onethirstyunicorn​

[soldierallen]

Married. 15

Warnings: some cursing, cheating, dream sequence,

um idk ha also I would like to say I’m really sorry for prolonging this story for so long in the last couple years life as been so tiring that I’m really proud of myself to actually get through it you know. Please keep in mind I would love to have finished it fast but writers block hits and everything has to come together in the right way. It’s been two years officially on the 7th of this month thank you to anyone who’s stuck around for this long. The final chapter coming soon.

Chapter 14: here

“I just can’t understand why you don’t want daisies?” Sebastian says “because! it’s my wedding” “HEY it’s our wedding I should be able to help you plan it asshole!” They’re practically married already planning the wedding when already acting like a married couple, “I don’t understand why we’re here?” Henry said as he threw a baseball in the air catching it, “you’re our best men you have to be here!” “You don’t love each other anyways so what’s the whole point of this” Henry says, Sebastian and y/n look at each other in shock “this is all fake since the very beginning Sebastian only wants you so i can’t”

she gasped realizing she was dreaming.. Sebastian laying next to her asleep, they haven’t talked much since Friday... it’s Monday. Today was the flower arrangements.. she cuddled into him whilst he slept with his back towards her, he slightly woke up feeling her arms wrap around him, “i love you” he said turning to face her his eyes still closed her head on his chest his arms around her, hers around him, she relaxed for the first time in days “I love you too” he kissed her hair and they went back to sleep, only to be woken up two hours later.

she lazily looked out the window of their shared home the sun was shining with a slight blue from the clouds.. “you’re awake” Sebastian said from the bathroom she hummed to say yes, he was in his underwear in the doorway of the bathroom that connected. his eyes caught hers and she caught herself smiling “never in a million years, would I have ever thought I would wake up in the morning to see you and in your underwear looking down on me, god I love you” she laughed “and never in a million years would I think my best friend would lay next to me and tell me she loves me” he slowly walked over to the bed “I know I apologized a hundred times already.. but I am so sorry” he never felt like an apology was ever going to be enough for saying he would’ve rathered married alex than her. “We’ve been through this for four days now.. I love you no matter what okay” she rubbed his cheek with her thumb he relaxed into her hand “your temper gets you in trouble I know this for as long as I know you.. just don’t cheat on me I don’t think I can handle that” he smiled leaning in kissing her she pulled away “I guess I am going to delete all of those women’s numbers I have” they laughed “You know I only ever have eyes for you..” he kissed her once more “how about we skip the flowers today and go on a date” he said “no today’s the only day I have off from work so we have to do this today and later while get to other things” his eyes lit up and so did hers he grabbed her pushing her down and kissing her neck “not now come on!! We have to get dressed”,

“You’re unbelievable!” Henry yelled, “Henry it’s not what it looks like” morena yelled “yeah it does! you did all of this! You ruined my relationship and William’s not MINES??!? And now you’re sleeping with some guy! In my fucking house?” ..... Sebastian and y/n walked in at the wrong time... “h..” y/n was in shock “morena’s not coming” Henry yelled sarcastically walking out... “okay what just happened?” Sebastian said as they walked down the cobblestone to seb’s car “she’s a fucking lunatic” Henry said as he walked in front of y/n he stopped in his tracks “and you know what? having William not be mines was the best thing to ever fucking happen to me you know why cause I lost everything once her and that kid came around”, “Henry stop you’re gonna regret saying those things” she was admin about trying to stop him from talking, her ex is gonna start talking about their relationship with her fiancée right there. “She lied to me, she ruined us” and there it was she knew it was gonna happen, y/n watched as all the blood rushed out of Henry’s face “I didn’t-“ realizing what a big mistake he just made “just stop talking Henry” Sebastian said walking past him to the car “go back in there and fix things” she walked past him too. they got back in the car the drive was a bit silent or fucking eerie as hell. “so roses or Lily’s” she said, he turned his head and looked at her his eyes were just sad “do you think.. if morena never interfered you would’ve still been with him.” his question was genuine “do you want me to lie or tell the truth” “lie”

“yes we would’ve still been together and I would’ve only been with Henry for the rest of my life” he half smiled “okay now the truth” he said “I said something a few months ago while we was together that you burnt me out, I was exhausted trying to fix us let you have your space from her and wanting to be with you be your friend again, and I said my love was all burnt out because I couldn’t go any further with us” he was really listening, “I knew while being with Henry that I wanted you, even though I constantly tried to convince myself that I wanted him it was never henry... he was just the easy way out” he grabbed her hand giving it a small kiss and holding it, “I do indeed love you” she smiled at him whilst he drove to the florist, I wanted to be with this man for the rest of my life she thought, yes we’ve had our ups and downs and fights and arguments nothings ever been easy but it’s a relationship nothing is easy nothing is butterflies it’s real raw and people say things they don’t mean, forgiveness is a trait you’re suppose to have in a relationship.

“I finished my vows the other day” Sebastian said, whilst looking at arrangements, her eyes lit up “oh I can’t wait to hear them” she felt a tap on her shoulder.. “y/n” a women said she turned around and it was chase’s assistant “mr Crawford needs you at the office and he tried calling you but it’s not your phone is not on” “lucy? how did you know I was here?” She was confused “i called all the florists in a 20 mile radius from your house because he’s gonna kill me if you aren’t there he’s... freaking out” she looked at Sebastian not sure what to do “go, they need you” he kissed her cheek “seb” she was upset clearly this was her only day off “okay I guess I’m going?” She left with Lucy in the town car “Lucy what’s going on it’s just us two you can tell me now?” “You should hear it from chase and not from me” she was going crazy what could possibly be so bad, they went up the floors and too the office chase looked like he was going to pass out “chase what’s going on” she said walking in his office closing the doors behind her they were glass but soundproof. “Remember what you told me about the pictures and I left it all as a joke and even Elena said it’s a joke and everything” she nodded her head confused “well” he threw a magazine on the table, it was D&C magazine, where she used to work. she looked at the cover “Chase Crawford’s affair with New CD Y/n L/n...” she felt her skin start to boil in her body “it was her again.” she was on the verge of tears “I can’t have people thinking we’re together” chase said “chase we can fix this! firing me will not do the trick please chase I just risked my life for months to do that piece for you did that not matter to you?” “You picked us in a time of need y/n you’re one of the most important people to this company I want you here but it doesn’t seem like I have another choice...” he was sitting in his chair with a panicked look on his face “I’ll handle this” she grabbed the magazine off the table, “what are you gonna do?” He yelled “start a war to keep this job”

she hailed a cab quickly, the ride was something she dreaded having to walk into that place again when she was doing so good at NY Daily, she got up the elevator like she used to feeling sick to her stomach, “LINA” she screamed in the hallway getting to main office area, she knocked furiously on the door opening it wide “HOW COULD YOU PUBLISH THIS” she threw the magazine on the table harshly as evanglina sat there in shock, across from her was alex’s father mr daddario and downey “I called my lawyer in the cab over here I want you to know that this lawsuit will FUCK you in the ass, I am tired of all of you fucking me over. I know all the in’s and outs of this fucking company and if you think! you can mess me up you got another thing coming! I’ll lay out all the laundry, Downey you’ll go to jail for stealing money from this company, Lina you will be prosecuted for GIVING money to a victim of sexual assault and daddario, does annie summers ring a bell? I have money I can make anyone TALK get the magazine OFF of the stands and apologize PUBLICLY to me and mr Crawford immediately or you will face consequences” all of them were completely shock she knew all of those things, that she kept quiet for years about the disgusting humans they were, jail was the only answer for these three disgusting people, and with that she walked out she looked over and saw A lot of employees give her looks for her brave performance, and Tom right out the door “I always knew you had it in you” Tom smiled, she smirked at him and left, as she walked out a call from Sebastian “so roses or Lilly’s?” He said “roses” she said laughing at him not asking any questions about everything that just happened in a span of an hour. “What happen I called chase he said you rushed out of there to fight I guess this is my call of asking if you’re okay” seb said he was pretty concerned “I’m on my way back to you now stay pretty for me” he laughed loudly as they hung up

It was a few hours later they were home her legs up on his lap watching tv when she gets a text from her boss “put on channel 52 I guess you got through to them.. see you tomorrow at 8am ” “Seb put on channel 52” she said he grabbed the remote putting the news on, “we’d like to apologize to our former employee, y/n y/l for our latest issue it comes with great disappointment that our writers and team did not fact check this issue. all issues will be pulled and and a public apology was issued earlier today” the news anchor lady said in a statement from the company she screamed of joy getting up Sebastian followed through kissing her and hugging her in excitement “we did it oh my god!” she held on to seb “god I love you” he kissed her forehead “you went up against one of the biggest companies in the country and won you’re amazing scratch that you’ve always been amazing ” he spun her around she kissed him “a toast to ruining lives” she said raising her can of Dr Pepper and Sebastian raising his beer bottle. she was so excited to finally get something her way, “let’s go somewhere.” He said, she looked at him she was confused “Junes!” she laughed at him “let’s go” when they arrived, at June’s, Elena saw them “DID YOU SEE THE LOOK ON THEIR FACES” she yelled over the counter, there was a ton of people in the diner y/n laughed “we saw the photos in the car on our way here, I wanted to formally apologize to you” she said “sweetie how long have I known you?” “Since I moved in my old apartment so like 5 years something like that” she smiled at her “I know you would never do anything like that to me, you didn’t even know about chase’s job until a few months ago, you knew about chase never his job. You’re my best friend and my sister you know” she said this whilst pouring multiple coffee’s “thanks el, also I have something for you” she gave the sign for one minute so that she could serve on whoever, when another waitress came who was new she was polite and took our orders was a little flirty with seb “so I’m just going to stay it, can I get your number” “I’m married, no thanks” he said with a laugh y/n smirked “I don’t see a ring on that finger” she protested “cause it’s on mines” y/n said not even looking her direction and with that she left “you are just coming out with jabs all night” he got closer to her while they sat on the stools elbow to elbow “I got more where that came from” she said with a flirty tone in her voice he hummed “so what if we skip the food and go home...get you out of these terribly tight clothes” his hand finally landing on her thigh he whispered “if you don’t want me to do this tell me to stop” she loved the feeling of his hands on her he got closer and closer “stop” she whispered he stopped “are you okay?” “no I’m hungry and now I’m horny” she tried to laugh it off and he kissed her lips “I’m sorry” he smiled “it’s fine jerk” she hit his chest playfully he smiled back at her “I’m finally here what did you wanna show me” Elena said finally coming around the counter again, she pulled out a small white leather box.. she gave her a confused look opening the box a note first “Elena, thank you for everything you’ve done for me, talking with me for hours on end sitting in the diner and making me cry from laughter for years would you like to be my.... MAID OF HONOR” she started crying when she yelled this out hugging the two of them “come on pull yourself together el” “I don’t know what to say” she said “say yes” y/n said she hugged her again “yes” she smiled “and you didn’t even see the next part I got your name engraved on a little sliver plated necklace” she was more excited, the day felt good everything was coming together... finally.

Over the corase of a few days they sent out invites and all those little details of the wedding, Chris was Sebastian’s best man officially this time.. and y/n’s made of honor Elena with Jenny Sherri and seb’s sister as her bridesmaid she felt bad for not including her brothers wife or her brother for that matter they were never close and honestly these people were her family... you choose your family they don’t choose you.

Tagged @hiddlestonstansworld @lovely-geek @imcalledflorence @misz-adrii @escapistdreamer-wishfulthinker @someplxce @cuddlesforlashton @coffeebooksandfandomsohmy @weasley16 @ilovethewayyourheartbeats @vogueworthy-barnes @xeniarocks @thisismysecrethappyplace @racheo91 @gravedollie666 @inlovewith3 @supernaturaldean67 // if anyone wants to be untagged or tagged please leave a message ty♡ also I do not own any gifs or images of any kind.

[tempesrature]

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”

Pairing: Ride or Die | Colt x Ellie Summary: A highlight reel of the most important moments of their life. A/N: Highly suggest reading this in order (all even numbers for Colt). @lovehugsandcandy @dancingboba @choicesarehard

#31 Pulling out a chair for them to sit down at the table.

Ellie knows Colt to be a pretty practical and rational guy, some would even say heartless and emotionally stale but that’s only for those who've never been past the barriers and walls Colt has built over the years. 

Some of her co-workers and friends sometimes, annoyingly, bring up the issue of how could she possibly love or be married to a man like Colt? That every time they’re together, all they do is fight and insult each other (which at first, felt like a total misinterpretation of their banter until Ellie realized that if she was a stranger looking in—then yeah, it does look like all they do is fight and shit on each other) and Colt, according to them, never has time for her to take her out on regular dates outside of the once a month date night. 

Yet, none of them really know the sides of Colt that he only ever shares with her. The nights where he lovingly slices up fruits for her even when he’s bone tired, the afternoons when he whisks her way to ride his bike along the coast, the mornings where he makes sure she eats her breakfast because she always forgets and the weeks, months and years where he challenges her, supports her and loves her in his own Colt ways. 

The language of love is different for each person after all, she just happens to speak Colt’s fluently. 

So sure, he isn’t going to be the type of guy to regale her with flowers and poetry and he isn’t ever going to be the guy who’ll set up a surprise romantic dinner on the beach but he is the type of guy who’ll push and support her to be the best version of herself and he is the type of guy who’ll sit with her and hold her on the rare nights when she starts to miss her dad. 

But he has been making upgrades. 

Specifically on their once a month date nights which she always looks forward to. Just because she gets the opportunity to doll herself up and actually get the chance to put on the multitude of jewelry Colt gives her. 

In the earlier versions of date night; they will take a car (usually hers, but Colt splurges once in awhile and brings out a high-end car from the shop), pick out a fancy and expensive restaurant, order their food and start their favorite game of ‘Who’s here on an affair?’ (which Colt is, annoyingly, really great at). 

For this month, specifically today, date night started out a little differently; they specifically took a car that Colt picked out as safe and secure, the restaurant he chose is now determined by menu choices and the amount of stairs it took to get to the door, and the food ordered is pre-approved and double checked with the chef. But luckily their favorite game of ‘Who’s here on an affair?’ remains the same. 

And Colt has added a new element to the routine, something that Ellie found to be quite endearing. 

After they were led to the table, Colt pulled out her chair before she sat down. She never really found it a problem before, she can pull out her own damn chair for all she cares, but she doesn’t mind the extra pampering that he has shown in the last two weeks. 

Although, sometimes, it does get a little annoying.

“Stop being so weird, you’re making me nervous,” Ellie chastises him playfully as Colt sits across her from the table, his leg bouncing nervously which makes the table shake a little too. 

Colt scoffs, trying his best to look calm and collected and not the bundle of fear and anxiety that he has been feeling in the last two weeks. 

“I’m trying El,” Colt replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just. You know? I get scared, uneasy when you’re outside.” 

“Mm, so you’ve said a million times in the car,” Ellie laughs as she cuts into her steak. “I’ll be fine Colt. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Don’t say that! You’re gonna jinx it El, come on,” Colt scolds as he reaches out to pick up his glass of wine and starts to drink it in the hopes that the alcohol will calm him down.

Ellie chuckles at her husband, reaching out to his hand to give him a reassuring and loving squeeze and he responds immediately with his own squeeze. 

She looks at him teasingly, her lips pulled into a playful grin. “If you’re like this two weeks in, I can’t imagine how you’ll be when I actually start showing.”

“Fuck, I’ll be a mess,” Colt confesses honestly, giving her hand another squeeze. “Just—any discomfort or pain and we go home, okay?” Colt pauses and thinks. “No fuck that, we go straight to the doctor.”

Ellie lets out a burst of laughter but tries her best to tame it so she won’t disturb the other people in the restaurant. “Roger that Mr. Kaneko. Now eat your steak before I eat it for you.”

Colt pauses a little, eyeing her cautiously. “…Should we order another one then?”

“Colt!”

“Fine! Okay! Fuuuuck,” Colt tilts his head back with a groan as he squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m not handling this well am I?”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news baby but yeah, you’re kind of a mess,” Ellie chuckles at the weary expression on his face before she gives his hand one last comforting squeeze and goes back to eating her steak. “It’s fine, you get a pass since it’s still two weeks. But if you start to constantly hover over me like this for the next nine months, I’m seriously going to consider knocking you out,” Ellie takes her fork with a teasing grin, pretending to lightly whack his head from a distance. “Factory reset.”

Colt lets out a choked laugh, shaking his head at her as relief starts to flood into him slowly. “Thanks El.”

Ellie hums in acknowledgement before her eyes soften at the sight of her husband. Sure, of course she knows how nervous and anxious he feels—she feels it too—but she doesn’t want it all to be just about nerves and fears. They’re having a baby, a child of their own. And the happiness, love and joy should surpass all of the other pesky negative emotions of being first time parents. 

But she doesn’t tell him that, not now at least. It’s a learning curve for Colt, for her as well, and the best thing about their companionship, their friendship, their marriage and their love is that they’ll learn and get through it together—just as they’ve always done so in the past. 

“Hey look,” Ellie says, nudging her head to somewhere over Colt’s shoulder as she smiles brilliantly at him. “Woman in a red and white dress. Hair in a ponytail. Affair or no?”

Colt raises an eyebrow, continuing to stare straight at Ellie. “Is she with the guy with the green tie?”

“Yeah.”

“Affair.”

Ellie balks, looking at him incredulously. “You didn’t even look!”

Colt smirks, his demeanor finally relaxing. “Don’t need to. I overheard her talking to the valet. Seems like her and her husband are regulars here and the valet asked her where her husband was. She gave some bullshit excuse about a trip to London before she camped out at the bar waiting for green tie guy.”

“I hate playing this game with you,” Ellie grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms in front of her. 

Colt chuckles, nudging her knee playfully under the table. “You hate it because you lose all the time. If you get better at paying attention to your surroundings, then you might actually win.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but a smile tugs at her lips, happy that Colt is finally starting to relax and enjoy their date night. She quickly scans the restaurant again, trying to pick an easier target for her to win, as the rest of the night continues on with their usual laughter and banter. 

[imagining-supernatural]

The First Week

Part 8 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You’re wearing down physically and mentally from the cancer treatment and Sebastian is the only person around to take the brunt of your exhaustion

Word Count: 2019

The city passed by from the back of the hired car, but you couldn’t revel at the awesome sight that was New York City.

And you hated that.

You were in New York Fucking City.

The Big Fucking Apple

You hadn’t even been here a week yet. You should be enjoying this. You should be marveling at the landscape. The skyline. The history and art and people. You should be smiling damn it!

But all you could think about was the guest bed waiting for you on the other side of the ride.

Not even your own bed. A fucking guest bed.

“I thought we could order some food in when we get home,” Sebastian said. “Something with fresh vegetables. Maybe some chicken.”

“Sounds good,” you muttered, still staring blankly out the window.

“I was also thinking I could invite some strippers over. Since it’s Friday night, you know. Try to cheer you up a bit. Get you—”

“I’m listening, Seb. Chicken sounds good. Strippers sound exhausting and unnecessary. My pillow sounds even better.”

He grunted and went back to whatever the fuck he was doing on his side of the car.

“You can go do your own shit, you know. Go out with friends. Whatever. I can handle myself.” Now you looked over at him, hoping to convince him. “Ever since Monday, it seems like every single minute of your day has revolved around me.”

“And when I leave to film, I can—”

“When you leave to film, you’ll be Bucky fucking Barnes. Go. Be yourself. Tonight. I’m probably going to fall asleep in, like, ten minutes anyway.” As if to prove your point, you yawned. “This treatment is no joke.”

He made a noncommittal noise before turning his attention back to his phone. With a humph, you turned back to your window.

You’d warned him. While you hadn’t expected your bitchiness to show up in the third day of treatment, you weren’t entirely surprised.

And you’d warned him.

If he wanted to cut you off, you wouldn’t blame him. You’d sign the annulment papers. Or divorce papers. Whatever was placed in front of you, you’d sign it.

Or, if he dropped you off at his apartment and flew down to Georgia early to get a feel for the studio or whatever actors did, you wouldn’t blame him either.

The hired car pulled into the underground garage and stopped right by the elevators. Sebastian got right out, but you released a deep sigh before trying to build your energy. Dr. Sharpe and Dr. Chowdhury hadn’t been kidding when they said this treatment was intense. It was so intense that you were starting to think they overestimated how well you could handle this. Maybe they missed something on your labs and films. Your cancer was too far progressed. This was all an exercise in futility.

Your door opened to Sebastian holding his hand out to you.

Blowing out a breath, you took his hand, swung your legs out of the car, and started to stand up, only to have your knees give out and send you falling back into the car.

Eyes screwed closed, it took a moment to threaten the tears back. By the time you felt in control again, Sebastian was swooping you up into his arms.

“I can wa—”

“You cannot walk and so help me God, if you try to tell me that you can, I will call your friend and have her yell at you.”

He was right. It was annoying how often he was right in the five days that you’d known him. You didn’t have the energy to argue, so you just tucked your head into his shoulder and gave in.

“How do you feel about Chinese? Some steamed vegetables, orange chicken, and brown rice?”

“Orange chicken might be too much spice right now. I learned from chemo that, uh, spices do not go well with the fuckin’ atomic toxins they inject into my body. I’m on a bland food diet for time being.”

“Alright,” he nodded, shifting his hold on you to push the elevator button. “I’ll channel my inner, middle-aged, white-mom Karen who thinks that salt is a spice.”

That sparked a weak laugh from you. “Sounds perfect. Not too much salt, though.”

There were a few weeks until Sebastian had to leave to start filming his show. You had assumed he would check in on you, make sure you were doing okay, maybe spend some of his free time with you, but that he would go about his life as normal.

You were wrong.

He switched his schedule around to match yours. He worked out while you were getting your infusions, spoke with his agent during your shorter hospital visits for a shot or two, ran errands while you were napping… He was so fucking thoughtful.

And annoying.

Not only had Sebastian channeled his inner-Karen for your bland-food diet, but he also channeled his inner grandmother in the way he was constantly shoving food in your face, insisting that you have to eat to keep up your strength. He even went so far as to schedule a meeting with the hospital dietician and Dr. Chowdhury to make sure his diet plans gave you everything you needed, and nothing you didn’t. You’d never eaten this well in your life.

Despite your fully balanced diet, you were still exhausted most of the time. You’d thought that you were prepared for the intensity of this treatment, but there was no way to fully prepare for this. You were two weeks in and it still felt like it was getting worse. By this point in your chemo, you felt like you were starting on the upswing.

But you were still falling asleep before the movies that you and Sebastian watched together even began. You could barely finish your food before needing to lay back and rest. You would try to read a book, but you were barely ten pages in because every time you sat down to read, you ended up passing out. Any spare energy you had was spent trying not to be a bitch to the people around you.

Which is how you found yourself waking up from where you’d fallen asleep with your head in Seb’s lap. The TV was black, movie having ended.

“What are you—Is that my phone?” When you twisted around to look up at Seb, you were confused by your phone case in his hand. You’d given him your passcode, as a safety precaution, so you weren’t confused by how he got onto your phone, just why he was.

“Jasmin called twice, so I texted her to let her know why you weren’t answering.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“And then we kept talking. She’s really curious about who I am.”

“And really bad at keeping secrets.”

“I know. Just think about what she’s told me about you in the last half hour I’ve been texting with her.”

“Everything she told you about our senior year in high school is fake. She got a bad concussion the summer before and her memory of that entire year is shit. So, don’t believe any stories she tells you.”

His fingers scratched along your hairline. “Mmm, I’ll have to remember to ask her about those stories. This time she mostly divulged secrets for keeping you happy during this treatment.”

“Secrets like make sure Y/N always has access to chocolate and she’s going to want to stop treatment and run away to Paris. Help her plan, then when she thinks this is actually going to work, tell her there is no way in hell you’re letting her do this and crush her dreams. I’m sure she’ll forgive you eventually, but she hasn’t forgiven me for that yet so I can’t really tell you when.”

“Paris?”

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. Go to the Seine River and be surprised by how bad it smells. For some reason, places you think will smell normal always smell bad. You ever been to Yellowstone?”

That earned you a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. She did touch on the chocolate thing, though.”

“What else?”

“When you start to feel better, apparently I’m supposed to convince you to dye your hair, or get a hair cut or something. I didn’t understand that one.”

“It’s just what I do. When I need a pick-me-up, I do something to my hair. Switch things up.”

“Noted. She also said, and I think this is her way of playing matchmaker from all the way across the country, but she said that you won’t ask or initiate physical touch, but you always seemed better when you cuddled with her. So apparently I’m supposed to cuddle with you whenever humanly possible.”

Of course, you thought. That was so Jasmin. After a quick, light laugh, you pulled yourself up to a sitting position, leaning on the other side of the couch. “God, Jasmin. She’s something else.”

“So she was wrong about that?”

“I—” You wanted to say yes. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to move your friendship to any kind of physical level, beyond him carrying you up a set of stairs, or falling asleep with your head in his lap. But you couldn’t lie.

So you just had to find a way to change the subject.

“She wasn’t wrong about me not initiating contact. I had a pretty tough life growing up, so touch is hard for me. Especially with people I’m around a lot.”

He nodded thoughtfully, shifting so he was facing you more with his knee on the cushion and arm along the back of the couch. “So, in Vegas…”

“One night stands are great because you don’t have to worry about forming any sort of connection. No feelings. Just… It’s just fun and done. It doesn’t hurt.” The subject change seemed to have worked, but now you were in depressing territory. Time for another shift. “So you went and fucked that all up by insisting we stay married.”

He scoffed and playfully said, “Well, sorry for saving your life.”

“Yeah, you’re just the worst,” you responded with an exaggerated eye roll. Eyes locked on his, you couldn’t help but offer him a soft smile. “Thank you, though. I don’t think I’ve said it outright how much this means to me.”

“Y/N, you don’t—”

“Shut up and let me be serious for once. I’m complimenting you. Just let me.”

A grin toyed with his lips as he held his hands up in surrender.

“Good. I know I’ve been a bit of a bitch lately, but I’ve tried extra hard not to be because… you’ve done so much for me. I have never met anyone who would help out a complete stranger like you’re helping me and I have a really hard time telling people thanks, or how much I appreciate them, but I need you to hear it. I…” You had to pause and take a deep breath because you were starting to get choked up. “Just, thank you, Seb.”

The air was charged as your eyes stayed locked. Sharing emotions was never your strong suit, and now you had no idea what to do, what to say…

“Come over here,” he softly said, opening his arms.

“Seb, you don’t have to—”

“Get over here, Y/N.” When it was clear he wasn’t going to relent, you gave in and let him fit you in his arms. Once the footrest was popped out and a blanket was pulled over the two of you, he grabbed the remote and opened Hulu. “You’re going to let me hold you and we’re going to watch Brooklyn 99, because Jasmin also said that’s your favorite show.”

Your silence was your agreement, but it wasn’t until Jake Peralta was assigned to the records room in the pilot episode that you finally accepted the broken boundary of physical touch and relaxed into Sebastian’s arms. You wrapped your arms around his waist and let your head lay on his shoulder. “Thank you, Seb.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N/N.”

Things seem to be going well now! They’re getting along, treatment is getting easier to manage... everything is going to stay this nice, right? Right??

Part 9: The First Check-In