#it’s been just. a fucking absurd amount of time

[ask-outside-stars]

Me: *finally finishes writing next chapter of fanfiction, stares at the clock that reads 6am* Me: *sighs, goes to put all my stuff back downstairs without waking the roomies* Me: *has a stroke (OF GENIUS)* Okay, but basically, it's 6am, and I just have to ask- can you write a Will/Ford/Stan/McGucket scene for me where they go to like, a Renaissance fair (or something similar to Pioneer Day, wink wink) where Ford's just spouting facts that are *technically* historically accurate, but then Will/Bill corrects/adds onto the facts that Ford has known to be true for years while simultaneously just dissing the fuck out of people's performances/outfits/etc and McGucket and Stan are just there like: ._. PLEASE MY SLEEP-MUDDLED BRAIN NEEDS BILLFORD AND FIDDLESTAN - cryptid <3

This deserves its own one-shot, and it's gonna get one. In the meantime, have a quick little drabble about the idea!

---

While Pioneer Day may have been one of the major events of summer in Gravity Falls, Renaissance Day belonged to winter. The town's Freedom Eagle, in addition to his electoral duties, also served at the town's resident groundhog in that he was in charge of predicting winter weather. Specifically, he would predict the warmest day of winter (by pecking at a calendar) and the town would get together on that day to throw a Renaissance festival. While Stan may have hated Pioneer Day, Renaissance Day was one of his favorites, right up there with Summerween, because it was the perfect excuse to hock more of his shoddy tchotchkes to locals and tourists alike.

Will hadn't gotten to experience Renaissance Day on his first winter in Gravity Falls, having been on the Stan O' War II with the boys, but this second winter was shaping up to be the one where he finally got to see the event in all its plague-riddled glory.

True to the Freedom Eagle's prediction, the day was warm enough that the snow had melted off the main roads and streets, only stubbornly clinging in the shadows of trees and buildings. The downtown area had been transformed to a scene like something out of DD&MD, with fairground tents and displays set up all around the square and people dressed like kings, queens, and peasants alike milling through the arrangements. Ford watched all the goings-on with rapt, wide-eyed, almost childlike delight as he pushed Will's wheelchair over the sidewalk to the event.

"Psst. Hey, Fordsy, look. It's the Northwests," Will said, tapping his arm to get his attention.

He pointed to where Pacifica's parents were dressed in an absurd amount of gilded finery, giving stiff parade smiles and waves to people who passed by.

"Eurgh, those clothes are completely period inaccurate," Ford winced. "That style is more indicative of the late-Medieval era rather than mid-Renaissance."

"You want me to rearrange the functions of every orifice on his BODY this time?" Will asked, leaning back to grin up at Ford, who shook his head fondly before stooping down to press an upside down kiss to his lips.

"No, but keep that in your back pocket, just in case."

Will excitedly drummed his hands on the arms of his wheelchair and pointedly ignored the muttered, "Oh sweet lord..." from Stan.

[seilon]

If i don’t get an update soon on my god damn top surgery insurance negotiation im going to lose my fucking mind

[mumblesplash]

the fact that doctors can just Recommend Weight Loss with no instructions beyond ‘eat healthier/less’ is actually insane to me, i lost weight on purpose ONCE and it took me like 6 years to recover a semi-normal relationship with food and hunger

[dyketennant]

oh i can already tell i’m about to have some really unpopular opinions about the edge of sleep tv show

[angelstrawbabie420]

dyslexia is wild bro you literally will see things that are simply not there and words change at a glance it’s so disorienting

[resonabilis-echo]

just finished disco elysium and [composure: godly success] ive never cried in my life

[huffingtonpussy]

robovore has the full potential to be horrific shure but consider its also sick and cool but I'm into it so instead I'm like teeheeing and shit the issue is ive only ever seen like maybe 1 and a half artists accomplish this and im starving and dying and starving and decaying and wasting away and hopeless and corpsey :/

[your-greatest-queen]

"Wow, I love the afro!!" a 15 yr old white girl says to me after I've curled my 1B hair to 2B. Glad you like it. Not an afro tho. "It's an afro," she says. It's really not. "It is," she insists, and continues on her way. Okay

[celiababy]

Ain't Right part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It's the holiday season and Joel is a Scrooge.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, oral sex (m!receiving), SQUIRT, creampie, threats of violence, alcohol

Celia's note: uhm hello??? what the flip thank y'all sm for all the love on my first post!! I got so many requests to make a part 2 so dinner's ready y'all dig in!!!!

Ain’t Right part 1

Ain’t Right part 3

Jackson looked so pretty this time of year. The Christmas lights, the snowmen, the comfy sweaters and chocolate chip cookies; you loved it all.

Especially gift-giving.

To you, there was really nothing better than seeing someone's face light up when they open a present.

This year, there was someone special you planned to go all out for.

It had been 3 days since Joel Miller fucked you in his house, on his bed.

You hadn't stopped replaying the moment in your mind, especially the part when he finished all over your stomach.

However, it just so happens that after those amazing thirty minutes, Joel was called away by Tommy.

He had to leave and do something that you weren't allowed to know about. Undoubtedly some dangerous mission that pained you to think about.

So your victory was short-lived.

But, like the gentleman he was, he walked you home and made sure you were okay before he left. You wanted to kiss him goodbye, but felt too nervous to do so.

You don't know why—he literally had his cock in you a few moments prior.

Yet you couldn't, and just had to watch him walk away.

Now, you haven't seen him in three days and were starting to get serious withdrawals. Whatever he was up to couldn't have come at a worse time.

You finally had the taste of his perfection, now he was gone, leaving you to deal with your desire alone.

You tried to preoccupy yourself with helping set up all the Christmas decorations around town as well as baking an absurd amount of treats.

You also managed to get him a little gift in the meantime, stuffing it in the cutest box with the prettiest wrapping paper.

God, you hoped he'd come back soon.

And luckily, he did!

You had heard from Maria that everyone had returned from their trip—safe and sound.

She had also told you that she was throwing a little Christmas get-together at her and Tommy's house to celebrate.

She was careful to mention that Joel would be in attendance.

So, that night, you whipped up your signature cinnamon apple recipe and put on your cutest outfit.

You topped it with some fuzzy reindeer antlers because you were in a very festive mood.

As you walked alone to Maria and Tommy's, you were freezing your ass off in your skirt and sweater. You wore tights with your skirt in hopes that it would help with the cold, but who were you kidding?

You didn't care, though. You just cared if Joel thought you looked pretty or not.

You pranced up the steps of their porch, letting yourself into the house and getting immediately bombarded by the hoard of people inside.

Maria made it seem like it was going to be a small thing, but the entire Jackson population seemed to be in her living room.

Thankfully, Tommy catches you come in and walks up to greet you. "Hey there stranger," He grins, looking down at the dish in your hands. "What you got there?"

"Brought desert," You chirp, handing it to him with a proud smile.

"Well well," He muses as he takes the glass container from you, looking it over with surprise. "Didn't think you could tie your own shoes, let alone bake anything."

You roll your eyes before scoffing. "You're just mad because I can tie my shoes and bake something before you can conjure a coherent thought."

Tommy fakes a wince before chuckling. "Alright, touché kid. We're gonna be playing charades in a little bit so stick around, alright?"

You nod, having absolutely no intention of 'sticking around' for charades. Tommy wanders off with your apples, finally giving you a moment to survey the party.

Obviously, you were looking for one person in particular.

You squeezed through all the crowds of people, scouring what felt like every room in the house.

But no dice.

Joel was nowhere to be found and sadness washes over you like a tidal wave.

Was he doing this on purpose?

Torturing you by depriving you of his presence? This was hell.

You plant yourself by the special eggnog and down several glasses to take the edge off.

You were tipsy in no time, it really didn't take much. It was like Maria just dumped an entire bottle of vodka in the bowl and splashed some milk in it. It was disgusting, really, but it was getting its job done.

As you hunched yourself over the bowl, someone tapped you on your shoulder.

You spin around, your hopes high.

"Joel!—Oh. Hi Connor." The disappointment you feel inside displays clearly in your tone.

You're now face to face with the boy who has been unsubtly trying to sleep with you for months.

"Hey there! You look fucking great tonight." He flirts, a smug grin on his face.

You grimace because you know he thinks he's so cool, even though you'd rather die than stand here with him right now.

"Thanks." You say flatly, turning back towards the eggnog and pouring yourself another glass. For some reason, Connor takes this as an invitation to step closer, now invading your space.

You don't even bother trying to hide your disgusted expression. His cologne is attacking your nostrils, and it doesn't even smell good.

"That skirt looks amazing on you." His eyes unabashedly drag along the skin of your legs, making you shiver in disgust. He takes it too far when his hand comes up to brush your arm.

"You come here with anyone?" He coos, leaning against the food table like he was hot shit or something.

You couldn't stand this douche. Just as you were about to tell him to fuck off or something, you feel someone looming over you.

"She did." A gruff voice comes from behind you, and you immediately recognize that it could only be one person.

You whip around, your face lighting up at the sight of Joel.

His expression is settled into a natural scowl, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the boy in front of you both. Even though he looked scary as shit, he was so fucking hot.

You're instantly horny just at the sight of him.

Connor scoffs, looking between the two of you, but your eyes stayed glued to Joel.

"Really? Him? But he's like—an old man." Connor spits, which immediately earns a glare from you.

Just as you're about to cuss him out, Joel beats you to it.

"Walk away before this old man breaks your jaw." His voice is stern, not to be tested.

It makes your core tighten with need.

Hearing the threat that he assumes to be all too real, Connor doesn't waste time scurrying off.

You turn back towards Joel, a warm, relieved smile spreading across your face. “Hi,” You whisper, wanting to hug him so bad but holding yourself back because he wasn’t a big fan of PDA. “M'so glad you're back." You do, however, step closer into his personal bubble.

His face softens when he finally looks down at you, and you can almost swear you see his lips curling up into a smile.

"Yeah, me too, kid." He husks out, looking between you and the bowl of half-empty eggnog. "Enjoyin' yourself?" He asks with somewhat of a disappointed look on his face, clocking that you were a little tipsy.

"Now I am." You answer truthfully, beaming up at him. "Have you been here the whole time? I was looking for you earlier but I couldn't find you."

Joel shifted on his feet, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Just got here. Tommy was talkin' my ear off at the door." He explained, an exasperated look on his face.

You laughed and nodded, knowing you both shared that experience.

"Are you having a good time, though?" You ask, actually curious because he seemed like he would rather be anywhere else right now.

He shrugs, brushing a hand through his short hair. "This Christmas holiday crap is givin' me a fuckin' aneurysm." He huffs out with complete honestly, scratching the back of his neck.

"What? Really? Why?" The shock and bewilderment in your voice isn't lost on Joel.

He sighs out, knowing you're about to explain the magical spirit of the season or whatever.

"The blizzards, people spazzin' out over gifts, all 'cause some fat guy is coming down chimneys—s'all just ridiculous."

You want to giggle at how actually annoyed he sounded, but you hold it down.

Grouchy old man.

"I'd let you come down my chimney," you flirt, but then correct yourself. "I have let you come down my—"

Joel shoots you a glare, daring you to finish your sentence.

You know when to cut your losses, so you don't.

"Well, speaking of gifts," You start, rummaging in your bag to pull out your present for him. You hold it up, the pink wrapping paper making him cock an eyebrow. "Merry Christmas, Scrooge."

Joel feels an unfamiliar feeling swimming around in his stomach at the sight.

He slowly takes the box from you, looking at it like it was a puzzle.

He really wasn't expecting anything from you. But he supposed people who have had the other persons genitals inside them should probably give them something for Christmas.

He finds himself very pleasantly surprised.

After a moment, he finds something to say.

"Couldn't find some manlier wrapping paper?" He coughs, his voice low but it's obvious he's joking with you.

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Just open it!"

Joel somewhat grins at your impatience but finally starts to open the box.

That grin drops off his face after he sees the contents, an immediate bittersweet feeling swelling in his chest.

You're watching his face so intently, so scared that he didn't like it based on his reaction.

Joel pulls out the watch from the box, clutching it tightly. He's not saying anything, so you hear yourself start to ramble.

"Do you like it? I just saw that the watch you wear is broken so I figured I'd get you a new one. If you don't like it I can take it back."

You're starting to crumble underneath the weight of his silence, anxiety bubbling in your gut. Just as you're about to ask him if he's okay, Joel finally looks back at you.

"S'real great. Thank you." His tone is genuine, you can tell he's telling the truth. But why does he look so pained?

"Of course." Your murmur, your eyes searching his. After a moment of silence, you clear your throat. "There's one more thing, actually."

Joel's shoulder slump. "You got me another present?" He asked tiredly, looking at you with disbelief.

A guilty smile paints your face before you gesture for Joel to follow you. "It's upstairs. C'mon."

He doesn't know how much more his heart could handle.

Reluctantly, he follows you up the stairs, wondering why you had a gift waiting for him in Tommy's guest bedroom.

You open the door and close it behind you both, purposefully not turning the lights on.

Joel walks into the center of the room, standing aimlessly and confused as to why you hadn’t flipped the light switch yet.

But then he hears the rustling of clothes and when you eventually turn the lights on, you're wearing nothing but a bra and panties.

His cock immediately gets hard.

"What do ya think you're doin'?" He whisper yells, trying to keep his eyes on your face but that proves to be impossible because your tits looked so good in lace.

"What? You don't like it? I bought it for you." You give him a 360 and he has to brace himself against the bed.

Fuck you looked good.

He sits down on the mattress, dragging a hand down his jaw in thought.

He's debating if he's really about to fuck you in his brother's house.

Why were you always making him go against his morals?

A few seconds of silence pass between the two of you before Joel snaps his eyes back to your figure.

"C'mere."

Got 'em.

You squeal excitedly before running over, slotting yourself between his legs and placing your hands on his shoulders.

In turn, his large hands come out to hold your hips, his gaze zeroing in on your perfect-looking cleavage that he was now eye-level with.

Just as he was about to slide his hands up to grope your breasts, you sink down to the floor.

Joel's puzzled as he watches you get on your knees, looking up at him with those mischievous eyes. He truly has no clue what you're up to, that is, until you bring your lips to the bulge in his jeans.

You place the softest kiss on his clothed hard-on, earning a groan from him.

Now he knows what you're trying to do.

He juts his hand out, holding you firm by your shoulder.

"You ain't gotta do that, sweetheart." Joel says softly, probably the softest you've ever heard him say anything.

Your body erupts in goosebumps when you hear the endearing pet name slip so effortlessly from his lips.

"I want to—been wanting to since, like, forever." You murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his inner thigh.

Joel wasn't sure what to think right now.

His past romantic experiences taught him that blowjobs were a hassle for women—something that they did only if they felt they had to.

But here you were, looking up at him with those wide eyes and wanting nothing more than his dick in your mouth.

You surprise him everyday.

His dick has literally never been harder, especially when you finally start unzipping his pants to let it spring free.

You gaze up at him again, waiting for his green light.

Joel had one hand white-knuckling the edge of the bed, while the other gently caressed the side of your head.

He offers a short nod of approval, already trying not to come just by the sight of his cock so close to your face.

You waste absolutely no time in grabbing the base of his dick with both hands, gingerly licking at his tip to warm him up.

Joel throws his head back, groaning at the feeling.

You tilt it up so you can drag your tongue all the way up his shaft, then bring your mouth down on his tip.

"Fuck," Joel curses, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before snapping back open, not being able to look away from you.

Tears are falling from your eyes the farther you go down on him, the sensation of his head poking the back of your throat was making you dizzy.

But you don't stop. You're eager to please.

Your hands pump at the length you can't reach, while your warm mouth and tongue swirl around him.

You're too good at this, and Joel knows he's not gonna last long.

He can't help it when his hand in your hair turns into a fist, tightly gripping the strands like he was afraid you might go somewhere.

You moan when he accidentally pulls your hair forwards, forcing you deep on his cock. You bet he didn't even realize what he just did, based on the way his chest was heaving and his face looked so lost in pleasure.

You gag and more tears spill from your eyes, but you don't even dream about lifting off. If Joel was getting off on this, you were going to do more of it.

You moan, still keeping his cock in your mouth as you try to go even deeper down on it.

"Oh fuck—" Joel suddenly yanks your mouth off his cock, breathing heavily as he stares down at you.

You cough and sputter at the loss, looking up at him with that same fucked out expression you had last time.

"Why?" You manage to whine, wondering why he stopped you before he came.

Joel doesn't answer—instead he picks you up by your armpits and places you on the bed.

The quick change almost gives you whiplash, but Joel's surprisingly steady and husky voice guides you.

"On your stomach, pretty girl." He mutters as he taps your leg in a gesturing manner.

...Was he trying to kill you with that bedroom voice of his?

A whimper crawls its way out of your throat, your body having an audible reaction to his sweet words.

You flip over onto your stomach, instantly arching your back for him.

Being the impatient man he was, he rips your panties and throws them to the side in a lust-driven blur.

You literally didn't even care. Sure, they were new, but you'd just find another pair. The only two thoughts in your mind right now was Joel and Joel's dick.

Something warm and soft prods at your entrance before slipping to wedge between your folds, gathering up your slick.

You try to push back on it, but Joel holds you still, making you lose the rest of the small amount of composure you had left.

"Joelpleasefuckme," You sob, your cunt weeping for his cock. "need you so bad it hurts,"

You reach back, your hand finding his that was holding your hip and squeezing it.

Joel didn't want to admit to himself how much he loved the neediness in your voice, your obvious desperation made him harder.

"M'gettin' there, don't gotta beg me baby." He mutters, his hand that you grabbed intertwining with your fingers. His other hand was rubbing circles in the skin around your hips.

You feel that same sensation of his tip, but then Joel also brings his chest down to engulf your back.

You're already trembling, but when he begins to pepper kisses down the nape of your neck and back, all while slowly sheathing himself inside your pussy...

You effectively lose your mind.

"OhFUCKJoelloveitsomuch," You blabber, not having enough strength to hold yourself up anymore so your head drops into a pillow, muffling your moans.

Effortlessly, he pulls you back up so that your back is flush with his chest, his one arm wrapped around your stomach to keep you secure.

You rest the back of your head on his shoulder as she starts rocking into you, letting your body go limp because you know he's got you.

"Can you take it or do I need'a stop?" He asks, his tone making you dizzier.

You frantically nod, turning your head to the side to look at him. "I can take it, promise I can," you muster out between moans. "please don't stop—want your cock in me forever-"

Joel chuckles.

God, he really never stood a chance against you.

"I don't know about forever sweet thing, but I'll see what I can do for tonight, yeah?"

You giggle airily, like you weren't all there, nodding your head in acknowledgement. Your eyes are closed for a second but you feel his lips on yours, hungrily taking whatever they wanted.

You passionately return his kiss, mewling into it because his lips paired with the slow thrust of his dick was enough to drive you crazy.

The stretch of his cock is as close to heaven as you're ever gonna get.

His speed picks up which means your moans get louder, and Joel has no choice put to bring his other hand up and cover your mouth.

There's still a party going on downstairs, after all.

"Gotta be quieter baby," he pants, even though he's not slowing down his speed at all.

You whine into his hand, surprisingly loving the feeling of it because it's like he's swallowing you whole.

You feel that tight coil in your stomach slowly start to come undone, and you know you won't last long now. You try to tell Joel, but his hand is muffling your noises.

All the sudden, he speaks in your ear—his voice low and raspy. "Don't want you doin' this with anyone else, hear me?"

...Well.

You weren't expecting that.

His words probably made you soak the sheets because of how wet you became.

He sounded so stern when he said it too, making your heart flutter even more.

You nod, tears pouring from your eyes. He lets his hand off your mouth for a moment and you immediately jump at the opportunity to speak.

"Only want you, only ever wanted you, Joel—m'all yours, always been yours," You mewl after gasping for air, your body jolting with each of his deep thrusts.

"Fuck," Joel swears, quickly but carefully putting you down only to flip you over onto your back. Now in missionary, he buries himself all the way inside you again before dropping down so your faces are centimeters apart. "All mine, huh?" Joel reiterates, and you can't tell if he's mocking you or maybe asking for clarification.

Probably the ladder.

You agree nonetheless, a string of yes's spilling from your mouth.

"Yeah, just for me." He pants, slamming into you with more vigor than before. Your cunt is constricting around him like a vice, he's—not planning to last much longer either.

"M'gonna cum," you whine, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for support.

When Joel hears this, he drops a hand down to rub at your clit, making you come undone altogether.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck waitwait Joel-" You feel something..unique boiling, but then Joel's expert fingers release the flood gates.

You scream as you squirt all over his cock, your entire body writhing with the overstimulating pleasure.

Your juices soak him. When he see's this, he comes immediately.

He groans as he finishes inside you, unloading into your snug cunt. The feeling is incomparable for the both of you.

Once the haze of perfect pleasure dissipates, Joel realizes what he's just done.

"Shit," he grits, pulling out and watching his seed drip from your hole. "Fuck."

You manage to sit up on your elbows, looking up at him with teary eyes. "Don't worry," Your voice is quiet and cracked—you just had the squirt fucked out of you, after all. "I've been on the pill since we had sex the first time."

Joel looks down at you, stupefied.

Eventually, he feels his heart start beating again and huffs out a sigh of relief. "Thank christ." He leans back against the headboard, raking a hand through his hair and thinking about how that was a fucking close one.

You're lying next to him, still trying to catch your breath. "That felt so good," You manage to murmur, your body still shivering from the after shocks.

After you catch your breath, you turn your head to look up at him. "M'serious about what I said, about bein' yours."

He looks at you and your serious face for a moment, then brings his hand down to gently ruffle the top of your head.

"Yeah, I know you are." His texan drawl prominent.

"I'd let you brand me with a fire poker if thats what you wanted." You say flatly, no joking tone in your voice whatsoever.

Joel is taken back by the sudden jump in intensity, assessing you to make sure you were being for real.

You were, and when he realizes this, he shakes his head. "You've lost your damn mind." He grunts, dragging a hand down his face.

You shrug.

"I think a ring would do the trick." Joel mutters, not meaning for it to have some kind of underlying message or anything. But you're quick to jump to conclusions.

"A ring?" You squeal, moving to lay on his chest which earns a huff from him. "Didn't know we were already goin' steady like that, Miller!" You tease, the giddiest smile on your face.

"I didn't mean—quit. You know what I was sayin'." Joel grunts, looking at you with an unamused expression.

You don't quit though.

"My ring finger is a size 6, would love 2 carats but if you can swing for 3 that would be perfect—also, I hate silver bands, it has to be gold—but make sure it's not that super yellow fake gold, I like more rustic looks, I mean, if that wasn't obvious-" You cast him a glance, alluding to the fact that he was rustic looking.

Joel rolls his eyes before gently nudging you off him, getting off the bed and walking over to your clothes that you discarded a long time ago.

You continue rambling from your position on the sheets, staring up at the ceiling as you recited, in extreme detail, how you loved oval shaped diamonds the most.

He walks back over and manhandles you to sit up. "Lift up your arms." He mutters, putting your sweater back on you.

"Hm, gettin' some serious deja vu right now." You murmur, smiling up at him.

"Yeah, yeah, hush." He grumbles before sliding your tights and skirt back on as well.

The act is so kind and heartwarming. You mumble a thank you before standing up, almost falling back down because your legs were still a bit weak.

Joel made a motion like he would've caught you, reaching his arms out. "Careful." He warns, planting a hand on your lower back for stability. You giggle and nod, regaining your ability to walk slowly but surely.

You guys tried to discretely walk back down the stairs, but with Joel's hand on your back and your happy expression--it wasn't hard for people to guess what happened.

***

A couple days had passed since Tommy and Maria's party.

You were finishing up some hand-made Christmas cards on your desk when you heard a knock at your door.

"Coming!" You shout, leisurely making your way to the front door.

When you open it, no one's there. You look around, only seeing a familiar male figure walking away in the distance. When you step outside to shout after him, you feel yourself kick something.

Upon looking down, a small velvet box lays at your feet.

You pick it up carefully, opening it to reveal a gold ring placed so delicately inside. The small note inside reads:

Merry Christmas. -Scrooge

[buck-star]

Little perv | Stucky

Co-Written with @lanabuckybarnes

// Pairing //

Stepbrother!Bucky Barnes x Stepsister!Reader x BestFriend!Steve Rogers

// Summary //

You didn’t mean to walk into Steve but when you do and he tells your stepbrother about it, they will teach you a lesson how to be a good girl.

// Wordcount //

4.956 Words

// Warnings //

18+, Minors DNI, dubcon, stepcest, smut, threesome, both boys are dicks and cute, they are both huge, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (male!receiving), deep throating, choking, crying during sex, degrading, unprotected p in v, anal play, unprotected anal sex, double penetration, spitting, slapping, praises, pet names (sweetheart, babygirl), aftercare

// Authors Note //

This oneshot is co-written with @lanabuckybarnes, I wanna say thank you bbg, for listening to all the ideas, coming up with your own ideas. And especially for helping me to write it while I freaked out. This wouldn’t be as filthy and it wouldn’t even exist with your help, so thanks for writing this together with me.

// Events //

Build-A-Bucky-Bingo | BABB055 | December | Sensory Play | @buckybarnesevents | LGBTQ+ Bingo | G4 | Bisexual Threesome | @lgbtqbingo | Stucky Bingo: Round 5 | 5089 | B2 | Kink: Double Penetration | @stuckybingo

// Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist //

You groaned as you heard the shower running; your body was aching and you were in dire need of the relaxing feel of the water over your body—low and behold just as you’d grabbed your towels Bucky’s friend Steve had stolen the shower from you.

To say you were irritated was an understatement, you’d been dealing with shit like this ever since your dad’s new girlfriend moved in with her man-child son. Bucky was the quarterback of your college football team, a complete catch for any stupid girl silly enough to believe his charming eyes and wicked tongue, which you found out was quite a lot of girls; almost every weekend he’d hop out to a party and either come home reeking of sex and booze or with a girl clung to his hip, sucking dark marks into his thick neck as his large hands ran over her body— they would barely make it into his bedroom before she was moaning like a pornstar and he was growling like a fucking animal.

You suspected all that fucking booze and constant bashing into other burly men had gotten to his brain because he had a teasing, arrogant, don’t-give-a-fuck attitude that rolled off his body in waves. And by god did he love making you squirm.

The first time it happened you brushed it off, after all, he was probably so used to walking around in only his sweatpants; they hung low, the waistband of his briefs easily visible, accentuating his Adonis belt and soft happy trail that sunk below his pants.

You thought you’d stopped your gawking quick enough but Bucky had caught you—and you were in for it now.

Ever since that day Bucky had been more relaxed in the clothing department when he was around you, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a shirt around you; his corded muscles rippling under his tanned skin, biceps bigger than your head bulging as he brought his water bottle up to his plush lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the cold liquid. He tried his best to bite back the shit-eating grin threatening to plaster over his face as he shuffled by you, tall frame looming over you, your ass rubbing against the front of his sweats ‘accidentally’. After a quick glance your way the smile broke free, you’d stopped stirring your tea, head dipped to hide your reddened face behind your locks of hair but no amount of effort could wipe the mortification you felt and Bucky was loving it.

And now he’d even roped his friend into this absurdity.

Noting that the shower had finally stopped you gathered your towels and other toiletries in your arms and shuffled down the hall, bare feet slapping against the hardwood as you walked. Bucky’s room door lay adjacent, shooting noises and cursing flowing through the crack as he played whatever goddamn game that had him up at 4am most nights.

You were so distracted by Bucky you neglected to knock on the bathroom door to make sure it was well and truly empty.

“Well, what do we have here?” Steve’s cocky voice broke you from your trance, his hair pushed back and a towel hung low on his hips showing off his washboard-like abs; he wasn’t as wide as Bucky but definitely just as built. His blue eyes watched you from the mirror above the sink.

Your mouth gaped and shut like a fish out of water as you stuttered over your words, your brain shutting down at the worst possible time ‘Stupid fucking brain’.

“Never knew Buck's new step sis was such a fucking perv” he turned, hand gripping the waist of his towel as he stalked forward until you stumbled over your own feet, your items falling as you reached out instinctively to grab at something close to you— unfortunately that happened to be Steve’s towel.

“Wow! Tryna strip me now huh?” He chuckled, thick fingers gripping your wrist, his towel remaining in place thanks to his earlier hold.

“No-I” you tried to speak but his stormy eyes shot you down quickly.

“Sureee” he smirked, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek “We’ll see what Bucky has to say about this” he finished and before you could react he’d dragged your body down the hall and into Bucky’s room.

“I—I don’t think Bucky wants to know anything about it. And I— uhm I’m it was an accident to walk into the bathroom while you are still in here,” you mumbled, every thought washed out of your mind.

Steve chuckled, pushing you away from him causing you to stumble through the room until you were standing in the middle of it, facing Bucky with widened eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Didn’t know your sister is such a perv, Buck. Came into the bathroom and when I asked her about it she wanted to take away the towel around my waist,” the blonde-haired man laughed. He walked closer to you, his hands gripping your waist before he pushed you closer to Bucky who was sitting on the bed.

Bucky’s legs were dangling down off the edge of it, he smirked at you with that shitty knowing and arrogant smirk. You blushed softly when he held his hands out for you to grab, when you didn’t take his hands Steve pushed you closer until Bucky was able to grasp at you and pull you closer to him.

“Are you that much of a needy girl?” Bucky cooed, pulling you down until you were seated on his thigh. His thick muscles were pressing perfectly against your throbbing cunt and you couldn’t help yourself, your hips slowly grinding you on his leg. “Oh, you really are a needy little whore, say it, babygirl, tell us that you’re such a horny little bitch for us.”

You whimpered, his thick thigh pressed against your pussy was too much for you to think straight. Bucky laughed darkly, his hands making their way to your waist and he helped you to grind on him.

“Stevie, look how fucking desperate she is, such a fucking whore for us. Say it, babygirl! Say it!” Bucky said in a stern tone. When you still didn’t answer his demands he stopped your movements. You whined, throwing your head back and hitting Steve’s lower stomach. You didn’t even realize he was so close to you but your head was resting against him now. “Fucking say it, bitch.”

“I—“ you cried out when Steve grasped your throat, his fingers were digging into your soft flesh and your eyes widened immediately. He didn’t let go of your throat, his fingers were digging more into your soft skin and you gasped. “I’m a whore for you.”

Both men chuckled, Steve loosened his grip and you inhaled deeply. Bucky still didn’t let you move on his thigh, he was looking up at Steve, nodding towards him and before you could have asked something you were turned around and tossed onto Bucky’s bed.

“Good girl, now ask daddy to let you suck his cock,” the brunette smirked, he was now standing next to Steve, both admiring you shamelessly. It felt a bit like you were nothing but a piece of meat for them, and maybe you were right now.

You didn’t answer him, your eyes just looking at them while you were placed on your back. “Think she wants to be punished, what do you think, Buck?”

A low groan left Bucky’s lips, he placed his hands on the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them slowly down. Your eyes wander over his toned chest and abs to his hands which were going to reveal his hardening cock. Steve was making his way around the bed, one of his hands on his cock, palming himself and feeling himself getting harder underneath the towel.

Bucky pushed his sweatpants down eventually, his boxer briefs following and his cock sprung free. The tip was red, leaking with pre-cum and you whimpered once more. Your mind was too dizzy to care what both men were going to do with you, you just needed them, needing them to help the ache in your pussy.

“Open your mouth and suck daddy’s cock like the fucking little whore you are,” Bucky groaned, walking a step closer. He lowered himself slightly, his hand tapped your cheek lightly and you did as you were told. With a grunt he pushed his cock into your mouth, immediately thrusting forward when the warmth of your mouth surrounded his cock. Bucky couldn’t — he didn’t want to hold back his thrusts, he wanted you to take him completely into your sweet little mouth.

Steve who had settled on the bed, spread your legs apart, he’d taken off your pants already, the only fabric between him and your pussy was the thin sopping material of your panties. Steve ran his fingers up and down your inner thigh, inching closer to your soaked pussy. “Fucking soaked, making a mess in her panties.”

You moaned in response, Bucky’s cock moved in and out of your mouth, causing you to gag around his length. He didn’t care how much you sputtered and pushed his cock deeper into you, tears were streaming over your face and you quietly sobbed when he hit the back of your mouth over and over again.

Steve’s fingers were now circling your pussy, the fabric still covering your wetness but the intensity of his movements made you go crazy. He pinched your clit through your panties and you tried to move away from him but he held you in place. Steve then slipped his fingers under your panties, before deciding it wasn’t good enough and ripping the fabric into two pieces and throwing them away.

Any type of protest was muffled by Bucky’s cock, his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue and you hummed your satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s what you like, huh? Fucking desperate slut needs to be punished for your being so needy.”

Bucky guided his cock in and out of your mouth, loving the way your tears fell down your cheeks while he hit your throat with every push of his cock into your mouth. He groaned, his hand making its way around your throat and he squeezed your soft flesh slightly. Your eyes shot open, terror written in the color when he squeezed more and more.

You wiggled, trying to pull away from him but your stepbrother held you in place. He beamed down at you, then he loosened his grip around your throat and removed his cock, giving you a moment to breathe deeply. With a rough laugh he brought his hand to your jaw, and with a bit of pressure he made you open your mouth. Bucky was then spitting into your mouth, looking at the way you involuntarily swallowed his saliva.

“Fuck, you little bitch. You’re so fucking desperate, swallowing my spit like you’re gonna do with my cum,” he groaned, placing his cock back in your mouth, thrusting harshly and fast in and out of you.

Steve worked one of his fingers into your tight cunt, his fingers were moving between your folds for a while, gathering your arousal. But now he just needed to stretch out so he would be able to fit his huge, veiny cock into you. “You’re so fucking tight. Bucky didn’t know your little stepsis felt like a virgin.”

“Oh don’t worry, she might’ve not fucked a boy yet but I know she fucked herself, haven’t you, babygirl?” Bucky cooed. Steve chuckled, removing his finger before he was pressing his finger against your entrance once again. His thick finger entered you and he immediately pushed another finger into you, causing you to moan loudly — or at least as loud as possible with your stepbrother's cock down your throat. “Have heard you moaning my name like a desperate slut, fucking yourself with your small fingers, not even comparable to my cock, babygirl.”

You moaned around his huge length. Steve curled both of his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again. The attempt to throw your head back was stopped by the bed and you only arched your back, pressing more against the blonde-haired man’s fingers.

“Don’t you dare to cum you fucking whore,” Bucky growled, his hand back around your throat and squeezing once again. Your eyes rolled back, pleasure growing inside of you especially when you felt Bucky’s cock twitch in your mouth, his balls slapping against your face.

You whined when Steve slipped his fingers out of your tight entrance, pushing one of his digits back into you so he felt you clench around him. “So tight, sweetheart. Can’t wait to fill you with my cock.”

Before you could respond in any way Bucky removed his cock, smirking at Steve like he got the best idea he could ever get into his mind. His tongue was poking out, gliding across his lips when he took a step back and grasped your hair, causing you to hiss. Bucky made you sit up, your front to Steve while your back was towards Bucky.

“Take off your shirt, sweetheart. Let me see your pretty tits, poor things, hidden by your clothes,” Steve mumbled, sitting on his knees in front of you. Your hands shook when you brought them to the hem of your shirt, slowly taking it off and revealing your bare body to the men.

Steve’s hands immediately reached out to place them on top of your breast, squeezing the soft flesh. A low moan escaped his lips the moment he saw your lips parting and a quiet moan leaving your perfect, pink lips. He played with your nipples, twirling them between his fingers until you were nothing but a whimpering and moaning mess.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart. Be a good girl, huh?” You moved a bit, getting on your knees and giving Steve better access between your wet folds. Bucky undresses himself as well, getting on the bed behind you, his big hands caressing your smaller frame.

Bucky and Steve were huge compared to you, and you between them made you feel even smaller. Their hands were roaming over your body, arousal was dripping out of your cunt, slowly wetting your inner thighs. You squirmed slightly, you wanted them to touch you properly, you needed them to fuck you.

“Impatient, babygirl? Do you know that bad girls get punished?” Bucky whispered into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. He kissed down your neck, biting into your flesh before he licked over it and kissed the spot. “Are you going to be good for us?”

You nodded your head, letting it fall back against Bucky’s shoulder. Steve stroked his cock slowly, his thumb brushed over his plush head and he groaned while he smeared his pre-cum all over his tip and shaft. He then got closer to you, his cock placed in between your legs and he pushed his hips forward. Steve was grinding his length through your folds, your pussy clenched around nothing while his rock-hard cock pressed against your clit and he brushed his cock over it with every movement.

“Doing so good, sweetheart. Do you want my cock?” He asked, grinning at you when you nodded. Your head was still resting against Bucky’s shoulder. Just a moment after you nodded Steve’s hand flew across your face. Your eyes widened and tears built up in them, slowly rolling down your cheeks. Steve’s handprint appeared on your cheek, red and burning. “Shhh— I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you need to use your words.”

Steve mumbled before he pressed his soft, plump lips against your burning cheek. You hissed, but Bucky’s broad body behind you held you in place. To make it up to you, Steve grasped his cock and pushed it slowly into you, his cock stretched you out and you whined.

“Too big, Steve. Please, too big,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes tight. Your hands gripped whatever was close to you, his thick shoulders. Your fingers were digging into his flesh when he bottomed out inside you.

“Doing so good for us. Fuck, you’re right, sweetheart. Could immediately come in your pussy, you’re squeezing me so much already,” the blonde-haired man said, smirking when he looked at you.

Steve gave you a moment to adjust to his size, playing with your nipples. He twirled them between his fingers, squeezed your breasts and sucked softly at your sensitive skin. His cock was resting deep in your pussy, walls clenched violently around him and he needed to focus to not come immediately inside of you.

Meanwhile, Bucky was looking for some lube in his drawer, squirting some of the cold liquid on his fingers. He then placed his fingers on your even tighter hole, smearing the lube around before he pushed one of his digits against your tight muscle ring. You shake your head, not sure if you want him to fuck your ass but when Steve slowly moved his cock you melted into their embrace and let Bucky work his finger into your puckered hole.

Whines and moans were all that left your lips, desperate and needy to be fucked like a slut — exactly what both men did, at least when you were prepared for Bucky’s cock in your ass.

Bucky pushed his digit into you, and you welcomed him immediately, sucking him deeper inside you. A low chuckle left his lips and he looked at his best friend. “Fucking slut is sucking my finger into her ass like she is made to be fucked. Like to be fucked by two men, huh?”

You didn’t answer, too deep into the pleasure both of them gave you. Steve’s cock was twitching in your tight pussy, the feeling of him in you, making you still feel like he would rip you apart and Bucky’s finger moving deeper into your ass before he added another didn’t help your fogged mind.

“B—Bucky, please. N—Need you.” You weren't sure what came over you, your pussy was already hurting with Steve’s cock inside but Bucky would ruin your ass. It would hurt a lot more would he push in especially when you’re not stretched out with his fingers, but the pleasure you felt was just too good to wait for him to work you open for his pretty but huge cock.

“He has to stretch your tight ass before he can push into you, sweetheart. We don’t want you to have too much pain when we fuck you, it’s not just about us, it’s also about you,” Steve told you, his hips slowly moving against yours but just so slightly that you could cry out frustrated. The tip of his head was hitting your sweet spot with every movement and you felt the knot in your belly already tightening but he stopped his movements once again.

Bucky worked three of his fingers into your ass, he scissored them, stretching you out for his cock. And then he pulled them out of you, smirking about the frustrated whine that left your lips. “Needy, aren’t we, babygirl?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the tip of his cock against your entrance. You wiggled your ass, trying to push against him but Steve grabbed your waist and held you in place.

Bucky grasped the lube once again, this time he squirted it onto his hard cock. Without warning he entered your puckered hole. Your eyes widened, your breath hitched and you felt the pain appear in your ass. This wasn’t quite comfortable, especially not with Steve’s cock pressing against the thin wall between his and Bucky’s cock inside of you.

“No— too—“ you got interrupted by another harsh slap but this time on your ass and Bucky was the one who brought his hand down against your skin.

“It will fit, we will make it fit and you will take us like the good fucking whore you are!” His voice was stern and not even Steve’s soft touches against your breasts and cheek didn’t help against the pain in your ass.

You nodded, letting him slide his dick inside of you. Both men were balls deep inside of you, giving you a moment to take a deep breath. It felt at the same time good and bad, you wanted to get off their cocks but at the same time, you needed them to fuck into you and destroy your holes in the most delicious way possible.

Steve was the first one who pulled out of you before he slammed his cock back into you. Bucky and his best friend were groaning just as loud as you moaned when Steve started to fuck you. Bucky followed his movements, and so you were kneeling between those broad men, two cocks inside of you while they slammed into you with such force.

The pain you felt quickly turned into pleasure and the desperate moans that left your lips showed that. Bucky was kissing along your neck, while Steve couldn’t stop himself any longer — his lips were pressing aggressively against yours but instead of pulling away you kissed him back.

The knot in your lower stomach was growing, their thick veiny cocks inside of you, stimulating your sweet spot and themselves made your mind go dizzy. “Please, please.”

“What do you need, babygirl? Do you want us to stop?” Bucky asked sweetly and you shook your head, lips parted when Steve used the moment to fuck even harder inside of you. The only sound that left your lips was a cry and your eyes rolled back. Bucky laughed, his hand sliding to your neck and he held it in a loose grip.

“Guess she wants us to make her come before we fill her up with our pretty babies,” Steve growled. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Fucking love that clenching pussy.”

Bucky hummed, agreeing with his best friend. Your walls were clenching around them and both could tell you were just as close as they were. With a harsh thrust from Bucky into your tight ass and a sloppy thrust into your pussy — which was still hitting your sweet spot — you came all over Steve’s cock. You were clenching around them painfully, sucking them even deeper into you while you squeezed them and it caused them to come inside of you.

Bucky’s hot breath hit the sweaty skin of your neck, and his grip around your throat tightens while he pumped his cum into your ass. Steve dug his fingers into your hips, rutting into you, groaning and throwing his head back.

“Fuck, so fucking tight. Take my cum, take my babies,” Steve moaned and you bit your lip when you thought about his words. Your mind was still dizzy and you could feel their heavy breaths on your skin, their sweaty body pressed against yours and their cum slowly dripping out of your holes.

“Taking our cum like a good little slut. Yeah, that’s what you are, our good slut. You look so beautiful when you come,” Bucky grinned and bit your neck slightly. Both were fucking you through your orgasm before they pulled out of you.

They had their hands still on your body, holding you in place while they watched your mixed cum dripping out of you and flowing down. Bucky dipped a finger into the mixture, bringing it to his mouth, and sucking on it before he repeated, only this time he held his finger in front of your mouth.

“Suck it clean, it tastes good. You taste so fucking good baby girl. Especially mixed with our cum,” he chuckled when you let him push his finger into your mouth, you sucked at it, moaning about the salty taste — it was delicious, and sucking Bucky’s finger was just as delicious as the cum.

You were so fucked out; so high on the aura of the room, both boys panting around you, trying to find a sliver of air around the sex-filled space.

“Fuck” Bucky groaned out as he stood from the bed, slightly pushing your form forward until you collapsed onto Steve’s awaiting body.

“There we are sweetheart you did so well, so good for us…took your punishment like a champ baby” Steve cooed, his thick fingers combing through your matted locks, separating the sweaty knots gently.

Bucky watched the pair as they settled against his headboard, smiling softly at just how fucked out you were, a bubbling mess on top of Steve and soaking up his praises like a sponge.

“Mmm Buck” you croaked out, eyes barely cracking open to watch the man as he slid a pair of briefs up over his legs before adjusting himself. His heart clenched at the sound of your raspy voice just barely forming any words, he wanted nothing more than to dive into the bed with you and Steve and snuggle close to you but he was well aware that you needed to be taken care of.

“I’ll be right with you babygirl ok” he squatted down to look at you, a soft smile pulling on his lips and wrinkling the corners of his eyes before he planted a soft kiss along the bridge of your glistening nose and disappeared into the bathroom.

When he returned Steve had pulled you up into his lap, his legs dangling off the bed as he spoke to you about nothing in particular, keeping you awake long enough for them to look after you.

“Come on sweet girl” Steve spoke smiling at the appearance of Bucky “Let’s get you all cleaned up”.

He stood; lifting you like you weighed nothing, a wide palm on your ass while his other cradled your waist making sure you didn’t slip from him, physically and mentally.

The warm sudded water was a welcoming touch, your muscles tensing as your lower body stung lightly but it quickly subsided into a soothing feeling that left your eyelids heavy. A groan sounded from behind you followed by the sloshing of water as someone settled in; his firm arms pulling you close until your back hit his soft chest.

“Still with us babygirl?” Bucky’s breath fanned against your ear as he leaned in close, his plush lips running from behind its shell to the nape of your neck.

You hummed, but the sound wasn’t enough for the boys. Steve leaned over the tub, his index finger curling under your chin and his thumb pulling at your lower lip.

“Come on sweetheart, use those words…you wouldn’t want poor Buck and me to worry all day about hurting you” he murmured, his thumb drifting over the soft pink of your mouth.

“Mm mm, you didn’t hurt me Stevie—just feeling too good and tired” you mustered, your brain still short-circuiting and swirling in that deep subspace.

“That’s ok baby as long as you’re feeling good” He leaned forward, kissing you gently before accepting the bottle of body wash and loofah Bucky held out to him.

“Gonna wash you up, that ok?” The blonde man asked, already squirting a heady amount of the sweet-smelling scent into the sponge.

“Uh huh” You responded meekly, suddenly the thought of Steve touching you all over so intimately had you feeling all shy—something that made Steve’s heart swell as he noticed the soft blush perching over your cheeks.

His hands worked softly, lifting each arm and scrubbing away the sweat and heavy scent of sex from you while Bucky took his time massaging over your hips and thighs, thumbs pushing into the tight knots.

You were almost completely unconscious by the time they’d deemed you clean; the water had gone cold and Steve had scrubbed the same spot on your tummy a thousand times yet none of you wanted to leave the loving coils of the other. Bucky broke first and brought you up with him as he stood, turning you and lifting you out before wrapping you in a huge fluffy towel. He scooped you up again and walked back down the hall to his room, leaving Steve to clean himself and the bathroom up.

“Shit” Bucky cursed, stopping suddenly in the middle of his room. Through all the fussing over you, he’d completely neglected the fact his sheets were covered in your combined juices.

You turned your heavy head to look over your shoulder, a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you realised just what exactly had Bucky grumbling.

“It’s alright we can sleep in my bed” you whispered against his temple, lipsing the spot softly and earning a playful spank in return as he turned on his heel and down to the opposite end of the corridor to your room.

Bucky dried you off quickly, eager to get under the sheets and you in his arms; your soft giggles music to his ears as the fabric ran down your sides and over your breasts.

Finally, Bucky got his wish as he tucked you under your sheets and rounded the bed to the other side, his naked frame curling in beside you, his arm snaking over your waist and pulling your back into his front. Steve joined soon after and slipped into the bed in front of you, his hand running up your arm before cupping your cheek and kissing you softly.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better little girl tonight, can’t wait to do this more” he mumbled against your lips, paying no mind to the fact you’d drifted off to sleep as soon as he’d joined you and Bucky.

“Mhmm” Bucky agreed, blue eyes meeting the stormy colour of his friends “But next time I get her pussy” The growl in Bucky’s voice left no room for argument, but Steve only chuckled.

“Sure man, sure”

// Taglist //

@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @felicitylemon @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @sebastianstanisahotmf @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 15th. mattheo — brat taming / daddy kink.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: play bratty games, win…uh, your boyfriends cum down your throat?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, glove kink, fingering under the table at a family dinner, dom!mattheo, denied orgasm, SLIGHT mutual masturbation, an absurd amount of dirty talk, daddy kink, ROAD HEAD (how tf does this man keep the car steady? idk), blowjob.

Malfoy Manor has always been stunning—the kind of stunning you've grown used to over the years of being with Mattheo, but that somehow still manages to take your breath away every time you step foot inside. It's perfect in a way that almost feels oppressive, the heavy weight of generational wealth clinging to everything.

The chandelier, the delicate flowers in the center of the table, even the soft scent of roses in the air—it's all so much. Too polished. Too grand.

You pick at your dinner, the taste lost on you.

On any other night, maybe you'd let the beauty sweep you up. But not tonight. Tonight, everything grates. The low hum of formal chatter, the fake, forced laughs that drift through the air—you hear it, sure, but you don't care. You can't care. You're too pissed off to care. It all sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

And the cause of your irritation? He's sitting right beside you, perfectly at ease. Mattheo's been charming the room for hours now, playing his part, all smooth smiles and well-placed comments. He was crafted for this. Moulded into it. He can waltz through these evenings like it's second nature, like he doesn't even have to try.

And that pisses you off too. Truthfully, everything about him tonight pisses you off.

But you sit there anyway, like the dutiful girlfriend you are, playing your role—smiling when you're supposed to, making small talk when you're supposed to—all while on the inside, irritation is bubbling, simmering just beneath your skin.

And maybe it's stupid—trivial—but you're mostly just mad that he dragged you here. Ignored your exhaustion. Dismissed it with that look of his, the one that said you'd survive, as if surviving was the same as being fine. And now, you're stuck in this perfectly orchestrated evening, playing a part you never wanted.

And you'd almost hate him for it—if it weren't for those fucking gloves.

Leather, black, soft and sleek. They move with him, something that masks his ruggedness and makes him almost look presentable—graceful—hiding cut knuckles and the strength within them as he picks up his glass, adjusts the napkin in his lap, brushing his fork like it's nothing.

You almost scowl in frustration of it all. Who the fuck let him wear those? You've been staring at them all night. You don't even want to, but it's like they've trapped your attention, pulled you in without asking.

You're mad at him. The gloves don't change that. But they do something. They make everything harder.

And still, you fight it.

It starts small. The attitude. A quiet, sharp kind of rebellion that only he'd catch onto. Your fingers tap your glass a little too hard when you set it down. Your words come out flat when he leans over to make some passing comment. You give him clipped responses, not looking at him, not giving him what he wants. You can feel the brittle edge of your smile, and you know he can too.

Mattheo notices everything. He always does.

After a while of this, a gloved hand slips under the table, brushing your knee.

A question without words; what are you doing?

You don't react. Not at first. You just shift your foot, barely nudging his ankle, pushing back in the smallest way. He tightens his grip on your knee—a warning, a silent conversation between the two of you, invisible to everyone else at the table.

"Dinner's been nice," he's prodding, testing, his voice smooth as ever. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You feel him watching, feel the weight of his gaze as he picks you apart, dissecting your mood. He knows you too well for this. You finally meet his eyes, and for a second, the room fades into the background. Just him and that damn hand on your knee, the soft leather brushing your skin in a way that makes your pulse stumble.

You try to shake it off, shrug it away like it's nothing.

"Hmm," you hum, pretending you're not affected. Your fingers tap your plate, and your eyes drift again—down to his other hand, resting on the table, playing with the edge of his glass. "I suppose."

His brow arches, just enough for you to catch it—another challenge posed to your audacity. He knows exactly what you're doing—you can see it in the way his lips twitch, the faintest hint of amusement. He's letting you play your game, but you know he's already winning.

"You're mad at me." His voice is low, slipping beneath the hum of dinner conversation.

You blink, keeping your gaze trained on the flicker of candlelight rather than him. It's not a question, not even a statement—he says it like a fact, just a certainty, a declaration dripping in the smugness that comes so naturally to him. And that pisses you off even more.

He’s always too goddamn sure about everything.

"Mm, no." You lift your glass, cool rim kissing your lips as you take a slow, languid sip, the taste biting your tongue. You let it hide the smirk threatening your face. "Nothing to be mad about."

His hand shifts higher, fingers tightening just enough to remind you he's there—dipping into your skin, the silent warning you can feel vibrating up your spine. You should be used to this by now, should be used to the way he takes you apart—but you aren't. How could you ever get used to this?

"Uh huh." He's not buying it. He never does.

His eyes flicker around the room, yours follow, mirroring his movements in a habit you loathe as you let him have that win. Everyone's busy—forks clinking, soft laughter bubbling up like champagne, far enough away to give him the nerve to push you harder. Your breath catches when you glance at his free hand again—black leather tapping idly against the tablecloth like it's got all the time in the world.

Gods, what's wrong with you tonight?

When had his gloves become the focus of your desire? They're just fucking gloves. Stupid, soft leather molding perfectly to those big hands—you’re chewing your lip without realizing it, and his eyes catch yours before you can look away—

Fuck.

"You keep staring at my hands," he's leaning in again, and your pulse skips, trips over itself like it's running from something. "Got something you'd like to say?"

The pit of your stomach tightens, twisting with a familiar dread, a sick kind of anticipation. Of course, he's noticed. The bastard catches everything. Nothing slides under his radar—not when it comes to breaking your attitude.

He likes to say he was born to tame brats—and you, of all people, make him prove it. Sometimes you hate him for it. Most times you don't.

"No, actually." You shift in your seat, trying to shake his hand off your knee, but he's relentless—doesn't budge, doesn't even flinch. "I don't."

Christ. His grip is ironclad, like those gloves were made for this kind of hold. For making you feel every fucking inch of them. You exhale as you gather yourself—you hate him tonight, hate him for dragging you here, for dismissing you so easily—and you want to let him know it. Want him to feel it.

"No?" His fingers slip higher. You glance down the length of the table, nausea curling at the edges of your vision when you spot Lucius' blond head gleaming under the chandelier. Mattheo's voice is low, just for you. "Nothing at all?"

"Mattheo." Your voice is a hiss now, strained, your composure hanging by a thread. You want to slap the smug look off his face, but you don't. You can't. "Leave me alone, okay? I'm here. For you. I'm not happy about it, but I'm here. Just let me be. You're being—"

He cuts you off with a tilt of his head, jaw clenching at the exact moment his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your words catch in your throat, suffocate on themselves, die there.

"Maybe you're being a brat because you want me to choke you, huh?" The words land heavy, like an accusation, but worse because it isn't a question. He knows. "Maybe that's why you keep staring at my hands?"

Your body goes hot—alive in ways it hasn't been all night. The room erupts into laughter, some joke you missed, but it only heightens the tension wrapping tight around the two of you. His fingertips are teasing dangerously close to where they shouldn't be, and you're suddenly very thankful for the tablecloth draped over your lap—

"No." The word slips from your lips, barely a breath, lacking conviction. "No, I—"

"A brat and a liar," he hums, not letting you finish. He's enjoying this now. "You're really racking up the bad decisions tonight."

Salazar save you—his fingers slip higher still, and you clamp your thighs shut, a last-ditch effort to keep him from pushing this into dangerous territory. He responds by hooking a foot around yours to spread you back open—you bite your lip so hard it hurts.

"Maybe I'm just annoyed because I had better plans for my evening," you can't let him win so you spit the words out, voice quiet, hoping he doesn't catch the tremor in it. “Not that you care.”

You don't look at him. You can't. More laughter fills the room. Drowns out the shake in your breath.

He huffs, wine breath brushing your ear. "Keep this up and you may just end up with the evening you deserve."

"And what evening is that?" You spit back, ignoring the way the leather sticks to the heat of your thigh. "The one where I'm stuck here, listening to Draco prattle on about his latest Quidditch practice? Or perhaps another mind-numbing dinner, this time with Dumbledore and friends?"

The flicker of irritation in his eyes is subtle, but you see it. Oh, he's seething now. Dread pools, thick like syrup. You drop your eyes to the table.

"Oh no, not even close," if anger was a voice, it'd be his. Right now, in your ear. "I was thinking more of the one where I keep you cuffed to the bed all night. How does that one sound?"

Your pulse hammers, too fast, too loud—you can feel everything—the candlelight burning your skin, the way the chandelier's glow twinkles overhead, the way his hand is still, still so high on your fucking leg.

No one at the table notices. No one cares. But the feeling is crushing you, pulling you deeper into this private hell of his creation.

"You lost the chance for that when you brought me here," you bite out, hand darting under the table to try and pry his fingers off your thigh.

But his grip only tightens, his foot hooking tighter around yours, keeping you in place. He's relentless. And you hate it. You hate how much you don't want him to stop.

"If you're going to act like a brat, just say so," he growls, his voice a low rumble, "you know I'll deal with you later."

You roll your eyes. "Promises, promises."

You can't help it. You're baiting him now, pushing him just as hard as he's pushing you. The inevitable looms over you, and you know you've already lost. He's not budging. He never does. And you know—God, you know—you're in for it.

If this is the hell of his creation, you were the muse.

"More than a promise," his patience is gone, you can feel it. You wonder just how close you are to him dragging you from the room by your hair, not caring who sees. "Count your blessings."

“Oh, I'm counting."

And with that, you reach for your wine glass again, taking another slow, deliberate sip, letting the bitter liquid slide down your throat—you're oblivious, don't even notice the line you've crossed until it's too late—

His hand moves fast, leather fingers slipping past the last scrap of dignity you were clinging to. You choke on the wine you'd barely had the chance to swallow, the world tipping, spinning, crumbling as his thick, gloved finger glides through your slick folds, sinking into your cunt without a moments hesitation. You hadn't worn panties tonight—a decision that felt normal in the beginning but now screams of poor foresight—but there's no time for regret.

Not now, not with your boyfriend fingering you under the table at a family fucking dinner.

"Quiet, brat," he mutters, eyes twinkling as you cover your mouth, still half-choking on your drink. "Keep making sounds and someone is going to notice.”

Your heart skips, the pulse between your legs responding to the threat, clenching involuntarily around him. You're soaked, the heat of it spreads shame across your cheeks, burning like wildfire in your veins. Why are you this wet? This shouldn't turn you on—it's humiliating, degrading—

"Then maybe don't make me make sounds," you hiss, gripping the table so hard you think the wood might crack. "This is on you—"

He cuts you off, slipping a second finger into your cunt—and the sentence dies in your throat, swallowed by a sharp whimper you disguise as another cough.

"I said quiet." His voice is thin, dangerous. His fingers slide deeper, knuckle deep, and the heat threatens to tear you apart. "Bite your tongue or so help me—"

You bite down, but on your lip instead, trying to school your expression into something neutral, something that won't betray the war raging inside you. You two haven't fucked in days—you're more sensitive than usual—and this forbidden thrill only makes it worse, heightening every nerve, every pulse, as his fingers move in slow, deliberate thrusts inside you.

"You can’t," you breathe, the words coming out weak, a poor imitation of protest.  "Mattheo—"

"Shhh," he replies, voice low, a quiet storm gathering in the pit of your stomach. He leans closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Keep your sounds for later."

You snuff a groan, mind racing a million miles a minute—eyes darting around the table in a panic, scanning the faces for any sign that someone might notice. But no one does. The conversation moves on, unaware, the oblivious hum of normalcy in stark contrast to the chaos brewing beneath your skin.

This is crazy. It’s crazy in a way that only Mattheo Riddle could manage and you’re so fucking lost in it you don’t ever want it to stop.

He's not even looking at you anymore, fingers moving steadily, thumb brushing over your clit with the kind of casual cruelty that makes your body shudder. He's laughing, speaking to Draco as though he's not knuckle-deep inside you. The audacity of it makes your head spin. You're teetering on the edge—so close, dangerously close—and if you fall now, if you let go, you'll be too loud—you won't be able to stop yourself—

"Mattheo—please," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely holding on. His thumb rolls over your clit again, teasing, torturing. "You're gonna make me—"

"Yeah," he hardly looks at you. "I am." He crooks his fingers, pumping in slow, agonizing drags that send your brain spiraling into static. "Gonna make you lose the attitude. Gonna make you be good.”

Oh, you loathe him right now, deliciously. "Matt—"

"And you’re going to take it, like it’s not killing you." He continues—leaning in slightly now, examining the way your breath is coming in shallow, broken gasps. “Just like I’ve had to take seeing you in that dress…and pretend it hasn’t been killing me.”

Your eyes flicker around the table again, still desperate for any sign that someone might notice, just to give him a reason to stop—but the conversation continues, oblivious. The leather of his gloves is slick with you now, a wet sound breaking through the steady hum of voices with every movement of his hand.

You part your lips to hiss another pathetic plea—a warning to stop before you explode—but he cuts you off—

“One more word and I'll make sure not a single person at this table leaves without hearing you scream.” He pulls his fingers out nice and slow, rubbing some of the wetness down your thigh before he moves back and pushes back in. “Do you want that?"

You shoot him a glare, but shake your head nonetheless.

"Didn't think so," he mutters, his voice dropping even lower, fingers working deeper, faster. "Look at them," he hisses in your ear, and your gaze flicks over the table again. "They don't even care. Too caught up in their own bullshit to notice, aren't they? But I see you. I see how flushed your chest is—" his thumb presses harder, sending a shockwave through you—"I know what that means."

"I'm not—" your thighs tremble, you’re denying it as though you have any power to stop it. He’s just too goddamn good at this. "I'm not going to—"

"You are," he whispers, and you almost let your eyes roll. "I can feel you soaking my hand. Little cunt is begging me to finish this, isn't it?" His fingers thrust deep, hitting a spot that makes you work to choke down a sob. "You and that fucking attitude can deny it all you want, but I feel how close you are.”

The room erupts into laughter, a sudden burst of noise that pulls all eyes to the other end of the table. Your breath comes out in a trembling exhale, letting out a whimper you know won’t be heard over the commotion—the distraction your only saving grace as you fight to keep still, to keep from rocking against his hand and giving him what he wants.

You lean into him, pleading. "Mattheo, please—if you don't stop, I'll—"

"You poor thing," he hums, his thumb circling slower now, torturously precise. "Sounds like a you problem, princess. Shouldn't have been such a brat tonight."

"I'm sorry," you choke out, words barely coherent but you see the flash in your boyfriend’s eyes. It’s the two words he’s been looking for all night. "Please, just—"

And then—his fingers slip out of you. As abrupt as a cold bucket of water over your head.

You blink, almost gasping at the loss, just as the table erupts into another fit of laughter and you're left aching, disoriented, while everyone begins to stand. Merlin help you—dinners over and you had no goddamn idea. You feel like a robot moving in slow motion as you watch Mattheo wipe his slick fingers off on his thigh, smirking. The room is a blur of goodbyes and handshakes, and before you can even catch your breath, he's got you by the wrist, pulling you away from the scene, dragging you out to the car.

The passenger door of his blacked-out Audi flies open, and you're urged inside, your legs trembling, the evidence of everything he's done to you still slick between your thighs. The leather seats beneath you remind you all too well of the feel of his gloves, of the fingers that had just been inside you, and your cunt clenches at the thought, still throbbing with unfulfilled need. Mattheo slides into the driver's seat, a silent inferno of fury, not sparing you a glance as he throws the car into drive, tearing out of the Malfoy estate.

His leather-gloved hand rests on the stick shift, and you stare at it, unable to look away.

"You're staring again," he breaks the tension, his voice tight.

"Yes." This time, you don't even bother denying it. Not after what he'd done. He’d long tamed your attitude. You can’t fight it anymore. “I am.”

His chest rises sharply, his grip on the gear shift tightening. You bite your lip, feeling your core throb painfully in response.

"Learned your lesson, I hope," he mutters, eyes focused on the dark road in front of you.

"I suppose," you murmur, still breathless. The wetness between your thighs is impossible to ignore, and so you reach for his hand—tracing your fingertips over the smooth leather before curling your fingers around two of his, stroking them. "I suppose I learned something."

His breath catches when you jerk his fingers, and he sucks in a shallow breath of air through his teeth. You clench at the sound of it. Oh, how you goddamn love being a little tease.

"Mm." His voice is gravel, rough and uneven—you notice the bulge in his pants, his cock straining against the expensive fabric. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You nod, your fingers still stroking his. "Yes."

"Yes?" His voice lowers, a prompt you recognize all too well.

"Yes, Mattheo—daddy—" you correct yourself, your breath hitching. God, you’ve been here so many times with him. You know what he’s looking for. "I want to cum."

His jaw tightens, and he wets his lips. "You want my cock. You need it."

"Yes, daddy," you repeat, the words spilling out easily, exactly what he wants to hear, and exactly what you want to say. "I want your cock. I need it."

"Then finish yourself off," he growls, his gaze flicking toward you for a brief moment, his eyes blazing. "Make your filthy little cunt cum, and if you’re a good girl, I'll let you suck me off."

The command sends an insatiable fucking thrill through you, and without a second thought, you move to obey him—night air biting your skin as you shift your dress up and your fingers find the slick mess between your thighs. A long, long over-suppressed moan escapes you the moment your fingers graze your clit, and Mattheo‘a eyes flash over, jaw working as he watches for a split second before focusing back on the road.

"Fuck," you groan as you push two fingers into your soaked cunt, your head falling back against the seat, back arching. "Oh, fuck—"

"That's it," he murmurs, free hand moving from the gear shift to palm his erection through his pants. You swear you hear him moan. "You wish it was me, don't you? Wish it was my cock inside you."

"Yes, daddy, I do," you whimper, your hips rocking against your hand, fingers fucking deeper into your pussy, lewd sounds filling the steamed space within the car. "I wish it was your cock…inside me."

"Fucking brat with a dirty mouth," he hisses, his fingers working at his belt, eyes darting between the road and you. "Cum for me. Show me how you’re good for me.”

You groan, unable to believe how fucking wet you are, slick coating your hand and thighs, dripping all over your boyfriends expensive leather seat—Gods, you’re so close, the edge that he'd left you teetering on earlier now drawing closer with full force. You add another finger, curling them against your throbbing walls, and Mattheo's breath stutters, his focus wavering as he watches you unravel.

"Look at you. So fucking shameless." His hand slips inside his pants, and he starts stroking himself, his cock already leaking. "I bet you wish I’d pull this car over right now, huh? Fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

You moan at how goddamn wrecked he sounds—forcing a smirk through your open mouth, words coming out shaky. "And how do I—ah—how do I deserve to be fucked, daddy?"

The car jerks, just slightly, Mattheo groans.

"Like the nasty little slut you are," his eyes flash to you again, his grip tightening on his cock, pumping faster. "Until you forget how to talk. Until you can't say anything but my fucking name."

Your world spins, orgasm roaring in. "Mattheo—daddy—oh fuck—"

"Earn it," he snarls, his voice raw. "Earn my cock."

One, two more deep pumps into your cunt and you erupt, finally—body seizing, orgasm crashing over you with violent force, leaving you gasping, your back arching off the seat as your wanton moans fill the steamy car. Mattheo watches you through hooded eyes, stroking his cock faster as you whimper and moan his name, orgasm intensified due to him edging you all through dinner—somehow managing to keep the car steady throughout all of this.

Part of you wonders if he’s charmed it.

"Good fucking girl—there we go," he purrs, and his hand reaches over, seizes the back of your head, urging you toward his lap. "Now take your reward."

You’re buzzing—breaths scattered, but there’s no hesitation, no argument. You shift to your knees on his seat, your mouth watering as you wrap a hand around the base of him, tongue teasing the tip before his hand in your hair directs you deeper—lips wrapping around his throbbing cock as he slides into your mouth, hot and heavy. He groans, his hips thrusting forward, just barely, and you gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat.

"Fuck, that's it," he grunts, his voice low and strained. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be choked on my cock. To be shut up like this."

You can't answer, your mouth too full of him as he directs your head to bob along him, as he thrusts into you, each movement deeper, harder. Tears prick your eyes, but you don't stop, your hands gripping his thighs as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks and drooling.

"Fuck—yeah, that’s it. Choke on it," he snarls, other hand keeping the car impossibly steady. "Wanna see those tears, baby. Wanna hear you gagging on it."

You moan around him at those words, the heat of them shooting straight to your still-soaked cunt, tears spilling from your eyes as his hips buck up, slamming the back of your throat. Mattheo is the most impatient man you’ve known, and it shows in moments like this, when he’s sick of your attitude—when he drops the seat back, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the wheel, his knee keeping it steady as he thrusts deep into your throat. You’re gagging and moaning, working your tongue along the length of him, until with a final grunt, he spills into your mouth and you swallow every drop, his shaking breaths and gutted groans filling the car as he rides out his release.

"Fuck. That’s my girl. My good fuckin’ girl," he pants, his voice rough with satisfaction as he releases you, your lips swollen and wet as you slump back in your seat. "You earned that."

You know you did.

[okaylikeschaewon]

Hot-N-Fun

~5k words, Roommates Series, smut

“Call it!”

“They never work,” you chuckled as you pulled your pants back up.

“Yeah but what if this time it’s real,” Mint pleaded while you washed your hands. “I’d do it if my phone wasn’t dead.”

“Seriously?” you began drying your hands. “It’s scratched into the side of the men’s bathroom. How could you possibly think it’s real?”

“You never know!”

“Call for a ‘hot-n-fun’ time? They didn’t even try. I think I can make a pretty safe guess,” you laughed as you dried your hands. “If anything, it’s probably just some dude messing with his friend.”

“You’re probably right,” Mint replied, staring at the scratching. “Either way, it could be funny.”

“Eh, you have a point,” you pulled out your phone and started dialing the number. “Fuck it.”

“That’s my man,” Mint smiled and jumped onto your shoulder, leaning next to your ear as your phone started ringing. “I owe you a drink for this.”

“It’s actually ringing, guess it’s a real number,” you commented, pleasantly surprised, with the phone against your ear. “I doubt they’ll actually pick-”

“Hello?”

It was a girl.

“Oh, hello,” you stammered after spending an awkward amount of time finding your voice.

“Do I know you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you answered, stifling your laugh as Mint stared at you in shock, his eyes threatening to bulge out of their sockets.

The girl on the phone sighed.

“Did you happen to find this number in a bathroom?”

“Yeah, I figured someone put your number here to mess with you but curiosity got the best of me,” you explained. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Are you a student?”

“I am.”

“Tomorrow, 9 a.m., coffee. The cafe down the street.”

Mint began frantically nodding his head at you, mouthing ‘yes’ over and over, almost jumping on you in excitement. You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of what was going on, but you made it this far, might as well see it out. At least, that was your excuse. In reality, you just found it incredibly hot that she told you instead of asked you.

“Sure,” you answered. “How will I know who you are?”

“I’ll send you a picture.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Could you do me a quick favor and please scratch out the number.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you replied.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hung up, leaving you and Mint staring at each other.

“Did that really just happen?” Mint broke the silence first.

“I’m still not convinced this is real,” you shook your head when suddenly your phone vibrated, the message leaving you in shock once again. “Holy shit, yeah this definitely isn’t real.”

“Let’s see,” Mint grabbed your phone and his jaw immediately hit the floor. “Yeah there’s no fucking way. They’re harvesting organs for sure.”

“I’m still going.”

“True, who needs two kidneys anyway,” Mint laughed, giving you back your phone.

“Fuck it, this girl can have both if she wants them.”

—

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kazuha hung up her phone and turned to her roommate.

“Oh my fucking God about time!” Chaewon squealed. “Where the heck is Sakura, I need to tell her.”

“I’m not actually doing this am I?” Kazuha whined as Chaewon frantically tapped her phone screen.

“She got a call! Tomorrow morning! Yes! I know!” Chaewon screamed into the phone. “Okay! I’ll see you soon!”

“Chaewon!” Kazuha started hitting Chaewon’s arm. “I don’t want to!”

“It’s going to be so fun!” Chaewon grabbed Kazuha into a hug to stop her barrage of attacks. “I can’t wait to see him, what if he’s really hot?”

“I hope he is,” Kazuha sighed, falling face-first onto the bed.

“He will be, I can tell by his voice,” Chaewon jumped onto the bed with her. “So! What are you going to wear? Pick something that shows midriff, trust me.”

“I’m never making a bet with you two again.”

—

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” the girl looked up at you with a bit of a deer-in-headlights expression.

“I know, but it looks like you’ve been waiting. Therefore, I’m late,” you smiled warmly at her, gave her your name, and held out your hand.

“I’m Kazuha,” she shook your hand with firm but incredibly delicate fingers, holding on for a bit too long to be considered a ‘normal’ handshake. “Sorry, I would have waited before ordering, but I got kinda nervous.”

“No worries!” you sat down across from her. “I know it’s not exactly this simple, but don’t be nervous.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha laughed. “Just don’t be, right?”

“Is it working?” you asked while pulling your chair over so that you were sitting next to her instead of across from her.

“Umm,” Kazuha began blushing, her eyes frantically scanning you up and down as you moved right next to her. She ended up completely ignoring your question, biting her lower lip subconsciously as she picked up her mug and put it back down without even taking a sip. “Were you going to get a drink? I can come with you to the counter if-”

“No, I’m okay,” you gently placed your arm on the backrest of her chair.

Her eyes darted to your arm before going right back to you, that adorable deer-in-headlights expression returning with a vengeance.

“Here, we can share,” she picked up the mug and held it out for you to take, spilling a little on her own fingers in the process. “Oops!”

“Sure,” you ignored the error in an attempt to save her some embarrassment, and as you accepted the mug from her hand, you discreetly gave her a tissue. “Oh wow, it’s sweet.”

“Do you not like it?” she asked, looking up at you with an aura of innocent purity, as if your enjoyment of her coffee actually mattered.

“I love it,” you answered warmly, taking another sip. “What is it?”

With pure excitement, she started to explain her order, speaking too quickly to maintain any sort of semblance of coherency. The way she spoke about one pump this, one pump that, and not that a single word connected with you - in one ear out the other - was just too cute to handle. You were significantly more drawn to her appearance, focusing in particular on her expressiveness.

Her antics while she spoke were making you melt, you didn’t even bother hiding the smile on your face as you nodded along, pretending to care about whatever she was saying. She really was stunning, you could probably stare at her pretty face all day and never tire. Her beautiful wavy brown hair perfectly framing her cute features. The picture she sent definitely did not do her beauty justice. Have you mentioned that she was beautiful?

“Have you?” she waited expectantly for you to respond.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, still mostly lost in her beauty.

She cocked an eyebrow at you before she burst out laughing.

“You haven’t been listening, have you?”

“Alright, you caught me,” you chuckled. “I got lost in your eyes for a second.”

“Oh,” she blinked rapidly a couple times before looking down at the mug in her hands. “You shouldn’t just make up stuff like that,” she added softly.

“I’m not making it up,” you reached forward and very gently pressed up on her chin so that she was looking at you again. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” she stammered, trying desperately to look anywhere but into your eyes, before suddenly changing the topic. “So, what about you, tell me something. Why would you call a random number like that?”

“I can’t say it’s something I do often,” you chuckled. “Although, maybe I should.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because apparently it can lead me to a coffee date with a beautiful girl.”

“You’re not even drinking coffee,” Kazuha giggled as she took another sip. “Does this really count as a coffee date?”

“I thought you said we could share.”

“We can share if you can tell me what my order is,” Kazuha teased, knowing you weren’t listening.

“Easy, two pumps of hazelnut-”

“I hate hazelnut,” Kazuha interrupted you with another giggle.

“No you don’t.”

“Wow,” she smirked, pretending to be impressed. “Were you actually listening?”

“Nah, lucky guess,” you replied with a smirk of your own.

“You’re so dumb,” Kazuha laughed, hitting your arm playfully. “You should have just ran with it.”

“You’re the one who said not to make up stuff,” you replied defensively.

“I meant about compliments.”

“Then it’s a good thing I haven’t.”

She began blushing again, tapping the side of her mug nervously before looking up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me honest on our next date.”

“Next date?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Confident, are we?”

“Should I not be?”

“Then where’s the next date,” Kazuha played along. “I chose this one, now it’s your turn.”

“Well, have you tried this thing called ‘dinner’ before? I heard it’s best with one other person at 7:00 p.m. tonight.”

“Are you asking me out to dinner?”

“What gave you that idea?” you leaned back in your chair, acting surprised for a brief moment before smiling at her. “I would have suggested a painting class or something, but it might be a bit too last minute to book something like that.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to settle for dinner tonight,” Kazuha smiled alluringly.

“I’ll call and make a reservation,” you smiled back. “Speaking of calling, want to explain that one to me?”

“I’m just going to be extremely transparent,” Kazuha put her mug down. “I lost a bet, the punishment was that I had to go on a date with the first person who called.”

“I figured it was something along those lines,” you chuckled softly. “Hopefully, I made it at least somewhat worth your time? Considering you already contractually agreed to go on another one with me, I’d say it’s going well.”

“Contractually agreed?” Kazuha laughed, tilting her head back. “Is that how this works?”

“Exactly,” you replied. “I took an intro to political sciences course in freshman year, I’d know.”

“And when was freshman year for you?”

“Last year,” you answered. “You?”

“Last year as well. How have we not taken any classes together if we’re both sophomores?”

“I assume we’re in different majors.”

“I’d bet that’s a safe assumption,” she giggled. “If you’re not in poli-sci, what are you in?”

“Wait, who said I’m not?”

“You obviously took the intro to political sciences course for fun,” Kazuha answered. “I’ve seen the poli-sci kids at this school, none of them are so…” she paused for a second while her eyes fixated on your forearms. “Toned.”

“Excuse me? You’re one to talk,” your eyes quickly darted down to the subtle midriff she was showing. “Having abs even while sitting means you’re also far too toned for whatever your major is.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. “What if I’m in something like kinesiology? They’re usually fit.”

“Fuck, beautiful and smart? That’s just not fair,” you mumbled, earning you another embarrassed giggle from Kazuha. “How long before I can hire you as my personal trainer?”

“I didn’t say I’m a kin major, I was just suggesting it.”

“Can I still hire you as my personal trainer?”

The conversation paused for a bit while Kazuha laughed, and in turn made you laugh with how contagious it was. She spoke next, after finally composing herself, in a much softer tone.

“To answer your question, I’ve actually been really enjoying this,” Kazuha smiled back before biting her lower lip again. “There’s a bit more to the punishment, though.”

“Oh?” you leaned back in your chair.

“I’m supposed to actually-” she paused to lean closer to you for a second before leaning back again. “Actually, nevermind.”

“Nah, you can’t tease me like that. What is it?” you implored.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t judge.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated after her.

“Well, part of the punishment…” she trailed off again. “I can’t do it.”

“Hey, don’t stress it,” you leaned back. “We can talk about something else.”

“Fuck it,” she sighed, leaning forward. You moved closer until she was right against your ear. “I’m also supposed to blow you.”

“Wow,” you leaned back again and put your hands on your head. “That’s… a bit intense.”

“You said you wouldn’t judge!”

“I’m not judging.”

There was a long, silent pause, where numerous unholy thoughts flooded through your mind. Before you could even make any sense of anything though, Kazuha spoke up again.

“Yeah,” Kazuha was now starting to get really embarrassed. “Sorry, that was… I didn’t know how else… I don’t think I was supposed to actually tell you that part. This whole thing was probably super inappropriate, I’m sorry for bringing that part up, that was stupid. I feel like I just ruined this-”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off, placing your hand gently on top of hers to calm her down.

There was another pause in the conversation. During it, you simply admired Kazuha’s beautiful features some more while she absentmindedly stirred her coffee. She couldn’t find the courage to look up at you. She was clearly waiting for the conversation to continue, but she was too shy to be the one to speak next. You had to be the one to break the pause.

“I’m not going to make you do that.”

Her head snapped up and she looked at you with eyes filled to the brim with surprise. She really was quite beautiful - an aura of pureness surrounded her, almost making her glow in a way.

“I’m serious,” Kazuha announced with this intense, newfound conviction. “I’ll do it.”

“And I’m serious when I say I’m not going to make you do it,” you repeated firmly. “That’s an awful punishment, and there’s no way I’d force that upon you.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, but I really have to do this. I can’t explain,” Kazuha sighed. 

“Then just tell them you did, I’ll back your story up if needed,” you replied casually.

“They’d know I’m lying,” Kazuha suddenly lowered her tone. “They’re actually watching this date right now.”

“Are they?”

“Please don’t look around,” Kazuha panicked. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part either.”

“I’m not stupid,” you laughed. “Look, how about the two of us sneak off to the bathroom for like five, actually ten, minutes. We can keep chatting or just stand there in silence, how’s that sound?”

“Would you actually do that for me?” Kazuha looked at you with that same shocked and pure expression that you were starting to fall in love with.

“Yeah of course, I’m going to look around as if you just offered to blow me,” you replied while standing up and over-exaggerating the motions of looking around the cafe before holding your hand for Kazuha to take. “Now we look suspicious as fuck, come on.”

Kazuha giggled at your foolishness before grabbing your hand and following you to the bathroom.

—

“Thank fuck it’s clean,” you laughed as you closed the door behind you. “Bit cramped for two people, but at least it smells nice.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Wait,” you leaned over her shoulder into her neck. “Oh, that nice smell is just you.”

“Stop,” Kazuha whined, stretching the word. The mirror showed her eyes rolling and her lips smiling. 

“Still haven’t lied by the way.”

“Well, thank you,” Kazuha awkwardly giggled as her backside lightly touched your crotch. “Oops!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Kazuha interrupted. “It’s a small bathroom. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Don’t need to thank me, this ended up being a fun adventure. I got to grab coffee with such a lovely girl.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Kazuha smiled at you in the mirror. “Do your dates usually end up like this?”

“If I had a nickel for every time I found myself in this situation, I’d have…” you pretended to count for dramatic effect. “Exactly one nickel!”

“You’re so silly,” Kazuha giggled, maneuvering around so that she was face to face with you. “Alright, I can’t lie, this is a tiny bit awkward.”

“Want me to face the door?” you laughed.

“No don’t,” Kazuha giggled, covering her mouth. “That would be so weird.”

“Well, I’m gonna ask for at least ten or fifteen minutes in here, I got a reputation to keep.”

“What about my reputation?”

“Good point,” you tapped your chin. “Are you known for being good?”

“Want to find out?”

“Kazuha,” it was your turn to feel warmth in your cheeks. “You might be one of, if not the, prettiest girls at this entire school. I really do want to take you on a date, I really do want to get to know you properly.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have made that joke,” Kazuha stuttered, avoiding your gaze.

“The joke was fine,” you leaned closer to her face. “I just really want to do this properly with you.”

“I do, too,” Kazuha looked into your eyes without pulling her face away, leaving her lips slightly parted.

Everything, other than the little frogs jumping around in your gut, slowed down. It was truly quite peculiar how the world worked. One moment you’re squeezed in a tiny bathroom fit for one, then one moment later it felt like it was taking hours to reach Kazuha’s lips. Were you even moving at this point? Surely by now you would have made contact. You shouldn’t have closed your eyes so early, but it just felt right. How much longer? Maybe you could open them back up, but would that ruin the moment? Then it hit you.

Strawberry.

Who even wears strawberry lip gloss? Is that a common flavor? Does she always wear strawberry? Why did it taste so good? Why did it feel so good? Have you been kissing her for too long now? Shit. Maybe you’re the one that shook her hand too long earlier, maybe it wasn’t her fault. No, that was definitely her not letting go. Speaking of letting go, are you supposed to stop kissing her now? When did your hands end up framing her face, cupping her cheeks? When did her hand end up on the back of your neck? Where’s the other one? Oh, it’s on your hip, when did it get there?

“Wow.”

“That-”

“Felt right,” Kazuha finished your thought.

“Yeah,” you agreed, suddenly noticing just how tangible the tension was between the two of you as you let go of her face and brought your hands to her hips. “Were your cheeks always this pink?”

“Are they?” Kazuha giggled, turning her face in embarrassment to try looking into the mirror.

“Don’t,” you gently turned her face with one finger until she was looking at you again. “You’re so pretty.”

“Th-Thank you,” she stuttered, physically fighting the urge to look away and hide herself.

“Can I-”

She didn’t even let the words finish leaving your lips before lunging forward and kissing you again. The force pushed your back into the door, leaving a small bruise where the doorknob hit your body that you wouldn’t even notice until later tonight. While strawberries attacked your taste buds again, you began pushing back, slowly moving forward until Kazuha’s soft body began squishing your hand into the porcelain sink.

“I think I could do this all day,” you gasped as both of you began panting for air. “But I think we’ve probably convinced your friends by now. Should we head back?”

“Wait, not yet,” Kazuha panted, licking her lips. “Can you help me get a picture?”

“A picture?”

“To prove that I… you know.”

“You mean, like, with my thing out?”

“In my mouth,” she began blushing. “Just for a second.”

“Umm.”

Was this real life? You weren’t sure anymore.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Kazuha stammered. “Forget it, dumb idea, they’ll just have to believe me.”

“I can,” you wrapped your arms around her and embraced her softly. “But are you comfortable doing this?”

“I am,” her voice was muffled by your shoulder.

She pulled back, smiling at you for a second before leaning forward for another kiss. This one was softer than the previous two, her lips barely brushed against yours, her tongue barely touched you.

“Ready?” you breathed into her mouth.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this for me,” Kazuha stared at you tenderly. “You really don’t have to.”

“It’s really no big deal,” you rubbed her arm gently before unbuckling your pants.

“Just umm, tell me when you’re… you know,” Kazuha stuttered as she turned away from you.

It was incredibly adorable the way she stood there, trying to avoid looking at you in the mirror. You lowered your pants down to your knees and began slowly stroking yourself. It definitely felt a little bit odd, but you just reminded yourself that you were doing this for her sake.

“Excuse me,” you reached your arm around her body and turned the sink on, wetting your fingers. “Let’s make it look even more believable.”

Kazuha furrowed her brows at you in the mirror, confused by what you meant.

“I assume the inside of your mouth isn’t completely dry?”

“Oh,” she finally understood what you were doing.

“Alright, I’m ready if you are.”

Kazuha turned around and kept her eyes on yours, seemingly physically incapable of looking down.

“You’re probably going to have to see my thing at some point if you want this picture,” you tried to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry, you have my permission.”

She giggled, the rosy tint returning to her cheeks in full force, before looking down at your wet cock. As soon as she looked down, her body froze again and she looked back up at you, bringing that deer-in-headlights look that you were growing so accustomed to now by now back.

“It’s big.”

“Hey, we don’t have to actually do this,” you said gently, moving her hair out of her face for her.

“No,” Kazuha replied softly before sitting down on the toilet cover. “Sorry, I just, I didn’t, yeah, I’m ready.”

Kazuha pulled out her phone and flipped her camera to selfie mode, holding it up to the side, looking for the proper angle. Once satisfied, she turned her head to you, nodded once before opening her mouth wide and staring at you.

This was your cue, and you took one step forward before gently placing your tip into her mouth. You inhaled sharply as her lips immediately tightened around your tip, her tongue resting against your hole. Despite your cock already being stiff, as soon as it entered her mouth you could feel the blood rushing into your cock, swelling it up.

Kazuha held her phone up and took a few selfies at various angles. It was wild, such a beautiful girl with your cock in her mouth in such an erotically casual way. She had her lips pouted, almost like she was kissing your tip. It didn’t really make much sense, but it was incredibly hot - she was incredibly hot. Before you knew it, Kazuha released your cock with a little pop and wiped her lips.

“Do you think you could like, push against the inside of my cheek,” Kazuha asked innocently before the realization of what she just said hit her and her face turned bright pink in embarrassment. “Sorry, that’s a crazy thing to say.”

“Of course I can,” you ignored her embarrassment and pushed your cock in front of her mouth again.

Almost reflexively, she parted her lips wide and let your cock slide back into her cozy mouth. Just as she asked, you pressed your cock against her inner cheek as she took more selfies. Your cock was exploring every crevice of her mouth, pressing and shoving against her cheek. You found, somehow, both of your hands on her head, guiding it while your cock roamed freely.

It seems that your ability to see things had completely vanished, since you failed to even notice that Kazuha had put her phone away. She was just sucking your cock; she was no longer snapping pictures. When you finally realized what was happening, you hurriedly released her head while attempting to ignore how wonderful her mouth felt.

The real shocker was that Kazuha continued to move her head back and forth along your shaft even after you released your grip. Her lips were caressing your length as she closed her eyes, totally engrossed in the moment. You were certain that her mouth was designed to suck your cock since it was now entirely her decision to blow you, and it was impossible to deny how fucking great her mouth felt.

“Kazuha,” you gently moaned, carefully pulling your hips back. “I think you got enough pictures.”

“Does it not feel good?”

Her voice felt like a dagger in your heart. She sounded disappointed.

“Hey,” you crouched down so that you were level with her and leaned forward for a quick kiss. “You’re fucking amazing, but I told you I wanted to do this properly. This feels… I don’t know how to explain it…”

“It feels forced,” Kazuha smiled understandingly at you. “I promise you it’s not, I know I don’t have to do this. I want to do this.”

“Kazuha-”

“Zuha. My friends call me Zuha.”

“Oh,” you smiled softly. “Zuha, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she whispered, standing up from the toilet and maneuvering you around before pushing you down to sit. “Now close your eyes, and let me prove to you that I’m good at this.”

Fuck that was hot. You obeyed her request, closing your eyes as those delicate fingers of hers gave your cock a couple of pumps. Not being able to watch truly was a tragedy, but you felt her tongue with details you never could have imagined possible as soon as she pressed it against your tip.

She slipped your cock into her mouth again, bringing back that gentle warmth, swirling her tongue around the tip a couple of times before she began using her lips to stroke you. Back and forth her lips went, your tip prodding her tongue each time she went down your shaft, while her hand firmly gripped the bottom half of your shaft. A soft moan escaped your lips, one that told Kazuha it was working - but she already knew that. The girl definitely knew how to suck cock. Even without seeing that beautiful face of hers, you were already nearing your climax.

Somehow, she also felt it coming. Or, just by coincidence, she decided to start pumping your cock. Her hand and her mouth worked in tandem, stimulating your entire shaft. Up and down, a soft slurp echoing in the small bathroom each time her mouth moved. She slowed down for just a second, leaving you spewing agonizing moans into her ears, before speeding back up.

“Zuha,” you groaned, squirming on the seat, lifting your hips up into the air. “I’m…”

That was all the warning she got, because that was all the warning you could muster. Whether or not she was ready, the next thirty seconds of her life were going to be taken over by your cum shooting into her mouth. Your eyes shot open as the first gush launched against the roof of her mouth, just in time for you to see her visibly flinch.

She looked up at you, locking eyes, and held her mouth steady. Even as the next few spurts flew out of your cock, she never flinched again. You could see your cock throbbing, each pulse shooting more cum into her mouth, but she held steady, not even blinking, staring at you with those beautiful eyes.

With one hand, you pushed her hair out of her face and cupped her cheek tenderly, using your thumb to wipe the little glob of cum that spilled out of the corner of her lips. As your cock finally began to relax, Kazuha slowly pulled back. Inch by inch, she released your cock, making sure to keep her lips taut until they reached your tip.

She gathered all the cum in her mouth and struggled to take out her phone. When she finally got it, she snapped a selfie with your cum all on her tongue. Once she was content with the picture, she bent over and spit it all out, holding her hair to prevent it from going into the sink.

“Sorry, there was just too much,” she apologized, looking back up at you. “I swear I usually swallow.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled reassuringly at her.

Kazuha smiled back before she bent down over your cock again.

“Holy fuck,” you gasped, shuddering as Kazuha gave your cock a lick from the base to the tip.

She pursed her lips around your tip, prodding your frenulum a couple times with her tongue, coaxing out a little glob of cum. Without even lifting her mouth, she swallowed it. After a few more licks, making sure you had no more cum to drain, she released your cock with a little pop.

“So,” she stood back up proudly. “You tell me, how was it?”

“Fucking amazing,” you stood up in front of her and grabbed her face with both hands.

This next kiss went on for a few minutes, or perhaps longer. It would have been even longer if it wasn’t for the aggressive knock on the door.

“Hello? There’s only one bathroom here!”

Both of you began giggling while staring at each other.

“We’re fucked,” Kazuha whispered.

“It’s your fault,” you whispered back. “Fuck it though, we’re already screwed, might as well keep going.”

So you did just that, and the two of you kissed again until a staff member came by and berated the two of you, kicking you out of the cafe and telling you to never come back.

“Worth it,” you laughed as the two of you walked out into the warm morning afternoon.

“Worth it,” she repeated, clutching your arm with both of hers and smiling. “I can’t believe it’s almost noon already. Lunch?”

“That sounds perfect.”

---

A/N:

Inspired by a prompt given to me by @mintwithchoco!

So, turns out Roommates is becoming a whole universe. I'll explain more in my Masterlist at some point, but my goal is to write a collection of fics from this universe that are all following the same OC. They're going to be readable completely independently of each other, but there will be a lot of references and foreshadowing since I've actually already plotted out like 10 fics, so if an idol is mentioned in a fic, they're probably getting their own fic at some point.

This particular one will probably be split into two parts, just so I can avoid making it too long. Hope you guys enjoy this one, I've been on a crazy Kazuha high lately and just had to write her.

Feel free to let me know what you think about this idea. I won't be releasing fics in chronological order either. This takes place in the OC's sophomore year while the Eunbi fic took place in the OC's senior year. I'm pretty committed to this now with how much worldbuilding and theorizing I've put into this, but I still love hearing feedback!

[aajjks]

The Boy (II)

synopsis. All he ever wanted was someone to love.

pairing: yandere!brahms doll jungkook x fem!nanny reader. ft. Cha eunwoo.

genre: 18+ horror, smut, angst and yandere.

warnings. 18+ YÁNDÈRÈ, dàrk thèmès, dïstúrbíng thèmès, mèntïóns ôf à dàrk pàst, yn ïs só dàmn hórny, dóll, erríe thèmès, únsèttlíng thèmès, híghly sèxúàl thèmès, nèèdy, shàmlèss ýn, tsúndèrè èúnwòò.

wc: idek it’s long tho

fic note. Please keep in mind that this fanfiction is the exact copy of the movie from the same name “the boy” (2016) so if you find any similarities, that’s on purpose. Also viewer discretion is highly advised.

taglist. @tatumrileyslover @slut4jeon @strawberryberrygirl @starl0ver4 @darkcyclecreator @taekritimin123@erisuna @devilslittlehelper @introvertedsin @jadaocon1 @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @wowersblog@jincapableoflove @whothefuckisthishoe @avawants2havefun @sophipp1 @moonfloweronmars @crisle19 @ctrlsht@mrsjohnnysuh @ennvfv @kpopsmutty69 [open for more]

••••

The house is too quiet.

You didn’t notice it as much yesterday— not with Ji-seon’s perfectly manicured presence keeping you distracted or Jeong-hwan’s piercing gaze making sure you didn’t fuck up your answers.

Even though it had been a day, but you still got used to their presence and now that you’re all alone in this house…

You’re having some trouble

Especially now that they’re gone, it’s just you and this massive, eerily pristine house. You, a lifeless doll, and the suffocating silence pressing in on you like a weighted blanket.

Your second day begins with an unavoidable routine—the one they so kindly outlined in the rules. Rules that, frankly, feel absurd.

1. Wake JK up.

2. Get him dressed.

3. Prepare his meals.

4. Read to him.

5. Put him to bed.

You stare at the list on the old, slightly crinkled paper and sigh. “Jesus Christ.” You rub your temple, the lack of sleep from last night making your head feel like it’s stuffed with cotton. 

I should be getting paid double for this shit.

And honestly, when you think about it, it’s kind of triggering because… of your history that you don’t really like to think about anymore.

But you’re getting paid a lot of ridiculous amount of money for this so you’re willing to play along even if it triggers the fuck out of you.

With an exhausted groan, you shuffle towards the grand living room, where JK sits in his usual spot on the couch, his dark beady eyes fixed on you in a way that feels entirely too alive.

“Alright, little prince,” you mutter, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Time to start our day of make-believe.”

Nothing happens. Obviously. Because it’s a fucking doll.

Still, the weight of its stare makes you hesitate for a second too long before reaching for it. 

The porcelain skin is cold under your fingers, smooth and unyielding. 

You lift the doll carefully— half because you don’t want to break the weird rich people’s prized possession, and half because some irrational part of you thinks it might move on its own.

You carry him upstairs to the bedroom they set up for him, which looks far too elegant for a toy. 

The furniture is handcrafted, the bed is neatly made with expensive silk sheets, and the air smells faintly of lavender.

This is insane.

Still, you press on.

Dressing JK is an experience you never thought you’d have. Buttoning up a tiny sweater on a lifeless doll is humiliating in ways you can’t fully articulate. 

Fuck your life, even a doll has a better life than you.

“You know, I don’t even do this much for an actual man,” you scoff. “You should be grateful, JK.”

The doll, of course, says nothing. But as you move to fix his collar, you swear the corners of his lips seem… slightly upturned.

Your hands freeze. No. That’s ridiculous. I’m just sleep-deprived.

You shake the thought off and place him back in the chair by the window, as instructed.

This is your life now. Taking care of a doll.

It’s laughable.

The rules are just guidelines, anyways, and rules are always meant to be broken.

•••

By noon, you’re already getting restless.

You’ve done everything technically required— dressed the doll, made him breakfast (which was a complete waste of food), and even read a chapter from a dusty old children’s book you found on the shelf.

Now you’re sprawled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, but there’s no service. 

No Wi-Fi. No contact with the outside world.

Frustration bubbles up in your chest. You sit up, stretching your sore muscles, and glance at JK, who sits stiffly in his chair. 

“I doubt they’ll know if I take a little break.”

The doll stares.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re lucky I even got up today.”

The doll should remain motionless. It should stay exactly where you left it.

But when you look back at it after getting up, something feels… different.

The head is tilted ever so slightly to the left.

Your breath catches in your throat. Was it like that before?

Slowly, you approach the chair, fingers curling into fists. “You’re really fucking with me now,” you whisper.

JK doesn’t respond.

You hesitate for a moment before reaching out and adjusting the head back into its original position. “There.”

Then you turn around—

clunk.

Your heart stops.

You whip back around.

JK’s head is tilted again.

Further this time.

A shiver runs down your spine.

No. No fucking way.

Your pulse thunders in your ears as you back away, refusing to take your eyes off him. 

Your entire body is screaming at you to leave the room, to run, but you force yourself to breathe.

“This is just my imagination,” you whisper. “That’s it. I’m sleep-deprived, this house is fucking with me, and I need to get out of here for a bit.”

You don’t even bother “putting him down for a nap” like the rules say. Instead, you decide to explore.

•••

The house is massive.

You wander through the hallways, your footsteps echoing against the marble floors. 

The architecture is grand, intricate details carved into the moldings, chandeliers hanging like ghosts in every room.

But it’s the paintings that unsettle you the most.

There are so many of them. And they’re all of the same little boy—dark-haired, round-cheeked, with a bright bunny smile. He looks… sweet. Innocent, even.

And yet, the more you stare at them, the more something feels off.

Some of the paintings have his eyes looking straight ahead. Others have them slightly to the side. And a few—you swear to God—have his gaze locked directly onto you.

A cold shudder runs through you. 

Nope. Nope, we’re not doing this.

You turn to leave the room when—

“Pretty… stay.”

Your stomach drops.

You freeze, hands trembling as you whip around.

JK is nowhere in sight.

You left him upstairs.

Right?

You feel sick. Your hands grip the fabric of your sweater, the walls of the house suddenly feeling too close.

Something is wrong.

•••

You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a firm knock on the front door.

You don’t even hesitate to answer it.

When you swing it open, Eunwoo is standing there, his hands in his coat pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Your stomach clenches—but not just from fear.

Because of course even when you’re scared out of your mind, your body decides now is the perfect time to get turned on.

Eunwoo’s eyes sweep over you, taking in your disheveled appearance. “You look…” His gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up. “…tired.”

You lick your lips. “Tired isn’t the word I’d use.”

He steps inside, his presence commanding the space effortlessly. “Have you been following the rules?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Why does it matter? It’s just a doll.”

Eunwoo’s jaw tenses. “It’s not just a doll.” His voice is low, cold. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

You raise a brow, shamelessly letting your eyes trail down his chest. God, he’s so fucking hot. “You really care about this thing, huh?” You take a step closer. 

“Maybe you should care more about me.”

Eunwoo doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even react.

That pisses you off.

You tilt your head, voice dropping into something sultry. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little distraction.”

Eunwoo stares, his expression unreadable—until his eyes darken.

For a second, you think he might actually give in.

Then—

“Yn…”

Your body freezes.

That voice. That mechanical, eerie fucking voice.

You whip your head around.

JK is sitting on the couch.

You did not put him there.

Eunwoo doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he just exhales through his nose and adjusts his coat. “Follow the rules.”

And then— just like that— he turns to leave.

You’re left alone.

With him.

With JK.

And the second the door closes, you hear it again.

“Pretty… stay.”

A chill runs through your spine.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

“Fuck this shit I’m hungry, let’s go check out the kitchen.”

•••

You are never eating in this kitchen again.

The ramen was fine. Actually, it was good, especially considering how you barely ate today. But the problem isn’t the food. The problem is the audience.

Because across the room, perched on the goddamn counter, watching you, sits JK.

You drop your chopsticks. “Nope.”

The word echoes in the quiet kitchen. You didn’t put him there. You didn’t put him there.

He was on the couch earlier. You remember because you kept side-eyeing him while eating your sad little meal, feeling his beady little stare drilling into your soul.

And now he’s here.

Perched. Looking. Waiting.

Your throat tightens, a nervous laugh bubbling up before you can stop it. “So this is it, huh? This is how I die? Starved, single, and haunted by a fucking toy?”

Silence.

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip as the air shifts. It’s subtle, but you feel it—like the whole house just took a breath. The walls seem taller. The shadows stretch just a bit longer.

And then, soft and eerie, comes the whisper.

“Don’t forget…”

Your body locks up. A cold chill rolls down your spine, your skin breaking out in goosebumps.

Okay. That was new.

Your gaze snaps to JK, your heart hammering against your ribs. You heard it. Someone said that.

It wasn’t your imagination. It wasn’t your tired brain playing tricks. It was a fucking voice.

And yet, the doll remains the same—blank, expressionless, his tiny porcelain lips forever pressed into that neutral, unsettling almost-smile.

Fuck this.

You’re about to throw him in the oven. Maybe deep fry him. Maybe start a religion based on setting creepy dolls on fire.

But then, your eyes flicker to the list of rules pinned to the fridge.

6. Give JK a goodnight kiss.

7. Make sure JK is comfortable before bed.

Your entire body rejects the idea. Your soul leaves the chat.

Absolutely not.

A loud, frustrated groan leaves your lips. “Oh my God.”

This is beyond humiliating. This isn’t even a job anymore—it’s a prank. It’s gotta be. A weird, rich-people, fucked-up social experiment.

First the rules, then the mechanical voice, and now this?

You want to scream. You want to walk straight out of this house and never look back.

But the money.

The fucking money.

It’s ridiculous, the amount they’re paying you. It’s life-changing. And if all you have to do is follow some creepy-ass instructions to get it, then fine. 

Fine.

You slam your hands on the counter, glaring at JK. “You win, you little shit.”

And then, you pick him up.

Instant regret.

His body is solid, heavier than it looks, and the second his cold porcelain presses against your fingers, your entire body reacts.

A strange heat pools in your stomach.

Your breath catches. Your thighs clench.

You freeze. Oh no.

Not this. Not now.

This job is already ruining your sanity—you can’t let it ruin your self-respect, too.

But your body doesn’t get the memo.

The feeling spreads, slow and insidious, like a slow-burning fever. It’s not because of JK, obviously. 

But it’s him being here, the eerie tension in the house, the fact that you’ve been alone all day, untouched, unstimulated.

The thoughts you had earlier about Eunwoo don’t help. 

His sharp eyes, his broad frame, the way he completely ignored your flirting like an unbothered, frustratingly hot statue.

I need to get laid.

Or at least, you need to do something about this overwhelming heat crawling under your skin.

But not now. Not while holding the fucking doll.

You shake yourself off, gripping JK tighter, storming upstairs like you’re on a personal mission.

Put him to bed. Get this over with.

But the whole time, the feeling of being watched doesn’t leave you. If anything, it gets worse.

•••

somehow, you have managed to convince yourself that you just need a shower to make yourself feel right

And by the time you make it to the bathroom, you’re two seconds away from losing your mind.

Not just because of the creepy ass doll or the fact that your entire body is covered in goosebumps that won’t go away—no, no. That would be normal.

The real problem?

You’re fucking horny.

It makes no sense.

You just had the most unsettling dinner of your life, spent way too much time arguing with a porcelain freak, and still—your body refuses to cooperate.

Your nerves are shot, your thighs press together every time you move, and worst of all—Eunwoo.

Eunwoo being an asshole should not make him hotter.

But goddamn, did he look good tonight.

That stupid cold expression, the way his jaw clenched whenever you spoke, the way his voice dropped when he scolded you like some strict, brooding villain straight out of a fantasy novel—

Ugh.

Maybe you should just throw yourself into the nearest well and be done with it.

With a deep breath, you rip off your clothes and step into the shower.

The second the water hits your skin, a soft sigh slips past your lips.

Oh, that’s nice.

Heat runs down your spine, melting every tense muscle. Steam curls around your body, thick and intoxicating.

You tilt your head back, letting the warmth sink into you, washing away everything from today— the exhaustion, the unease, the sheer insanity of this house.

It’s just you in here.

Alone.

Finally.

Your fingers drag slowly down your neck, your collarbone, heat pooling low in your stomach.

It’s fine. You deserve this.

It’s not like there’s a fucking ghost watching you, right?

You exhale, the steam making your skin tingle.

Your mind drifts immediately—

Eunwoo’s voice. Low, commanding.

“Follow the rules, yn.”

A shiver rolls down your spine.

You don’t want to follow the rules.

You want to break them.

You can practically see him, standing outside the shower, fully clothed, watching. That blank expression, that disapproving look. His lips parting just slightly as he takes you in, dark eyes flicking lower—

God.

Your fingers twitch, a slow press against your hipbone.

He’d be so strict with you. He wouldn’t just let you do whatever you wanted—no, he’d make you follow the rules. Wouldn’t even touch you unless you begged for it.

Your breath hitches.

You bite your lip, hand sliding lower, heat growing—

Click.

Your entire body freezes.

That— That sounded like the fucking door.

No. No, no, no.

Your breath stops. Your skin prickles.

Water pounds against the tiles, drowning everything else out.

You can’t even turn around.

Click.

Your stomach drops.

That wasn’t just the wind. That was—

That was inside the bathroom. A violent shudder rips down your spine.

Your hands shake as you peel the shower curtain back—

And your breath dies.

The bathroom door is open.

Just a few inches.

A sliver of darkness beyond it.

The air is too cold.

Your pulse pounds against your skin, your legs trembling under the hot water.

You swear you locked it.

Didn’t you?

Your heart is in your throat. Your body still aches, heat thrumming through your veins—but now, it’s laced with something else.

Something primal.

Fear.

You clutch the shower curtain, your mouth dry.

You are not alone.

You feel it.

Someone is watching.

And then—

“Pretty, pretty, stay… stay.”

The whisper is right there.

Behind the curtain. Inside the fucking bathroom.

Your body jerks. A choked gasp rips from your throat.

You don’t think. You don’t breathe.

You just grab a towel—

And run.

You don’t stop.

Your feet pound against the cold floor, water dripping from your skin as you clutch the towel around you. Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, your heart slamming against your ribs.

That voice. That fucking voice.

You don’t look back. You don’t even blink until you crash into your bedroom door.

Shit—

Your hand shakes as you grab the knob, your entire body screaming at you to move, to lock yourself inside.

And then—

Knock.

Your stomach drops.

The knock is slow, deliberate.

Right on the other side.

A violent shiver rips down your spine.

It’s not the wind. It’s not your imagination.

Something is there.

Your fingers clench around the towel, water still trickling down your thighs. Every inch of you is tense, skin burning with leftover heat—

Knock.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You can’t just stand here like a fucking idiot.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down your fear.

And then, with a deep breath—

You open the door. Your entire body jerks.

It’s not a ghost.

It’s Eunwoo.

Holy shit.

He stands right there, dark eyes flickering over you, his expression unreadable. His face is blank—cold, unimpressed.

And you?

You completely forget about everything.

The fear? Gone.

The horror? What horror?

The fact that you were seconds away from pissing yourself? Irrelevant.

Because Eunwoo is here.

And you are barely wearing anything.

A wicked heat pools low in your stomach.

He looks good tonight. So good.

That stupid expensive coat, those broad shoulders, the way his jaw tenses as he looks down at you—

God.

If he wanted to take advantage of this moment, you would gladly let him.

Your lips part, your entire body still buzzing with adrenaline and… something else.

Use it.

You let out a slow breath, tilting your head just slightly, making sure the damp towel hugs every inch of you perfectly.

“Eunwoo,” you murmur, your voice just soft enough. “Did you come to check on me?”

His jaw tightens.

“No,” he says flatly.

Cold. Rude. Unfazed.

And you love it.

Your stomach twists, heat flaring in your chest.

He is so fun to mess with.

You take a slow step closer, just enough for the towel to shift over your thighs.

“Well,” you breathe, voice smooth, “I appreciate the concern.”

“I’m not concerned.”

He says it so fast, so deadpan, that you actually giggle.

The audacity of this man.

“Mm. If you say so,” you hum. “But you did show up at my door.”

Eunwoo just stares.

Like he’s debating whether to entertain this or just walk away.

His gaze flickers—just for a second.

And you see it.

The way his throat bobs, the way his fingers twitch at his sides.

Oh, he’s trying so hard to act like he’s not affected.

You almost feel bad for him.

But mostly?

You just want to see how far you can push.

Your hand loosens on the towel, your skin still damp, heat rolling off your body.

“You should come in,” you murmur.

Eunwoo exhales through his nose.

“No.”

“No?” You pout. “Not even for a drink?”

“No.”

You bite your lip.

“You’re really no fun.”

His eyes darken, but his face remains blank.

“I’m staying the night,” he says.

Your stomach flips.

Oh.

Oh, that’s interesting.

You blink up at him, trying so hard not to smirk.

“Staying?” you echo.

Eunwoo nods, still completely expressionless.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon asked me to.”

Right.

The Jeons. Your actual employers. The whole reason you’re here.

You totally forgot about them.

But honestly?

That’s not your problem.

Because now—

Now, Eunwoo is here.

And he is going to be so much fun.

•••

Eunwoo doesn’t wait. He just walks in.

No hello. No Can I come in? Just boom—he’s inside, like he pays rent.

Which he doesn’t.

You watch, still clutching your towel, as he scans the room with sharp eyes, looking for—what? A hidden crime scene? Your black-market organ-harvesting operation?

“Where’s JK?” His voice is flat, uninterested in anything that isn’t made of porcelain.

…Are you serious?

You blink. “I—I don’t know? Where he always is?”

Eunwoo finally looks at you.

Well, not at you. Past you. Through you.* Not even sparing you a glance below the neck, as if you aren’t standing there, soaking wet, in nothing but a towel.

Your jaw drops.

You just had the most terrifying, borderline supernatural shower experience of your life, you’re practically naked, and all this man can think about is—

“The doll is in his room?” He cuts through your internal crisis like a knife.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Did you follow the routine?”

…The routine.

The routine that consists of treating a doll like a human child.

You squint at him. “Why are you asking like it’s life or death?”

Eunwoo doesn’t even blink. “Because it is.”

You snort. “Right, of course. If I don’t brush his teeth, he’ll develop cavities.”

Eunwoo looks exhausted already. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Did you or did you not follow the rules?”

You shift on your feet, trying to suppress the absolutely ungodly urge to eye this man like a piece of prime steak.

Focus, yn. Focus.

“Listen,” you sigh dramatically, stepping closer—closer than necessary, really. “I tucked him in. I read him a nice bedtime story. I kissed his forehead.” You place a hand on your heart. “I’m the picture of maternal instinct.”

Eunwoo gives you the flattest look you’ve ever seen. “You forgot to change his clothes, didn’t you?”

You pause.

“…He has outfits?”

Eunwoo exhales through his nose like he’s regretting every life choice that led him here. “Yes. He has outfits.”

You resist the urge to laugh.

Barely.

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight,” you say, grinning. “You’re seriously telling me you came all the way here, in the middle of the night, to check if I changed the doll’s clothes?”

Eunwoo looks you dead in the eye.

“Yes.”

And that’s it. No hesitation. No shame. No realization that this is, in fact, a batshit insane thing to say out loud.

God, he’s so serious about this.

And it’s so hot.

You step even closer, tilting your head. “You know, for a guy who looks like he should be modeling for luxury cologne ads, you sure do care a lot about—” you gesture vaguely “—porcelain toddlers.”

Eunwoo doesn’t move. “Are you following the rules or not?”

You lick your lips. His gaze doesn’t drop once.

How rude.

“How about,” you say sweetly, “we stop talking about the doll and start talking about you staying the night?”

He raises a brow. “And why would I do that?”

You smirk. “Because I might be scared?”

“No, you’re not.”

Your smirk falters.

Okay, rude and perceptive.

You try again, biting your lip. “Maybe I just want some company?”

Eunwoo gives you the most deadpan look of all time.

And then—without a shred of hesitation—

“The doll is company enough.”

You gasp.

“Did you just compare me to a fucking doll?”

“Considering you’re both brainless? Yes.”

Your jaw drops.

Eunwoo just turns away, completely unbothered. “I’m staying the night to make sure you don’t mess up again. Go put on some actual clothes.”

You stand there, towel-clad, seething.

And so fucking turned on.

•••

I can smell you.

The damp heat of your skin. The soft, lingering scent of your shampoo. The faint traces of sweat where your body burns beneath that useless towel.

You’re flushed— your cheeks, your chest, your thighs. I see all of it.

And you don’t even realize what you’re doing to me.

How fucking obscene you look, standing there in front of him, teasing, tempting, like you’re offering yourself. 

Like you’re waiting for someone to grab you, press you against the cold walls of this house, and take you apart.

But not him.

Never him.

He doesn’t deserve to look at you, to hear your breath hitch when he steps closer. 

He doesn’t deserve the way your lips part, the way your fingers clutch that towel like you know what you’re doing.

But I do.

I deserve it. I deserve you.

And I will have you.

You’ve already given yourself to me, in ways you don’t even understand.

 Every time you touch the doll, every time your fingers linger on his cheek, every time your voice dips into something soft, something affectionate..

You’re touching me. You’re speaking to me.

And you don’t even know it.

But you will.

I watch you now, legs shifting, thighs pressing together as if that will help. As if anything but me could ever give you what you need.

Your body is betraying you, isn’t it?

I know what you want. I know how badly you want it.

The frustration in your movements, the way your fingers tremble when you adjust your towel, the way your breath comes out in soft, shallow little pants.

You’re aching.

Dripping.

Begging.

You just don’t know who you’re begging for.

But soon.

Soon, you’ll understand.

And when you finally do, when you finally look at me, see me for what I am—

There will be no more teasing. No more waiting.

No more towels.

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU part 14

I’m back baby!🕺

Check out the Time Traveller masterlist here! Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Your body wakes up before your mind does. You feel the warmth of the sheets first, unlike the freezing cold when you dove into the snow and saw-

Jack the Ripper.

Your eyes snapped open at the sensation of someone touching your feet and prepared yourself to see the notorious murderer having a foot fetish.

“Relax. I’m just bandaging your feet.”

Silas?

He’s the Ripper?

“What are you-” you gulped. “You… you found me?”

Silas raised a brow at the fear in your voice. “It would’ve been hard not to. You were lying on my side of the bed, under my covers.” He stated, pulling your feet back in his lap gently. “There’s no need to be scared really. I’m not mad that you got in my bed. I mean- after your performance last night, I suppose its the least you deserve.” He massaged the healing balm into your soles. “I’m not a monster, Y/n.”

What? “I- I was in bed?”

Silas looked at you befuddled. “You still are. You left the stage after your dance, and when I came to the room, I found you in bed.”

Did I… did I imagine all of that? Was I in bed the entire night? Did I hallucinate running off to the snow and seeing the Ripper after that tea-

The tea!

You glanced at Silas who was now wrapping bandages around your feet with utmost care.

He probably told Cadbury to lace my tea with God knows what! It makes sense. Cadbury is the most loyal servant to Silas, they have that knock-off “Bruce Wayne-Alfred” relationship going on.

“Did you drug me?”

Silas’s head shot up. “What?”

You pulled your legs back. “Did you drug me last night?”

“Have you lost your mind-” Silas nostrils flared at your accusation. “No, Y/n. I did not drug my wife-”

“Stop it.” You snapped. “Dont pretend like you give a crap about me. You were counting on me to fail on stage, to embarrass myself for whatever stupid revenge you have planned.”

His lips pulled into a thin line. “I was counting on you to fail and look how that turned out. You lied to me. You said you didn’t know ballet at all and then proceeded to dance like a prima donna. You ruined my plan but you don’t see me complaining. And now you dare to accuse me of drugging you?”

“I’m not accusing you, Silas. I know you did it! You made Cadbury gave me that tea laced with something so that I would make a fool out of myself, but things didn’t turn out the way you planned, did it? I don’t know what drug you gave me, but my pettiness will always be stronger than anything you could spike me with!” You screamed at him. He stared at you with bridled fury as he pushed your now bandaged feet off his lap before standing up.

“I will say this for the last time- I did not drug you. I did not plan on drugging you, ever- and if I did, you surely wouldn’t see it coming because my intelligence would always beat any amount of your pettiness, Y/n.” Silas’ eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you were hoping to achieve by pushing all these absurd accusations on me. I admit that I did plot for you to not perform well in front of the queen, but like I said before- we’re on the same team. Like it or not, we’re married. You’re associated with me, thereby you are my responsibility and while I may use you from time to time to exact my revenge- which I have told you about, I would NEVER go as far as to endanger my own wife for this.”

You scoffed. “Wife? This is a sham marriage-”

He leaned closer suddenly. “Sham or not, we did get married in front of law and in religion! You are my wife, my family now and I dont need to stoop as low as to hurt you.” Silas stared into your eyes and for a second, you almost believed him.

But very early on in your life, you knew better than to trust any man who wasn’t your father or brother.

“But you did hurt me, Silas.” Confusion flickered in his eyes. “You have hurt me several times, but it never hurt me before because the wounds weren’t ever that deep. But last night, you- you crossed a fucking line.”

“I told you I didn’t drug you-”

“I’m not talking about that, though that may have been less painful than what you actually did.” You said before pushing him away to stand up and move past him.

“And what did I do?” Silas watched as you walked on your injured feet, but he knew it would be fruitless to try and stop you.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Why should I tell you when you didn’t care enough to remember it in the first place?”

-

You stomped all the way outside to the gardens, where snow covered as the eye could see. You wanted to confirm it, to look for any clues that would indicate that you did not hallucinate your encounter with the notorious murderer.

There has to be something. It cant- it had to be real.

You found the tree and remember it was near the spot you dove into. But no matter how much you looked, how much snow you shoveled, you couldn’t find anything. If any footprints did exist, they were covered by the snowfall. There was nothing left behind, not by you, or by the Ripper. Not a drop of blood, or a strand of hair. Nothing.

Huffing, you marched back inside the house, ignoring the ache in your feet and the frost in your hands. As soon as you entered, you spotted Cadbury making his way to the dining room with a tray in his hands.

“Cadbury!” He halted, looking back at you in surprise as you walked upto him. You already knew what his answer would be but you couldn’t stop yourself. “Cadbury, I need you to be honest with me and know that if you lie, I will catch you.” You tried to sound as menacing as possible. “Yes, ma’am?” He looked clueless. Resisting the urge to grab him by the collar and throttle him, you settled for a huff as you asked him.

“Did you drug me last night?”

His brows shot up in surprise. “Drug you? Why would I-”

“Cut the bullshit.” He looked even more shocked at your tone. “Last night, before I went on stage, you gave me a cup of tea. I know for a fact that you spiked it with something. Don’t deny it, I know it. Just tell me if Silas put you up to it.”

He shook his head. “Ma’am, I can assure you I did not drug you tea, nor did I ever intend to. All I gave you was chamomile tea to calm you down.”

Before you could accuse him again, Sarah called for him in the dining room. Cadbury looked at you apologetically. “I have to serve Miss Sarah her breakfast before she leaves. Would you like something as well? Eggs, toast… tea?”

You glared at him harshly enough at the end that it made him rush back to the dining hall.

Wait, Sarah’s leaving?

You entered the dining hall and saw Sarah sitting there.

“Oh, good morning, my prima donna!” She made her way to you, pulling you in as she pecked your cheeks, her eyes shining. “I didn’t get to see you again last night, but my darling you were so wonderful on stage! I am so proud of you, my little star! Everyone is talking about you! And even praising me for training you, but the credit is all to you!”

You smiled, heart fluttering at praise. “No, I did well all thanks to you.” Squeezing her hands gently, you asked where she was going. “I heard Cadbury say you were leaving-?”

“Ah! Yes, darling! I’m going to Edinburgh for a couple of months. I need to take care of some family business there. I’m sorry love, I was so busy with everything that I forgot to tell you. I thought Silas would’ve mentioned it to you.”

Yeah. Silas, my lovely husband, would always keep me in the loop.

An hour later, you and Silas stood at the doorway watching Sarah’s carriage leave.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was leaving?” You muttered, eyes trailed forward. You knew if you looked at him again, all the anger from the morning would return.

“I forgot.” You almost wrung him by his neck.

“You always keep things from me.”

“Y/n, dont start.” He let out a small huff. “Why does it even matter? How does her leaving affect you?”

You looked at him in disbelief. “Its not about her leaving. Its that you didn’t tell me! Why the hell do you keep things from me?!”

He turned to you, narrowing his eyes. “Oh so now you want to play the doting wife? She’s my grandmother, she told me! Me knowing is enough! I am not privy to tell you anything!” He snapped. “Like you said, this is a sham marriage and as far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing but an employee. Know your place, woman!”

He marched out of the house in fury, leaving you standing there in absolute shock.

You sat in the gardens, stewing over what happened with Silas when Cadbury came to fetch you.

“Miss, there’s a carriage waiting for you.” “What? Why?”“I would assume its to take you somewhere.” You pursed your lips to not let a sarcastic comment slip.

“Who sent the carriage, Cadbury?” Did Silas sent it to take you out for an early lunch and make up?

“Mr Blackwood.” Henry?

You made your way towards the carriage, about to ask the driver when the carriage door swung open.

“There you are, kitten!” Henry grinned, stepping out of the carriage. “I should tell you, its not good to make your boss wait.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What do you want, Henry?”

“Well, I came to fetch you, seeing as you are in fit condition and not busy, there’s no reason for you to be skipping work.” Work? Ah, yes. You were supposed to be at the office at 8am and its 10am now.

“I’m not coming back. What use is it if I cant write what I want without you shutting it down?” He shrugged. “Silas did make me a good deal last night while you were dancing- marvellously, I must say.” He went to grab your chin but you smacked his hand away. Sighing, an amused look in his eyes he straightened his broad shoulders. “You can write what you want, within reason, and I’ll allow it to be published.” He nodded his head towards the carriage. “Shall we, milady?”

“I’ll think about it-” You turned to leave when he caught your wrist, yanking it to make you collide with his chest.

“I was being polite, kitten.” He looked down at you, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Get in the carriage, Y/n. Now.”

-

You were sitting on your desk after making a brief stop at Henry’s tailor, so that you could change into a suit for your male disguise. The suit, even though it was the cheapest one available at the shop, was still pretty expensive and luxurious enough for a small time reporter like you. It turned a few heads, but only Colin asked you where you got it from.

“One of Silas’s.” You muttered dismissively, which now that you think about it, sounds like you wore your husband’s clothes after shacking up.

You didn’t know Colin also shared the same thought when he took a sip of his half-n-half coffee (half alcohol, half coffee.)

“Anyways, want to go to hospitals with me? Investigate, now that you are in disguise anyways.”

Looking up from your desk, you spotted Henry in his office talking with someone. His eyes made contact with yours for a moment, and he winked at you.

“Sure.” You need to get out of here before you combust.

“Great. I was thinking we could go to St Peters hospital-”“No.” You stood up, grabbing your coat. “We’re going to Aveline’s.”

“The asylum?” Colin asked, following you.

Yes. The same asylum Silas forbade you from entering. Why? You don’t know, but you suspected it was linked to something personal so you respected his wishes. Now? Fuck. That.

He crossed a line with me. Now I will too.

You made your way towards the exit, which happened to be near Henry’s office (because he wanted to keep tabs on everyone who entered and left the building) and you were ready to fight if he tried to stop you. But before you could, Henry suddenly left his office- his face was alarmed. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he left with a few men, practically running out of the door.

What was that about?

-

Why was Henry in a rush? Why did he look so alarmed?What was his deal with Silas? What had Silas offered him for you? Where was Silas—

“Here we are.” You both stood at the street of the asylum, spotting the guards at the gate. The place still looked as lavish as ever, the beautiful gardens and the Gothic inspired architecture, now encased in snow gave the asylum a daunting yet “you’re-too-poor-for-this-fancy-rehab” look. “How do we get in? The guards stationed wont permit us to step a foot in there, and I’m pretty sure Silas gave them a word about you and me.” He stated, frustratedly running a hand through his hair.

You looked at the asylum, looking for something until your eye caught it.

“Its a big place, Colin. Come on.”

The property itself was on a large piece of land, surrounded by walls and tall trees, which meant that there had to be another opening. Plus, with how heavily its snowing, the guards aren’t always on their stations. You just need to find another way in.

And you did.

“Colin, get your stupid leg over the wall!” You whisper-yelled at him as you gave him a boost. Colin, who apparently had no upper body strength, was struggling to climb the wall. “I am trying!”

“Try harder!” You gave him another shove, practically jostling him up at this point. Finally after a few more minutes in the cold, he was able to sling his leg over. Panting, he extended his arm to you. “Take my hand. I’ll pull you up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right.” In a flash, you scaled the wall with the expert of a mountaineer. Colin watched in surprise as you perched yourself next to him on the wall, without even breaking a sweat. “How did you-?”

“I’d love to get into details of how much more athletic I am than you, but we need to get down before someone spots us. And I still have to help you down before you break your hip, grandpa.”

Moments later, you two had made your way inside the asylum, blending in with the other visitors there. “Go charm the nurses and staff. See what you can find. I’ll go look around.” You told Colin, who only warned you to beware of the patients there.

You walked down the hallway, looking into the rooms with the doors open, most were unoccupied, which would make sense since its lunch time and everyone’s probably eating or doing some activity.

You were about to walk back to Colin to see if he’d made any progress when your eyes caught sight of a door. It… it was different than the rest. The paint was chipped, and the door itself looked quite old. Not unused, since you couldn’t spot any dust. The doorknob was made of wood, while every other doorknob you’d seen here was metal.

Walking upto it, you were immediately hit with a daunting aura. Looking at the doorknob, you spotted the areas where the paint was more chipped, the pattern indicating where someone’s hand would hold it.

Your gut is screaming at you to open this door, that there is something behind it that you need to know. With your hand hovering only a few millimetres above the handle, you’re about to enter-

“Hey!” You froze, whipping your head around. An angry nurse stood there. “What do you think you’re doing, young man?! This area is off limits!”

“Off limits?” She glared. “Yes, off limits! Who even allowed you here?!” She marched over to you. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

If she caught you, then Silas will find out and he’d make it much harder for you to find out anything about him.

“I’m so sorry. I was just- I was just looking for the bathroom.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “The bathroom is all the way at the other end of the hallway, with clear signs! What are you doing here?!”

Oh shit. What possible excuse could you come up with as to why you’re trying to break into a room in the asylum?

“I heard someone crying.” A flicker of confusion came on her face, but you continued to pile on the lie. “I was just going to the bathroom when I heard someone crying. It was- it was just so pitiful, so heart breaking, like- like-”

“Like a girl wailing?” She asked, her face paling.

You nodded. “Yes! And- and as I came near, I thought that someone was calling for help and I was just going to check in-”

“No. No, no, no.” The nurse shook her head, grabbing your forearm as she began dragging you away. “No one is allowed in there. Mr Fitzg-” She cut herself off before she could reveal anything further.

“Mr FitzGeorge? As in, Silas FitzGeorge?” Her expression gave her away. It was Silas, and he was connected to that room.

“Tell me who is in that room.” “No one.” “Tell me the truth. I heard someone cry-”

“This is the truth!” She harshly whispered as she dragged you out of that hallway. “There is no one in that room! It hasn’t been occupied for years, not since she-”

“Since who?” You pressed. “I clearly heard someone cry. And you confirmed it. Is there someone being abused? You tell me now before I go break down that room!”

Her eyes widened as she grabbed your arms tighter. “No, please dont- I- I- fine, I’ll tell you the truth.” She looked around before whispering. “You cant tell this to anyone but… someone died in that room. It was- it was a girl, and she- she wasn’t getting better in the head anymore. And then one day, she just- she jumped out of the window and broke her neck. Ever since then, many people have said that they’ve heard a girl crying and we all assumed that it was just her spirit trapped in that room.”

“Who was the girl?” “I cant tell you-” “You can and you will because if you don’t, I will have my friends at the police department come and give this place a visit and possibly examine a patient’s death due to hospital negligence.” You could’ve said that you’d have story leaked to the papers but you didn’t want to arouse suspicion if she told Silas about someone snooping around his business.

Biting her lip, you saw the defeat in her eyes.

“Daisy. Daisy FitzGeorge.”

Silas’s elder sister.

The nurse proceeded to tell you that the last time Silas came to the asylum itself was on the day of her funeral. He saw her room and then paid the asylum to keep this room as is, leaving her belongings there and its been unoccupied and in its original state since.

“I think he just wants to preserve what was left of her.” The nurse added thoughtfully.

Maybe thats why he’s never visited the asylum again, why he didn’t want me wandering in and finding about Daisy. Silas has painful memories linked with this place, and perhaps he didn’t want me knowing about his sister being a psychiatric patient.

You felt a small part in you feel guilty for snooping around his business. You’re no stranger to the loss of a sibling-

No. You closed your eyes. Not now.

The nurse lead you back to the main hall where Colin was chatting up some doctor. You’re about to head back to him when you remember something.

“Does the asylum offer volunteer work, say something like… a barber? I see some residents who could do with a good hair cut or two-”

The nurse looked at you like you were stupid. “I’m afraid not. We have a strict policy against non hospital staff bringing in sharp objects like scissors, blades, the sorts.”

“Right. Thank you.” You nodded before turning around.

So, Benny is a liar and I hope for his sake, its for a good cause.

-

It was an hour before closing when you and Colin came back to the office… which was now in utter chaos. The place was divided, men on either side with papers scattered everywhere as they kept a yelling.

“What the hell is going on here?” Colin asked a coworker but you were focused on the screaming match in front of you.

“We need to be the first one to report this!” One man yelled. “It is our duty as journalist, as honest men! To make the public aware of this!”

“We cant until we permission from above!” Another countered. “Besides, what use is it publishing about such crimes except to make the people panic!”

“Then let them panic! It is a greater calamity to not know and be afraid of the unknown, then to know and be afraid of the known!”

“But we still don’t know who the Ripper is!” “The articles about him will rattle him-” “No, it’ll only idolise him and give him the validation he needs!”

Colin pulled you aside to fill you in on what the coworker had told him.

“The Ripper strikes again.” “I figured. Who did he kill this time? More night girls?”

“One girl and two men in broad daylight.” You frowned. The Ripper hadn’t ever targeted men before. No, his usual targets were women, often prostitutes. And he was mostly active at night time, when the darkness concealed him and his intentions.

“Where did this happen?” It had to be the Gentlemen’s club. It’d explain why Henry left in such a hurry.

Colin looked uncertain whether to tell you or not.

“The FitzGeorge estate.”

Your face paled. “My… home?” For a moment, you felt like the sky fell on you.

“Yes but-” You rushed past him, flying out of the door.

One girl and two men.

You ran as fast as you could down London streets, pushing people out of the way.

One girl. Two men.

It could be anyone. The Ripper doesn’t target the rich. No, he has a pattern. He’s a serial killer and serial killers stick to their patterns.

But you cant trust a murderer. You cant trust someone who is not right in the head.

One girl- maybe its just a passerby, maybe a sex worker for the two men.

Or maybe Sarah came back.

No. Your lungs screamed for a break as you rushed down.

Two men. Two men. It could be anyone, someone you don’t know.

Or it could be Cadbury and Silas.

Killed near the FitzGeorge estate.

He’s sending me a threat. He’s coming for me next.

The estate came into view and you saw the crowd of people and the cops trying to hold everyone back. You tried to go past the gates, but seeing that you were still in disguise, they found it hard to believe that you were “Mrs” FitzGeorge.

Fortunately, Cadbury was outside and able to recognise you.

“Thank God you’re home, miss Y/n!” He helped you inside the house. “You wouldn’t believe the people trying to get in-” “Who- who did the Ripper kill, Cadbury?” You asked breathlessly.

“I dont know them personally miss, and I doubt I’d be able to recognise them with how badly they were mutiliated. But I heard the detectives say that they were Mr Blackwoods employees.”

“Henry’s employees…? From the club?” He shrugged. “I dont know miss, but the detectives found the bodies outside the estate walls. Mr Blackwood was the first one to arrive at the scene with the detectives and he recognised the bodies apparently.”

He came here?

“Where’s Silas?” You asked instead.

“He went to work this morning. I’ve tried to reach him but to no avail…”

You had Cadbury send someone for Silas. He needs to be home right now.

Its not because I care about him. I’m not worried that these murders near his house was a message and that he’s the Ripper’s next target.

With a handkerchief held to your nose to mask the awful smell, you went to the crime scene to look at the mangled bodies that were now being removed for autopsy.

Henry was there as well, his usual cocky expression replaced with concern. If you looked closely, you would notice a hint of…unsureness? Fear of the unknown?

“Henry.” He turned to you, his expression now guarded. “I’m sorry for your employees… demise.”

He gave a stiff nod, confirming that they were indeed his workers. “Why is the Ripper targeting your staff?”

“There is no Ripper.” He snapped. “I told you before, he’s nothing but a fictional character created to instil fear in public.”

You excuse his tone for being “overwhelmed by grief”. “Okay. But we can agree that there is a particular man going after your employees. Why?”

His lips fell into a thin line, and you could see him trying to control his anger. “I don’t have the time to let you play detective so that you could write a story for the paper to make yourself feel good about “making it as a strong woman in a male dominated field”, Y/n. Step aside.”

You instead, blocked his path. “Yeah, I don’t need you to dominate any fields, Henry. I’m only asking you so that when my husband, you know- Silas, comes home and asks me why is there a crime scene and a crowd outside his house, I can give him an answer instead of letting him go to the cops and report the last murder of that woman outside your club and bring your shady businesses into light for the world.”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“If he comes for me, I will come for everything he holds dear and make him watch as I destroy his world.” You glared at him as he stared you down. “You don’t get to make threats here, Y/n.”

You returned back inside the house, where Cadbury informed you that he still wasn’t able to get ahold of Silas. With Sarah gone and most of the house staff busy being interrogated by the detectives, you had the house all to yourself.

You wandered around the house, hoping for an epiphany to strike you for all the questions that plagued your mind.

Why did Benny lie about volunteering at the asylum?

What happened to Daisy?

Why did Silas not want me at the asylum?

Who is killing Henry’s employees?

What were they even doing near this house?

Who is the Ripper?

Entering the library, you sat in your usual spot near the window at the end, a cozy corner behind the shelves. This was the place where you were trying to fix, or rather- create your time machine. Yes, despite everything that had been happening, you still found some time to actually work on your way home. For now, you had only done the maths and collected some raw material to start building it, but you still had a long way to go.

This would’ve been much easier if I had my old machine, even if it had been destroyed by the blast, at least you wouldn’t have to start completely from scratch.

You had hidden the metal scraps and a notebook under the shelf because the maids never bothered to clean under there (judging from the dust collected there) and when you pulled them out from under there, your hand touched something hard as well, something unfamiliar.

Bending down to look, you spotted a black leather-bound book. You pulled it out, sitting on the floor as you wiped the dust off it, coughing in the process.

You began reading it, heart sinking the more you flipped the pages.

This was Daisy’s diary.

-

I have to tell Silas!

You ran out of the library when Cadbury informed you he had returned home.

Making your way to his study, you barged in with Daisy’s diary in hand.

“Silas!” You panted as you saw him sitting down behind the desk, glass of scotch in hand. “Where were you?! I was worried-!” You cut yourself off when you saw the disdain behind his eyes.

“Silas?” His eyes landed on the diary and you saw a new wave of rage flash across his eyes.

“I told you to not go to the asylum, didn’t I?” He stood up, hand gripping the glass. “I told you not to pry. I gave you everything- money, land, power, that fucking job at the paper, everything. All I asked was that you don’t go to the asylum.”

“I know but-” Silas threw the glass against the wall, shattering the crystal.

“Dont talk. Don’t fucking talk or I swear to God, I will hurt you.” He whispered but the words echoed into your soul. His eyes were rimmed red as he took a step towards you, then two backwards, balling his hands into fists. Clenching and unclenching. Holding back.

“You went to the asylum, you went to her room, you fucking read her diary. Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Silas yelled, and you couldnt tell if he was crying or drunk. Or both.

You stood frozen as he continued to scream. “I- I don’t understand what you were trying to do? Are you trying to write about my dead sister, desecrate her by telling the world about her suicide, drag my family through the mud? Didn’t I tell you that I wont tolerate that? Not even by you?”

He walked upto you again, this time he was so fast that you thought for a moment he was going to strike you.

“Worst thing is, you don’t even realise what you’ve done. What you’ve taken from me, what you’ve ruined for me.”

He closed his eyes and backed away from you, running a hand through his hair frustratedly.

You let out a shaky breath. “Silas. I understand what losing a sibling is. My brother- my brother died too-”

“Good. And if I was him, I’d kill myself. Wouldn’t want to be associated with someone like you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as your lips parted.

“No. No, no, no.” Silas glared at you. “Dont you dare fucking cry. You’re not the victim here.”

He shook his head at you. “You know why I’m so fucking infuriated with you? Its not because you went against my direct orders and pried into my personal life. No. I’m mad at you because you have no fucking shame. Not an ounce. You’re no better than those woman in Henry’s club, actually you’re way worse because they sell their bodies for money but you? You sell your self respect, your dignity for nothing except under some false pretence that you can make it in this harsh world as a woman when in reality, all you want is to find out about everyone’s secrets and write a fucking column about it for a few pennies. You just don’t want to admit defeat, just cant accept being told no and I have no doubt that this characterless, shameless habit of yours, prying into people’s business is the very reason your brother is no longer here.”

Neither of you knew how long you two stood there in silence, but you were the one who moved first when the diary slipped out of your hand and fell on the floor with a thud.

You simply left his study, then his house, and continued walking into the cold winter night with nothing to keep you warm, not a coat or a shawl, not even shoes.

“Characterless.”

“Shameless.”

“I’d kill myself. Wouldn’t want to be associated with someone like you.”

“Someone like you.”

Someone like me?

Me?

You fell to your knees, your bare feet no longer able to stand the cold. Or was it because of Silas’s words?

A wretched sob broke from you. Then another, then you quieted down, biting your tongue as your lips quivered like that of a child’s. You tried to breathe, to bring air into your lungs but it seemed so hard to do. Your shoulders shook as your body finally succumbed to exhaustion, falling to the snowy ground.

Qasim.

Qasim.

Qasim.

Your brother’s face was the last thing that came to mind as you felt someone’s arms wrap around you before your world faded to black.

-

“Make sure that the club is prepared for the New Year’s party. Have Lady Scarlett bring the new girls for our special guest. No expense is to be spared.” Henry’s assistant nodded obediently, jotting down all the details.

“Did you take care of the bodies?” Henry asked, taking a puff from his cigar.

“Yes sir. The funeral arrangements were made and the burial was done at night. Unmarked graves, as usual.” Henry gave a approving hum, his eyes darting to the wall, then back at the assistant.

“Did you find the Ripper?”

“Not yet, sir. I’ve placed the highest bounty on him and still no news. Its like he doesn’t exist.”

He exists alright. Henry took another inhale of the smoke. “Increase the bounty. Send more men and interrogate everyone. And hire more security around the club.” The assistant nodded again. Henry closed his eyes. “Is someone keeping tabs on Y/n?”

“Yes, sir. I sent two guards to shadow her. Last I heard, Mrs FitzGeorge-” the assistant cleared his throat when Henry glared at him. “Miss Y/n, had walked out of the FitzGeorge estate in tears. One guard came here to report to me while the other is still keeping her safe.”

The corner of his lips quirked up. Silas must’ve found out that you went to the asylum again. He was having someone follow you. What a creep.

Henry stood up from his chair, putting out his cigar. “Clear my schedule for tomorrow. Its time to pay Mr FitzGeorge a visit.”

And bring Y/n home.

See you soon, kitten.

-

“Stop being such a baby.” You roll your eyes as you hear him fill your pantry with groceries.

“Hey! I’m your older brother. If anyone’s a baby, its you!” Qasim admonished you playfully.

“Says the man who wants me to go skiing with him because he’s too embarrassed to ask anyone else to film him doing small stunts.” You tease as you continue to read your history book. Qasim walks over and plucks it out of your hands. Glaring at him, you try to reach for the book. “I have a test tomorrow and I still have 8 chapters to go.”

“Why do you wait until the last minute to study? This is quite self destructive.” You cross your arms. “Well not everyone is blessed with an eidetic memory like you.”

“True as it may be, I still use my brain to actually understand the concepts rather than just memorise it word-for-word.” He opened the book, taking a look at the topic you were reading before scoffing. “Ancient Egypt? Come on, I’ll teach you it myself.”

You opened your eyes to someone petting your hair.

Knowing who it was, you weren’t startled as you woke up.

“How are you feeling?” Benjamin asked, watching you sit up in your old bedroom.

“Better.” You smiled gently.

Last night, after running out of Silas’s house, Benny was the one who found you crying in the snow, barefoot and near hypothermia. He wrapped his coat around you and took you home, the flat and you explained to him what happened at Silas, what he said to you. If Benny didn’t feel himself compelled to console you, he would’ve marched all the way to the estate to strangle Silas himself.

Sitting at the table, eating the breakfast he made you, you were reminded you of all the good times at the flat. Everyone else was at work for now, but they’d be returning in a few hours.

“Y/n.” Benny pulled out a few documents and passed them to you. “I got what you asked for.”

Wiping your mouth, you picked up the stack of papers and read them.

“DIVORCE DEED”.

It wasn’t what you asked for, so much so it was what Benny had strongly suggested you to get. After he told him what happened with Silas, he was ready to go over there and beat the shit out of Silas but he stayed back for you. You needed someone last night, someone who didn’t make you feel like you were all alone.

Someone like Qasim.

So, ignoring all the evidence and lies that pointed Benny as a suspect to the murders, you used his shoulder to cry on. He ran his fingers though your hair all night and advised you to part ways Silas because even if you were to overlook all the awful words he said to you, you cannot stray away from the fact that he threatened to hurt you. Thus, it would be unsafe for you to go back to him.

You agreed, partly because of his reasoning and partly because you just- you’re tired of everything now. You need to go back to your timeline, and for that, you need to divert all your attention to making the time machine.

Picking up the pen, you looked at the document again, eyes focused on the name “Silas FitzGeorge”.

Benny squeezed your hand. You nodded. This is the right thing to do.

With a sigh, you signed the document.

Benny took the documents. “I’ll have these delivered to his house.” You hummed, knowing that if he went there himself, he’d probably get in a fight with Silas.

“Y/n.” You looked up at him. “Dont worry about anything now. I’ll take care of everything, hm?”

“Thank you, Benny.” You stand up. “I would need some help with a new wig for work. I left my stuff at Silas’s and…” He waved you off, understanding your predicament. “I already was working on a couple of new pieces for my new clients. Come on, Mr Holmes.”

-

Silas hadn’t slept a wink since yesterday, so his hangover was significantly still worse and his morning got even more worse when Henry strolled in his study.

“Well, you look like you could be having a better day.” Silas glared at him from his position.

“How did you get in here?”

“Just charmed a maid with my irresistible looks.” He grinned, sitting across from him.

“Great. She’s fired.” Silas rubbed his bloodshot eyes, that were tired and itchy. “Now now, no need to go around firing the staff just because you’re in a bad mood. Speaking of bad mood- where is your wife?”

Silas stared at him, not with jealousy but… with indifference. “I don’t know.”

“Not a good quality in a husband to not keep tabs on his missus.” Henry smirked.

“I dont need to keep tabs, when you already are.”

Henry raised a brow. “So you know that I know where she is?” Taking his silence as an answer, he continued. “Go ahead, ask me where she is.”

Silas stood up and for a moment, Henry thought he was going to punch him. Instead, Silas staggered over to the corner table to grab the bottle of scotch.

“I dont care.” He said, pouring himself a drink.

“Trouble in paradise?” Henry pushed. Silas took a sip. “What do you want, Henry? Is your paper in trouble that you would need to write about my marital life? I would assume that you would have a lot to write about now that more employees of yours have been murdered. How many does it make it now? 3? 4?”

The smirk was wiped off Henry’s face. “Thats precisely why I’m here.” Silas walked back to his seat, not offering him a drink. “I hope you don’t pursue this case with the police. I wouldn’t be bothering if I could just buy the detectives, but seeing as this has happened near the house of someone belonging to royalty, they are concerned for your safety. I want you to make them brush this under the rug and we can all go on our ways.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because if you dont, they will go digging around my business. And if they get in my business, I will send them your way as well.” Henry’s lip quirked up. “You’re well aware that I know where Y/n has been going about, hm? I remember her last visit was for an assignment, where did she go? Ah, Aveline’s asylum.”

Silas’s jaw ticked and it took everything in him to not smash the glass in hands on Henry’s head.

“I hope we understand each other, hm?” Henry stood up, buttoning his coat when Cadbury walked in through the door, looking alarmed.

“What is it?” Silas snapped as Cadbury rushed to him and gave him a stack of papers.

“Sir, I- someone left these for you- they-” Silas pulled the documents out and read them, his brows furrowing as his lips set into a thin line.

He set them on the table and Henry couldn’t help but peek.

“DIVORCE DEED”.

Henry couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips.

Fucking finally.

“I’ll take my leave now, Mr FitzGeorge.”

Henry left the manor in a rush. He needed to see you now.

-

Colin was expressing his happiness on you coming back to live with him and the guys when Henry had called you in his office.

“How are you today, Y/n?” Henry asked, closing the door. “I wouldn’t have blamed you for taking the day off today, you know, after what your marriage has fallen through.”

Your eyes widened. “How did you-”

“I know everything, Y/n. I knew this was going to happen eventually, after all, how long could you have resisted a man like me?”

“What the hell do you want?”

Henry stood against the desk, leaning back slightly as he looked at you. “I have a proposal for you.” The stupid smile on his face gave away that you were not going to like what he was going to offer.

“Marry me and I’ll take care of you for life. Or- don’t marry me, and you’re fired.”

“What?”

He pushed himself off the desk. “You know I fancy you, despite all your quirks. I think we’d make a great team, make a lot of people very mad, especially your soon-to-be ex-husband.”

“So you just want me to be pawn for your plans?”

He shrugged. “Well I’d hoped we could eventually grow our family, but if you’re not into that, then sure. You can be a pawn for me to use. You had no problem with this arrangement when you were with Silas.”

You stood up from your chair. “How… dare you?” Seething, you walked upto him, who only smiled looking down at you. “I would rather jump off a building than marry a disgusting piece of cow dung like you. You think just because I’m a divorcee, you can threaten me into marrying you just so I could have a job here? Fuck you. I quit.”

You stormed out of his office, leaving Henry grinning at his plan working.

“Mark my words, kitten. You will end up marrying me. One way or another.”

-

“Fucking fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” You screamed as soon as you got back to house, knowing no one would be at him right, you needed to get your rage out before you combusted. Shaking in anger, you grabbed a glass and you were ready to throw it against the wall but decided against it.

“Y/n.” Qasim had been looking everywhere for you, after you’d vanished from the time your cousins came over to lunch. They had made some mean comments about… well your family’s financial status, and if it weren’t for your parents presence, you would’ve returned the insults with something worse enough to make them cry.

Instead of replying to them, you were now seeking revenge by throwing a brick through the window of their new car.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” Qasim whisper-scolded, looking around to see if anyone else had stumbled upon his 7 year old sister trying to damage their cousin’s car. “You know this is wrong!” He said as he pulled the brick out of your hand.

“Its only wrong if you get caught. No one’s around to watch!” You huffed.

“I caught you! Besides, even if no one is watching, God is!” He pointed up in the sky.

“So? Allah will forgive me. I’ll pray more, worship more often, fast, even use my pocket money to give to a charity!” You explained how you’d get off scot-free for all your sins.

Qasim smiled, pulling you away from the car. “Yes, Allah is Ar-Rahman- the Most Gracious, and Ar-Raheem- the Most Merciful. He would forgive you, but not the way you’re doing it, hm?” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you further away. “What you explained are acts of worship and yes, you’d be fulfilling your duty as a Muslim to God, but what about your other duty? Islam isn’t just about worshipping Allah, Y/n. Its half of your duty as a believer, but the other half is your duty to the humans around you. How you treat them, talk to them, your mannerisms. So even if you were to worship Allah, He wont forgive you for doing wrong to someone unless that person forgives you themselves first. Allah is very fair. If He has allowed you to feel hurt someone’s words, then He has also allowed other people to feel hurt too.”

Your shoulders slumped as your plans were foiled, knowing he was right. Qasim pecked your forehead, rubbing your shoulder to cheer you up. “Besides, this is no way for a Muslim to act. We should always try to be on our best behaviour, maintain composure and reflect. It’ll allow you to think more clearly.”

Maintain composure and reflect.

Letting out a sigh, you placed the glass back on the table before sitting down to rub your temples, trying to ease the ache that was forming.

Reflect.

Reflect.

Reflect-

You stood up as your eyes landed on Colin’s typewriter in the corner. Grabbing it, you made your way to the table and grabbed a stack of blank sheets and began typing away.

Hours later, you were leaving the house just before the guys returned from work but you stumbled into Benny on the street.

“Y/n? Where are you going?” He saw you hiding a few pages in your hand.

“I- um-” Concern flickered in his eyes as he came near you. “Tell me. I can help you.”

You weighted your options, contemplating whether it’d be good to trust Benny with this, despite letting him help you earlier.

Exhaling, you made the decision.

“I need to get to the printing press. Now.”

A flash of confusion appeared on his face before he nodded. “Okay.” Without any further questions, you two made your way towards the printing press as the sun went down.

-

After spending the entire night, printing hundreds of copies, you and Benny walked out of the printing press with stacks of papers. Walking down the streets of London in the cold winter, the sun just beginning to rise, Benny turned to you.

“Are you sure about this? Because once this is out there, there’s no going back.” He looked down at you, and judging by the determination in your eyes, he already knew the answer.

“Yes.” With a nod, Benny took half the stack while you had the other half.

“Alright. There are some paper boys that wait near the corner. Lets have these distributed.”

Henry walked into his office that day, finding it unexpectedly silent. For a moment, he thought the place was empty but when he spotted the employees gathered around a desk- your desk. Upon closer inspection, he noticed they were all surrounding Colin, who seemed to be engrossed reading a paper. Henry slowly pushed through the crowd and peeked over Colin’s shoulder, his eyes widening at the headline-

“The Ripper Strikes Again!

By S.H.H.”

S.H.H?

Henry snatched the paper, his eyes scanning the article his ex employee had written. It entailed the details from the first murder outside his club to the very latest that had taken place outside the FitzGeorge estate.

S.H.H.

It didn’t take much time for him to figure out that it was you who had written this piece and while a part of him was very furious at you for ruining his plans and image, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at you because he knew you couldn’t have done this alone.

No, you didn’t have the money to print this, let alone distribute this throughout London.

This has Silas written all over it.

“Get back to work!” Henry yelled making the crowd scatter away. “Colin. My office, now.” He seethed before storming off.

“I swear, I don’t know who wrote that article. I just picked it up on the way-”

“Shut up.” Henry opened his drawer, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, a rare sight since he’s often seen smoking cigars. But cigars are for celebratory occasions. For now, he needed something to calm down his nerves before he combusted.

As soon as he had finished inhaling the first cigarette, he lit up another one, taking slower drags out of it this time. Colin could only watch in both shock and nervousness as Henry sat down on his chair and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

Finally, he opened his eyes and pulled out a file from the desk drawer, throwing it at the table for Colin. Colin stared at Henry in question, whose eyes were focused on the wall, deep in thought.

“You’re working on exposing horrible hospital environments, aren’t you?” Colin nodded. Henry took another drag before looking at him. “Here’s conclusive proof that would support your article. I want you to write it by the end of the day so it gets printed for tomorrow morning’s paper. Oh and Colin?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You will write what is in this file and you will not give me any excuses as to why you can’t, because if you don’t write it, I will find someone who will and I will make damn sure that you don’t get to work another day in your life as a journalist. You are replaceable.” Unlike your cross-dressing roommate. “Do I make myself clear?”

Colin gulped. “Yes, sir.” He stepped ahead to take the file, his heart racing as he saw the name on the file.

“Daisy FitzGeorge”

-

Silas sipped his scotch, his blurry vision a testament to how many drinks he’s had. Glass in one hand, the papers in the other, the only words visible to him were “DIVORCE”.

Divorce.

You were divorcing him. He doesn’t understand why… he’s upset? No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not upset with something like this. I am merely… intrigued. Just slightly.

And why am I intrigued? I knew this marriage wasn’t going to last, I specifically told her that it wouldn’t? So why am I even wasting my time thinking about this when I have better things to do?

His eyes fell on the ring you had sent along with the papers. The wedding band. He set the papers down and picked it up, twirling it between his hands.

Did she divorce me because I yelled at her? Or did she already plan on leaving me?

He scoffed, standing up as he made his way to the window. Why would she leave me? I’m richer than her, I’m smarter than her, and if we’re being honest, I beat her in looks too. I am out of her league. Who the hell does she think she is?

I gave her everything. More than she deserved. Compensated her for everytime I had to use her for my plans. She had no reason to complain. She had no reason to leave me. She has no reason to leave me.

His eyes flickered to the snow covered garden.

She has no reason. Of course, a woman like her, would try to use me. She wants me to go after her, beg her to come back. The audacity!

He set his glass aside and pulled out a pen, his vision clearing as they focused on the documents.

You think you can trick me, huh? You want a divorce, Y/n? I’ll give-

“What the hell is that?” Silas whispered, gazing out the window and in the distance, just near the tree line, he saw a shadow, seemingly facing in his direction.

How long had it been standing there?

No. He’s way too still. The shadow doesn’t seem to be moving, breathing even. Silas’s drunk brain could only come up with two conclusions.

Either someone is trying to scare him (possibly Henry) by building this snowman or whatever, or someone is actually trying to break in (probably one of your several male friends).

And he planned on finding out who or what it was and taking his anger out on it.

He stormed off into the snow, with the divorce papers in hand, lest its you and he needs to shove them in your face.

-

Its been over a week since you wrote the article on the Ripper, which made news all around town, created enough buzz for major publications to start talking about them… including your last place of employment.

Henry of course, hadn’t taken so well to your details about the murders of his employees, so while his paper had mentioned a few paragraphs about the Ripper, they didnt mention anything about the victims being associated with Henry. And shockingly, the paper had instead used its front page to write about the “harrowing treatment at Aveline’s asylum” but it was really just an expose on Daisy FitzGeorge and how the FitzGeorge (and by association, the royal family) may have mental illnesses.

So… you understood why Silas had been silent this entire time. You understood why he hadn’t found the time to respond to your divorce papers. He’s probably dealing with Henry for what he made Colin write, and he might be dealing with keeping his reputation intact as well as being grilled by the queen. And with everything that had happened between you two, you knew it would be best if you never saw him again.

But… its been almost two weeks now, and you need to start working on your time machine again, for which you would need your little journal that you had so stupidly forgotten to take along with you when you left his house.

And so, here you were standing inside the FitzGeorge foyer at mid day (when you knew Silas would be away at work). In hindsight, you could’ve sent someone else, perhaps Benny in your place to fetch your journal, but you didnt want to risk him beating up Silas in case he had decided to take the day off.

The house seemed awfully quiet, more gloomy than usual, which you blamed the London winter for, but something was off.

Seeing that nobody was there to greet you, you decided to make your way towards the library, only for rushed steps to come your way.

“Mr Silas?” You spotted Cadbury coming from the corner, only for his concerned face turn hopeful as he ran towards you. “Oh Miss Y/n! Thank heavens, you’re here!”

“Cadbury, what’s going on?” You spotted the bags under his eyes.

The lines on his forehead deepened as he contemplated on how to break the news to you.

“Mr Silas… is missing!”

“What?”

“He hasn’t been home in over two weeks! I have looked everywhere for him! His workplace, bars, hospitals. But he’s nowhere to be found!”

You sigh. “Maybe he’s at a friend’s place. Or maybe he’s with his uncles or cousins.”

Cadbury shakes his head. “I checked! I contacted his friends, and I went to his uncles places without raising suspicion of him being missing, but he hasn’t seen any of them since the day he went missing.”

“And what day would that be?”

Cadbury’s voice died down. “The day… the day after you sent the divorce papers.”

A pit formed in your stomach. The day after I sent the divorce papers… that was the day the Ripper article was published. The news about his sister was also written that day, but it was printed out the next day. Which meant that Silas probably hadn’t read about Daisy, which then meant that if he lost his calm and snapped, it may have been due to the divorce papers you sent his way.

No. You assure yourself. He possibly couldn’t be affected by the divorce deed. He expected it- he demanded it. He assured you, he would give it to you before you two were even wed.

“You’re overthinking this, Cadbury. For all you know, he could be with his grandmother, wherever she is.” At your words, his face fell even more. “What is it?”

He gulped. “Miss Sarah fell ill when she left.”

Your eyes narrowed. “How ill?”

“Very. She’s bedridden now and doctors haven’t found a cause for it. She has been writing letters to Mr Silas, but since he’s been gone and I didnt want to cause her further distress, I… I have been writing to her under the guise as her grandson.”

You blinked at him. “What?!”

“Please, Miss Y/n. I didnt have any wrong intentions, I just didnt want Miss Sarah to worry herself in her condition.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. If Cadbury had been caught disguising himself as Silas, then Sarah wouldn’t still be writing back to him. Which means that Silas is… actually missing.

“Where did you see him last?” You asked him.

“In his study, when he was talking to Mr Blackwood. I gave him your um- divorce papers, and after Mr Blackwood left, he asked to be left alone. When I went to check on him the next day, he wasn’t in there. He wasn’t in the house!”

“Okay. Lets check the study first.” You both walked towards the study, your mind trying to think of where he could’ve gone.

Wait, Henry was here. He may have sad something to provoke Silas. Or maybe he blackmailed him? Perhaps, Silas has gone to run an errand for him?

No, it wouldn’t make sense for Silas to be doing favours to Henry, if the latter still went ahead and published his family’s secret.

Cadbury opened the study’s door and let you inside, the room was scattered all around.

“I left it as is.” Cadbury confessed as you looked around. “I didnt want to disturb his belongings. Mr Silas doesn’t appreciate it when anyone touches his things.”

Looking at the scene in front of you, it looked like he left in a hurry. His glass was still half full with the drink, and if you know anything about Silas, he never leaves his alcohol unfinished.

After an hour of searching the room for clues, all you could conclude was that he left in a hurry and with the divorce papers, since you couldn’t find them either.

He must’ve signed them and was coming to deliver them to me personally. Or perhaps threaten me.

“Do you know where he is, Miss Y/n?” Cadbury asked, worry etched on his face.

You sighed and shook your head defeatdly. “I don’t know, but I think its high time we report this to the police and his family.”

He immeadetly shook his head. “We cant do that! Mr Silas’s uncles will jump at the opportunity to take his assets and involving the police will make everyone know in high society-”

“What else do you want me to do, Cadbury?” You cut him off. “If you don’t want to report it, then dont. But the longer you keep this from the authorities, the more it’ll raise suspicions towards you. Just- you know what? Do whatever you want. I’m no longer a part of this family, and I’m no one to meddle in its affairs.” You tried to leave but Cadbury blocked your path.

“Technically ma’am, you still are a part of the family.”

“What?”

“The divorce deed… is nowhere to be found.”

“Yes. Because Silas has it.”

“It doesn’t mean he signed it.”

You blinked slowly. “What?”

He shrugged innocently. “I didn’t see him sign it, neither do I know if Mr Silas had any intentions of doing so. And you didn’t see him either.”

Your blood ran cold. “The papers are with Silas-”

“But we don’t know for sure if he signed it. You are still Mrs Silas FitzGeorge.”

You clenched your fists, trying to reel yourself in. “Stop playing games, Cadbury. You know Silas has the papers, you know he has signed them-”

“I do not know. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still happily married to Mr Silas.”

“Enough!” You walked unto him, staring him dead in the eye. “Silas has divorced me, he has the papers! And before you say that you didn’t see him sign it, I don’t think that argument will fly in court!”

“Court?” He raised a brow.

“Yes. Court. If I cant find the divorce papers, I will get a lawyer who will fight my case and have the judge accept the end of this relationship! And if this is some sick game that you thought would stop me from getting a divorce from Silas, if that is the very reason he has suddenly gone “missing”, let me assure you, I will fight tooth and nail and get my way!”

The butler maintained his composure, despite your menacing tone. “You can do as you want, ma’am. But if you are going to involve the court in this, then I must contact Mr Silas’s lawyer who has documents containing important information that you must see.”

By evening, the lawyer had come and you were not expecting the information he came baring.

With trembling hands, you scanned the pages, eyes widening with each word.

“I, Silas (Edmund) FitzGeorge, hereinafter referred to as “the husband”, being of sound mind and body, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, and I hereby revoke all previous wills and codicils. I am married to Y/n L/n, hereinafter referred to as "my wife," and I have full confidence in her and wish to provide for her after my passing.

Y/n and I are married under the laws of Islam and the British crown, and both parties have expressed mutual interest in ensuring that their marital relationship endures regardless of any future physical separation, and
The Husband wishes to secure the continuity of his marital bond with The Wife under extraordinary circumstances, and
WHEREAS, The Wife, understanding the gravity of this arrangement, agrees to the terms outlined below,
NOW, THEREFORE, in consideration of the mutual promises, covenants, and obligations set forth herein, the parties agree as follows:

ARTICLE I: CONDITIONAL MARRIAGE BOND

Condition of Divorce:
Notwithstanding any future legal proceedings or claims for dissolution of marriage, The Wife shall not be permitted to divorce The Husband unless one of the following conditions occurs:
a. The Husband’s Death: In the event that The Husband is declared legally deceased by a competent authority or court, and his remains have been conclusively identified by appropriate authorities, or
b. The Wife Locates and Identifies The Husband’s Remains: Should The Husband go missing or be presumed dead, The Wife may pursue divorce only if she personally discovers, identifies, and confirms The Husband’s remains. This confirmation must be made through formal identification methods accepted under the laws of British empire, and shall be accompanied by appropriate documentation (e.g., medical or forensic certification of death).

No Divorce Without Finding Remains:
In the event of The Husband’s disappearance under circumstances where his remains are not conclusively located, The Wife shall not initiate any legal action to dissolve the marriage until The Wife has personally located his remains and has provided the court with satisfactory proof of the remains' discovery.

Duration of the Agreement:
This Agreement shall remain in effect as long as The Husband's remains have not been conclusively found. Should The Husband be found alive or if his remains are discovered, the terms of this Agreement shall automatically expire, and The Wife may pursue divorce proceedings under applicable laws.

ARTICLE II: TERMINATION OF AGREEMENT UPON FOUND REMAINS

Disappearance:
If The Husband disappears under circumstances where there is no conclusive proof of death, The Wife shall maintain all legal rights to pursue a divorce as if The Husband were alive, but only after making a reasonable effort to locate his remains through all available means.

Notification of Discovery:
In the event that The Wife discovers The Husband’s remains, she must notify The Husband’s designated legal representative, within 14 days of the discovery. Upon receipt of this notice, The Husband’s legal representative shall confirm the identification of the remains and provide written notice to both parties.

ARTICLE III: CONSEQUENCES OF BREACH OF AGREEMENT

Breach by The Husband:
If The Husband is found to be in breach of this Agreement (e.g., by acting in a manner that leads to fraudulent claims of death, or failing to comply with identification procedures), The Wife may petition for divorce under the laws, irrespective of the condition precedent regarding finding remains.

Breach by The Wife:
If The Wife attempts to initiate divorce proceedings without satisfying the conditions set forth in this Agreement, The Husband shall have the right to petition the courts to invalidate any such divorce attempt, and may seek damages for breach of contract as provided by the law.

ARTICLE IV: MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Mutual Consent:
Both parties acknowledge that this Agreement has been entered into freely and voluntarily, and that each understands the extraordinary nature of the conditions set forth herein. The Wife acknowledges the serious implications of this contract and agrees to abide by its terms unless the conditions of divorce are satisfied.

EXECUTION

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the parties have executed this Agreement on the day and year first above written.

[Husband's Full Name]
Silas Edmund FitzGeorge

[Wife's Full Name]
Y/n L/n

Witnesses:
Cadbury Hawthorne
Colin (surname)

“You and Mr Colin signed these documents the night you had your Nikkah with Mr Silas.” Cadbury quietly said, answering you question as to when you had signed a bullshit contract like this.

Silas fucking tricked me. He took advantage of me, put me on the spot and had everything so rushed that I didn’t even have the time to read the documents I signed.

“This is trickery. I didn’t agree to any of this-”

“That argument will not fly in court, ma’am. Your inability to have read through the papers you signed out of your own volition, still means that you did signed and agreed to the terms.” The lawyer explained.

You stared at him. “So what? You’re telling me that I cant divorce Silas, that no court will grant me a divorce from him unless I find his body?!”

“Its not necessary you find his remains. If he’s still alive, you can still get the divorce.” The lawyer answered, ignoring the angry vein on your temple. “Even if you don’t find him, you still are the sole inheritor of all of Mr Silas’s assets. I think thats a pretty sweet deal.”

“I dont want his stupid assets! I want the fucking divorce!”

The lawyer closed his brief case. “Then I suggest you find Mr Silas, ma’am.”

-

The first few days at the manor had been hard for you. Refusing to trust Cadbury, given his history as being Silas right hand and well, you still suspected him of drugging your tea, you fought with him. Well it was more like you yelling and throwing things at him, and he just calmly reassured you over and over again that he was and will be for the foreseeable future- loyal to you, while dodging the fine china plate you frisbeed at his head.

When you finally came around to the idea that Silas may actually be missing and this is not some ruse, that he might be in real danger, your first thought was to contact his family. But Cadbury strongly advised you against it, saying that even if you were to only inform Sarah, she would eventually reach out to her sons to help find Silas, which is a bad idea because according to Cadbury, they would jump at his inheritance which Silas left all to you and to acquire it, they will stop at nothing. Even if they have to do something less than savoury to you.

“So you’re staying back at the estate because you need to find Silas, dead or alive, in order to get a divorce from him?” Benny asked. He came here after he found you moving back to the manor.

“Yes. I signed a document saying so. And I think that if I were to stay here, I’d be able to find more clues to his whereabouts.”

“Cant you just get a dead body?”

“Ok, first of all, where would I get a random dead body that looks like Silas? Secondly, no. The authorities need to actually verify that I bring Silas’s remains, not some random guy’s. And since Silas is part of royalty and not a nobody, its almost next to impossible for me to fool anyone.”

Benny dragged his palms over his face. “Why does it even matter that you’re not a divorced? You can just come back and live with us!”

“It does matter because I am married to a FitzGeorge, and I am the duchess of Westminster, and because if I need to marry again, I cant without divorce from my last husband!” You explained. Part of the reason you’re staying at Silas’s manor is because you want to find clues to where he is, but also because with the house entirely to yourself, you can peacefully build your time machine.

“So how do you plan on finding Silas?”

“Well, first I have to determine if he’s actually gone missing or if he’s just hiding away-”

“Why would he hide?”

“I dont know, to avoid confrontation? Maybe he thinks that I’ll come for his money, which I don’t think is the case since he has given it to me now anyways.” You rubbed your chin. “Perhaps he has enemies? His life is in danger and he decided to vanish, while also keeping me bound to him just to have the last laugh.”

Benny chuckled at your suggestion. “Okay, so how will you determine if he’s missing or hiding?”

“I plan on drawing him out.” You replied. “Force him out of his hiding place.” Which isn’t as easy as it sounds because one thing is for sure, Silas is very resilient.

Cadbury walked in with tea. “Is it done?” You asked the butler who nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It should be ready for operations in a week.”

Benny looked confused. “Whats done, Y/n?”

You took your teacup from Cadbury, hiding your smile. “You’ll see. Oh and tell Colin to see me when he can.”

-

Colin stood outside the building you’d given him the address to.

“The London Post” He read the name on the board, which looked like it was newly installed.

He walked inside, where a receptionist greeted him and lead him to an office upstairs. On his way, he saw a bullpit full of desks with employees working in full swing. Looking at the dozens of typewriters only further confirmed his suspicions that this was a newspaper agency. But what he didn’t understand was why you had sent him here.

Was it to write an article for this paper? Or did they want to interview him for his latest expose he was forced to write on Daisy FitzGeorge?

The receptionist knocked on the office door before someone inside gave permission to enter. Swinging the door open, Colin was just able to catch the glimpse of the brass plaque on the door.

“Y/n FitzGeorge, CEO”

You were sitting in behind your mahogany desk in your plush leather chair, smiling as you greeted Colin.

“What is all this?” Colin asked, sitting down from across you.

“Dont you like my new workplace?” You asked, setting aside whatever paper you were working on. “I bought the building to start a new paper. The London Post! Has a nice ring to it, hm?”

“It does. But… why exactly did you start a newspaper company?”

Because I plan on drawing out Silas by using his money lavishly and while the first idea that came to mind was to burn it in a bornfire, another idea came to mind.

Why not use the money to ruffle some feathers as well?

Henry was going to be a problem for you longterm, you knew that for sure. So while you and Benny may have been able to get away with writing something against him one time, you doubt you’d be so lucky again.

But you cant say that to Colin without sounding like a complete lunatic.

“Because I want to write freely. I want to write the truth without some rich dirtbag trying to brush it under the rug because it interferes with his business.” Colin was impressed.

“That is… excellent. You will make a lot of people unhappy with this, but I suppose you don’t care about it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “The truth needs to be out there. People should be able to acquire knowledge and decide for themselves what they should do with it.”

“Admirable. And I suppose you wont have to dress up as a man again. Perks of being the boss, hm?” He commented, making you laugh.

“I didn’t just invite you here to show off, Colin.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your desk. “I want you to work here.”

“What?”

“You can write your articles on the horrid healthcare system and you’d have your own team to help you in investigations. I’ll back you up, all the way. Whatever you need-”

“Ok.”

“Hm?”

“Ok. I accept your job offer.” Colin stood up, shaking your head. He didn’t need to be convinced much to leave Henry Blackwood.

In the evening, you failed to notice a pair of eyes stalking your form as you got in your carriage and went home.

“I seriously need to hire better security. They cant just let anyone in.” You grumbled as soon as you spotted him lounging in the parlour.

“Oh please. Like that would stop me.” Henry smirked, making himself as he poured himself a drink. “I thought you’d be happy to see me after so long, kitten.”

“So all it takes is one sip of alcohol for you to start deluding?” You rolled your eyes, giving your coat to the maid as you walked inside the room. “What do you want, Henry?”

“Just some answers, kitten.” He smiled, though it wasn’t a genuine. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“The London Post.” “Ah. The newspaper. Its a nice name, hm?”

“Y/n.” He warned.

“Henry.” You mocked back. “What is it of any concern to you?”

“Is this your big plan to get back at me? The moment I propose to a soon-to-be-divorcee, you go running back in the arms of Silas? If money was all it took, need I remind you- I have plenty more than Silas?”

Great. He just called me a gold-digger in my own house.

“First of all, I doubt that any amount of your blood-stained money will ever compare to Silas’s generational wealth. Its about class, something you wouldn’t know about.” You ran a hand through your hair. “As for why I’m back with Silas, well why don’t you see it this way? The mere idea of being with you repelled me so much that it drove me into the arms of another man.”

“And where is this other man?”

“Perhaps he was also repelled by you.” Henry crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so? Huh. So he’s been hiding away weeks before I actually came.”

Your eyes narrowed. How does he-?

“Ah ah. I saw that look.” He snapped his fingers, sauntering over to you. “What? You really didn’t think I’d find out that he’s been missing for what? A month now?” You kept your mouth shut as he gloated. “Not a bird flutters its wing here and I am not aware. I know everything, kitten.”

Either he’s bluffing, or he’s the reason why Silas is missing. “Silas isn’t missing. He’s away on business.”

“Dont lie, love. I know the truth. Besides, what I cant figure out is why you’re back here after that nasty fight with him? I mean, the last time I saw Silas, you had sent the divorce papers yourself.”

Did you see him sign them? Is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you feigned innocense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I agree that I did take time apart after our… marital discourse, but thats normal. Lovers fight, not that you’d know. I imagine most women in your life are threatened into a relationship with you.”

He smirked. “You think about me with other women? Is my kitten jealous?” Your unamused face made him chuckle. “I just came here to congratulate you on starting your new business. Hope it doesnt burn down before it makes a real mark.”

“Is that a threat?” “Did it sound like a compliment?” You scowled, and he smirked. “My kitten has a tendency to go a little crazy and scratch others. I’d hate to be the one to have to tame you, although-”

“Get the hell out of my house!”

Henry cackled, enjoying getting under your skin. He got ready to leave, glancing at you one last time.

“You don’t belong from this world, kitten. Stop meddling with my business before you get hurt, hm?”

As days went by, the Ripper began his killing spree again. More victims came to light, most of them were people who were out and about well after midnight, but there were some cases where the victims were… just normal people. The London Post had a dedicated team working on reporting this case audit was garnering more attention. You might even dare to say… that it was more popular than Henry’s now.

Benny would swing by your office whenever he could, usually with snacks and make lighthearted conversation. You knew what he was doing though- he was checking up on you. And really, you don’t blame him. After breaking down in front of him, to sending divorce papers to Silas, to quitting your job and writing an article that damages your ex-employer’s repute, to then moving back to living at your “missing” husband’s home (who you cant divorce until you find his remains) and then starting a whole new company, who wouldn’t want to check how someone like that is doing mentally?

Its sweet really, it really is. Which is why its so hard for you to look at him as a potential killer. It doesnt help all the lies he’s told you, not to mention his relationship with the shady cross-dresser who practically threatened you to not bother Henry.

I really, really hope you’re just a closeted gay Benny.

You woke up to the sound of yelling. Looking at the clock, the needles pointed to 11 pm. You got out of bed, wrapping your night robe around yourself before leaving the room. Following the clamour, you found yourself on the top of the staircase and saw the source of noise standing in the lobby down.

It was Silas’s uncles, William and Adolphus . The two men were yelling at Cadbury, the poor butler trying to shush them and prevent them from passing past him.

“As I said sir-! Mrs Silas is asleep at the moment and I cannot allow you to enter Mr Silas’s study without her permission.”

“You have no right to stop us! And I don’t need that wench’s permission to enter wherever I please!” William, the eldest FitzGeorge shouted.

“Actually, you do.” You finally spoke up, shutting them all up. You gracefully descended the stairs, eyes narrowing down at them. “As it happens, I am the co-owner of this house.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, I tried to stop them-”

“Its alright, Cadbury.” You turned your attention back to the two men who were looking down at you. “Now that you have disturbed me from my sleep, what seems to be the problem?”

“Your stupid servant is stopping us from going to Silas’s study-”

“He’s a butler, and you will give him the due respect or you can march yourself out of here. Now.” Your words made the room silent again, and one could cut the tension with a knife.

Adolphus, the middle child of Sarah, seemed to be the one with more sense. “You’re right. But as it happens, we are in a bit of rush and we need to go to the study.”

“Why?”

“There are some papers there.” Adolphus stated, mistaking that this would be enough to satisfy you.

“So?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“So? So we need to get them.”

“Why? Whats so important about them?”

Adolphus looked at you, then at his brother who had an angry being popping on his head, then back at you. “Silas… has granted us some money. We need those papers to access that money.”

“Ah. That is important.” You hummed, and the uncles took this as a sign for them to go and retrieve them. “Halt, now.”

“What?” William seethed.

You sighed dramatically. “Now I understand the pickle you’re in, but as it happens, Silas has absolutely forbidden anyone from entering his study without his permission and since Silas hasn’t told me beforehand about letting his uncles in, I’m afraid I cant let you go there. He’s weirdly territorial about it.”

“Then where is Silas?” William barked.

“I dont know. As a good wife, I don’t keep tabs on where my husband goes, when he’ll be back or stick my nose in his business.” You smiled charmingly, knowing these chauvinistic jerks will eat this lie up.

“Look, we’re his family. We wouldn’t betray our own.” Adolphus tried to reason with you.

You shrugged. “Orders are orders, uncle. I’m just an obedient wife, listening to my husband because I’d just be a fool not to!” Your voice drips with honey.

William glared at you, and was ready to bark an insult when you beat him to it.

“Cadbury, please show our guests the way out. Don’t hesitate to use more help if needed.” You leave before they could get another word in.

When Cadbury returns, you’re sitting in Silas’s study, holding the file that the uncles wanted. However, it didn’t say anything about any money being set aside for them. It was just Silas reiterating that you were his sole inheritor of everything.

“Ah thank goodness you didn’t let them in, ma’am.” Cadbury breathed a sigh of relief. You hummed, looking at the document again before setting it aside. You have a gut feeling that if they were to find out that Silas has left everything to you, they would not be happy.

“Did you tell them that Silas has been missing?” Cadbury shook his head. “No ma’am.”

“Then how did they know he wasnt home?”

It is possible that word got out via the house staff that he hasn’t been home in a while. Or that someone from the outside is spreading the news. Perhaps a business partner? An enemy? Maybe his uncles have a hand in his disappearance. Or it is entirely possible that Silas is behind this and is using his uncles to put me under pressure?

Whoever it is, its high time to put an end to all of this. Silas needs to be found out.

“Prepare my carriage for tomorrow. I’ll be leaving to see Silas’s grandma.”

-

You sensed something was gravely wrong the next day you saw Cadbury.

The butler held a letter in his trembling hands, his face pale as he read with wide eyes.

“Mrs- Mrs Fairbrother is- is dead.”

What?

You grabbed the letter from his hands, reading the details of how Sarah passed away yesterday in her sleep. It was sent by her housekeeper, who said that Mrs Fairbrother wanted to be buried in London and her funeral arrangements done by you.

Two days later, you were standing in Silas’s study, looking out the window at the funeral service arranged. Despite the large amount of attendees, everything went smoothly. Cadbury made sure of that, he basically handled all the things on your behalf.

Perhaps he knew you’d need your energy for something else soon.

You’d met with the people only briefly, accepting their condolences before you went back to hiding in the study. Sarah was buried in the family cemetery, next to her husband and near her granddaughter, Daisy. You didn’t go to the gravesite yourself, it only reminded you of Qasim. You don’t think you could ever handle going through that ordeal again.

Not to mention the big elephant in the room that you have to address.

Silas is not here.

You may not know much about him but you know for a fact how much he loved his grandmother and the fact that he’s not here means that he… he might actually have gone missing. And not by his own will.

Is he missing or is he dea-?

Cadbury entered the study with a knock, a cup of tea in his hand.

“Thank you.” You take the cup from him. He smiled, understanding your gratefulness for letting him deal with the funeral.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up, ma’am. Mr William and Mr Adolphus are waiting in the parlour downstairs with the will executor. He says its important for all family members to be there.”

“I understand.” You sigh before standing up. You walked into the parlour where the uncles were drinking

“Look who decided to finally join us.” William sneered.

“I want to say its nice to see you again but I don’t want to insult the dead by lying.” You turn your attention back to the executor. “Please lets get this done with already.”

“It wont take too long, miss.” The executor says before opening the envelope. “The will states “I am grateful to all who attended my funeral. I knew my time was coming soon, which is why I left London a month ago. It was my dream to see my beloved Silas get married and what a fine lady he chose for this family. He took care of me, as did Y/n when she became a part of our lives. Which is why I Sarah Fairbrother FitzGeorge, in sound mind and with no pressure from anyone, am leaving all of my wealth to Silas and Y/n. For my other grandsons, I leave a trust fund that they will acquire if they get into Oxford college like Silas did. The trust fund will be distributed to reputable charities if they don’t make it to college.

For my sons, William and Adolphus, I leave only this-

I know what you did. I was made aware of it in my final days and I am ashamed to call you my sons. Which is why you are both removed from my will and are not entitled to a single pound from the inheritance. If I could, I would strip you off the respectable FitzGeorge surname. Shame on you.” The executor folds the paper back. “That concludes the will, now if you could all just sign here-”

“I am not signing this bullshit!” William threw the glass on the floor, the crystal shattering everywhere. “This is complete bullshit! How the fuck does she not leave anything to me?! To her own sons?!”

The executor narrowed his eyes. “I understand this can be difficult to digest-”

“Mother must’ve been delirious. That explains it. Women experience hysteria on the daily now, its very common now a days. Why else would she leave nothing to her owns sons, and everything to Silas, who did not even bother to attend the funeral!” Adolphus spoke up.

“I assure you, sir, your mother was not delirious. She was not a mad woman when she executed her will. I was there, with two other witnesses.”

“So what? We get nothing and Silas and his bedwarmer get everything?!” William yells, glaring at you. “Where the fuck is Silas?! He cant get a single penny of this will unless he’s here!”

“I-” Your voice died down in your throat. What do I say? How long can I avoid this question?

“What?” Adolphus questioned but William walked to the executor. “Did you hear that? He’s not here which means he doesn’t get the bloody inheritance! And neither does she!”

“Actually, Miss Y/n is entitled to all of the inheritance as Mrs Sarah stated in the will.” A voice interrupted. You looked at the doorway where Cadbury was walking in with Silas’s lawyer.

“This is a private matter. You need to leave.” Adolphus stated, not liking the intrusion.

“I’m Mr Silas’s lawyer and he’s allowed me to be in matters in his place.” He set down his briefcase and pulled out some documents. “Mr Silas has already given all of his inheritance to Miss Y/n and anything that Mrs Sarah has left for him, will also be going to Miss Y/n.

-

The Ripper has Silas.

He’s made that much clear to you over the last two weeks via all the letters and cryptic messages he’d sent you, which you didn’t take seriously at first because for all you could know, this could be just a prank or from Silas enemies to scare you.

Then came the present.

It was a small box with a red bow on it, left on the windowsill of your room. When you opened it, your blood ran cold at the contents inside.

It was a ring. The wedding band.

The day you married Silas, his grandmother gave you her late husband’s ring to give to Silas. It was a family heirloom and it was his grandfather’s. Losing it, it’s not something Silas would risk just to trouble you.

He was in serious danger. Especially if the Ripper is the one who has him.

You wanted to go to the cops, but knowing how they never actually came close to catching the killer, you decide to go to someone more powerful.

The Queen.

Now I know she may not have MI5, but surely she’d have contacts and perhaps some secret agents who’d do a much better job of finding her royal relative.

“The queen is busy and cannot see anyone at the moment.” The royal servant told you at the front door. That’s as far as they’d allowed you to enter.

“I don’t think you understand. My husband, a royal member of the family has gone missing and possibly been abducted by the Ripper-!”

“I don’t think you understand, miss.” He cut you off. “The queen is simply too busy to entertain any civilians or their lost men.”

“He’s not a civilian! Silas FitzGeorge-”

“Is not recognised by the royal family. Please refrain yourself from associating that name with the prestigious royal household.”

You looked at him dumbfounded. Is he- did the queen really just cut Silas out of the family?

“Then as a civilian, I am begging you to let me see the queen. I want to find my husband and only she can help me.”

“The queen has far more important engagements at the moment.”

Clenching your fists to stop yourself from swinging at him and running inside the palace, you asked him. “Does she hate Silas that much that she didn’t attend Sarah’s funeral? Or did she loathe Sarah that much that she refuses to help find Silas?”

“Let me show you the exit-”

You swiftly turned and left, your body ready to combust from anger.

How can anyone do that? Just refuse to help a family member? You’re no stranger to enemies-in-family, but still- she adored Silas enough to reintroduce him as a part of her family just months ago. Did she really just hate him for marrying me, or as Silas showed the world- “married for love”.

How can you just turn your back on family?

You stormed into your office, breathing heavily. Fine then. If she won’t let me see her, I’ll make her come to me.

“COLIN!” He came into your office alarmed. “I need you to allocate 5 of the best writers on a new project. Give them whatever they need, no expenses spared.”

“What’s the project?”

“The royal family.”

“What?”

“Every crime they’ve committed, every scandal they’ve been involved in, every time they’ve so much as swatted a fly! I want it all reported and published.” Colin’s eyes widened at your words.

“Y/n it’s not wise-“

“Colin, I’m not in need of wisdom. I know what I’m doing, I know the risks I’m taking, so spare me the advice and do what I’m asking you to do. Please.” You rubbed your temples.

He gave a nod. “Very well.”

“Oh and Colin?” “Yes?”

“Please send the team working on the Ripper to me. And if you could, please send for the coppers.”

“Why?” Colin asked, testing his luck.

“Silas has been taken by the Ripper. And I have letters from him.”

-

The next few weeks were very busy, with police officers interrogating you about Silas and the Ripper to representatives coming from the royal family to stop you from slandering them, which besides being satisfying to your ego, was also good for business as people loved to watch “the rich get torn apart a new one”.

But you didn’t have the time to enjoy that when you had a literal serial killer murdering people left and right with notes attached, always written to you. Well, not exactly to you- he’s kind enough to just praise your paper for getting details right about him, and only rarely adding in corrections about how he murdered someone,

You had asked him to return Silas in one of the articles your paper published, pleading him to send “the love of my life” back.

The psycho slashed a smile on the next victim’s stomach, with the words “GOOD JOKE!” written in blood on the walls.

To deal with all that, you had decided to cross out one item off your list-

Get rid of the portrait.

The moment you returned home from the crime scene and spotted the painting that was glaring down at you, you had it pulled off the wall of the staircase and set out in the gardens.

“Having a bonfire, are we?” Henry spoke from behind you, rubbing his hands as he saw you standing alone in front of the large fire pit you’d started.

Watching the last bit of the paper turn to ash, put your mind at ease. “Care to join?” You asked.

Henry’s lips quirked up. “Oh I’d love to be by your side-“

“I meant the fire. Care to jump in?” You didn’t move your eyes from the fire.

He pouted. “Oh kitten, if you want me to keep you warm, I know far better ways-“

“I’d rather you push me into the fire.” Your monotonous tone makes him chuckle. “I can’t do that. I’d lose the most popular person in Britain then!”

“Popular?” “No need to be humble, love. You’re both the most hated and most loved woman in all of England right now! People just loathe the way you’re tearing down the monarchy and yet they can’t help but adore your fake tears for your missing husband.”

“They’re not fake.” You whisper. “I do miss Silas, and I do want him back.”

“I need him.” To finalise the stupid divorce. “But no matter how hard I try, I can’t find him.”

Henry stared at you, an unsavoury emotion swirling in his eyes though he managed to keep his expression neutral.

“You don’t need Silas. You think you do, but the human body is capable of surviving with way less than the bare minimum.” He looks ahead with you at the dancing flames. “All you have to do is leave this place and go home.”

“It’s not that simple.” Shaking your head, you answer him. “I can’t just up and leave him, not when I know he’s in danger, when he’s being held hostage and I can do something about it.” You finally turn to him, finding him staring at you already. “Which is why I sent for you today.”

He raised a brow. “You want me to find Silas.” He said in an unamused voice.

“Please.”

“I may be fond of you, kitten but don’t you think it’s harsh and frankly, unreasonable to expect your admirer to find a man for you?” He chuckled, roaming his eyes anywhere to conceal his jealousy.

“I’m desperate-” “Clearly.” He scoffed.

You took a deep breath. “If you find Silas, I’ll leave him.”

Henry’s head turned to you. “I’ll leave Silas, I’ll divorce him. I’ll leave London for good.”

He looked at you for a moment before sighing. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “So you’ll find him? Good, I can go and deal with the monarchs-“

He grabbed your shoulder. “Not so fast, kitten. First, you’re going to attend a party with me.”

“Why?”

“I’d like to have the most popular lady on my arm for a night.” He grinned, making you roll your eyes. “Besides, I think you’d enjoy seeing a few familiar faces there, for your paper, hm?”

-

You were standing inside the Gentleman’s club, waiting for Henry to receive you. It was a grand party, they usually are around here but everything seemed to be grander this time around.

Two weeks ago, when you were given an invitation to the club, Henry had asked you to stop publishing anything regarding the Ripper, as to stop giving him the attention he seemed to thrived on and make him slip up in an attempt to regain his popularity back. So, you ignored the letters you got from the killer, reading them but never responding.

There was a large guest list but no masquerade this time, except for the workers who were responsible for “entertainment”, they wore masks.

You saw many of high society there, including the sleazebag Charles Dickens. He never seemed to issue the opportunity to be present anywhere debauchery is popular.

“You look ravishing, love.” Henry’s husky voice reached you before you felt his arm on your waist. You frowned at his closeness but decided to put up with it for the night, after all you did agree to be “arm candy” for the night.

“Aw, are you afraid someone might see you being so cozy with the most handsome bachelor in London?” His earthy cologne filled your lungs, and you hoped by the end of the night, you don’t end up smelling like him.

“Most handsome bachelor? So you have found Silas?” You feigned innocence but he didn’t seem fazed by the insult, in fact pulling you closer to him. “You’re looking just too gorgeous tonight for me to admonish you, but who knows? Maybe we can arrange some type of punishment to put you in your place later tonight.”

You smile seductively at him, putting a hand on his chest. “Not if I punish you first.” You drag a nail over his chest bluntly, making a mischievous glint appear in his eyes.

“Yeah? What do you have in mind, baby?”

You giggle sweetly, batting your lashes up at him.

“How does getting whacked by a cactus sound?”

“Exciting!” He gave you a huge grin. “Pain is pleasure, kitten. And I’ll make sure you learn to love everything I give you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes as he chuckled. “Pervert…”

“I jest, milady. Come now, let’s greet our guests.” He takes your hand and pulls you along.

“Our guests?” He nods. “You are my date for the night, so you’re going to be hosting these guests with me. I think you’ll find some very interesting people here.”

“Yeah? Like who?”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, nodding ahead. “See that man with the beard? That’s Mr Bell. He’s currently working on a device that’ll make it possible to communicate from distance.”

Bell… as in-

“Alexander Graham Bell?!” You harshly whispered.

He quirked a brow. “A fan, are we? Didn’t know you’ve also been following his work.” Only since elementary school science class!

Henry then nodded at another guy in the corner. “See that young fellow in the corner, surrounded by women? Yes, that’s Louis Pasteur. Odd fellow, always going on about invisible germs and what not, but I know a genius when I see one. That’s why I invested in him, even if I don’t fully understand what he’s working on, I know he’ll worth something someday. I wouldn’t get too close to him, he smells like spoiled milk often.”

He then waved at two ladies sitting on a sofa, surrounded by men and women- entertaining them. “Enjoying yourself girls?” They smiled at him with flushed faces, as you turned away in horror.

“That’s Dr Elizabeth Anderson, first female to qualify as a doctor in Britain. The young gal next to her is nurse Florence Nightingale. Sweet girl.” Henry introduced you and never in a million years did you imagine meeting your scientific heroes in a place like this.

“What- what are they doing here?” “What do people do at a party? Enjoy.” “I meant, what are they doing here in this disgusting place-“

“Excuse you, but my club prides itself in maintaining its hygiene better than most hospitals here.” He grabbed a glass of champagne from the waiter passing by. “They’re here because I want them here. Every guest here tonight, I have granted them favours and now, they’re forever indebted to me.”

“Why do you want them here tonight?”

He sipped his drink. “Let’s just say, they’re here to make someone feel comfortable tonight.”

You frowned. “I don’t feel comfortable.” Henry laughed. “Oh, I love you darling, but tonight, we have a more important guest than you. Come now, they should be coming soon and I’d hate for you to miss their entry.”

He took you along with him up the staircase, standing over the railing as you looked down at the main floor, a clear view of everyone.

“Henry.” He was leaning over the railing, his shoulders looking even more broad as he rested his arms against the bannister. “Did you find anything?”

He understood what you were referring to. “I found a lot of things, it’s all in my office, but nothing that tipped off to Silas’s whereabouts.”

“What about the Ripper’s whereabouts?”

“I’m focusing on finding Silas. Not a deranged killer.” “Henry-“ he narrowed his eyes at you. “How are you so sure that he took Silas? For all you know, Silas could be hiding because he cheated on you or something.”

“He sent me the ring.” “So what? He could’ve just-”

“No!” You snapped, making him narrow his eyes at you. “He wouldn’t have just given up the ring for petty revenge or to make my life difficult. He wouldn’t- you don’t know him like I do. The ring is very important to him, he wouldn’t give it up without a fight.”

Henry was ready to say something, probably argue more, but right then, a commotion started on the ballroom floor.

All the guests had started to look towards the entrance, where some men stood. There were hushed whispers of disbelief, people looking around to make sure that someone else was also seeing at what they were.

The chief guest had arrived. And as they appeared from the shadows and into the center, your breath hitched with almost everyone there.

It was Prince Edward VII, Queen Victoria’s son and successor.

What the hell is he doing here?

You turned to ask Henry, only to see him walking down the stairs to greet the prince. Why did Henry invite the prince to the club? What evil plan did he have in mind? Or did he do this for you, so that you’d write about royalty being associated with such perversity?

You turned away from the bannister and looked around for Henry’s office.

After a few minutes of walking in on people making out, you finally found the office. Stepping in, you spotted a file on his desk and as you suspected, it had everything on Silas’s life, including how Daisy ended up in the asylum. Apparently one day, uncle William had called her over to his estate to discuss an important family matter.

She never returned. It’s reported that the following morning, William and Adolphus had her admitted to the asylum because she was “acting odd” and was “delusional”.

The file also details that while it was rare, Silas was able to visit Daisy a few times there whenever he got time off from boarding school. Unfortunately, in less than a year in the asylum, Daisy had taken her own life.

You close the file, setting it back on the desk before moving towards the other side and sitting in Henry’s chair.

Might as well go through his stuff if I’m snooping.

You open the single drawer and it has a small box containing a few cigars and some papers. You close it and are about to make your way outside when you hear footsteps coming towards the room. You look around for shelter before ducking under the mahogany desk, just as the door opens.

“Why haven’t you been responding to my letters?” You heard Benjamin’s voice. “Why did you make the guards turn me away whenever I came here?”

You heard the sound of glass clinking and a drink being poured. “And yet here you are. Take a hint, Benny boy.” You recognised Lady Scarlett’s voice.

“Scarlett” you heard strain in his voice. “I just- I don’t understand. What are Henry’s intentions with Y/n?”

“What do you care?” The annoyance was evident in Scarlet’s voice. “You love her or something?”

There were a few seconds of silence. “She’s a friend.”

Scarlet’s heels clicked as he walked to the corner of the room to pour herself another drink. “She’s been taken care of.” “What do you mean?” “She won’t be meddling with our business again, I had a talk with her. She won’t be coming back here. And if she does… well, I’m afraid your friendship won’t save her.”

“Scarlett-” “Do the job you’ve been given, Benny. Find out who’s been going after Henry’s business. We lost another two guards that were sent to keep an eye on Y/n.”

What?

A few seconds later, you heard them walk out of the office. Sighing in relief, you stand up to leave from your hiding spot but hit your head on the mahogany desk. You groaned, clutching your head as the drawer slides out slightly from your head bump, and that’s when you spot it.

A secret compartment on the side of the drawer!

It had a small lock on it, which was easy to open with a bobby pin. The small wooden door unlocked and without missing a beat, you opened it.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was in there.

“No- how…?” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the object, from-

The Time Machine.

My Time Machine!

Thud.

You jumped at the sound. It came from the window. You didn’t move from your spot, either waiting for the source to reveal or perhaps you were too stunned to move.

A few seconds later, it happened again. Only this time, a rock burst through the window, shattering the glass everywhere. You stayed on the ground before creeping towards the windowsill to find the source, and there he was- standing alone in the dark alleyway, his figure illuminated just enough to give him away.

The Ripper.

You couldn’t make out his face due to the dark alley, but it was clear he was looking at you.

Your heart almost leapt out of your throat when he waved at you.

What the fuck?

Locked in a trance, you couldn’t move from the window. You know you should’ve ducked, should’ve moved out of sight but it was like you knew if you looked away, if you so much as blinked he’d-

“Y/N!”

You’re yanked away from the window, face colliding into Benjamin’s chest. “There’s a fire! We need to leave!” You looked back towards the window.

He’s gone.

“Come on!” Ben dragged you out the door by your arm and that’s when you were hit in the face by the intense heat.

The once fancy club was now set aflame. Flames licked their way up the walls, devouring the silken tapestries and velvet curtains. The air was now thick with smoke. People were screaming and trampling all over each other to get out, their masks discarded as their faces were painted with horror. Your heart dropped at the panic of it all.

You’re lucky Ben was there, because while you were frozen up, he took charge and pulled you out of the club, pushing through the doors as people poured out on to the freezing London streets.

Ben was putting his coat around your shoulders when you looked back at the club, the once luxurious facade now consumed by fire as screams echoed against to haunting night.

And then, there was loud explosion on the upper floor, more specifically, from Henry’s office where you stood only moments ago, destroying everything in its vicinity.

He did this. Without a shadow of doubt, you knew he did this.

By the time you returned home, a bouquet of roses was waiting for you on your bed, a note attached with it.

You knew who it was from before you even opened it.

In the same elegant handwriting, it read-

“Do I have your attention now, darling?

I do not appreciate being ignored by you, love.”

(Ignoring being that you haven’t responded to his letters by writing articles about him the past few weeks.)

“I don’t understand why you pretend not to see me, when you know I’m here. The way your body tenses, the way you look over your shoulder when I’m near. You know I’m here. You always have.

I do not take being ignored lightly. I have tolerated your silence, your dismissiveness, your feigned ignorance. But there are limits to my restraint, and you are dangerously close to testing them. I wonder—do you truly believe you can pretend I do not exist forever? That if you avert your gaze, I will simply disappear?

You should know better.

This is not a game. I have seen things, learned things—collected things—that you would not want in the wrong hands. And if I were you, I would think very carefully about whether continued defiance is worth the consequences.

You will acknowledge me. One way or another.

See you soon, sweetheart.

JTR.”

-

It had been only a few days since the club burned down. As expected, it was the front page headline on every major newspaper.

Except for one, very new publishing company, who published this headline that made everyone buy their paper only:

“FUTURE KING OF ENGLAND FOUND AT THE DEVIANTS DEN WHERE THE RIPPER MADE A SURPRISE APPEARANCE!”

Representatives from the monarchy came to the London Post everyday, and later by the estate to demand that you take down the scandalous article.

“No.” You state, fixing your sunglasses. You were getting ready to go somewhere, and as much as fun it was to get payback, it was starting to get boring when these representatives came over everyday.

“But the royal family-”

“Is not my family. Is not Silas’s family because as I recall, no one from the royal family sent a condolence message, much less attend Lady Sarah’s funeral, and when I came to ask you to help find my husband, you refused. So gentlemen, I frankly don’t give a shit.”

“You will regret this.” You stopped at his words, turning around. The man with the thick moustache glared at you. “Those who do not fall in line, fall out. This is your last warning.”

“Yeah? Well, you can shove that warning up your ass.”

You got into your carriage, pondering over his words. Does the monarchy want to kill me?

You scoffed.

They’re gonna have to get in the fucking line.

You stopped by the London Post first, giving them orders to write more articles on prince Edward and the sighting of the notorious killer in the same place. Colin came to your office and handed you a folder, and when you read its contents, you smiled.

“When should we publish it?” Colin asked.

“Not yet.” You close the folder and stand up. “You have made a copy of this, right?” He nodded. “Good. Hide it in a safe place.”

He furrowed his brows. “Hide it? Why?”

“Because I don’t want it to be leaked before time.” You replied, grabbing your coat and leaving before he could ask for more.

Sighing, Colin pulled out his flask and looked around before taking a big gulp.

Your carriage stopped next at the cemetery. Grabbing the flowers, you walked out of the carriage and entered the cemetery. It was midday on a Monday, so there weren’t a lot of people here. Walking past a man who was digging up a grave, you realised you didn’t know where you were supposed to go.

So you asked the man. “Ah. It’s just up the hill, next to the tree.” You thanked him before looking down at the cradle he was preparing. Flashbacks of Qasim’s burial came to mind and your heart wrenched.

Following your gaze, the man shook his head. “Rich folks these days… they’re getting odder. They just don’t know how to spend their money, so off they go buying their burial plots, just in case they suddenly drop dead.”

You laughed lightly before going up the hill to your destination.

“Sarah Fairbrother-FitzGeorge” the tombstone read.

“Hi, Sarah.” You cleared your throat, resting the boquet of flowers next to the stone. “I know I should’ve visited earlier, but um… heh, I was preoccupied with some things. All Silas’s fault.” You joke, before patting the folder Colin gave you. “I think- I think I’ve found a way to find Silas. I don’t know if it’ll work, because well- he is being held captive by a psychopath whose identity remains unknown even in the future, but at the very least, I’d still be pissing off a lot of people and these days, that brings me joy.” You chuckle, before nodding. Offering a small prayer for her, you turn on your heel and leave.

As you walk away, your eyes fall on the burial site the man was preparing earlier, though he was no longer there. Instead, he was walking with another man, who towered over him. They were talking and you saw the taller one hand him a wad of cash.

You got in your carriage and told the driver to take you home.

As the carriage began moving, your mind wandered back to the night at the club. Of course, you haven’t forgotten the most important discovery that night-

The Time Machine.

And even though you weren’t able to see Henry again since because he was busy with police or his business, you already knew your Time Machine was destroyed for sure this time.

Which begs the question- who did this?

You were brought out of your thoughts as the carriage came to a sudden halt and there was a commotion outside. You heard your driver arguing with someone and as you opened the door to see, a man suddenly pushed you back in. You looked at his face that was covered with a bandana, his eyes glaring at you. He jumped into the carriage and you jumped back to the other door, only for another man with similar getup, entered from that side, trapping you in.

And in that split second, you knew if you didn’t fight now, there’s no chance anyone will find you.

You kicked the man in front of you, trying to push him out the door as the carriage began moving. The man behind you grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back, but you twisted your arm and elbowed him in the gut, making him lose his grip on you. But then the man in front of you lunged at you and grabbed a hold of your neck, pulling you up and then smashing your head back on the wooden floor of the carriage, knocking the air out of you.

Your hands began to claw at his when he began squeezing your neck, your eyes bulging out as he increased the pressure. You couldn’t even say a word as he strangled you. Tears formed in your eyes as you looked at the man behind you, silently begging him for mercy.

But he simply tilted his head at you, his eyes crinkling as if he was smiling.

“You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in places it didn’t belong, woman.” He sneered.

You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in places it didn’t belong, woman.

Really, if I had just minded my own business, I wouldn’t be here. If I had never bothered with finding out the infamous killer, if I had never bothered with finding out everyone’s secrets, if I had just never gotten in the damn machine, I would’ve avoided this fate.

Black spots began to cloud your vision and your grip on the hands around your neck began to loosen, ready to accept the fate when the carriage came to a halt, followed by a scream and a thud.

The men seemed startled and the man behind you pulled out a knife, silently waiting for an attack.

But he was taken by a surprise when the other door opened and the man strangling you was ripped off you and out of the carriage.

He leaped out to help him, leaving you inside. Collecting your breath, you got out of the carriage to run, when you saw the decapitated body of your strangler lying outside the door.

“Please! Don’t-!” You looked up just in time to see a tall figure holding the second attacker in a chokehold and then-

He slit his throat.

Your eyes widened as blood spurted out of his neck and he fell to the ground. The dark figure breathed heavily and slowly, he turned his head to look at you.

For a moment, you thought he’d come for you next. But he simply turned around and left.

It was only when his back was facing you that you realised who it was. Tall figure, broad shoulders and the top hat-

Jack the Ripper.

And if that wasn’t enough confirmation, the bouquet of white roses on your bed certainly were, and a note that read-

“Next time, look away.”

Was this an apology? Or a warning?

-

You were sitting inside the white drawing room at Buckingham Palace. No, you were not summoned. And no, they did not throw you out like last time. In fact, they sat you inside for a meeting with the royal directly once you told them that you’d take down everything from before if they met you just once.

You fixed your dress, then adjusted your seat. You’d come here the day after you’d been ambushed and after speaking to the authorities, you came here.

The door opened and you stood up, throat going dry at the thought of meeting her. The Queen.

Instead, a tall man walked inside. A familiar tall man with steely eyes.

Prince Albert.

You courtesy as he made his way towards you, arms behind his back.

“Your majesty.”

“Lady FitzGeorge.” He looked you from top to bottom, sizing you up. He motioned for you sit, taking his seat on the sofa across you. “How may I help you?”

“You’re not who I was expecting but… I suppose you should be the one to deal with this.” You pulled out the brown folder and passed it to him.

“What? Is a prince not good enough for you?” He retorted, amusement in his eyes that died as he opened the file. “What is this?”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t published it yet but I will tomorrow.” You smiled, watching his jaw tick.

“There’s no merit to this.” He flipped through the pages. “No one would ever believe this.”

“And yet you read.” You sigh. “There is merit to this, your majesty. I was there that night at the club and I saw your son.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “So? That qualifies you to link the royal family to being mentally insane?”

“No, but perhaps your son being in a relationship with a cross dressing, gay man would.” You clasp your hands. “Now, you could argue that just because Prince Edward did something like that, it doesn’t mean that the entire royal family is insane. And that’s when I’ll bring up how completely insane it was for Prince George to marry his mistress, Sarah Fairbrother. And then how his son jumped off a ship and died when his wife was murdered. Not to mention Daisy, Silas’s late sister, who was admitted in a mental institution where she died. And now you’ll say- “that just insinuates that the FitzGeorge line is insane!” Well, that’s when I’ll bring up the all the diseases that run in your family.”

“There are no diseases-”

“Your sons have a tendency to bleed for a prolonged time when they’re hurt.” You watched his eyes widen slightly. “Even small bruises and cuts take too long to heal. Sometimes they don’t.”

They didn’t just call Hemophilia “the Royal Disease” for nothing.

“And as for mental health, well, respectfully, Her Majesty isn’t doing so well, is she?”

He stood up angrily. “Victoria is not sick-!”

“No, but she is pregnant. A lot.” You stand up slowly. “Everyone she gives birth, her majesty becomes someone else, doesn’t she? She doesn’t hold the baby, she despises her heir, she grows gloomy and introverted and by now, any normal man of today’s era would’ve sent his wife to a mental asylum. But not you. No, you love her. And the royal status, of course, which you’d lose if she’s gone. So what do you do? You keep your wife pregnant, so that’s she’s unable to take part in her duties, where you step in, playing the monarch while letting the government excuse your wife and her behaviour for being with child.” It was a shot in the dark, but you always theorised that the queen relied very heavily on her husband because well-

She was constantly suffering from postpartum depression. From one pregnancy to the next. She didn’t have much time to recover from it.

Prince Albert flared his nostrils. “You have some nerve to make bold accusations-“

“Not just accusations. I am willing to go above and beyond for my husband.” You exhale. “In the past few months, since Silas has gone missing, I have given up on being courteous and forgiving. I have asked for help, I have begged for it everywhere, only to be turned down, insulted and threatened. I will no longer be allowed to be mistreated. You and the queen had once claimed Silas as your family, and now that he’s no longer of use, you discard him? If not that he’s blood, could you not care about him as a human? As a citizen of your kingdom?”

Albert remained silent as you talked.

“I had come here before, asking for help.” You shake your head. “I’m not asking anymore. You have until 8 am tomorrow to find Silas, or I’m publishing this article.”

“How-” “You have abundant money and resources, eyes and ears everywhere, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

“You can’t-“ “I assure you, I can and I will. I will burn this kingdom to the ground and watch from the front row. Why should I be the only to suffer, when I can make everyone else hurt as well?” You walk past him.

“And what makes you think I can’t stop you right now?” His voice stopped you.

You turned to look at him, raising a brow.

“And what makes you think that I didn’t come here without an exit strategy?” You sigh, as if tired of explaining everything. “Do you believe that the file is the only copy?”

After you’d left the palace, you were going to return home, but you spotted Benjamin on the street. He was walking in a rush, pushing past the crowd to go somewhere.

You followed him on foot, blending in with the public to remain undetected. Finally, after 20 minutes or so, you saw him stop outside a run-down building. It was on the opposite end of town, near the slums of London.

After a few minutes, Benjamin left the building, slamming the door on his way out. He stormed down the street and you lost sight of him. You focused back on the building. What was in there? What happened to make Benjamin lose his cool?

After a little bit of contemplation, you decided to investigate.

Crossing the street, you made your way to the alley besides the building. You spotted a window but it was a little high up, so you backed up a bit and then used the dumpster to jump up high enough for your hand to grab onto the window ledge.

Pulling yourself up, you peeked inside. It was normal sitting room, though a bit fancier than exterior of the building. You inched your fingers towards the glass and opened it slowly. Hearing no one, you attempted to lift yourself inside, but suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside.

You fell face first on the carpeted floor.

“You just like to get yourself in trouble, don’t you?” Lady Scarlet smiled down at you. She was wearing a wine red silk robe, hair as red and luscious as ever.

Shocked, you stared as she gazed out the window to see if anyone else was there, a drink in her hand as she closed the window shut. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to snoop around?”

You get off the floor and glare at him. “Didn’t your mother teach you to be a man?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “What are you doing here?”

“Following Benjamin. What are you doing here?”

“I’m sure you know my last home was burned down.” “You call that place home- nevermind.” He rolled his eyes at your insults. He walked out of the parlour and you followed him. “What did Benjamin want from you? Why did he look so mad?”

“What do you care?” He sighed exasperated, entering the study.

“He’s my friend.” You stated firmly as he sprawled himself over the chair across the mahogany desk.

“I’m starting to think he’s more than a friend.” He looked at you through the crystal glass he drank from.

“And if he is? What’s it to you?” You crossed your arms and you watched something flicker across his eyes. Disdain? Resentment? Jealousy?

“Screw him for all I care.” He looked away from you, sipping his drink. “Thanks, not that I was looking for permission.” You sigh, looking around the room. There seemed to be something familiar about this place.

“If you won’t tell me about Benjamin, at least tell me where Henry is?”

“He’s left London.” Scarlet stood up and made his way to the corner table to pour himself another drink. “And before you ask- no, he’s not on the run. He has business to deal with.” He looked at his glass and then at you. “I don’t suppose youd drink this.”

“No, but I’d be leaving soon anyways.” You turn around. “Without this?” You looked over your shoulder as you heard him open a drawer, and your breath hitched at what he’d pulled out.

The Time Machine.

“How did you-“

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you hiding under the desk in the club that night? I spotted the moment you’d entered, hanging off Henry’s arm.”

“I was hiding under-“

“I saw your stubby ankles sticking out from the side of the desk.” He played with the Time Machine, popping it in the air and catching it, your heart dropping for the exact amount of time it was in the air.

What if it broke?!

“I don’t know what this is, but I do know that this is important to you.” He looked at the machine. “When the fire broke out in the club, I returned to the study to grab some of Henry’s important documents and that’s when I grabbed it. I’ve had it for weeks now, and I still don’t know what it is.”

“It’s a clock.” You nod at the numbers written on it. “It shows the date and time simultaneously. I invented it.” The lie slipped though your teeth with ease. “I’m supposed to patent it and sell it, hopefully make a fortune out of it.”

“Impressive. But you don’t need a fortune now, do you?” He was referring to Silas’s money you’d inherited.

“Still. It’s something I created. It’s mine.” You insisted.

He smirked. “Well, then that means it’s invaluable.” You scowled at his tone. “What do you want for it? Money?”

“No, that’d be too easy.” He hummed. “I want you to give me something that would… torment you for a long time.” And then suddenly, his eyes shone bright, as if he got an idea.

“I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.” He walked up to you. “Kiss me, the cross-dresser pervert you hate so much, and you can have your little clock.”

“I don’t have time for jokes.”

“Clearly. I still have your clock.” He waved the machine in front of you, irking you.

Glaring daggers at him, you cross your arms across your chest. “You think I won’t do it because what? I’m a Muslim?”

He smirks. “You’re all bark and no bite, darling.”

You suddenly grab his collar and yank him close. “You want a kiss? Fine.” His eyes widened for a second before turning lustful, landing on your lips.

“Go ahead. Take the lead.” He smiled, looking into your eyes.

Exhaling inaudibly, you keep a firm a grip on his collar as you lean in, to stop him if he tries anything.

Just get it over with.

Time slowed down as you zeroed in on his lips. They were stained from the wine. He had a slight stubble, just beginning to grow. The rest of his skin was smooth, even with the makeup.

Stop stalling. Get it over with.

You gulp and just as you’re about to close the distance, the door suddenly bashes open as 3 masked men barge in.

Scarlett pulls away from you, both of you stepping back as the men begin stalk towards you.

Scarlett squared his shoulders. “Gentlemen, I suggest you walk away right now unless you want to be seriously hurt.”

That sentence alone was all it took for the masked men to lunge. You sidestepped as one jumped towards you while the other two men attacked Scarlett. Grabbing the crystal bottle from the corner, you bashed it against the man’s head, making him stumble. It gave you enough time to run, but as you ran down the hall towards the main door, it opened to reveal 2 more masked men. You twisted on your heel and ran through the door on your right, the parlour. You dashed towards the window and opened it, jumping out of it just as a hand grabbed your wrist, but your sleeve ripped and you slipped, falling down to the ground on your knees, scraping them.

Instead of your knees, you looked at the Time Machine in your hand. Yes, you’d swiped it the moment those men barged in. You didn’t have time to celebrate as you heard footsteps. Getting back on your feet, you ran towards the opposite end of the alley. You turned the corned and noticed the streets were way less busy than usual, which meant you couldn’t lose these attackers in the crowd.

Still, you screamed at the bystanders to help.

“Help! Those men are chasing me!”

Of course, they’d only looked on in shock. Someone even went back inside their house.

You ran towards a carriage at the end of the street, hoping to get in and use your machine to get out of this era, but two more masked men rounded the corner, making you change your step and dash towards the other side of the road and round that corner.

Looking over your shoulder for a second, you spotted four- no, five men hot on your heels. There’s no way you’ll be able to beat them on your own.

I need to get somewhere dark, somehwere isolated to use the damn machine without having one of these men grab onto me and travel with me to another time!

As you ran down the street, you looked over your shoulder one more time, only to crash into someone.

Strong hands grabbed onto you and you don’t think you’d ever been this glad to see a man.

“Y/n-?”

“BEN! THOSE MEN ARE CHASING ME!” You pointed at the masked men, who slowed down, strolling towards you two now.

Benjamin’s face hardened and he pushed you behind him. “There’s a cemetery down the road. Hide there. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

You breathed heavily and then ran, spotting the cemetery. It was dark and considering how late it was now, you doubted there’d be any visitors.

It’s the perfect spot for you to use the machine.

Running into the cemetery, you immediately recognised it as the one where Sarah was buried. You jogged further in to find a hiding spot, lest any of the attackers manages to slip by Benjamin.

It was dark in the graveyard, only the moon illuminating the place. Just enough for you to find the trail that lead up to Sarah’s grave. On your way up the trail, you spotted the grave from the other day. The one that was dug up in advance but didn’t have a coffin.

It was filled now, mud piled over it messily.

You gulped, walking up to Sarah’s tombstone and resting against the tree, trying to catch your breath. As much you’d like to go help Benjamin, well truthfully, you couldn’t. It was clear the men were sent by Prince Albert to get rid of you, just like the other day.

Pulling out your machine, you began setting in the time.

Time to go home-

“Leaving without a goodbye?” You jumped back, startled. And if you weren’t scared before, the shadow of the tall man in the long coat and the top hat certainly was enough for your soul to leave your body.

The Ripper.

His face, still concealed by the dark night.

“Please- don’t-“ you backed away. He titled his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just came to bid you farewell.”

You were too mortified to express your confusion.

He sighs. “I had hoped you’d stay long enough to play the game with me, especially now that you were so close to winning.” Game? Winning?

He looked away from you and towards the grave, the fresh one.

“But I suppose the reward is just not good enough. Oh well. At least, I don’t have to clean up after this one.”

You followed his gaze to the grave and then looked back at him, then back again at him. The horrifying realisation slapped you in the face.

“SILAS!” You dashed towards the grave, stopping in disbelief but one look at the man on the trail had you falling to your knees as you began digging through the dirt, the machine discarded.

The mud was still wet, which meant that he had been buried today, possibly a few hours ago.

Was he dead? Or was he buried alive? You didn’t know which answer petrified you more.

You were breathing fast, hyperventilating as your hands shoveled the dirt for god knows how long.

This is an unmarked grave. It doesn’t even have a tombstone. No one would’ve found him if you’d left-

Your hands felt something hard and you knew you were close to finding the coffin. Moments later you’d finally been able to shove dirt off to reveal a pale wooden coffin. But no matter how hard you tried, it didn’t budge open, it was like it was nailed shut.

That didn’t stop you from starting to bang your fists in. The wood was off poor quality, not solid wood but you doubt it was going to stop you from breaking it open.

You just needed to see him, needed to see his face.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you punched over and over until your knuckles began bleeding, but you didn’t let it deter you. No. You didn’t stop punching until the wood began to splinter and finally a hole formed as the wood gave out.

With a grunt, you ripped the wood from crevice and saw him.

“SILAS!” He was lying there, going in and out of consciousness. He was alive! “Silas! Get up! We need to get out of here- SILAS!”

You attempted to pull him out but that was much harder when he was a dead weight and he slipped out of your grasp and back into the coffin. He was drowsy, probably either drugged or from the lack of oxygen when he was inside the coffin. But you needed him to get a grip.

So you slapped him across the face, making him snap out of it. “SILAS! This is not your fucking grave! GET THE FUCK UP!” Silas only stared at you, in disbelief? In shock? He didn’t say a word, but he was more conscious, though still weak as you helped him up.

You climbed out of the grave and then pulled him up, but as soon as he was out, he was suddenly struck by a metal rod, making him fall. “Silas!” You dove towards him and shoved the man away from him, making him appear into the moonlight and revealing himself to be-

William? Silas’s uncle?

“No!” You shielded Silas with your arms as he struck again, hitting you. “Stop! You’ll kill him!”

“Good! I’ll get rid of you two together and get my damn money at once.” You jumped over Silas to shield him, as his uncle began raining down strike after strike, not stopping as you screamed in pain.

You blacked out and it was Silas who had to witness from the corner of his eyes as a figure came up behind his uncle and grabbed him by the throat. The metal rod fell to the ground with a clang and one second, his uncle was being choked and in the next, his throat was slashed.

The tall figure turned towards you two and slowly made his way to Y/n, looking directly at Silas as he knelt down and picked you up.

“If you don’t sacrifice for what you want,

What you want becomes the sacrifice.” He said, looking down at you as he caressed your cheek.

He looked back at Silas.

“You’ll never see her again.” He said, turning around and leaving.

Silas tried to move, but he couldn’t. Pain and exhaustion overtook him, with only one thought haunting him.

The Ripper had taken you.

Thoughts?

[ohimsummer]

QUIET IN THE LIBRARY !

— minors dni, bully! stsg x reader, dubcon, exhibitionism, óral [ m. receiving ], cóckwarming, facefúcking, pet names (princess, sweetheart, pet)

geto’s cock rests warm and heavy on your tongue, sprinkling the salty taste of precum onto your tastebuds. he shifts again in his seat, tilting his hips to shove his length a little further down your throat again, knowing it’s going to make you choke—and it does. the tip pushes further towards the back of your throat, nearly forcing a gag to spring free, but you just manage to swallow it down. his other hand rubs a gentle thumb over your cheek—a wordless ‘good pet’ for remaining so quiet.

though you’re not exactly sucking him off, geto is perfectly content sitting with you like this, in the heated embrace of your mouth. he finds it a little comfy, to be honest. the library is chilly, and he prefers the warmth inside you over anything his clothes could provide. not to mention, he’s just getting your mouth ready, so there is an actual purpose to you being down there.

that reason would be entirely unknown to you, however. in your mind, this is just the average day of suguru geto being an asshole, cornering you and stuffing you beneath the most secluded desk and basically forcing you into things you didn’t plan on doing. if you were somewhere else, in any other setting, you would have told him to get fucked and leave you alone because he has no right to be making demands like this. but you’re in public, and a library, of all places. there’s too many people around, and it’s too quiet. someone like geto has surefire ways to have you raising your voice in less than a minute, and you do not need the entire building to know he’s trying to have you cockwarm him under the table. it’s easier to just deal with it; comply and hope he doesn’t plan on using you for too long.

so, yes, you are doing this “willingly”, in the loosest of terms. and it pisses you off that while you’re down here on bruised knees and getting fucking carpet burn, geto is leaned back as casually as he can, still reading through the pages of a book as your jaw grows sore. he’s been still besides the few purposeful thrusts of his hips to get you to choke—asshole.

something catches his attention, and suddenly geto is slipping himself from your lips, tucking his length into his pants. you’re confused, but before you can maneuver yourself out of the cramped underside of the desk, there is someone else sliding into the chair—someone worse.

“heya, princess!”, gojo whispers a little too loudly, with beads of sweat rolling down his face. “comfy down there?”

both your mouth and brows droop down into a scowl, the pair of men plainly amused at your cute, little expression.

“open up, sweetheart,” gojo commands. he’s quick to undo his belt and pants, tugging his cock free from its confines. it’s stiff and throbbing already, leaking absurd amounts of pre down the length to drip onto his hand, where gojo gives himself slow, teasing pumps.

he doesn’t give you time to prepare before he’s shoving his tip past your lips, rubbing himself over the wet insides of your mouth.

“you ran through campus with a boner?”, geto snickers over his head, watchful eyes glancing between gojo’s manhandling of you and the vacant library to keep a lookout.

his snowy-haired other half is loud, making things way more obvious than geto did. not that he isn’t aware, no, gojo simply doesn’t give a fuck. he’s good at a lot of things, but practicing restraint is not one of them, and he damn sure isn’t about to start now. especially not with you.

gojo darts a pink tongue out to wet his lips, messily clearing away locks of your hair to get a nice view of your pretty face as he thrusts sloppily into your mouth. “i c—couldn’t, fu—ck, help it. did you expect me to— to take my time after you sent me that?”

his best friend only gives a low, delighted chuckle in reply. you catch geto’s gaze as he gives you a long stare, and then palms over the bulge in his pants.

“fuck, suguru got you all nice and loose for me.”, gojo pants, licking away a dewdrop of drool at the corner of his lips. he lets out a low groan, and you see geto’s head snap up to give someone a very menacing glare. “look at him makin’ this nice and easy for us. thank him after i’m through, yeah?”

you don’t respond, can’t respond when gojo’s tip incessantly prods at the back of your throat. gags and chokes are ripped from your throat, muffled and low but surely noticeable by anyone nearby. you expect to be caught and kicked out any minute now, forced to do the walk of shame with these two dumbasses.

gojo slams you down on his cock, and he holds you there. your chest stutters, body heaves as you struggle for any breath of air through the fabric of his shirt pressed against your nose, or the white hairs at his base tickling your face.

just as quickly, he’s pulling you away, and you barely breathe in a single gasp before gojo is shooting ropes of cum to paint your face. you squeeze an eye shut as he almost spurts into your eye, him giggling childishly as he thumbs it away and pokes the same finger into your mouth for you to suck clean.

gojo tosses his head back to catch his own breath. he shoves his cock back into his boxers, straightening out his clothes before rubbing his hands through your ruffled hair.

“ ‘kay, let’s go.”, he says proudly, grabbing you by the upper arm to pull you to your feet. “ up, now, we’re going to your dorm.”

you’re puzzled. apparently, they’re not done with you. “…why?”

“you still gotta thank suguru properly. duh.”

📚: @anthoosies @teddybeartoji @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @sbgg @paradiseoflosers @rosso-seta @hehehehesthings @starlightanyaaa @higurumapet @astral-hydromancy @lcvelina @lynettess @savethegoddamnturtles @apatauaia @sataraxia @starsharkz @h-4-bib @idkluvv @b-b-b-my-b-f-f @sugu-love @xinfvl @mikeysflag @krraayy @ichikanu @marichat0n @gyaruismind @sugojosgf @xocherishxo @sukunastarr-69 @glmpsfs @anxie-tiddies @euphoriagrae @astrasworldsblog @lovesickliyue @mrs-nicoleee @mxsocool

[fangdokja]

You're not a gold digger. You're an entrepreneur. And business is booming.

♡ Yandere! DILF's x Fem. Reader. Sugar Daddy, Old Money, Professor, Sponsor

♡ Headcanons. Midas Eyes - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 1,067

♡ Yandere! Sugar Daddy who is a walking red flag but you don’t give a fuck because his money is green.

♡ Yandere! Sugar Daddy who is disgustingly rich, young, and powerful. The kind of nouveau riche that makes old-money elites foam at the mouth in disgust. A tech startup prodigy, but really just a glorified scam artist who got lucky. He still doesn’t understand how people fall for his shit, but he won’t question it as long as the money keeps coming.

♡ Yandere! Sugar Daddy who is a charming smooth talker, able to seduce any person in no time flat. But you’re not here for charm. You’re here for his absurdly fat wallet and borderline criminal bank accounts. He’s got more money than common sense. You love men like him.

He sees you again through a high-class escort service, not realizing you were something else entirely. The moment you walked in, draped in designer brands you barely cared about, he felt something he couldn’t describe. He had bought women before—had paid for their time, their fake moans, their empty praises. But you? You didn’t even pretend to be interested. You sat across from him, barely sparing him a glance, and told him your rate.

He almost laughed. It was robbery. Daylight fucking robbery.

But when you looked up at him, and your eyes shimmered—not in admiration, not in lust, but in command—he stopped breathing. It was like his brain short-circuited. You didn’t have to beg, didn’t have to tease. Just one glance, and he was suddenly obsessed.

His credit card was out before he even realized it. You watched him sign away more money than most people make in a year, your expression as indifferent as ever. And then you stood, grabbed your coat, and left.

He sat there, staring at the bill, wondering what the fuck just happened.

———

♡ Yandere! Old Money who thinks he raised you better than this.

♡ Yandere! Old Money who is the only man you don’t charge because technically, he’s the reason you even made it this far. The irony isn’t lost on him.

♡ Yandere! Old Money who picked you up from the gutter when you were young and starving, back when your ability was nothing but a curse. You were a feral little thing, barely surviving, disgusted with how your powers made people act. He trained you. Molded you. Taught you how to use it properly. How to weaponize it instead of letting it be your downfall.

He used to be proud of you. Now, he watches in disappointment as you sell yourself for absurd amounts of money. He hates it. Hates seeing you in the arms of pathetic, desperate men who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. He taught you better than this. He raised you better than this. You weren’t supposed to degrade yourself for cash. You were supposed to be untouchable. Unreachable. A queen.

But no. You sit there in your silk robe, scrolling through your latest transactions with the same dead-eyed expression you’ve always had, completely unfazed by his presence. When he tries to lecture you, you barely react. When he warns you about the dangers of playing with men like this, you only laugh.

And when he tries to tell you to stop, you remind him that you’re not his little girl anymore.

He clenches his jaw, silent. For once, he doesn’t know how to win.

———

♡ Yandere! Professor who watches you like a problem he’s been trying to solve for years.

♡ Yandere! Professor who was the first man to recognize your intellect rather than your body. Not that he wasn’t aware of the latter. It was impossible to ignore. But from the moment he met you, he knew you weren’t just another pretty face. You were dangerous. Brilliant. And utterly uninterested in anything that wasn’t profitable.

He admired that about you. At first.

But now? Now, he finds himself sitting across from you at some overpriced bar, watching as you sip expensive wine paid for by another man. You’re not even looking at him. Just scrolling through your phone, arranging your next “appointment” with an air of complete indifference.

He wants to grab your wrist, force you to meet his gaze. He wants to remind you that you’re more than this. That you were meant for greater things. But he doesn’t. Because you already know that. You just don’t care.

And that drives him insane.

He listens as you casually explain your latest scheme, how you managed to scam a billionaire out of a private jet just by looking at him the right way. You laugh, amused by your own absurdity, and he feels his stomach twist in something that’s definitely not admiration. He knows he should be horrified.

But all he can think about is how he can keep you all to himself.

———

♡ Yandere! Sponsor who never planned on getting involved with you.

♡ Yandere! Sponsor who is a former fighter, a legend in the underground world, a man who built his fortune with blood and broken bones. He doesn’t fall for pretty faces. He doesn’t trust women who bat their lashes and expect men to fall at their feet. He’s seen too many like you.

Or so he thought.

Because you’re not like them. You don’t beg. You don’t manipulate with fake sweetness. You don’t even try to seduce him. You just tell him what you want, and somehow, without even realizing it, he gives it to you. Every. Single. Time.

At first, he thought it was some kind of trick. Maybe you slipped something in his drink. Maybe you were playing some long con. But no. You were just you. And you had him wrapped around your finger without even trying.

He watches you now, sitting on his lap like you belong there, counting the money he just handed over like it’s nothing. You don’t even thank him. Just pocket it, already thinking about your next target.

He should be angry. Should be furious that you’re using him just like you use everyone else.

But instead, he pulls you closer, his grip possessive, unyielding. You glance at him, unimpressed.

“You’re not special,” you tell him, voice as empty as your heart.

And yet, he knows you’ll never be able to get rid of him now.

Not unless he lets you.

Yandere! DILFs

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Sugar Daddy, Old Money, Professor, Sponsor

Headcanons 1 : Midas Eyes (General)

Some women play hard to get. You play impossible to afford.

You're not a gold digger. You're an entrepreneur. And business is booming.

🔞Every orgasm comes with a zero at the end of your bank account.

He’s not jealous. He just needs to remind you why no one else can fuck you like he does.

🔞"You wanna act like a whore? Then be one. On your knees. Now."

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha , @astreaaaaaa6 , @poopooindamouf , @yandereaficionado , @esther-kpopstan , @iris-arcadia , @hopingtocleaemedschool , @doncellaescarlata , @futuristicxie

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.