#kiri’s 400 followers fics

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

There You’ll Always Be

Title:  There You’ll Always Be

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy

Word Count: 1579

Warnings:  language, character death, implied sexual activity, angst

Author’s Notes:  written for @klaineaholic 400 Follower Celebration. My prompt:  “If you’re the one protecting me… Then who’s the one protecting you!?” I also decided to use it for Angst Appreciation Day. Thank you @mamapeterson for helping me angst when I couldn’t angst. I took some liberties with the dialogue in 12.21 There’s Something About Mary.

In my heart there is a memory, and there you’ll always be.

You can never be sure if this time will be the last time - the last time you smell her hair, the last time you see her smile, the last time you feel her touch, the last time you get to kiss her. If Sam had known that the last time he saw Eileen would be the last time he saw her, he would have told her everything.

Everything.

Dean kept teasing him, good-natured teasing, the “older brother thinks it’s cute you’ve got a crush on her” kind of teasing that legitimately made Sam blush. Of course, he gave it back tenfold when it came to Dean’s feelings for a certain sheriff in Minnesota, the two of them shooting barbs back and forth until they were both breaking down in fits of laughter. It had meant to a lot to him though when Dean had clapped him on the shoulder and muttered “she’s good people, Sammy,” before pulling a beer from the fridge and leaving him to practice.

He’d taken some American Sign Language classes in college, what felt like a million years ago, but he only remembered the basics like ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ the stuff everyone knew. He wanted to learn more, wanted to be able to actually talk to Eileen, so he’d found a website to help him. God knew, when he set his mind to something, he gnawed at it like a dog with a bone, until he’d figured it out or perfected it. Learning sign language wasn’t any different.

He got nervous every time he Skyped with her, sure he was going to make an idiot of himself in front of her. He wanted it to be perfect, wanted to make sure he wasn’t telling her to go jump off of a cliff or something like that. Eileen was infinitely patient with him, correcting his mistakes with a gentle smile on her face, giggling when he really messed something up. He appreciated her patience.

They’d been talking steadily for a couple of months when Eileen suggested they get together for coffee, maybe even dinner. Sam had agreed, so quickly he was afraid he’d come across as too eager. He was grateful she’d been the one to ask, he’d been worried that if he did it, she’d think he was looking for some quick hook-up or something. That was certainly not his intention.

He’d had to borrow the Impala from Dean, enduring several minutes of good-natured teasing and his stupid older brother shoving condoms in his duffel, despite his protests.

“Just in case,” Dean had chuckled, winking.

When Jody said her name, he flinched and for a second, he forgot how to breathe, how to draw in a breath and let it out, expanding his lungs until they were full, then releasing the air. He heard Jody talking, heard the words coming from her, heard himself responding, but it was all happening in a vacuum of sound and air.

“Thanks for letting me know. Bye.” Sam disconnected the call, his eyes on the floor, like maybe she’d somehow appear in front of him.

“Who?” Dean asked.

“Eileen,” Sam answered.

“How?”

Somehow, he answered his brother, somehow he told him what Jody had said. He could feel the tears threatening, could feel that familiar tightening in his chest, the ache in the center of his head, the tremble in his fingers that came every time he lost someone he cared about, someone he loved. It was all too familiar.

It was always the people he loved that got hurt. First it was Mom, then Jess. Dad. Madison. Dean followed suit later. Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Kevin, Charlie; anyone and everyone in between that he let himself get emotionally attached to in one way or another. It was like the universe was conspiring against him to take everyone away from him.

Now, it was Eileen.

Sam met Eileen just west of Kansas City, a couple hours south of Lebanon at a hole in the wall restaurant just off the highway that he and Dean had eaten at quite a few times. It looked like nothing, but they had amazing food.

Four cups of coffee later, Sam’s knee was bouncing, his fingers tapping on the table, and Eileen looked like she might bolt for the door. He was royally screwing this up.

“You okay, Sam?” she signed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I’m, uh, I’m good.”

Eileen reached across the table and grabbed his tapping fingers. “Even though I can’t hear that, it’s still driving me crazy” she said.

Sam shook his head and laughed. “Sorry. You want to get out of here, maybe go for a walk?”

“You could walk me back to the motel,” she shrugged. “If you want?”

Sam nodded and pushed himself out of the booth. He dropped some money to the table and gestured for Eileen to go out ahead of him. She waited for him at the door, linked her arm with his as they walked down the street, the two of them comfortable in their silence.

They stopped outside the door to her room, Eileen leaning against it, Sam fidgeting, staring at a spot just over her shoulder. There had to be something he could say, something he could do, to stretch the evening out longer. He was so lost in his thoughts that Eileen had to snap her fingers in Sam’s face until he looked at her. As soon as his eyes settled on her face, on the warm brown of her eyes, his decision was made. He took a step forward, cupped her face in his hands, caught her lips in his, and kissed her.

When they finally broke apart, her arms around his waist, his body flush against hers pressing her into the door, they were both panting and Eileen was smiling up at him.

“I was wondering if you were going to do that,” she laughed.

“I’m glad you said that,” Sam chuckled. “I was afraid you’d punch me.”

Eileen laughed, tucked her hair behind her ear, and pulled the key to her room from her pocket. “Why don’t you come in?” she grinned.

Sam drew in a deep breath and swallowed. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop staring at the length of her neck, a neck he’d kissed, now marred by deep bruising and cuts. Or the curve of her jaw - she was ticklish, right there beneath her chin, a little to the left of her throat. He reached out and ran a finger down the length of her arm, remembering how soft and warm she’d been.

“People who do what we do, you know there are gonna be deaths, but...this…” He gnawed on his lower lip, trying to hold in his need to scream, to yell out his pain, to flip the table and watch the instruments tumble to the ground.

“Why did she leave Ireland?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, Dean…”

He could hear it in his voice, the pain, the exasperation, the loss. Every word that followed felt like it was thick, stuck in his throat, blocked by layers of emotion, forced out by sheer will. It was all churning inside of him, everything, all of it, waiting to explode.

“I-I…” Sam exhaled, the sound sharp and biting. “I wanna punch something in the face.”

“Good,” Dean said. “Hold on to that.”

They were sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing each other, the sheet wrapped around Eileen’s torso, Sam in his boxer briefs. It was the first time they’d come up for air in three days, their need for each other almost desperate.

“I don’t want you to go,” Sam shook his head, his hair falling in his face. “You should stay with me, come back to the bunker. I can protect you -”

“If you’re the one protecting me… Then who’s the one protecting you?” Her hands were flying, moving so fast Sam could barely make out what she was saying.

He reached out, wrapped his huge hands around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She collapsed against him, her face buried against the side of his neck, her breathing fast and erratic, her tears falling on his shoulder.

“I will protect you. Always.” he murmured against her hair. Sam knew she couldn’t hear him, wasn’t sure he wanted her to. The words were for him.  

He knew how hard it had been for her since she’d shot that British kid, how much she’d struggled with what had happened, with her guilt. He wished he could take that all away from her, carry that burden for himself. For now he’d just have to try and comfort her as best he could.  

He lowered her to the bed, intent on making her forget everything that had happened, if only for a little while. He needed his fill of her before she was gone.

“She left Ireland because she was scared.”

Dean’s words echoed in his head. She was scared. Scared enough to ask if she could come and stay with them while she “sorted things out.” Scared enough to reach out for help.

He stared out the window, watching the houses flash by as Dean drove back to the bunker. His heart was pounding, tears sliding down his face, his hands shaking.

He’d failed her. Failed her when she’d needed him most.

“I will protect you. Always.”

He was a liar.

Forever:  @jensennjared @mrswhozeewhatsis @the-mrs-deanwinchester @official-shipper @brooklyn-writes-flangst @climbthatmooselikeatree @mamapeterson @katnharper @raeganr99 @skybinx-blog @winchesterr67 @grellsutcliff105 @arikas5744 @faegal04 @the-girl-of-your-nightmares @mrsjohnsmith @mogaruke @courageoussam @nerdwholikesword @growningupgeek @virgosapphire79 @sleep-silent-angel @bkwrm523 @iwriteshortstuff @for-the-love-of-dean @nichelle-my-belle @deandoesthingstome @andiamsoinlovewithyou @pizzarollpatrol @misswhizzy @supernatural-jackles @waywardjoy @awkwardnerdqueen @valee-ppiew @superbluhoo2 @deansbaekaz2y5 @roseangel013bf @jencharlan @kickasscas67 @neanealuv @deanscherrypie @kittenofdoomage @tjforston @purgatoan @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @sckslife @sis-tafics @youwerelikeadream @i-dream-of-dean @impala-with-wings @bringmesomepie56 @basmaraafat @oriona75 @writingbeautifulmen @ultimatecin73 @gemini75eeyore @vote-for-pedro @tom-is-in-my-tardis @percywinchester27 @mysteriouslyme81 @faith-in-dean @that1seniorchick @milkymilky-cocopuff @atc74 @s4m-w1nch3st3r5287 @winsmut @squirrelchester @demonangelimpala @justacaliforniandreamer @xxsugarturtle @findingfitnessforme @wvnchxstxr @winchestergirl-love @petrovadixon @colorfuluniversewhispers @love-kittykat21 @velcr0kitty @spookypeyton @frickfracklesackles @ria132love @shhhs3cret @harleenquinzzel @icantfindacreativeurl @gallifreyansass @anotherotter @kaitlynmarie1120 @giftofdreams @not-moose-one-shots @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @emoryhemsworth @fangirlofeverythingme @goldenolaf25 @nanie5 @cameronbraswell @luulaachops @upon-a-girl @goofynerd-67babylove

[demondeanismybaby]

I Think I Know You

Pairing: Dean x Reader, MOC!Dean

Word Count: 2030

Warnings: Angst, fluff, slight angry outburst, drinking

Summary: You see Dean from afar and he becomes the subjects of your paintings then you happen to run into him years later, he reacts differently than you expected. 

A/N: This is for @klaineaholic’s Kiri’s 400 follower challenge. I had the pairing Dean x Reader and the quote “I’m not gonna let you stand there and remind me of everything I hate about myself!” I decided to write a little bit of angst in honor of this challenge and do something a little bit different writing-wise than I normally do, so anyway I hope you like it. Congrats on the followers :) 

You were having the worst morning, you had spilled your coffee down the front of your new cream cardigan, that’s why you never bought anything white you thought bitterly, as you took a napkin off the counter and started dabbing your sweater. You hadn’t even walked away from the register before you had turned and bumped into someone causing the hot liquid to slosh all over you. You hurriedly apologized but you were rushing so much you barely looked up. As you cleaned yourself the best you could before giving up you went to head out of the tiny place.

A hand stopped you just as you started to push open the glass door.

 “Hey,” you dimly recognized the voice as coming from the man you had bumped into, so you turned around to face him, “you forgot this,” and you saw that he had your purse strap clenched in his hand.

 “Oh my gosh, thank you,” you took a second to actually look at the guy, and you were shocked to see that he was stunning, there was a certain brightness to his green eyes, and light freckles were sprinkled across the bridge of his nose.

 “No problem,” he said as he handed to you and turned back inside to sit a table with another guy who was equally as handsome, but in a different way, with his much longer and darker brown hair and his insane height that was evident even with him sitting down.

 Suddenly, you felt all the stress leaving your body. You decided you should take the morning and enjoy your coffee, your ruined shirt had to be worth something right?

 You turned around and walked back into the dimly lit coffee joint, the rich aroma of bitter earthy coffee assaulting your senses and you picked a table by the windows that opened out onto the street and had the added bonus of having a clear view of the helpful stranger.

 You couldn't help but startle when after about an hour the two men got up to throw their cups into the trash. You looked down at the pages that were now scattered around the table you had nested down at, various bits of the shorter blond-haired man’s face were highlighted in black lead drawings, a few had the added scribblings of colored markers, all of them, you thought privately, did little to capture the aura you felt was hanging around him .By the time you managed to gather the sheets of paper together and look back up the men were gone.

 Four long years had gone by since that day in the coffee shop, you had gotten an art degree after high school but now your paintings were mostly a hobby while your real job was teaching elementary school children art. You loved watching their faces grow bright as their little fingers dug into the watery paints and then the joy kept growing as they smeared it onto the pages. You had never realized a job could be so rewarding but also exhausting.

 You were covered in splashes of paint from the long day you had spent teaching classes of children about using watercolors. The washes of color weren’t that noticeable but you knew that they only added to the general sense of disheveledness about you.

 Deciding spur of the moment as you walked home that you needed some grown up time, you ducked into a little bar that was on your way back to your loft style apartment, it was becoming a more trendy neighborhood and the place that you had stepped into was nicely furnished and well lit. It seemed more like a restaurant than a bar.

 Walking up to the large walnut paneled bar, you quickly asked for the simplest drink you could think of on such short notice, “I’ll have a vodka tonic,” you said confidently.

 Taking a sip as it was set back in front of you, however, you regretted the quick choice and grimaced at the taste.

 “What,” a deep voice said from a few stools down on your right, “didn’t get what you ordered?” He asked.

 Your eyes went wide as you turned your head, and you couldn’t control the way your heart was racing, “umm...I...it’s,” you stuttered as you watched the stranger come and move a few stools closer to you now that you were supposed to be having a conversation, but you were tongue-tied.

 You knew the stranger next to you, well not really knew him, but you had about fifty paintings of his face stacked around your little apartment because you had bumped into him randomly years ago, only now here he was holding his hand out to you and introducing himself.

“Sorry,” you said as you tried to focus on the fact that he was speaking, “Sorry what was that?”

 “My name,” he smiled at you and your stomach flipped into your chest, he was still beautiful, but up this close, you could also see how much sadder he looked, “I’m Dean.”

 As your fingers wound around his, your heart skipped a beat, there was something about this stranger that had you feeling compelled to get to know him better. A dark and mysterious energy hung around him and made you feel completely captivated with trying to figure him out, the only way you knew how, and that was painting him and trying to parse out just what about him was so unique.

 Your eyes couldn’t help but roam over his frame and they paused briefly at the folded edge of his shirt sleeve it was rolled up part way over his forearm and you could make out the edge of a large and strangely shaped scar that was welted and lifted from the skin, it was stretched red and angry looking.

 You forced yourself to focus again on listening and sipping away at your disgusting drink, listening to Dean as he talked to you about the weather and other simple similarities in your lives.

 Giggling, feeling lightheaded and tipsy both from the amount of drinks and being in such close proximity to Dean, you led the way up to your little apartment. It wasn’t actually tiny or anything, the problem was as you turned the key and shoved open the door, in between random whispers to your male companion, that there were so many art supplies they seemed to make the large open area seemed cramped and cluttered.

 “Here,” you said sweeping some cups of water and paints to the side of the coffee table, and shifting some books off the cushions of your couch, “have a seat.”

 “I’m good,” Dean called from somewhere behind you.

 Standing up you tried to scan the room quickly and figure out what he was doing and your stomach lurched painfully as you noticed he was flipping through the various stacks of painted canvas leaned against your wall.

 You rushed over and stilled his hand with your own, “please don’t.” You said feeling worried about him seeing the paintings.

 “Why,” he chuckled, “are they nude paintings or something?”

 “Or something,” you responded with a quick roll of your eyes.

He listened for the moment, you could see him going through your space as though he was a detective and every various object was a piece in the puzzle that created your life. You felt suddenly very vulnerable like you were showing a stranger your most intimate journal entries even though all he was really doing was opening the door to your fridge and looking at the little pictures you had pinned to one of your walls.

 “Is this you?” He called out and you sighed as you came over to where he was standing.

 “Yep,” you said noticing with a feeling of horror the picture he was looking at, “that was my freshman year in high school.”

 “You were cute,” he said but his tone was more playful than seductive.

 “So why are you back in town Dean,” you said and his head spun to face you, you quickly realized your mistake and respoke, “I mean, why are you here in town?”

 He quirked an eyebrow at you and answered vaguely with, “taking a break from work.”

 “Oh,” you said lamely.

 “So you're an artist, are you the starving kind, I mean with this kind of place it seems like you do alright.” He said changing the subject back to you.

 “Yeah I mean it is mostly a hobby now, I teach art to kids at the local elementary school, I really love it.” You were trying to build up your courage and brooch the subject that you had seen Dean before, you grabbed a picture that you had sketched from that day but it was a close up you thought he might have a hard time placing.

 You waved the paper at Dean to get his full attention, “this is one of my drawings,” you said feeling nervous as he took it from you.

 You could see the wheels clicking into place quickly, apparently even a slightly drunk Dean was quick on the uptake.

 “Do I know you?” He asked you noticed his voice suddenly seemed a little lower in pitch.

 “Not technically,” you said, “I just bumped into you a long time ago and thought your face was one that needed to be painted.”

 He started to walk quickly back over to the stack of paintings leaning against the wall, he flipped through them so fervently you were slightly worried something was going to get damaged, he seemed frantic and there was some sort of energy surrounding him that was starting to frighten you.

 Spinning around he looked at you, his eyes narrowed in anger before yelling, “I’m not gonna let you stand there and remind me of everything I hate about myself!”

 “I’m not trying to remind you of anything Dean, I hardly know you, I just saw a random person and felt like I needed to sketch you, I’m sorry I upset you,” you knew he was a stranger that you should ignore but his sudden angry outburst had your tears starting to choke you up.

 You tipped your head to your chest and sniffled slightly. The last image clearly in your head was Dean chest heaving with the force of his breath and his fists clenched at his side as he scowled at you. You couldn’t believe he was acting like this, even though you had been nervous to show him, you had secretly hoped he would have been flattered by the attention.

 “Hey,” a deep voice with a much softer tone said from above you, you tipped your head back up to look at Dean, “I’m sorry, I overreacted, I am having a tough time at...work…this just caught me off guard is all.”

 “It’s ok,” you said, but you sniff at the end of your sentence gave you away.

 “No, it’s not, I’m really sorry, please will you show me what you did.”

 You only nodded not fully trusting yourself not to start crying again, you hated confrontation, and walked over to another stack of painting you had sitting on a table, they were smaller but of his whole face giving more of an impression that Dean was the subject. You pulled one specific painting from under the top one on the stack and set it out in front of the two of you. It was Dean, there was a halo of light coming from behind his head, making his features appear almost slightly translucent, the colors behind him were dark reds and rich browns that accentuated the red color of the collar of the plaid shirt he was painted in.

 “This is great Y/N,” he said simply as he took a hold of your hand just keeping it lightly captured in his.

 “I’m glad you like it,” you replied as you leaned your head against his shoulder. No longer worried that he might get angry again. You knew he had just been surprised.

 “Yeah,” he said absently.

The two of you stood together, just looking at the drawing for a long time, how long exactly, you really weren’t sure.

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@jayankles

@tardis-full-of-fallen-angels

@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes

[hopelesshawks]

The Lines We Cross

Kirishima x fem!reader

THIS FIC IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

A few months back when I hit 400 followers (back before I switched to 18+ only), someone said they’d like to see me write a ✨spicy✨ cheating fic. A few days ago I fell in love with a song that happened to be about just that. This fic is the result

Warnings for cheating (Kirishima cheats on Mina with reader), alcohol use, recreational drug use, unprotected sex, dom/sub themes, biting/marking, nipple play, oral (f!receiving), fingering, size kink, very slight dacryphilia, praise kink, squirting, and minor cum play

You and Kirishima have crossed a lot of lines over the past few months.

It all started innocently enough. When you transferred to UA you were already friends with Denki and he’d been quick to introduce you to Sero, Bakugo, and, of course, Kirishima as well. It was only a matter of time after that before you met Kiri’s girlfriend Mina. Mina who immediately took a liking to you and didn’t seem to notice how much you had already taken a liking to her boyfriend. You and him got along like a house on fire but you were just friends. Honest! In the beginning it was all strictly platonic.

The first line you both crossed was when he admitted to you he had fallen out of love with Mina.

“You can’t keep leading her on if you don’t love her anymore,” you’d told him as you sat talking in his dorm, textbooks and the finals you were supposed to be studying for long forgotten. “I can’t break her heart though,” he’d sighed. “You’ll break it eventually, it’ll only get worse the longer you wait,” you pointed out. “Not necessarily,” he hedged.

“What happens if you fall in love with someone else?”

He never answered that question but there was something in the way he looked at you after you asked it that felt forbidden. The eye contact had been searing until you’d awkwardly laughed the question off, diverting attention back to your notes and resuming studying.

If you had to pick a moment when it all started that probably was it.

From that point forward your gazes would be a little more heated than appropriate, stares a little longer than necessary, and the only one who seemed oblivious to it all was Mina herself. Bakugo, Sero, Denki, they all knew. They never said anything and you didn’t dare put them in the middle by telling them, but you knew they noticed. You saw the way they watched you and Kirishima together and you knew that they knew.

The next line you and Kirishima crossed was shortly after graduation. You and the entire squad were going to celebrate your entry into proper hero work with a pool day but Mina had already made plans with Uraraka, Momo, Asui, and Jirou. Mina had gushed to you about how amazing Kiri is and how healthy their relationship must be for him to be comfortable letting her just go hang out with her friends. You had nodded along but you already suspected the real reason Kiri didn’t mind.

You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t choose your sexiest bathing suit because you knew he’d be there. You told yourself a million times that you enjoyed the compliments from Sero and Denki just as much as you did the ones from Kiri. You told yourself a lot of things in an attempt to ease your conscience. But that didn’t change the sheer amount of tension between the two of you when you play fought in the pool; the way you enjoyed it a little too much when he wrapped his strong arms around you to pin your arms to your sides; the way you could tell he enjoyed it a little too much too when he abruptly released you just as you felt something firm start pressing into your backside.

You’re not proud of how much you thought about that moment and what might’ve happened in another universe where both of you were single.

Even still the point of no return didn’t come until a month later.

You’d been trying so hard to be good: avoiding spending time alone with Kirishima, keeping your distance even in group settings, and ignoring his searing gaze. But Mina was perceptive in all the wrong ways and she noticed the sudden distance between you two. She assumed the two of you had fought and, ever the meddler, she was determined to rectify the situation. So, after a class A reunion downtown, she had insisted you let Kiri take you home. “I’ll be fine, I’m going out with Uraraka and Aoyama to keep the fun rolling! They’ll get me back to my place, Kiri you just get (y/l/n) home,” she had commanded with a grin while she nudged you in the side. If she weren’t so incredibly wrong about the situation it’d be sweet.

God you knew she would fucking hate you if she knew the real reason you’d been avoiding Kiri.

The tension in the car on the ride to your place was suffocating. Any and all attempts at conversation were stilted and you turned on the radio in a desperate bid to break up the awkward silence. It worked, sort of, for a little while but then just as you were turning onto your street some love song you’d heard a thousand times before started playing on the radio and suddenly Kirishima was pulling the car over and cutting the engine. You had opened your mouth to inform him he was a few blocks short when suddenly he muttered “fuck it,” and practically lunged across the center console to press his lips to yours. When you didn’t react immediately he reared back, face going almost as red as his hair as he muttered an apology and fumbled to turn back on the ignition.

If you were a better person you would’ve left it there. You would have let him think his feelings weren’t returned and after some initial awkwardness maybe, just maybe, you could go back to being just friends instead of whatever weird song and dance the two of you had going on.

But you weren’t a better person…

Still aren’t.

So instead you’d breathlessly gasped “Wait,” with obvious desperation and when he’d turned hopeful eyes on you, you didn’t hesitate to slot your lips against his. It felt like coming home, like warm summer nights under the stars and cold winter days made cozy by cuddling up to someone you cherish. His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you immediately granted him entrance, your mouth falling open to allow him inside. His tongue tangled with yours and you both sighed into the kiss as if a heavy weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Even once you separated you didn’t go far, foreheads pressed together as you both fought to catch your breath.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

“Me too.”

And from there it all spiraled. That’s when the sneaking around really started. Hurried kisses in his car, the gentle brush of his hand against yours in a wide hallway, the too long goodbyes, and secret rendezvous in the dead of night. When the two of you were together it was magic, but when you separated the guilt would come creeping in because Kiri was too nice to break Mina’s heart but too into you to resist. You were falling in love with him and you were pretty sure he was falling in love with you, but so long as it was Mina’s hand he could hold in public, Mina who could call him her boyfriend, you refused to acknowledge it.

There are really only two lines left you haven’t crossed:

Sex and “I Love You”s

Those are still Mina’s and Mina’s alone and it didn’t occur to you just how much that hurt until now, as you nurse a beer in Kirishima’s apartment and watch her giggle at something he’s said from afar. You’re desensitized to seeing them together most of the time but The Song is playing over the speakers. You and Kiri’s song. The same pop song you had heard a million times before that means something now because it’s the song you and Kirishima first kissed to. And yet there Mina is, singing along and laughing as she sits in the lap of a man who’s only yours in secret, stolen moments.

Your grip tightens around your bottle dangerously, threatening to shatter the glass in your hands when suddenly someone is bumping your hip with theirs, jarring you from your thoughts. You force yourself to look away from the man you love and his girlfriend, only to meet sympathetic yellow eyes. “Sero and I are vibing on the balcony. You in?” Denki asks, his tone gentle in spite of his broad grin. You nod, grateful for the out as you follow him through the sliding door leading outside. You lean against the railing and stare out over the city as Sero blows out smoke into the cool night air. “You look like you could use this,” he says as he offers you the joint in his hand. Denki settles on the other side of you and you don’t miss his concerned look as you bring the joint to your lips and take a long pull. It burns your lungs but it’s worth it for the way it eases some of the tension in your shoulders as you exhale.

“What’s wrong?” Denki asks and you can’t help but chuckle wryly, although there’s no real humor in the sound. “You know what’s wrong. You both do,” you rasp, voice thick with emotion you desperately don’t want to spill out. Sero and Denki exchange looks and it makes you roll your eyes. “I’m well aware Kirishima and I aren’t the most subtle, it’s honestly a miracle Mina hasn’t found out yet,” you huff, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “Yea… That’s uh… just yea,” Sero winces. You snort. “Gee thanks,” you sigh as you bring the joint to your lips again. Denki bites his lip nervously as he debates whether to voice his next words out loud before finally deciding he might as well. “For the record, I think you and Kiri would be cute together,” he admits and both you and Sero turn to look at him in surprise.

“Dude!” Sero interjects, scandalized.

“Hey! We all know what they’re doing is wrong right? Right. But if we ignore for a second that Kiri still hasn’t broken up with Mina, they’d make a cute couple!” Denki insists, hands raising in surrender.

“What’s happening is fucked,” Sero sighs.

“You think I don’t know that??” you finally snap, “I fucking hate myself for what I’m doing to Mina. The guilt is eating me alive! But when I’m with him I just…. He’ll break up with Mina and then we’ll wait a little bit for the dust to settle and then be open about our relationship.”

“Your ‘relationship’ would be over before it even starts,” Sero refutes.

“It can’t be,” you insist, the emotions you’d been trying to contain finally spilling out as tears run down your cheeks, “I can’t lose both of them, I gotta have one.”

Denki’s on you in a second, rubbing your back soothingly as he and Sero exchange a look between them.

“Shit (y/l/n), I didn’t mean to-”

“What’s going on?”

The sound of Kiri’s voice startles all of you and you hurry to hide your face, wiping at the tears staining your cheeks and praying they’ll stop before he sees. Denki takes a step to try and shield you from Kiri’s curious gaze. “Ah it’s nothing dude, where’s Mina and Bakugo?” Denki deflects. “Bakugo and Mina both have early patrols tomorrow so he left an hour ago and Mina just left now,” Kiri explains distractedly, still trying to see around his friend to check on you. “We should head out too,” Sero tells him, he and Denki both acting as a barrier between you and Kiri as you all shuffle off the balcony. Kiri trails behind like a confused puppy until you all reach the front door and he catches your arm. “Hey hold up, can we talk?” he asks pleadingly. His grip on your arm is loose, you could tug away if you wanted to but you don’t. When Denki’s eyes meet yours in a silent question you give him a nod to let him know you’ll be alright. Your gaze shifts to Sero’s disapproving one but he just shakes his head and gives you a sympathetic half smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The door closes, leaving you and Eijirou alone in his apartment. He brings a gentle hand to your chin, turning your face to him as his crimson eyes scan over it. It confirms what he already suspected when he stepped onto the balcony. “You’ve been crying,” he notes. He has a guess why but a large part of him is hoping he’s wrong. You shrug, trying your hardest to avoid eye contact even when he’s so close to you. “‘M fine,” you mumble but it’s unconvincing even to your own ears. “Baby please, talk to me,” he pleads gently.

“Are you sure you don’t love her anymore?”

The words are tumbling out before you can stop them and Kiri’s heart shatters a little in his chest. “Yes, baby, yes I’m sure,” he insists, pulling you in closer to him but you shake your head.

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“Then let me show you.”

The feeble walls you’d been trying to build up crumble immediately as he presses his lips to yours. You are and always will be weak for him, letting his arms wrap around your waist and pull you against him while your own move to his shoulders. He kisses you so deeply, so desperately that for a moment you can almost forget your insecurities. When his tongue swipes along your bottom lip you open your mouth to him without hesitation and you half expect things to stop there the way they always have. Except they don’t. When you feel him starting to harden in his pants he doesn’t pull away with an apology and a blush the way he usually does. Instead he reels you in closer, slotting your hips against his in a way that has heat pooling low in your gut and your panties dampening.

“Eiji I-“

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No but-”

“Then don’t worry about it (y/n). Ok?”

“Ok.”

And on that note he reseals his lips to yours.

His hands slip from your waist down the curve of your ass, squeezing slightly before grasping the backs of your thighs and hoisting you up. Your legs wrap around his waist automatically as he walks you both to his room, not breaking the kiss once the whole way. He doesn’t let you go until he’s reached his bed, your back landing on the plush mattress with a soft thud. He’s on top of you in a second, popping the button on your jeans and slipping his hand past the waistband in order to rub at your slit through your panties. You both groan at the feeling, pleasure racing through you as the anticipation of what’s to come builds. “You’re so wet for me already,” he gasps against your lips in disbelief. “Yes, please, I need you,” you beg. “You have me,” he promises as he withdraws his hand so he can remove your jeans properly while you make quick work of your shirt and bra. When he comes back up from pulling your jeans off your legs, you help him with his clothes until he’s left in just his boxer-briefs.

You can’t help but stare at his hardness, the thin material of his underwear doing little to hide his erection. You’ve imagined this moment since that day in the pool but as you make note of the stain his precum has left, you can’t help but wonder if all of that is your doing or if you just happen to be the one here to help him with it. As if reading your thoughts Kiri wraps a hand around your wrist and brings your hand to his erection, letting you palm him through the fabric as he whispers “All of this is ‘cause of you Princess. Just you.” “Promise?” “Absolutely, so let me make you feel good, ok?”

You nod and immediately he settles himself more fully on the bed over you, trailing kisses along your jaw before moving down the column of your neck. His sharp teeth graze your skin. God what he would give to leave marks, to sink the points into your delicate skin and show the world who you belong to but he can’t. Not yet. So he slips lower, down to your chest, leaving marks on the swell of your breasts instead before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. He delights in the way you arch up into him, gasping at the sensation. He doesn’t rest until the sensitive bud has fully hardened before switching to give the other one the same attention. You’re practically whining beneath him, his first name tumbling from your lips as you all but beg him to touch you properly. He resumes his downward path until he reaches the waistband of your underwear. Once there he grips the elastic between his teeth, making sure to maintain eye contact as he drags the garment down your legs and exposes your sex to the cool air of his room.

He loves every moment of it; almost wishes he could take a picture to keep forever. Instead he commits the sight to memory: you dripping and aching for him, nude body illuminated only by the dim glow of the party lights he’d put on before everyone arrived. His hands reach up to pry your thighs apart, licking his lips like a man starving as he eyes your waiting cunt. “You’re so fucking beautiful (y/n),” he marvels and the added attention makes you squirm self-consciously. You try to bring your thighs together but he’s having none of it, keeping them apart with his firm grip as he drags his eyes to meet yours. “Don’t try and hide from me baby,” he coos before leaning in to lick an experimental stripe up your sex. Your reaction is immediate, yelping as you clench around nothing and your eyes slip shut in pleasure. Eijirou nips your inner thigh to draw your attention. “Open your eyes for me baby, want you to watch me,” he insists and so you nod, taking a second to try and collect yourself before complying.

He can’t help but grin at your compliance, rewarding your efforts with another lick through your folds. Your eyes don’t leave his as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking the sensitive nub hard enough to make you cry out, head falling backwards for just a moment before you force yourself to watch him again. He brings one hand to your twitching hole and can’t help but moan against you when he feels how easily he can slip two fingers inside. He drags them along your inner walls, fishing for that one spot inside you he knows will have you seeing stars as his tongue continues to lave attention onto your clit. Your hands fly to his hair, gripping hard, but the tug on his scalp only spurs Eijirou on even more. He ravishes you like a man possessed, mouth leaving your clit only so his tongue can join his fingers inside you. He brings his free hand up to press circles into your clit to compensate and your cries of his name only get louder.

It’s all so much. You feel so incredibly full, your body tingling as you rapidly approach your high. “Eiji I’m gonna- ah!” Your attempts at warning him only fuel him further until your climax finally crashes over you. Your hands grip his hair impossibly harder as ecstasy races up your spine, pressing him closer against your cunt as your walls clench around him. He happily milks you through it, grinding his own hips down into the mattress beneath him as his cock throbs at the sight and feeling of you coming apart for him. He waits until he’s sure your bliss has passed to bring himself up to kiss you, loving the way you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. He discards his boxers and within moments is pressing his thick cock against your entrance.

“Can’t wait any longer baby. Wanna feel you around me. Please can I-”

“Yes! For the love of god Eiji yes.”

He wastes no time doing as told. Even though he’d prepped you so well it still stings as his wide girth pushes inside of you. He’s patient, well aware of his size and pushing in nice and slow. “Fuck Eiji you’re so big,” you can’t help but gasp, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He leans down to pepper gentle kisses to your cheeks. “I know Princess, I know but you’re taking me so well. God, you’re so fucking tight, so fucking perfect for me. My perfect princess,” he praises as he continues pushing further inside, splitting you open as you keen beneath him. When he bottoms out inside you it takes everything in him not to spill right there as your arms come up to cling to him, nails digging into his back. He should probably stop you, your nails leaving long red marks on his skin that might not fade by the time he next sees Mina but he doesn’t care and he doesn’t want you to stop, so instead he captures your lips in a heated kiss and starts moving, slowly withdrawing himself from your tight warmth before snapping his hips forward to push back inside.

You cry out as the head of his cock brushes your cervix, grasping hold of him tighter as his hands find your hips, shifting you slightly so he can make sure each thrust hits as deep as that one just did. Words are lost to you both, your speech devolving into babbled praises as you drive each other towards climax. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh as he drives himself into you over and over again echoes in the room, loud in your ears, but as one of his hands slips down to rub circles into your clit and his hips start to stutter, Kirishima utters one sentence that cuts through the rest of the noise.

“Fuck (y/n), I love you so much.”

Your heart catches in your chest, eyes widening at the words neither of you has ever dared utter. It catches you so off guard that you’re not prepared when his dick plows into that one, perfect spot inside you and suddenly you’re cumming hard, clear fluid gushing out around his thick cock as the clenching of your walls sends him tumbling into ecstasy right after you. Thick ropes of his seed paint your insides white before leaking out around him. By the time he’s finally spent, dick twitching as the last of his release fills you, your heart and mind are racing as you try to process everything that’s just happened.

The last two lines have finally been crossed.

Eijirou pulls out of you slowly, watching in fascination as his cum dribbles out to mix with your release, staining his sheets beneath you. He can’t help but gather the mess on his fingers and press it back inside you, eyes shooting up to your gaze as you whine lowly at the action. You’re watching him with eyes filled to brim with emotion and your mouth opens on something you’re hesitant to say. He’s surprised at the nervousness in your gaze and it puts him on full alert as you struggle to get the words out. “How about I grab a towel to wipe you off with while you find the words?” he offers gently and you nod gratefully.

Kiri rises and goes to the bathroom as you prepare yourself to say the words tumbling through your head. When he returns it’s with a warm, damp towel and even though you reach to take it he gently bats your hand away to clean you himself. The towel passes over your skin so gently, the care obvious with each stroke, and when he’s finally cleaned you up he slips into the bed beside you and pulls you in close to him. The way he holds you, calloused hands rubbing against your smooth skin, makes you feel like something precious, someone he’d move heaven and earth for.

You pray you’re not about to ruin it.

“I’m going to tell Mina tomorrow,” you confess, your mind made up the minute he said those three little words to you.

“Ok but we should do it together. It’s only fair,” he replies without hesitation.

You blink once, twice, mouth gaping at his easy acceptance.

“Just like that?” you ask incredulously.

“Just like that.”

At your continued incredulity Kiri sighs, pulling you in closer and burying his face in the junction between your jaw and neck, breathing you in. “I don’t think it hit me how selfish I’ve been until I saw you crying tonight,” he admits, “I’ve been trying so hard to avoid hurting Mina, or I guess avoid having to deal with the fact that I’m doing something hurtful to her, that I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. That was super shitty and unmanly of me so I’m sorry, (y/n). I meant what I said. I love you. So if you’re ready to tell her then let’s tell her.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, relief evident in your voice. “You know this will change everything though right?” he asks cautiously. “I know but I’m… I’m ready to shake things up. Fuck, this is really gonna mess her up though,” you sigh. “I know but it’ll be ok eventually.” “What if I’m not strong enough to tell her?” “You don’t have to be, you’ve got me there too. We’ll be strong enough together, I promise. Ok?” “Ok.”

It’s a lot for love.

But as Kiri tangles your legs with his and presses sweet kisses to your face to help you drift to sleep, you can’t help but be hopeful it’ll all be worth it.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @black-rose-29

[lebrookestore]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Collab hosted by @heartyyjeno and @neojaems

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧

Pairing: Qian Kun x reader

Themes: richkid au-ish, royalty au-ish, slight humour, ANGST, strangers to lovers, betrayal, suspense, drugs, murder, cruises, pride and prejudice

Warnings: angst, mentions of murder, drugs, smoking, betrayal, drugging, making out, messed up stuff honestly

Wc: 17.1k

Taglist:  @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @the-rooftop-fight @rueyins @kiri-ah @sly-merlin @alicanta77 @rouiyan @jae-dreamin @peachyyjaes  @girlwithmightymuses-deactivated @jenoleemonade​ @radiorenjun​

Summary: Many things can happen on a cruise ship, most of them are unexpected. Secrets are exposed, arrangements are brought to light and love can bloom- but when the secrets and arrangements clash, will the love survive? [loosely based on the Opera; Tristan and Isolde]

Playlist: here

Authors note: My first collab fic!!! I honestly really love how this turned out, and I hope you do too! Take this as a thank you for 400 as well, since I have literally nothing else planned rip. Thanks to Mina for letting me scream about this fic to her and feedback would be really appreciated! Without further ado, I present to you: Love Shot!

“Lady Y/n”, the woman greeted you, bowing respectfully. You smiled softly, touching her shoulder to indicate that it was alright. “Winter”, you said fondly, “You know I don’t care for formalities”, you reminded the girl, who nodded eagerly, and took your bags.

Sighing tiredly, you stood at the entrance, waiting for Winter to return and guide you to your room on the cruise ship, where you would be staying for the next three months. The air was crisp, more breathable than it was in the city. Crossing one hand over the other, standing up straight, you exude confidence and an air of authority, something everyone around you acknowledged and respected.

Your family was and would always be one of the most respected families in Japan. You had money, a name, and many many enemies. There was always someone on the prowl, ever ready to steal your family’s worth, to ruin its reputation. Your father had gotten the family estate when the wealth had been divided amongst him and his brothers, and that had only added up to your net worth. As the daughter of one of the richest men in the world, you had big shoes to fill, especially since you had no siblings. 

You had had your fair share of bad publicity, and drama. Scandals always lazily floated around, and at this point, you welcomed them like an old friend. Added some spice into your otherwise very structured life. 

A year ago, your father had died, leaving all the responsibilities to fall upon you. He had been found dead one morning in his bed, your mother shaking as she sat on the edge, looking on at her dead husband with a crazed look in her eyes. There were rumours and suspicions, but you decided to pay no heed to them.

And with all these new responsibilities, you made the news more times than you cared to count, and the way the media preyed on the tragedy, highlighting it, using it against you. Your mother was at her wit’s end, a broken shell of the commanding woman she was before. You heeded every request of hers, and fulfilled any wish, no matter how idiotic. Your life had changed, but at the same time, it hadn’t. You were still the same filthy rich girl from before.

Winter returned, a rosy hue on her cheeks as she greeted you once more. “This way Ma’am”, you grabbed her arm, glaring mockingly, “Y/n”, you asserted, “You’re never this formal Win, what happened?”

“It’s my job”, she said sheepishly, “And I’m a little out of it, please don’t pay any attention to it”

You wanted to prod her further but decided to respect her privacy, and silently followed her down the halls of the ship, studying your surroundings. It was clear the place was dripping with money, nothing you weren’t used to. With the gold plating and jewel-encrusted chandeliers, you felt more at home than on a vacation.

Well, it wasn’t really a vacation now, was it?

This was business, for your family. A set plan, rules and things you had to do. Even thought it was all arranged, you still had to look pretty and smile and be nice to him.

Stopping in front of a door, she fished out a pair of keys and inserted one of them into the keyhole, opening it and leading you into your room for the stay. It was one of the first-class cabins on the cruise, more spacious than the others. Bowing once again, Winter left you, promising to return to call you for dinner. Sitting down on your bed, you inspected the room, noting its features. It was all the same.

Deciding to get ready for the dinner, you unzipped one of your bags, picking through the garments you had brought along with you. You knew dinners were a big thing, especially if you were of your status, and today would be monumental, especially since you would be meeting someone, and that someone was very important. Finally choosing a silk dress, you slipped it on, retouching your makeup and checking your phone for any updates, you left your room making sure you had your keys with you. The hallways were pretty chilly, so you decided to turn back and get your pullover just in case. 

Waiting patiently by your door for Winter, you checked your phone, reading over the message your mother sent you. A list of instructions, a code of conduct for the evening.

You had to impress them.

Once again, Winter showed up, still donning the rosy blush as she regarded you, and began leading you through the winding halls of the ship. She seemed to be very out of it, not completely focusing on the task at hand as she tripped over her own feet. You reached out, grabbing her arm and stabilizing the girl.

“I’m sorry”, she squeaked, “Forgive me”

“Be careful Winter”, you said, “And stop patronizing yourself, you’re never like this”

Flustered, she nodded a little too fast, “I’m sorry Y/n, just following orders”

“Whose orders?”, you asked incredulously. She rested her hand on the gold plated doorknob, turning to you.

“Your mother of course”, she said, before pushing the door open. Hushed whispers traveled across the room at your arrival, the room falling into silence.

Dinner was served.

Kun walked into the dining hall, his eyes dark and alight with amusement. He slipped his hands in his pockets, leisurely making his way to one of the tables. He observed the scene, taking note of the crowd. Jazz music played softly in the background, setting the mood. Clicking his tongue, he pulled out a chair taking a seat at the table he had chosen. 

He wasn’t alone, there were two other men sitting there, and a woman. One was his brother, Chenle, who was six years younger than Kun. He looked intimidating for an eighteen-year-old, with a square-ish jaw and large eyes. They were set in a blank stare, as if he was used to this, and was tired of it. He regarded Kun with a nod, before going back to his food.

The other was his uncle, Akira, who was only ten years older than Kun himself, being the youngest brother from his mother’s side. He was dressed in an expensive suit, eyes covered with his dark sunglasses. He didn’t even acknowledge Kun, instead, he had his eyes trained on the door, presumably waiting for someone.

The woman was sitting next to Kun, his sister, Yuxi, younger than him by a year. She didn’t even spare a look at Kun, but he was used to it.

A server walked up to the table, handing Kun a menu, and bowing respectfully. He was wearing a white suit, in pristine condition, hair slicked back, shoes polished to the point of reflection. Kun studied the boy, who seemed a few years younger than him. His tag read ‘Heesung’, and he looked bored out of his mind.

“Heesung”, Kun said, “I’d like a glass of Dom Pérignon please”, he requested, to which Heesung nodded, taking note of it in his notepad. “I’ll come back with your drink and order”, he informed Kun as he left.

The doors opened, two women standing there. One was obviously the help of the other, dressed in a black and white uniform. She opened the door wider, exposing the other women to the crowd. She was obviously of some high status, the air around her seemed to hold some sort of authority. She walked down the stairs, her help close behind as she scanned the room to spot a table for herself.

You soon found the table you had been assigned to by your darling mother and walking towards it. You held your head a little higher, asserting a sort of silent dominance over them. Winter pulled out a seat for you, and you thanked her softly, turning to the man on your right.

“Akira, I suppose”, you said, lifting your hand up and shaking his hand. He smiled, “The lovely Y/n”, he said, “I presume your mother has told you about me”

He was handsome, you supposed, in an oldish way. You nodded, “Yes, she has”

“And I hope you are intrigued”, he suggested. You forced a smile, biting down the initial disgust at the older man. “Very much so”, you assured him, turning to the other two, “And you are”, you asked, desperate to avoid any further interaction with Akira.

“Yuxi”, the lady sitting next to Akira introduced herself, holding up a glass of some sort of drink, looking at the other two men.

“I’m Chenle”, the one on your left greeted, smiling slightly. You returned the gesture, looking at the other one expectantly.

“Kun”, he said, disinterest apparent in his tone. “A pleasure to meet you, Y/n”, he said coyly, leaning back in his chair and observed you. Nodding at his curt response, you waited in silence for the waiter to come and take your order. “So who are you?”, Kun asked, to which you blinked in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?”, you asked, not meaning to sound as vain as it came out. You were genuinely shocked at the fact he didn’t know who you were.

“Kun”, Akira warned, “I told you about the lovely Y/n”, he explained, “You know about the deal”

“Was I expected to know her?”, he asked, “To be fair, she's like every other woman here, just richer”

Your eyes widened at his blatant disrespect, as his lips upturned into a smirk, somewhat enjoying your obvious discomfort.

“Ahem”, Heesung interrupted, “Your order?”

Mildly put off, you asked for the meal you wanted, trying not to sink into your seat from embarrassment. If your mother was here, she would’ve given you an earful if you slouched.

Always hold yourself to a higher standard Y/n, she constantly reminded you, Head a little higher than the rest.

Ignore him darling”, Akira advised you. The nickname set a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Excuse me”, you said, “I’m not feeling well”, getting up, you called for Winter, asking her to get your food to your room. 

You walked out gracefully, not missing the sly smile that Kun gave you.

Mornings were something you had always looked forward to. You woke up early on most days, while your mother was still asleep, to be alone with your thoughts. It was hard to think with your mother droning on about responsibilities, and things she wanted you to do for her. You had to mindlessly listen, and accomplish every task she set out for you. You were beyond thankful for Winter, who helped you, and single handedly kept you sane. She was your friend, more than a servant, which was why her sudden formality was confusing you.

While your mother wasn’t with you at the moment, you still decided to leave the confines of your bed, and explore the cruise in peace and quiet, perhaps get an early breakfast alone. You changed into acceptable clothing, casual instead of the finery you were used to and tired of, and headed out to the deck. The cool sea breeze was welcoming, making you feel refreshed. You sipped the tea in your hands, cupping the mug to provide some warmth to your fingers, as you leaned against the railing of the ship.

The floors were made of wood, giving it a rustic feel to it. It contrasted the marble interiors, giving it a simpler look. It was homely, more so than your own home. You smiled wantonly, the silence of the scene comforting.

You mother came to mind, as you remembered the deal, the entire reason why you were on this cruise, it wasn’t a happy vacation, on the contrary, it was a welcoming, an introduction to a new family, one you would soon be thrown into. 

“You're alone”, a voice observed. You turned around to face the man from yesterday.

“Qian Kun”, you said politely, “It appears so”

You weren’t particularly angry at him for not knowing who you were, in fact, you would go as far as to say, you were relieved.

“Relax, I know who you are, I’m just teasing you”, he said, which destroyed all hopes of you being an unknown person. You raised an eyebrow in the question of his doings, to which he grinned, “Y/n Osaki”.

You nodded, looking down at your tea, not quite knowing what to say. You didn’t know Kun very well, but from the short encounters you had with him, he confused you. You studied him for a moment, trying to understand him. He seemed to be put together, content with himself, yet he took pleasure in trivial things, like getting a reaction out of you.

“Well, I don’t truly know you, other than the fact you’re this rich girl my uncle is interested in”, he quipped, standing at your side and looking out at the sea, not sparing you another glance.

“Uncle?”, you asked slightly horrified. Kun seemed to be around your age, so the thought of Akira being his uncle sounded very messed up, especially since your mother was also rooting for the older man.

Kun hummed in agreement, “he was ten when I was born”, he continued. You decided to ignore that fact, for now, focusing on the subtle dig he had thrown at you. “You’re rich too, or so it seems. Certainly, you’re wealthy if you can afford this cruise”

You hadn’t meant to sound vain or stuck up, but it was true. This wasn’t a cheap stay, especially since you knew they were staying on the first-class level of the ship just as you were. Your mother had told you almost everything about them.

He seemed amused, his dimples appearing as he smiled, “We’re comfortable”

You scoffed at the statement, deciding to take a sip of your tea instead of retorting. The conversation, if you could even call it that, fell into a silence. You tapped against the porcelain of the cup, looking blankly at the water.

He was attractive, dark hair splayed across his forehead, dark grey eyes, lips that seemed to upturn into a smirk easily. He had an easy going demeanor, with a touch of underlying darkness, you supposed. It piqued your interest, but you made sure not to show it. 

“See you around Y/n”, he said, walking away, seemingly bored. You watched him disappear under the deck, and suddenly, you were all alone.

Alone with your thoughts.

“And school? How is that going?’, you asked, switching your phone to your other hand as you flipped the page of your book. Your brother bristled at the other end of the line, clearly not pleased with the turn of the conversation, “It’s fine”, he said, “Same old. Sungchan is still trying to woo that lower class girl”, he said this with a snicker, “It’s pathetic really.”

“Tsk”, you clicked your tongue, “Don’t belittle her, she’s smart”

“And not to our standard”, he replied, “Sungchan should know better”

“Shotaro”, you said in a warning tone, “Leave it alone, he’s probably just messing with her. You know how we do things”

“Of course, but it’s turning into an infatuation of sorts, he only talks of her! I’m tired of it”

“Maybe he’s in love”, you suggested, turning the next page. The line went silent, you didn’t worry too much as this gave you time to read a few paragraphs properly, instead of the skimming you had been doing. “And what is love Y/n, hmm?”

“Am I supposed to know?”, you bit back sarcastically. You could hear Shotaro scoff on the other side of the line, “You’re the one getting married, dear sister, and isn’t the eldest sibling supposed to teach the younger one?”

“I am not in love”, you said, “I do not need to teach you anything, pay attention in school instead”

“Love you too Y/n, goodbye”, he said flatly, deciding that if you were to talk of school, he was not going to have any part of it. You shook your head amusedly, placing your phone down and continuing to read. Shotaro was your brother, you were close to him, even with your constant bantering and seemingly formal conversation. It was just how the two of you had been brought up- in a very classy way. You had a reputation to uphold, and a family name to flaunt. 

You shifted in your seat, hearing three knocks on the door. “Come in Winter”, you called out, and the girl walked in, holding a box that was wrapped in ribbon, a pretty bow sitting at the top. You placed your book aside, taking the box from her hands. “What is this for?” “Sir Akira sent it”, she explained, dusting down her generic uniform, “Hesaid he would like you to wear it tonight”

You raised an eyebrow at this, skeptical, but nodded. Winter made motion to leave, but you held her hand, “Sit”, you said with a smile, “Talk to me”

“Miss-”

“Y/n”, you reiterated, “Please Winter?”, she sighed at your request, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “You’re keeping your guard up, we grew up together, stop”, she sighed, “I know, I hate this too”

“Do you? This is my room, no one is watching here, now”, you moved over, patting your lap and she grinned, laying her head down on it. “Aren’t you going to open that?”

“Mmhh”, you hummed, pulling the ribbon, letting the cover loose as a pretty red fabric peeked through. You pulled out the dress, studying it.

“It’s pretty”, Winter observed, looking up at your skeptical face. “What happened?”

“I hate it”, you muttered, “It’s tasteful, sure, but I don’t want to wear it”, you folded it and placed it to the side. “I have several of these.” You wondered how Akira had gotten your size perfectly, let alone the similarity in your style of clothing so on point.

“You still have to wear it tonight”, she reminded you, prospering herself up on her elbows, “How’s your brother?” You glanced at her, picking your book up again, “He’s fine”

“Oh what are you reading?”, she asked, “Will you read to me?”

You nodded with a smile playing on your lips, opening the cover of Pride and Prejudice, leaning back and searching for the line you had finished on. The musty pages welcomed you back like an old friend as you indulged in the love story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. You read about the part, those five chapters where her feelings matured and her opinions changed over time for the man, who she had positively despised before.

You wondered if you’d ever fall for Akira, who you despised too, and was forced into marriage with. Maybe you were a lot like Lizzy Bennet, except you didn’t have a father to back you up.

Duty.

The Osaki Family was very familiar with this term, it was like every second day you heard it. With your family name came responsibilities, expectations and a warped sense of reality. Warped because your reality was very different from most people.

Duty came in different forms. For Shotaro, it was completing his extensive education and taking over the business side of the family, succeeding your father’s work. Your mother’s was to sit there and look pretty, the face of the family as of now, a sympathetic heroine of sorts ever since your father deceased. Yours was to extend family relations, and keep the prestige. You were going to take your mothers place, not something you were particularly looking forward to, but it had to be done.

It was your duty, after all.

The cruise was a way to get away from these duties, by keeping them at the forefront of your mind, replaying like a broken cassette tape. 

“Y/n Osaki”, someone called out, and you looked up from your seat. You were sitting on the deck of the ship, reading in peace with your phone by your side in case of emergency. You recognized the woman as Kun’s sister.

“Yuxi, If I’m not mistaken?”, you asked, moving aside on the bench to give her room to sit.  She crossed her legs, propping one hand on the backrest of the bench and smiling, “Tis I!”, her voice was cheerful, “I’m terribly bored of being surrounded by my brothers, so I thought I’d find you and talk to one of the female specimens”, she joked, causing your lips to upturn into a smile.

“Talking seems wonderful”, you assured her, “What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything honestly, something that isn’t about ‘who’s the man’”, she drawled, an unamused look on her face as she supposedly referenced her brother's banterring. Her eyes cast down to your book, “Jane Austen hmm? My brother loves that book”

“Which one?”

“Kun”, she answered, shifting in her seat, “He can argue for hours about whos the better character,” she smirked, stretching out her legs, “I love my family, but I’m tired of them”

“I understand that far better than you think”, you said, “I sometimes wish we weren’t related”

“You’re one to talk”, she snorted, “You have just about everything you’d ever need and more.”

“I’ll be losing it all in a little, I assume you know this”, you smiled sadly. She nodded, “Alright”, she said, “Perhaps you have everything except freedom”

Kun was tired.

 In the event of having to deal with his brother and uncle’s ‘nonsense’ as he called it, he left the table at dinner to search for some quiet. He walked down the hallways of the ship, the soft rumbling of something he couldn’t quite make out reached his ears. 

He passed his own room, and several others, before coming to the room he was looking for. It had a red door, washed out and dark so it didn’t really stand out. He pushed it open, entering a sort of mini hallway, with another door at the end. 

He walked to that one too, entering a small, dark room. There were boxes and suitcases in there, all from his family.

 But they weren’t all luggage.

 He scanned the room, trying to remember something, it was like there had been an itch ever since he saw you. Like you had opened a door to a memory, but the memory was hazy, he couldn’t quite catch it. It was like a connection had been established, and he couldn’t quite shake it off.

 He sighed in defeat, leaving the room and walking into the hallway once again, only to be met with you, donning a red dress, hair done up in curls. You startled, blinking on seeing him emerge from the side, “Oh”, you said, looking him up and down, “Hello, Kun.” 

He took in your pretty features, wondering how you got roped into this. 

“Shouldn't you be at dinner?”, Kun asked you, lips turning into a sly smile. You looked at him, seemingly unfazed, “Shouldn’t you?”

 “Dinner is nothing special I can assure you that”, he muttered bitterly, “I take you're procrastinating getting there?” 

You nodded, “As much as I enjoy your family's company, I am not entertained by your Uncle, no offense”, you rubbed the side of your arms, “This dress was given by him.”

 “So that’s why he was talking to your servant”, Kun said, “Alright, let’s skip dinner then.”

 “Skip it? My mother would-”

 “We won't tell her”, he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ll make up a convincing story.”

 You studied him, deeming him sincere and nodding, “Lead the way then”, you gestured, and he took your hand, smirking and leading you down the hallways, “There’s a lounge somewhere here”, he mused, “Ah here.”

 The two of you entered a fancy looking lounge that definitely matched the entirety of the cruise ship. There was a bar at the end, and couches in the center. You took a seat, leaning back as he went straight for the drinks

. “Want anything?”, he called, taking a bottle down.

 “French 75”, you requested, “You sister told me you liked Jane Austen?” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, “I do”, he agreed. “Why?” There was that odd feeling again, as if you held some sort of importance, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

 “I mean”, you looked over at the bar, “dinner isn’t going to get over anytime soon and we’re stuck with each other, friendly banter might help pass the time since I don’t have my phone or book with me.” 

He hummed in agreement, “Which book are you reading?” “Pride and Prejudice.”

 “High class families and their literature”, he hummed. “Alright, what about it?”

 “You don’t seem very intrigued by the story”, you observed, taking the cocktail he handed you. “What do you think of Lizzy Bennet’s and Mr. Darcy’s relationship?”

 “Lizzy Bennet, in crude terms would be considered a high class bitch.” 

“Excuse you?”, you asked, slightly outraged in a playful manner. “She is smart and funny and has some brains, unlike the rest of the sisters.”

 “She judged Darcy all too fast don't you think?” He raised his own glass to his lips, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke. “She blatantly disregarded his affections.” 

You felt heat rush to your face, mostly in indignant anger, an urge to defend one of your all time favorite heroines of any sort of story. You had always stood by her. Seeing someone ridicule her, though you had invited him to do so, was irking. “She did not! He bitched about her family and confessed, expecting her to be okay with his idiocy?”

 You asked him hotly, leaning forward in anticipation for his answer. He seemed amused by your irritation, “He’s a man of class, he’s going to judge a not so upper class family. I mean, you would know of this right?”

 “Not if my family was belittled”, you said with a frown, “I see Darcy as the prick who refused to back down because of his goddamn pride.” 

“I always thought Elizabeth was the one with pride, and Darcy held the Prejudice against her family.” His argument was strong.

 You nodded. “I suppose you’re right, but Lizzy Bennet-”

 “Can’t do any wrong?”

 You muttered some not so ladylike things under your breath that your mother would’ve had your head for, glaring at the man who sat across you. While you were all up for playful arguing, being interrupted was something you weren't used to—nor did you appreciate it. 

“Would you let me speak?”

 He smirked, “I suppose you’re defending her because”, he looked at his glass, studying the clear liquid inside it, “you think of yourself as her.”

 “I’m done here”, you said quietly, placing your drink down and getting up, refusing to look at him, knowing his smug expression would just irk you more. His accusation, while probably lighthearted, did not sit well with you. 

“Goodbye.”

The sun was out the next afternoon, casting its golden rays on the deck of the ship, giving it a lovely, summery feel. Guests bustled and walked about, chatting in groups. A small band played their merriment off to the side, setting the mood with their joyful tunes.

Winter stood off to the side with the rest of the servants, a pensive expression on her pretty face.

You stood with the rest of the crowd, next to Akira’s family, returning the warm smile Yuxi sent you. Apparently, there was supposed to be some sort of performers on the ship to entertain the folk. 

You sighed, watching the scene with a polite, yet bored gaze. You would rather be in your room reading, instead of out here. But of course, this was all done from obligation, you had to be there.

Akira shuffled to stand next to you, “I missed you yesterday”, he said, “I was looking forward to seeing you in the dress I got you.”

“I wasn’t feeling too well last night”, you fibbed, eyes meeting Kun’s for a fleeting second, “I appreciate the dress.”

You could feel Kuns smirk, even if you weren’t looking at him. Shifting on your feet, you leaned towards Winter, requesting her to get you a glass of water. 

You were still so uncomfortable around Akira, with his easy smile and underlying words. You knew he was being nice because he had to. You were already his, whether you liked it or not. Shivering at the thought, you took the glass from your friend, taking a sip and trying to focus on the band that played a jazz rendition of ‘Seven Nation Army’.

You wondered for a moment, how it would be if you weren’t from the Osaki family. If you were just another girl, instead of leverage for your family. Once Shotaro was of age and finished his schooling, he would take your fathers place, your mother would remain a shell of herself, useless and forgotten.

You would be like her soon.

Yuxi called Akira for something, giving you room to breathe.

“I hope you’re not still angry at me”, Kun’s voice came from behind, an amused lilt to his voice, “About our little miff yesterday.”

You turned to face him, shaking your head, “I’ll admit, my storming off was a tad immature.”

He frowned, studying you. “Why are you so formal all the time?”

The question took you aback, “Sounds like you have a stick up your ass, reminds me of my friend, Ten.”

“You literally just apologized to me, only to insult me once again?”, you asked, wondering how his mind worked. He was so confusing, one moment all proper the next he acted like a regular kid with a crass sense of humour.

A smile stretched out on his lips, “I never apologized Y/n”, he reminded you, “I only asked you if you were still mad.”

“Touche”

“Loosen up a bit”, he said, “Don’t be so high strung all the time.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, “Oh do tell me how”

He grinned, taking your hand in his, intertwining your fingers, “Let’s go then, I have an idea.”

“Oh hell no”

“Oh hell yes”, Kun smirked, “Are you telling me you’ve never had a water balloon fight?”

“You’re telling me this is a regular occurrence for you?”, you asked incredulously. He shook his head, “No, but it's fun, so lets start”, he handed you a bunch of balloons in a bag.

“How the fuck do you even have these? We’re on a cruise?”, your confusion was comical.

The two of you stood in an empty hall in the cruise, and Kun had locked the door so no one would barge inside. Somehow he had accumulated a bizarre amount of balloons all filled with water. You could foresee the mess that was about to befall you.

You silently wondered why the fuck you agreed to this madness. Maybe it had something to do with Kun;s pretty smile.

He shrugged, “Don’t question it. Yuxi me and Chenle fight this way when we want to get away from our Uncle”, he swatted you away, “Now go! Unless you want me to destroy you from the start.”

A challenge.

You never backed down from a challenge.

You thanked yourself for deciding not to wear that summer dress Winter had initially laid out for you, opting for some pants and a shirt instead. 

Grabbing the bag, you hurried to the other end of the hall, hiding behind one of the heavy curtains and picking up one of the balloons, getting used to the weight in your palms. All you had to do was hit him right? Seemed simple right?

Wrong. So wrong.

As soon as you felt as ready and slipped out of your hiding place, you were hit on your leg, a cold wet feeling creeping up on your leg. The impact of the balloon made you stumble a little bit as you regained your footing, shooting Kun a dirty look. He smirked in response, “Pay attention L/n”

You felt another hit on your arm, realizing he had taken advantage of the fact you had been distracted. Narrowing your eyes, you flung your own balloon and gracefully missed him, the balloon ending up rolling on the ground sadly. 

Embarrassed, you retreated back behind the curtains, grabbing two of your weapons, and scurrying to the other curtain before you could be hit again. Your left pant leg was soaked through, still smarting from the hit and your arm was damp, but your focus was on hitting your opponent.

He chuckled, “Hiding just prolongs this, you know that right?”, he was taunting you, and you scowled, coming out from behind the curtain and throwing your balloon, hitting his calf and making him grunt. 

It was your turn to smirk, pleased at your successful attempt. 

Your triumphant feeling lasted about for five seconds, until you were hit again.

Damn Qian Kun and his quick thinking.You staggered back and he walked closer, “Gonna stay behind those curtains?”, he asked coyly, “Okay, fine you need incentive.”, He threw another at you, making you whine at your own slowness. “Lizzy Bennet needs to be more forgiving”

He had brought up your argument. He knew it would tick you off, making you want to justify your own point of view.

“Mr. Darcy needs to stop being such a prick!”, you exclaimed, flinging your own balloon at him, hitting his side, making him wince, “And you need to stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m the stubborn one?”, he said, almost whined. Another water missile landed next to your foot, bursting and spraying you with water. 

After a few minutes, the two of you were soaked to the bone, your clothes stuck to your skin uncomfortably, but a tired smile stretched out on your lips. His expression mirrored yours as he tried grabbing your arm. The two of you had finished all the water balloons and had been chasing each other around the hall like kids.

For the first time you actually felt like a kid.

You squealed as his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you down with him as he tripped. Falling into him, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him and entrapping you in his embrace.

Laughter bubbled from your lips as you struggled against him, “Leave me!”

He laughed into your hair, “Truce. Lizzy and Darcy are both idiots.”

“That's established!”, you said, “Let me go idiot”

He did, a wide smile on his face, “You’re more comfortable around me now”, he observed.

You realized he was right, you were more comfortable. You liked the smile on his face, the lilt of relief in his voice. The hall was wet in some places. One of you hiding places, the curtains had a big splotch of water on it, you silently wondered how the staff would react to the state at which it was in.

“I am”, you stated, “Not so strung up now?”

He snorted, “I destroyed you in the water balloon fight, I practically knocked you down from your high horse.”

He looked at the smile on your face, liking it. Even though your hair was wet and messed up, he thought you were beautiful, now that your face wasn’t set in a semi permanent haughty expression.

You hit him playfully, not finding it in you to glare at him. His dark hair was wet, and it fell in front of his eyes as he looked at you, feigning a look of hurt. “You wound me.”

“My mission in life”, you snickered. A silence fell upon the two of you, as you rubbed your arms, the cold biting into your skin. You would have to leave soon, take a shower and show up and dinner, all prim and proper again. The thought made your stomach sink, because you had had fun for the first time in a long time.

You met Kun’s eyes, which were sparkling with a mischievous glint. Raising an eyebrow at him, you crossed your arms, “What?”

“We both have to agree”, he started, “That Mr. Bennet is the best character.”

Winter scurried along the hallways, clutching an envelope, hiding it under her apron lest she ran into you. Her nails dug into the paper, guilt welling up in the pit of her stomach. She stopped outside the door she had been summoned to

Knocking on the throat thrice, she took a step back, waiting for it to be opened. 

A man opened it, narrowing his eyes at her, “Yes?”

“A letter for you sir”, Winter squeaked, “Sir Akira. From Mrs Osaki.”

Akira grabbed the envelope from Winter, swatting her away. The girl bowed and scurried off, not wanting to have anything to do with the contents of the letter. She had already been swayed by your mother enough.

Akira shut the door and locked it, tearing open the letter, desperate to get to it. He pulled it out, fumbling with the paper and reading it hastily.

Dear Akira,

                I would first like to thank you, this wasn’t easy to do without you. Don’t worry, everything will fall into place, and no one will be the wiser. Y/n, my darling daughter, doesn’t know the whole story, only about the wedding, and we shall keep it that way. When our families unite, it shall all be sweeped under the rug.

I shall forever be grateful to you for helping me get rid of him. My debt is free I suppose now, as you read this letter our plan has been put into effect. In return for helping me you shall have protection and a new reputation.

Thanking you, 

                  Mrs. Osaki

Akira sighed in relief, knowing his fate was sealed. He had been skeptical at first, when he saw how distant you were. You didn’t even give him an inch, and he suspected you knew what he-his family did and had done.

But supposedly you didn’t.

When your mother had asked him for his help, he was surprised. The Osaka family? Not happy? How could it be?

How could a wife have murderous intent as much as your mother did?

Folding the letter, he stuffed it into the pockets of his pants, pulling out his lighter and setting fire to the envelope. He watched the tongues of fire snatch onto the paper, bright yellows and blues emerging from nothing. Throwing it in the bin, he crushed it under his heel and pulled out a cigarette.

Kun walked into the room, rubbing his hair with a towel. His and Chenles rooms were connected to Akira’s on the cruise, so that he could check up on them. A frown appeared on the older man's face as he studied Kun’s bedraggled appearance.

Kun’s parents weren’t like Akira, they were respectable and wealthy nonetheless, but still dabbled in the darker aspect of things from time to time, not that many people knew of it.

“Why do you look like a wet rat?”

Kun scowled at this, “I went for a shower”, he said, “You look like a rat more than I do”

It was no secret that Kun, Chenle and Yuxi despised their uncle for his dealings and amoral nature. But of course, Kun didn’t know the whole story, he didn’t know everything, all the letters, the truth about you and your family.

Even you didn’t know.

The only reason they were there was because if the plan didn’t go through exactly as it had been planned, their family’s reputation would be ruined for possibly forever. It was risky business, one that was going to be fixed, no matter how vile and wrong it was.

“Get ready for dinner, and for goodness sake, clean up”, Akira instructed, ignoring the dig and gesturing towards the door that connected his room to Kun’s, “Be on time.”

His nephew obliged and left, leaving Akira alone. He took a deep breath and walked out into the hallway, travelling along it quietly so as to not attract any attention. He stopped outside a red door, opening it and travelling along the dark little hallway it led into. Opening the final door, he found himself in another room, one that was dark. 

There were several boxes there, and a few suitcases. Akira’s, Kun’s, Chenle and Yuxi’s extra luggage. The boxes were not luggage though, they were Akira’s job. The dark side of things. He fished the letter out of his pocket and put it on the top of one of the boxes, next to the rest of the letters.

Leaving the darkness with the dark.

“You’re quite fun actually”, Yuxi said, chattering away to you during dinner. You smiled, returning the compliment.

You were grateful for her talk, which distracted you from the burning stare that Akira held on you, and Kun’s occasional glances. Not that you were against the latter, but it was slightly unnerving. Of course the two of you were much more comfortable with one another, but another feeling had settled in, a prickling on that settled in the bottom of your stomach.

Did you like it? You didn’t know.

Chenle indulged in conversation as well, you learned that he went to the same school your brother went to: Culture Academy. Apparently Kun had graduated from there just before he left for the cruise. Yuxi went to a finishing school, but you expected that, their family seemed the type to send their children to finishing schools.

You had graduated a few months ago as well, but from another high class school, while your brother attended Culture Academy.

“She’s terrible at water balloon fights”, Kun quipped, a smirk on his face as you glared, “Excuse me-”

“You guys had a water balloon fight without us?”, Yuxi asked, in mock offense, “And to think I actually trusted you for a moment”, she said, turning away from you and jutting her bottom lip out. “The betrayal.”

You laughed, “He dragged me, I had no say in it.”

They weren’t as cold as they had been when you had initially met them. It almost felt as if they were your friends. Taking a bite of whatever Winter had gotten you, you met Kun’s eyes, taking in the amused look in them.

Akira cleared his throat, “I assume you’ll be there for the dance next week?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What dance?”

“Instead of a regular dinner there is going to be a sort of dance”, he explained, “I expect to see you there.”

It was a command, not a request.

There was that constricting feeling again, you gave him a tight lipped, curt nod, looking away again. You hated being around Akira, he made you so uncomfortable, and even though you couldn’t avoid him forever, you would try.

He made you sick.

You took a sip of your drink, letting the burning taste trickle down your throat. You were barely past your first glass, not being a heavy drinker. Your mother had told you it was not respectable to drink too much, so you stuck to her rules. You always stuck to her rules, but god, you would’ve loved to drown the entire glass and ask for another at that moment.

Or throw it at Akira. But that probably wouldn’t have been very respectable either.

Winter walked up to you, tapping your shoulder timidly to get your attention, “Miss”, she said, leaning down to your ear to speak in secrecy, “Your mother has called.”

Pressing your lips together to avoid making a displeased face, you excused yourself from the table and followed your helper into the hallway, taking your phone from her. She gave you an encouraging smile as you began speaking.

“Mother?”

Her harsh voice brought you back down, “Y/n”, she said sternly, “Why did you not go to that dinner?”

You fisted your hand, clenching your jaw. Of course she found out, “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“So you tell no one?

“I wasn’t aware of the fact that everyone was supposed to know about my health”, you couldn’t help the bitter undertone in your voice. She didn’t care whether you were sick or not, she cared about why you skipped.

“Not everyone, just the Qian family”, she hissed, “Y/n focus. Duty.”

You knew there was no point in arguing with your mother, she was as stubborn as an ox. You could never be right against her.

“Yes mother, I’m sorry”, you said through gritted teeth. You could hear the smile on her face at your surrender, “Remember darling, you need to impress them”, she reiterated, “It’s for-”

“The good of our family, yes I know”, you sighed, “I’ll follow the rules.”

“Don’t just follow the rules Y/n, behave”, he tone of voice made you feel like a little girl. “You may not know it, but our family name depends on it.”

This took you aback, leaving you mildly confused. What did this stupid vile plan have to do with anything? Sure your family didn’t have the cleanest record (those scandals tainted it a little bit), but otherwise it was extremely respected all through Japan and other parts of the world.

The question sat at the tip of your tongue, but you knew better than to press your mother for answers. If she wanted to be vague, she would. Ending the call politely, you walked back into the dining hall, sitting next to Yuxi. Whatever momentary joy you had gotten from talking with them vanished, instead it was a reminder of your cruel fate, the bitter reality you had to face whether you liked it or not.

Why?

“You’re insufferable”, you declared, leaning against the railing, “Poor girl, you guys really made her jump into a pool?”

He laughed, “Yeah, you should have seen the look of anger on her face. And in full clothing too?”

You frowned, “You monster!”

“Hey, she signed up for it, she wouldn’t have gotten in if she refused”, he reminded you. Kun was currently telling you stories of his schooling at Culture Academy, particularly about a club he was in. You listened intently, enjoying yourself more than you would like to admit. He was definitely entertaining.

Maybe it was because you never experienced half the things he did.

You looked at the ocean, the sun shining down on it and sparkling. “I suppose she did”, you whispered, letting the words float about in the air as a silence settled upon the two of you. It was comfortable, you didn;t feel the need to fill it in. He took out a lighter and a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long slow drag.

“You smoke?”, you asked, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. You had never seen him do it before. The revelation was something you hadn’t expected.

Another thing your mother drilled into you: never smoke. It’s unladylike and very unbecoming of a person, and also because the news would latch onto it and create a scandal that was not needed. In general you had never seen the appeal of smoking.

He raised an eyebrow at you, nodding as if he expected you to know this. Almost as if he was bewildered with your surprised response. And he was, Kun was confused as to why you were so shocked with the fact. It was just a cigarette, nothing that terrible. Didn’t you know what Akira did-

Oh.

Oh no.

“Yeah, occasionally”, he said, brushing it off quickly, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his heel, “Want to head back in?”

You nodded with a shrug, “Okay.” 

He smiled brightly, and a fuzzy feeling made its way into your stomach. You returned the smile, pushing away the feeling away to the back of your mind, far away in a dark corner of your mind, simply because it wouldn’t be right. You couldn’t even afford to think that way.

Not with the arrangement that had been set up, that was for sure.

You followed him inside, another thought blooming in the same dark corner of your mind, no matter how much you tried to push it away.

God it was wrong on so many levels though. 

“She got in”, Kun said, continuing his story from before, “It surprised everyone.”

You smiled, “I’m glad, poor girl, I hope she didn’t get hypothermia or something.”

Kun smiled, “She took my place as I left, you know, graduation and all”, he said, reaching his hand out and grabbing your own, leading you down.

“Your friends sound like fun”, you said fondly, even though you didn’t know them, “Especially that Hendery guy. Did he actually do that?”

Kun laughed, nodding, “He’s mad. I miss them”, his voice turned wistful, but only for a moment, before that pretty smile stretched across his face once again, “I have to tell you about the time Dejun…”

As you went back under the deck and the warmth of the hallways hit you, you decided you would deal with the feeling later. You decided to listen to him instead, liking the way his eyes lit up talking about his friends. You were starting to realize that you were now one of them, one of his friends.

That though stayed in the forefront of your mind, refusing to be pushed back.

And somehow, you didn’t mind.

Kun stepped into Akira’s room, eyes narrowed at his uncle. The tension in the air immediately raised tenfold. 

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

Akira sent his nephew a questionable look, “What do you mean?”

Kun sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Y/n”, he said, your name rolling off his tongue easily, yet there was a sort of anger that settled into it. Why didn’t you know? You should’ve known.

Why did he care this much?

Akira sighed, “What about her?”

“She doesn’t know who you are, not the entire truth.”

Akira let the statement hang in the air, his silence answering. He leaned back in his chair, humming an idle tune. “You’re right, but what prompted this?”

“She saw me smoking”, Kun said, “And was confused, she definitely didn’t look pleased. Tell me, how would she react when she realizes the man she has to marry is a fucking drug lord?”

His uncle winced at Kun’s words, “I know, but she won’t ever know.”

This was madness.

Kun knew of course, of the plan, but he didn’t know the whole story. He knew you were to be married to Akira, an arranged marriage that had been, well, arranged by your mother. And Yuxi had confirmed you knew of it as well. You had never seemed too keen on it, and this worsened everything.

“Sit”, Akira ordered, “And I’ll tell you.”

Holding back a grimace,  he complied, sitting opposite Akira. He waited for the older man to go on, wondering for a moment how it would be like to be in your shoes. You were around his age, and had to marry his uncle? The thought itself was mortifying.

“The Osaki family”, Akira started, “Well known, you’ve heard of them”, he didn’t wait for Kun to respond in any way, “They’re practically perfect, are they not? You’ve seen Y/n, you’re closer to her than I am. With her airs and graces, you’d think she’s perfect too, wouldn’t you?”

Of course Kun though you were perfect, but that's besides the point. He didn;t see how this made any sense.

“It’s all a lie Kun”, Akira said, “They’re unhappy, so unhappy. Her mother was a miserable, poor lady, forced to sit on the sidelines while her bastard of a husband ignored her.”

Wasn’t your father dead? 

Akira cleared his throat, “They’re perfect on the outside, a dollhouse, but through the curtains, it's all a mess. She asked me for help.”

Kun frowned, “Y/n-?” “No”, he said with a smile, “Her mother.”

It was slowly coming together, a puzzle so horrifying Kun didn’t want to believe it. His uncle had done many horrible things, many illegal things, but fuck, he prayed this one wasn’t real.

This was murder.

“So I helped”, Akira’s voice went hoarse, “I helped the way I could. I slipped a drug into a package and sent it to her, one so strong that could kill.”

Horror. This was madness.

“The next day, Mr Osaki was found dead”, a slow sadistic smile stretched out on Akira’s lips, “And Mrs Osaka was overjoyed! She thanked me profusely for helping with her plan. She promised to repay me somehow for my kindness.”

Kindness. Crime. When had the line between the two grown so blurry? Kun was frozen in his seat, frozen in fear. In fear for himself and his siblings, in fear for his family for being related to such a monster. He feared for you, the unsuspecting girl who had walked into his life and brought out things from the shadows he wished he left there. The girl, who’s own mother had been the reason behind her fathers death.

Fuck it was so wrong.

He knew the world he lived in, the wealth and the riches always brought trouble, but never in his life had he ever foreseen this much trouble. The clock on the wall of Akira’s room ticked slowly, every second seeming like an hour. Kun wanted to leave, but he was frozen in his seat, glued there.

His curiosity had gotten the better of him. He needed to know more. What was the ending to this tragic tale?

“And this is my repayment”, Akira said, “I marry Y/n, and everything gets sweeped under the rug. I can start a new Kun, I don’t have to be this person. I know you hate me, but listen, this could change everything.”

Kun felt sick.

“No”, he muttered, “This changed nothing you…”, he studied his uncle's tired expression. Akira’s eyes held a triumphant glare, and that made everything worse.

“You sick man”, he whispered, getting up, “She doesn’t deserve this. You don’t deserve a fresh start Akira, you have blood on your hands.”

Akira groaned, “I don’t expect you to under-”

‘Good”, Kun said, “I’m leaving and I want nothing to do with you for the rest of this trip.”

“Don’t tell your little friend”, Akira sneered, “If you tell her I won;t be the only one affected. Her mother will be brought into the light as well, and you really think no one will suspect Y/n?”

It was a losing situation from all sides.

“She doesn’t know who I am”, Akira said, agreeing with Kun’s earlier statement, “let's keep it that way, shall we?”

Dearest Akira,

                    Thank you for sending me the drug, I’ve slipped it into his drink. He shall be gone soon, and I shall be free. My son will take his palace when he finishes school and Y/n will be yours. A lovely full circle. I won’t have to deal with a man I hate anymore, a man that pushed me aside for everything.

Once upon a time I truly loved him you know? I trusted him and I gave him my heart. He trampled on it and now all I’m left with is a shell.

He forgot I existed, I am but a placeholder.

Not for long.

Thanking you,

                     Mrs. Osaki

You sat on your bed, reading yet another chapter of your beloved Pride and Prejudice in silence, as Kun sat on the other side, looking at his phone and occasionally stealing glances at you.

The friendship the two of you shared was….odd to say the least. You didn’t have to talk, even the silence was enough. You enjoyed his company a lot more than you cared to admit. Turning the page, you decided to stop for the day, placing your bookmark in the middle and shutting the book, turning your attention to Kun.

He couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled inside him, even though he had done nothing wrong. It was the heaviness he carried around for possessing the truth, and was hit with the consequences everytime he looked at you.

“Yes?”, you asked.

He blinked, “What?”

“You’ve been staring at me oddly”, you clarified, “I’m wondering if I did anything to offend you.

“No, no!”, he said a little hurriedly, “I apologize, I’m a little out of it today.”

“Do tell”, you said, propping your chin up on your hand, eyes meeting his with an expectant gaze. He gave you his easy smile, “It’s nothing I promise.”

“I don’t believe you for a second, you’re terrible at lying”, you declared, “Oh come on, I thought we trusted each other?” You tried guilt tripping him into telling you, but he was surprisingly stubborn.

“Do we now?”

“You wound me”, you muttered dryly, “Alright I won’t press you for answers.”

“Thank you for this kindness, oh Lady Y/n”, he said, making a show of pretending to curtsy, which was comical since he was sitting. You couldn’t help the amused smile that made its way to your face at that.

You stood up, placing your book on one of the side tables, brushing down your pants, “We need to be at the deck in five minutes, so I suppose we should make a move.”

He followed suit as the two of you made your way up to the deck. The dinner was out there tonight, so it was bound to be a little bit more casual than the usual dinners in the dining room. This also meant that you didn’t need to sit with the Qian family, which was a mix of relief and disappointment. You liked Kun and his siblings, but at the same time…

Yeah.

The night was a little chilly, so you had pulled on a sweater, finding a table and taking a seat, watching as Kun walked over to his own family, looking stiff. You took the menu from Winter, eyes scanning over the food.

“Ahem.”

You looked up from the menu, only to be met with Akira’s disapproving gaze. “Y/n”, he greeted, “How are you feeling today?”

You swallowed your contempt, forcing a tight pained smile, “Very well, thank you Akira.”

“I’m glad, then why don’t you sit with us?”

Your lips twitched as you tried to think of a way to get yourself out of this. “I’m quite fine here, thank you for the offer.”

He smiled widely, leaning down to your eye level, resting his elbow on the table and effectively capturing your attention. “It wasn’t an offer, sweetheart.”

The nickname made your skin crawl, as you reeled back, “Akir-”

“You will sit with us”, he said firmly, “What would your mother say if you refused?”

Your eyes widened as you realized he knew, fingers gripping the menu. He knew how your mother was and fuck, him knowung that scared you even more. Clearing your throat, you pushed all your confidence into your voice, “I’m quite comfortable here Mr. Qian.”

You didn’t use his first name, you used the family name, hoping to settle the argument, to show that you were not moving.

He took the menu from you, “Come along Y/n, its for the be-”

“Let her be.”

Akira turned around, facing his nephew, “Kun”, he said, voice falling into a tone that screamed it was a warning, “I am not talking to you.”

“But I’m talking to you”, Kun narrowed his eyes at Akira, “She wants to sit there, let her sit there. She is not obliged to follow your every instruction.”

Akira sighed, glancing back at you and smiling sickeningly sweet, inclining his head and walking away, going under the deck. You let out a sigh of relief, looking at Kun who looked oddly guilty.

“Thank you”, you said, “I could’ve handled it, though.”

“I know you could’ve”, he acknowledged, “I just felt like stepping in and helping.” His explanation was curt as he pulled out the chair opposite you, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all. I suppose you’re wondering why I let you sit and wanted nothing more to do with your uncle?”

“I’m not”, he said, “I know what's happening there. And the position you’re in, better than you do.” A sad smile stretched out on his lips(not that you were observing them or anything), leaving you slightly bewildered. What did he mean by that?

You studied Kun, his attractive features and dark eyes. They looked like they held a secret, one you couldn’t figure out.

“Why did you help me?”, you asked again, meeting his eyes. He held your gaze for a few minutes, before they dropped to your lips for a split second. You held your breath, waiting for his answer, and mildly overwhelmed.

Did he feel the same way you had been feeling lately? Why did the prospect of that make you feel elevated? Fuck, you couldn’t think like that, it would ruin everything-

“I can’t tell”, he muttered, “I just care.”

The truth chases a lie with fervor, no matter how small. Like a lover in the night, chasing its partner with passion even in the darkest times.

You observed yourself in the mirror, studying the black dress you were wearing. It had a gold trim at the edges, and lace at the back, giving it the perfect combination of classy and scandalous.

Winter took a step back, curling iron in hand as she marvelled at her own handiwork, a smile adorning her pretty face, “You look lovely Y/n!”, she praised. You really did look lovely, the picture of what you were always supposed to portray: perfection.

“Thank you Win”, you smiled at her, “why don’t you wear one of my dresses tonight?”

Her eyes lit up in surprise and confusion as she placed the iron down, shaking her head, “Oh I couldn’t Miss, I’m a part of the staff, I will be helping out for the evening.”

“You don’t want to pretend you’re not just for a few minutes? You can change after fifteen minutes and go back to your work”, you enticed her, wanting your friend to have some fun.

She hesitated, “No miss, I could get in trouble.”

“Alright”, you relented, standing up from your seat and turning to the door, “Thank you Winter”

“Your very welcome miss, now go, the Qian family is awaiting you.”

You nodded, walking into the hallways and following the few people who were already going to the dance.People of repute, people who would look at you and incline their heads respectfully, as you did for them. They were from your world, after all, everyone was rich and important.

Standing outside the doors, you took in a deep breath and walked in. The hall had been decorated, changed drastically. The tables had been pushed to the sides, for the seating, and the center was left as the actual dance floor.

You walked over to the tables at the side, greeting a few people you knew. You spotted Winter standing at the sidelines with the staff. On reaching the refreshments table, you took one of the glasses of champagne and brought it to your lips.

Jazz music played as couples took the floor, swaying to it. You watched the Qian family, noting that Akira was looking for someone, probably you. Turning your back towards them, you took another sip of your drink. You looked at the starters that had been placed out for the guests, wondering what your mother would think if you took a plateful and sat alone in a dark corner eating. The picture of her horrified expression was enough to tickle you.

Distracted within your own thoughts, you failed to notice Kun standing next to you, an amused expression on his face as he watched you. To him, you looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress, even more so than usual.

“Y/n”

You jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion of your thoughts, facing the man. He was dressed in a suit, hair done slightly messy, but on purpose. His dark eyes met yours, amused as he smirked, “Hey.”

“Hey”, you breathed out, snapping out of checking him out. He looked extremely attractive tonight, a thought you couldn’t shake off. “Kun.”

He nodded, inclining his head towards the table, “I’m sure the refreshments are extremely interesting but”, a slow grin stretched out on his lips, “Would you like to dance?”

You suppressed your own smile, nodding and taking his hand he had offered you. Kun led you to the dance floor, a little off the centre so you wouldn’t be seen easily. Resting one hand on your waist, the other grasped your own, bringing it up mid air. He took the first step behind with you following him as the two of you danced.

“I’m not great at dancing”, he confessed, “So I have to warn you, I’m running off ballroom dancing class from school when we had our Formal Dance.”

You smirked, “Do you want me to lead or something?”

“Only if you twirl me”

You laughed at this, “Alright, brace yourself.”

He gave you a horrified look, “NO, nevermind, I’ll twirl you instead”, he muttered, retrieving his hand from your waist and raising the other so you could turn gracefully. You didn’t make any attempt to bite your giggled away at this, turning and facing him again, back into your former position.

“That was actually quite fun, wanna try?”

He gave you a look that screamed ‘really?’, shaking his head, “I thought we established that I was fine without twirling.”

“But-”

“No”

“Fine”, you made a show of being upset over it, saying something about he was missing out on his youth and that twirling during ballroom dancing was one of the few fineries of life he would never experience if he didn’t do it right now.

That, for some reason, still didn’t entice him.

Oh well, his loss.

You bantered lightly, as you swayed to the music together. You melted together almost, in the midst of your laughter and smiles. You felt so comfortable with him, but every moment you felt like that seemed like a curse, reminding you he wasn’t what you were there for. Whatever you felt towards Qian Kun was wrong, so wrong.

He led the two of you off to the side, away from the dance floor, still in each other's arms for some reason, even though you had finished dancing. He lifted your hand, twirling you once again just for the effect and grinning.

Once you faced him, you realized how close the two of you were. His hands were on your waist anyways, one of your hands was around his neck. Your other hand was intertwined with his, making the contact seem even more intimate.

The smile melted off your face as his eyes flickered to your lips. It was as if he had read your mind, and you wished he'd do it again. You wished he woul-

He leaned forward hesitantly, and in that dark corner of the dining hall, while the others danced around, while Akira looked for you somewhere, behind the tables and everyone, Qian Kun kissed you.

It was a timid kiss, his lips barely brushed against yours, before he pulled away, blinking at you. You stared back at him, equally as surprised, but not in a bad way. He dropped the hold he had on you, but kept holding your hand, as if he was figuring out what to think.

You grew slightly impatient with this, leaving his grip and cupping his face, bringing him back into a kiss. This one was much less innocent, it didn’t feel like he was exploring something for the first time. It felt real, and it felt right.

“Not here”, he muttered softly against your lips, pulling you along with him, out into the hallways. You followed him, giddy from the kiss, giddy from the fact that you had even kissed him. How did that happen? When had that happened? The incident that had taken place mere seconds ago seemed days old, almost as if it had happened several times before.

You wanted to kiss him again.

Resisting the urge to stop him right there and there, you let him lead you to wherever. He stopped outside a red door, almost rust in colour, hesitating for a moment, before he seemingly decided to fuck it all and opened it, pulling you into the little corridor it opened into.

He kissed you again, once, twice, thrice, until you lost count. Pushed up against the wall, your senses seemed to heighten. The low buzz of the cruise ran through you as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. All the banter, the teasing, the way he would trap you with his words had built up to this.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

The only way you could describe the kisses was breathtaking. You felt as if you were struggling for air, yet you didn’t want to pull away. Your lungs screamed for air, but you didn’t want to heed. You didn’t want to break the spell he had put you under. You liked the burning feeling, the way his lips felt against yours, the way his body felt against yours. Drowning, you were drowning but fuck, you wanted no one to save you.

You wanted to drown.

He pulled away finally, letting you suck in a breath. 

“This is wrong”, you whispered, and he nodded, agreeing, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it again.”

He took a step away from you, studying your features. You leaned against the wall, letting the silence overtake the two of you. You breathed heavily, making up for the air you had lost, albeit willingly.

Footsteps.

Soft footsteps made their way down the hallways, you could hear it. Kun looked alarmed, glancing at the door, “Wait here.”

You frowned, but nodded as he left, closing the door after him and supposedly speaking to someone in hushed tones, further muffled by the barrier between the two of you. You sighed, looking along the corridor you were in at the moment, walking to the end and opening the other door, lest the person he was speaking to burst in and found themselves in a very awkward situation.

You found yourself in another room, one that was dark. Using your sense of touch, you managed to navigate around it, noting that there were suitcases and boxes. You stumbled into one, wincing slightly as a sharp pain travelled through your shin. Using the box to steady yourself, your eyes were drawn to the little labels on the sides of them.

Squinting, you brushed over the names, trying to make out what they were.

Qian Akira, cocaine.

Reeling back, you blinked. Were those drugs? Looking at a few other boxes, you had forgotten about the pain in your leg as horror filled your senses, reading the names of drug after drug, all with the Qian’s names on it. The man you were being forced to marry was a criminal.

You had been thrown into a trance of some sort, a trance of absolute dread. For some reason you couldn’t look away as you kept reading, realizing that whatever was happening was much more serious than you had thought.

The next box had a few papers on the top of it, kept haphazardly one on top of the other. Letters of some sort, envelopes and receipts. You picked one up, eyes scanning over its content, or whatever you could make out in the darkness.

Dear Akira

                It’s set in stone! He’s gone, thank you so much. I promise you that this time next year you will be with my Y/n and everything will be solved.

Thanking you,

Mrs Osaki

The sight of your mothers handwriting and her name at the end of the letter made you sick. The other letters were much like the first, each one releasing more and more information, letting you piece together its words to form a cohesive thought.

Fuck.

You dropped the letters, breathing going heavy as you heard more footsteps. Someone was entering the room, they were coming inside and they would find you. You weren’t supposed to be here, you could tell by the way you had been written in the letters. 

You should have listened to Kun when he told you to stay where you were-

Kun.

Oh god.

The room seemed to close in on itself, the stacks towering above you. You felt trapped, claustrophobic and disgusted. Disgusted by the fact would ever put you in such a repulsive situation. You ran your fingers over the dust covered boxes, reeling back at the names and information that was on them. Bile rose to your throat as you choked back sobs.

He was responsible for it all, all the misery that had been thrown upon you, the odd requests all made sense. This wasn’t an innocent union, it was an elaborate cover up, and you were the leverage.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you staggered back, leaning on the wall behind you for support. Shouts echoed from the other end of the dark room, and your breath hitched in your throat in fear of being caught.

Shutting your eyes and clamping your hand over your mouth, you counted to ten in your mind, praying that whoever it was wouldn;t find you. The voices resided, the footsteps growing farther and farther. You opened your eyes, only for them to widen in a mixture of relief and fear.

“What are you doing here?”

Fuck.

Kun had made a big mistake, he had led you to the worst possible place he could have taken you in his daze. He had gotten distracted by you, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

If he could fucking find you.

After thwarting Akira’s attention by telling him you had gone on the deck for some fresh air, he returned into the corridor, before realizing it was the one place he wasn’t supposed to take you.

And you were nowhere in sight.

He looked around in alarm, before Akira’s voice called out again, “What are you doing Kun?”

He turned around, “Nothing, just checking, I want something from my suitcase,” he said quickly. His uncle narrowed his eyes at him, “And what is that something?”

“I left my book inside the suitcase, and I’m not interested in the dance so I thought I’d go read.”

“Y/n is not on the deck.”

“Am I supposed to keep tabs on her?”, Kun bit back, “She’s probably back at the hall Akira.”

Akira raised an eyebrow at Kun, “I don’t know what you’re playing at, young man, but I don’t like it”, he said, raising his voice. Kun felt like a little kid again, even if his uncle was just ten years older. Clenching his jaw he stood his ground, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old man.”

Akira left Kun alone, deciding that he wasn’t worth it. 

Kun walked into the room, looking around for you, praying you weren't there. He walked to his suitcase, and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the outlines in the room.

He heard something shift, and turned on his heels, squinting. He could just about make out your figure standing in the corner, hand over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut. You trembled slightly as you stood there.

He walked over just as you opened your eyes, to meet his own in horror. You were definitely shaking, lower lip trembling in what looked like fear as you tried backing away from him, even though you were already against the wall.

“What are you doing here?”

He took a step forward, reaching out to hold your hand, eyes shrouded in concern at your state, but you shrinked away. “Don’t.”

“Y/n-”

“No”, your voice was shaky, “Stay away from me.”

Your mind was a mess, thoughts racing. You felt used and exposed, so vulnerable. Everything you knew had been a lie, you had been betrayed. Just a few moments ago you were happy, now everything you knew had been shattered, including your own heart.

“You knew didn’t you”, your voice broke in the middle, “You knew.”

Kun’s fake smile melted off his face as he realized what had happened, taking a step away from you. The tears in your eyes made their way down your face as you sucked in a breath, crouching down with your hands over your ears.

All you wanted to do was block all of it out, block reality out and not think of it, but that was hard when reality was staring back at you with a guilty expression.

Suddenly everything clicked into place, why he had been so nice, why he kept helping you. I was all out of guilt, everything was a fucking lie. Half truths and twisted words, secrets and scandals.

It was sick and twisted and you had fallen into the trap unwillingly, and didn’t know how to get out. 

You rocked yourself slowly, trying to compose yourself amongst the madness. You wanted to scream, to cry and tell Kun that you hated him, that you wanted him to leave and never talk to you again. Maybe that’s what hurt worse, the fact that you were attached. 

You had trusted Kun, you had fallen for him like the idiot you were, only for it all to come back for you, slapping you in the face. You felt so stupid for letting yourself believe anything good would come out of this. You should have listened to your conscience when it told you this was wrong.

But this...this was worse than wrong. This was murder. The betrayal of it all hit you hard, and it took all of your willpower not to fall over and give up.

“It was all fake”, you muttered, “all of it”

“Y/n I-”

“You were pitying me”, you spat, “You knew and yet”, sucking in a breath, you swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring the heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach, the hole that seemed to have been ripped out from your chest. “You still played me.” 

Kun pressed his lips together in a tight line, regret eating away at him. Of course it wasn’t all for his uncle, but you wouldn’t listen even if he tried. You were much too distraught, too far gone for that. Instead he composed himself, leaning down and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“We need to get out of here.”

The harshness of the statement made it worse. You looked up at his serious face through your hazy eyesight, wanting to push him away, but neither did you want to be alone. He sighed, helping you up to your feet, “We have to go or they’ll find you here and it won’t be pretty.” 

Taking your hand in his, Kun pulled out of the room, raising a hand to his lips, silently telling you to keep quiet. “If you don’t want Akira to find you here, go straight to your room, say you were sick.”

He was pity helping you again.

You nodded, sniffling slightly and pulling yourself together again, rubbing your arms. You hated it, fuck, and that moment you hated your own mother. You hated the fact that you had to depend on the boy who betrayed you. The boy who you kissed, and was willing to forget that it was wrong, until the world crashed down upon you.

Walking with you, he decided to part ways where the two hallways met, repeating his instructions from before, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, before walking away in the direction opposite where you were supposed to go.

How had so much gone so wrong so fast?

Locked.

You were locked away in your room, refusing to get out of it. The only person you let in was Winter, who came in with meals and other information. You ignored every one of Akira’s presents, declined your mother’s calls and avoided the rest of the Qian family like the plague.

It was like you had spiralled, down into this hole you couldn’t climb out of. Your father was dead, it wasn’t natural. He had been killed and you were amongst the murderers. Your mother had worked with them.

Your brother was back home, going about his life as usual. The world revolved as it always did, but yours has stopped.The little bubble that you had lived in for most of your sheltered life had finally burst. You had been thrown into real life before you could even say anything about it.

Knock!

“Come in”, you said, watching as Winter entered with a plate and her own phone, “Y/n”, she greeted you, with that same funny formal tone, “It’s your brother”

She handed you her own phone, and you frowned. Why hadn’t Shotaro just called you? Why had he called Winter?

Brushing those thoughts aside, you held the phone to your ears, “Taro?”

“Hey”, he said, “hold for a second, would you?”

You didn’t reply, patiently waiting for him, but instead you were greeted with another voice, a voice you definitely didn;t want to hear.

“Darling.”

Your throat seemed to close up, mouth going dry as you gripped the phone even tighter, looking at Winter in alarm. She looked away, and began setting your things straight on the little table next to your bed.

“Mother.”

“What has happened to you?”, she asked, voice cutting through any thoughts, “I thought you understood the gravity of the situation. I have told you countless times-”

“I understood what you told me before I found out I was a pawn,” your voice was remarkably steady, almost scarily calm as you leaned back, “I don’t care anymore.”

“Y/n”, your mother warned, “I told you, our family name depends of it, even if you don’t how how or why-”

“I do know”, you interrupted her smoothly, “I know that my mother is an amoral bitch and the fact that you killed father, without thinking of the feelings of her children, and went on to throw her daughter into a dangerous position.”

You were met with the static from the other line. Had you finally won? Your mother stayed silent at your sudden outburst.

“How did you find out.” It was a question, but it came out as a statement. That helplessness returned, your level headedness disappearing all of a sudden. How could she be so insensitive? She didn’t care at all.

“Doesn’t matter”, he continued, “Now you know it's imperative you marry Akira, or our secrets will be exposed and the family name will be tainted. This also saves the Qians.”

You fisted your hand, spite coursing through your veins. Fuck, you were so angry, angry at your mother for never doing your job, for expecting you to comply with her twisted plans. You were tired of playing along, you were fed up of being perfect, or at least, fed up of portraying that image.

“I hate Akira”, you said for the first time out loud, making them real. You despised him and everything he was, and the new information you had gathered about him had just made you hate him more. You wished you had never met the Qian family, Akira, or Chenle, or Yuxi, or Kun-

That was a lie. You didn’t regret meeting Kun, you regretted trusting him. You regretted not listening and going into that room. You regretted so much, but you regretted knowing the truth the most.

You wanted to live the lie again. 

“And I don’t care if you get in trouble mother, you deserve it.”

“It’s not just me Y/n”, she said, “It’s the Qian family as well, and it’s you and your brother.”

Shotaro.

“He still doesn’t know?”

“We’ll keep it that way. He’s still in school.”

Pursing your lips, you sighed, “I don’t want this”

It was as if she knew she had hit a weak spot, she could feel your resolve wavering. “Do it for Shotaro, if no one else. He hasn’t met life yet.”

You couldn’t understand how she was so cool about it, how she didn’t seem to care that there was blood on her hands, blood of her husband and no less. You supposed crying and screaming wouldn’t accomplish or change anything. This was your reality, and you just had to accept it.

Clicking off the call, you handed Winter’s phone back to her, burying your head in your hands. Decisions, decisions.

Winter stood there with a pensive look, biting her lower lip, before sitting down next to you, “I’m sorry Y/n, but what is troubling you?” Her soft voice mixed with the concerned look on her face was enough to make you break, leaning into her as tears built up in your eyes. She wrapped an arm around you, keeping you steady and holding you up.

She figured she owed you as much.

“Everyone I know has destroyed me”, you whispered hoarsely, choking back a sob, “They’ve either betrayed me or destroyed me and I’m so tired.”

“Who has done so?” She asked, rubbing your back comfortingly, prompting you to go on without actually asking you. You took in a shaky breath, thinking of everyone that was to blame for your misery.

“My mother”, you spat, “Akira, Kun-”

“Kun?”

Sucking in a breath, you nodded, “Kun. He-he knew. He knew and he still led me on, fuck I feel so stupid”, you laughed at the bitter irony, wiping away your tears, “And the thing is, the fact he did it hurts much more than anything else.”

“And why is that?”, Winter whispered.

“I trusted him”, you said, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would help somehow, “I liked him, I gave him my trust, even when it went past my duty.”

Duty, you were starting to realize, was slowly destroying you and everything you held dear.

Yuxi raised her hand so that the light fell on it, the pretty red nail paint glowing as she inspected it. Her right hand was a little messier than her left, she decided she would fix that later. Her hair was perfectly straightened, not a strand out of place, she looked perfect. Her appearance paired with her pretty airs and manners made her slightly intimidating, a little better than the rest.

Finishing school had been fruitful afterall.

Clicking her tongue, she dropped the act, sitting on her bed, hunched over her phone as she scrolled through her messages, catching up on whatever she was missing back home.

Truth was, she didn’t want to get on this cruise, none of the Qian siblings did. Spending time with their uncle? They hated the few dinners they had to tolerate anyways, but a whole three months? That sounded like torture, a torture they were enduring at the moment.

Akira had insisted, saying it would be a good experience for them now that they were adults, well, except Chenle. The boy was still sixteen, but was very much on their level. Their parents had unfortunately agreed, and so they found themselves where they were.

Kun walked through her door and into her room, pacing around, before taking a seat next to Yuxi and looking at her expectantly.

“What?”

“I fucked up”, he confessed. His sister wondered if he was waiting for her to ask the question just to dump that on her.

“Thank you for that eloquent explanation”, she said, “Mind telling me exactly how you did the fucking up?”

He sighed, running a hair through his hair as he leaned against the headrest and told his sister the whole story, from the arranged marriage (though she knew this), Akira’s plan and what he had done, to the kiss and you finding out. Yuxi listened intently, placing her phone aside as he went on.

Once he reached the end of all the events, Yuxi looked pensive, confused almost. “I’m not sure there’s anything you can do to fix this,” she said truthfully, “It’s royally fucked up and I don;t want to have anything to do with our uncle dear ever again.”

“You’re telling me”, Kun groaned, “I feel terrible, and I didn’t even do anything.”

“You did do something”, his sister said, walking to the little table and picking up her little bottle of nail paint, “You stayed silent.”

Winter burst into the kitchen, walking over to the drink area. She inspected them, figuring out which one was yours, and which one was Kun’s. Producing a small vial of some sort of liquid, she took the two drinks and placed them on the counter opposite, opening up the vial.

Guilt had been eating away at her for weeks now, especially when she realized that there might be more to the story than she thought. She had complied with your mothers orders, but now she didn’t care. 

Heesung walked into the room, “Idiot, what are you doing?”

Winter ignored him, putting a few drops in each glass and mixing them in. Heesung took the vial from her when she kept it down, inspecting it, “What is this?”

“Took it from the luggages”

“You stole? You could get fired!”

“I know that!” She snapped before sighing, “But I stole it from a criminal, so it’s even.”

Heesung raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice, “The Qians?”

Winter nodded, “A drug.”

The boy wondered if he should ask, if it was worth it to do so.  Winter took the glasses and placed them back on the tray, turning back to Heesung, pointing to them. “Kun and Y/n. These two glasses are for them.”

“Right. Why should I listen to you again when you’ve spiked their drinks?”

“Because”, she said, “What you’re holding is an infatuation drug.”

Heesung snorted, “So it’s a love potion? I knew you were a romantic Win, but you do know she’s marrying Mr. Akira right?”

“Not if I can help it”, the girl muttered, “She doesn’t deserve it, and is in love with someone else. And it’s not a love potion, it’s a drug.”

Rolling his eyes, the waiter picked up the tray of drinks, “So it’s a love shot then”, he asked, proud of his pun, “And I suppose you think it’s Mr Akira’s nephew?” Still, he pushed the two glasses a little away from each other so he remembered what he was instructed to do. He still thought it was ridiculous though.

“It is, she told me herself, well not that bluntly, but I know it.”

Heesung pinched the bridge of his nose, “And what if your meddling backfires?”

“Wouldn't change a thing., everything is fucked anyways”, she said, “I just want her to have one thing going right for her.”

Winter took the vial back, stuffing it into the pockets of her uniform and straightening out her apron. The smell of whatever was cooking wafted through the air as she composed herself again, “See you later Heesung, don’t mess up the drinks.”

Winter hoped her meddling would pay off

You walked into the dining hall, head held high as you made eye contact with the Qians. Akira gave you his sickly smile, Yuxi with her worried gaze and Chenle still oblivious. Kun looked confused as he watched you approach the table, taking the seat you usually did, before the entire truth came out.

Sitting down, your eyes flitted to Kun’s before you looked down at your lap, plastering on a fake smile and looking at Akira, greeting him.

“I take it you're better?” He asked this, leaning forward, “You must have been really sick, staying away for so many days. It's been a little over a week?”

You nodded, “Yes, I apologize for my absence.” You realized someone, probably Kun had covered for you. The waiter approached, handing everyone their respective drinks, before bowing and leaving.

You raised the glass to your lips, inspecting the table, eyes meeting Yuxi’s who averted her gaze immediately.

She knew too.

Suppressing a scoff, you decided to address the elephant in the room and announce what decision you had come to. You still weren;t completely happy, but it was better than nothing, and you had stood your ground against your mother, who finally agreed, albeit begrudgingly.

“I revoke our little arrangement Mr. Qian”, you said after clearing your throat. He raised an eyebrow at this, a sliver of panic visible in his eyes, “And why is that?”

“I know”

Those two words had held so much, his eyes widened as he stared at you dumbfounded. That dumbfounded expression morphed into one of misplaced anger. “You are not the one to say that.”

“Yes I am”, you said cooly, “I am the one getting married, well not anymore. My mother has agreed and I want nothing more to do with you.”

He clenched his jaw, visibly trying to control his anger. “A deal is a de-”

“Alright, I’ll tell you why you should agree”, you said with a mocking smile. Somewhere in the back of your mind you began to feel slightly drowsy, but you pushed it away, looking at Kun once more.

You didn’t want to look away.

The two of your eyes locked and it felt like you were falling. You could almost feel his lips on yours, his hands on your wait, the way he kissed you-

You snapped back to reality, looking away. 

“I have a message on the top of my fingers ready to be sent right now”, you said, “To the police about your little dealings and the fact that you killed my father”, the words rolled off your tongue easily, almost as if you were talking about something as mundane as the weather, “And then you’ll be ruined.”

Akira paled, and it was clear who held the ropes over the conversation now. You decided to give him proof, raising your hand that held your phone, finger hovering over a number.

“But this can be avoided! You see, just call off the deal”, you took another sip of whatever the waiter had given you, mind going ever so slightly fuzzy once again. “And I’ll keep silent. No one will ever know.”

He clicked his tongue, “You were my repayment.”

“I know, I was a prop hmm?”, you said, “Not anymore, call this off right now Akira.”

He sighed, as if he knew he had lost. There was no point in fighting anymore. “We’re done”, he said finally, and you smirked in triumph, taking another sip of your drink, “Thank you.”

Winter came around with the food, looking suspiciously at you and Kun, before walking away. You sighed, that feeling of blankness returning. You still had to deal with Kun, of course you did, but you didn’t want to do so now. That would make everything messy, but fuck, for some reason all you could think about was the way he kissed you.

This was bad. You had to stop.

You looked at your food, pushing it away and getting up, sighing, the adrenaline from confronting Akira. Did you expect to win? No, but now that you had, your head swam as you got to your feet, glancing at Winter, nodding your head slightly.

“Goodbye”, you said, “I have no business with you anymore.”

Leaving your dinner and the table, you walked into the hallways and sighed in relief. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breathe again. You made your way to your room, before stopping outside a door, freezing in your place.

That door led to the hall where you and Kun had that water balloon fight. You took a step towards it, placing your hand on the knob, but not opening it. You didn’t want to open it, just wanted to reminisce.

“Trying to run away from us? Or me? Because you’re still slow.”

You whipped your head around, meeting Kun’s gaze, “something like that.” Your voice was cautious as if you were walking on nails. As if you weren’t trying to not stare at his lips.

He leaned against the wall, staring at you as if he was trying to crack a code. His mind went fuzzy as well, the drug taking effect as it had for you. But both of you were fighting against it, desperate to win.

When did winning come at the cost of losing everything you loved?

Loved?

You bit your lower lip, averting your gaze. The tension in the room had risen tenfold, the way the two of you tried to navigate the gray area you had fallen into.You wondered why the world couldn’t be simple, black and white. Why couldn’t it be bad and good? Why did it have to be so complicated?

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. You snapped back to attention, forcing yourself to get out of your little headspace. Looking up, you met his eyes, and by god, you had never regretted doing anything more than that.

His eyes, they were dark,  voids of nothingness. They didn’t sparkle like they usually did, shining in the light. Instead they were like pools of ink, no light let in. Gone was the smirk you were so used to.

“I know”, you said simply, realizing it was true. You acknowledged the fact that he was sorry.

A bitter chuckle fell from his lips, “I hate myself for not telling you the moment I found out, but everything was so-”

“Messed up?” You finished his sentence, giving him a crooked smile, “Yeah, I get it. It’s all over now though”

“Over”, he repeated, “Right.”

Silence.

“I don’t want it to be over”

You looked at him, a sigh escaping you, “Kun-”

“You’re you, and I don’t want to lose you”, he said bluntly, “You can hate me-I hate myself, but I don't want it to be over.” You began to feel drowsy again, all you wanted to do was walk away and forget the past two months, because now you were attached. Emotionally.

“But I understand if you want nothing to do with us, with me-”

You took a step forward, leaning towards him and pressed your lips to his, mind going completely blank now. You wanted to melt into him, as he kissed you back in surprise, to forget.

You couldn’t do that.

He cupped your face, kissing you again. There it was that feeling, that feeling of drowning. Make it stop, stop, I want to breathe, you thought, before giving up. You liked the breathlessness, even if you tried not to.

Pulling away, you looked at him one last time, before pushing yourself off of him, away from the door that led into the hall, away from him. Kun watched you walk away, down the hallway, before you turned the corner.

And then you were gone.

You leaned against the railing of the deck, watching the water below you. The ripples were somewhat soothing, as you hummed an idle tune.

“Y/n Osaki”, you turned around to face the owner of the voice, Kun himself. He smiled taking position next to you, “Remember when I said I didn’t know who you were?”

You chuckled nodding, “Yeah.”

It had bewildered you at the time, the way he pretended he didn’t know who you were. Now you wished he really didn’t. That seemed so long ago.

It had been a week since the confrontation, a week since the last kiss. The effects of the infatuation drug had long worn off, but what was real was left behind. All the drug had done was amplify it. You didn’t see the Qian family much after it, making a point to avoid them. You didn’t have a reason to see them anyways, you were done.

Yet you still had unfinished business.

The cruise was coming to an end anyways, so what was even the point? Your life would go back to normal like nothing had happened, even though your world had been ripped apart and was holding itself together by threads.

Kun cleared his throat, “We need to talk.”

“We’re talking right now”, you said, avoiding the heavy meaning in his words. 

He sighed, letting it drop for a second before speaking up again, “I didn’t know myself until I asked Akira”, he said, not specifying what exactly he was talking about, but you already knew. “I asked him if you knew who he was and he told me the whole story, and I was….”, he trailed off, searching for the correct word, “horrified.”

“I believe you”, you said softly, “I’ve forgiven you.”

You haven’t forgotten though, you doubt you could ever forget something like this.

Kun didn’t know if that made him feel any better, but he knew he had to get it off his chest. He wondered how he could get you back. You seemed cold again, like the day he met you, closed off and wary of everything. You had a right to be, but he wanted the Y/n he had grown accustomed to, back.

“So”, he said, “Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth Bennet?”

“I thought we agreed on a truce?” You let a smile slip, amused. He grinned, “We did, but I have to know.”

You thought for a second, before inclining your head with a sheepish smile, “I’ll eat my words Qian Kun, Mr. Darcy has grown on me.”

“I’m glad. I won after all”, he said childishly, and you couldn’t help but scoff. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Why don’t I tell you something? Infact, I’ll say it in the words of Mr. Darcy himself”, he declared, “I found myself in this mess before I could do anything about it Y/n, and I can’t take what has happened. I cannot fix on the hour or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It was too long ago, I was in the middle before I knew it had begun.”

Your eyes softened as you shifted closer to him, meeting his own. Yours sparkled with mild amusement as you slipped your hand through his, “You do know that’s how Mr. Darcy tells Lizzy he loves her, right?”

“Is it?”, his eyes held the same mischievous glint yours did as he raised your held hands, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I suppose it’s fitting then.”

And then he kissed you properly, fingers intertwined, wind in your hair. 

Were you happy? Not entirely, not yet. You still had duty, you still had to bear the weight of your family name. You had to live with knowing your mother was responsible for your fathers demise, you had to keep it a secret for Shotaro. You had to be perfect.

No, you weren’t happy, but you were getting there.

fin.

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

Nothin’ Says Lovin’

Chapter One: Friendly

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, other named minor characters

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language, innuendos, sexual tension, FLUFF

Square Filled: Friends to Lovers

Summary: The reader is a chef who owns a small-town gourmet kitchen shop. Sam and Dean helped the reader with a curse a few months back, and have kept in touch and visited often since. The reader isn’t sure if the feelings for Dean are mutual, until he takes her up on an offer.

A/N: This was inspired by a request from @feelmyroarrrr for the Friends to Lovers square on my @spnkinkbingo card. I also included my prompt from @klaineaholic‘s 400 followers Steven Universe celebration, which is bolded in the fic. I have no self-control, so this is a part one. Future chapters will fill other squares from my bingo card. I’ve got a lot of thanks to give to @ilsawasanacrobat and @kayteonline for being awesome betas.

Feedback and constructive criticism are both appreciated and welcomed, and if you want to have a look at my bingo card and want to send in a request, please do so!

Gif from @canonspngifs

AO3 Link to fic

You haul another box from the back to the front counter, carefully unwrapping each delicate piece from inside, checking for damage before pricing it and repacking it for storage. Just as you finish with the box, familiar voices drift in from the sidewalk outside, the deep rumble gives away their presence before they push open the door, making the bells ring. Your stomach does a quick flip, and you stare, waiting for them to enter, your mood lifting as soon as you see their figures filling up the entryway.

“Hey guys,” you call over, watching as Sam and Dean scan the store until they locate you behind the box on the counter.

Sam grins, lifting a hand from his pocket as he waves, and Dean glances down to the box in his hands, a tight smile on his face.

You step out from behind the counter, arms lifted to offer hugs to both of them. “It’s good to see you guys again. I mean, this is a good visit? Right?” You stop, cocking your head to the side as you wait for confirmation.

“As long as you don’t have anything to report to us, then yeah, just here to say hi,” Sam assures you, leaning down and wrapping his arms around you as you let out a small sigh of relief.

Trying to return to business as usual hadn’t been easy, although the construction crew and the insurance company had both been surprisingly efficient and helpful. Your property had been replaced and you’d even managed to upgrade a few things, but since then you’d been caught in a constant loop of inventory, and sales, and cleaning, and cooking, and tension.

“Sorry,” you scrunch up your face in apology, regretting the way you jump to the worst conclusions each time they enter your shop. “Yeah. So far, so good. Aside from Muriel next door. She’s still pissed about that wall that got blown out.”

“Want us to keep an eye on her? Make sure she doesn’t curse you, too?”

“No, I think we’re good. I think I can bridge the gap with a few more plates of cookies. But thanks.”

They both lift their brows, tilting their heads and sharing a look that’s gone in a flash.

“Seriously guys, it’s fine. Muriel loves my cookies.”

“The way you cook? She’d be nuts not to.”

You look up at Dean, inhaling sharply at his praise as you feel the rush of heat from your body amping up with the mixture of excitement and exhaustion that comes with restrained attraction.

“Well, thanks.” You glance past him, eyes drifting until you notice the time on the clock on the wall. “Speaking of - you guys hungry? I could close up for lunch and make you something?”

“That’d be great-”

“We were actually heading-”

They answer at the same time, talking over each other for a moment until they stop, sharing annoyed looks at one another.

“That would be great,” Sam begins softly, “But I was going to head down to a few other stores. Dean can stay with you, though.”

Dean nods his head slightly, eyes rolling a bit as he agrees, his fingers pinching the corners of the box he’s holding. His expression too hard to score. You’ve been mentally tallying the moments you spent together, trying to determine if he’s being friendly, or trying to be friendly. So far, coming up with nothing conclusive.

He’d started by blatantly flirting with you, but that turned out to be part of him working the case. It felt real enough, and you could have sworn you’d seen the same flirty look in his eyes at least a few times since then during his visits, but then again, he sometimes looked at the food you served him the same way. That’s how everything was when you tried to figure him out; tender brushes of hands and skin and long looks canceled out by ‘atta girl’ back pats and tight nods. Friendly then friendly.

“Okay,” you breathe. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you in a bit.” Sam winks at you, flipping over the closed sign on your door as he walks through it.

“Well,” you rock a bit on your feet before sliding over to flip the lock, “Let’s eat, huh?”

“You know, you don’t have to feed us every time we come by.” Dean walks behind you, following you down the stairs to your demonstration kitchen. The quiet hum of appliances replaces the sounds from the street and the light music you had playing throughout the storefront.

“Like hell I don’t. It’s really the least I can do, considering. And anyway, what other reason would you have to keep stopping by if it wasn’t for the food?” You cringe, glad he can’t see your face as you clench your fist to keep from slapping your hand over your mouth. A quick stretch of your facial muscles and you turn to him to change the subject.

“So, what’s that?” You nod your head at his hands as you turn to the fridge, grabbing the ingredients you need.

“Oh. It’s uh, another thing I found in the kitchen. See? A reason other than the food.” Friendly.

“I’m sure it’s one of many,” you sarcastically reply around the slice of tomato in your mouth, falling back on self-deprecating humor to push back your nerves. He nibbles a bit on the inner corner of his lip, looking uncharacteristically shy. Friendly. “Alright, lemme see.”

Dean slides the box across the counter, and you notice the age of it, the corners battered and the flap close to ripping off. Delicately, you pull it open, and pull away the neatly folded, yellowing tissue paper revealing a worn wooden handle attached to a slightly bent, narrow rod, and three flower and star-shaped iron molds. You suck in a breath and your lips curve into a gleeful smile.

“It’s a rosette iron.” You pull out one of the molds, flipping it over in your fingers as you examine the intricate pattern. It’s dark and heavy in your hands, not like the newer sets made from stainless steel; this is cast iron. You remain lost in admiration for who knows how long, until Dean breaks the moment with a soft chuckle. It’s not the first time he’s interrupted your daydreaming. It’s almost become routine since he started bringing by vintage kitchen supplies for you to identify for him every other month or so. Stuff he says he finds in his kitchen. Last time it was a nut grinder, and the time before that a bean slicer. You catch his amused and curious glance as he waits for you to explain yourself.

“Sorry, this is just such a gorgeous set. It-It’s for cookies,” you tell him, returning the piece to it’s spot in the box and folding the tissue back over it. “You don’t know how jealous I am that you just have all this great stuff in your kitchen.” You slide it back to him across the counter.

“It’s only great if you know how to use it. Keep it.” He says, stopping you with his hand. Friendly.

You can’t help the look of hope and excitement in your eyes as you pretend to try to refuse his offer. “No, I couldn’t.”

“You can, and you should. Use it to make Muriel some more cookies. Or consider it my small way of trying to make things up to you after blowing out half your shop.”

You turn away, putting together ingredients and warming the pan as you finish putting together some lunch. “You know, when you said ‘Wait! I have a better idea that doesn’t involve destroying the house’ I hoped you meant there would be a lot less destruction than there was.”

“Well, witches don’t make things easy. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s been months, and you did what you had to do. I’m alive, and while things are a little rough, I’m still glad.” You smile to yourself, letting the sound of the sizzling pan fill the silence.

“People really pay you sixty bucks for a plate?”

You turn to look at Dean, finding him twirling a platter between his fingers a bit too haphazardly for your liking.

“Ye-eh-esss,” you nervously sing as you skip over to grab it from him. “This is hand painted.”

“It’s a plate.”

“Well, you don’t just use it every day. It’s for special occasions, or for decoration.” You set it back on the display.

“Do people really need all this stuff? I mean, what the hell is this thing?”

You can’t help your giggle because it really is one of the more absurd items you carry. “That. Is a melon corer,” he stares at you blankly, “For like, cantaloupe. You slide it along the inside to cut some away from the rind, then use the fork part to eat it.” His expression moves from confused to pained, pulling a full laugh from you. “I know. I know, but people like giving gifts. No one needs all this stuff. It’s the thought that counts. It’s taking time to get something for a person, or making a meal and serving it with a special item that makes it useful.”

“I s’pose,” he flicks his brows; his eyes darting to the box containing the iron and then to you, one cheek rounded in a smirk. Friendly.

The conversation lulls as you cook, but you can feel Dean watching you, and keep your back to him while you work, trying to muster up the courage to make a move. God, something, anything. Since the incident with the curse, your stomach churned with the uncertainty of his intentions; or maybe more from your hope of what his intentions could be.

“That smells awesome,” he says, his head appearing right over your shoulder, making you jump.

“Thanks. It’s what we’re making in class tonight, so you get to be my guinea pig and tell me if it’s any good.”

You plate up two servings and set it before him, steam still rising from the hot food in tiny wisps. You settle on the stool next to his, watching as he digs and scoops with his fork, getting a huge bite of food ready to devour. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, amusement pulling up at the corner of his open mouth.

“What?” he asks, nervously.

“Nothing.”

“You’re watching me.”

“I know. I want to see your reaction. It’s part of the joy of being a chef.”

He remains still, dragging out the moment until you’re almost ready to push the food into his mouth yourself. You start to reach for the fork when he finally shoves it into his mouth, hissing at the temperature, before moaning at the taste. His head rolls back and his eyes close, and it’s dangerously close to what you’d consider an orgasmic reaction.

“So?”

“Fuck, that’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I could eat that everyday. This. Is. Awesome.”

You look down to your plate, happy with the way it looks and scoop yourself a bite, humming with satisfaction while critiquing yourself for not using enough herbs. You watch Dean, enjoying the way he’s digging into the food, imagining the two of you were back at your house, or at the nice little restaurant down the road with the strong brandy Old Fashioneds. You clear your throat.

“Would you ever want to…” you pause, caught in surprise by the way he fully turns his attention back to you, rich green eyes staring right back into your own. “Uhh,” you backtrack, “You should come to one of my cooking classes.”

If he notices any of your disappointment, he doesn’t show it, instead giving you a playful grin. Friendly.

“I don’t know about that. I’d hate to show up the teacher in her own class, I mean. I know my way around a kitchen.”

You play offended, “Well, then, in that case, I bet you can tell me what this is.” You hold up what looks like a comb with a long handle.

“Oh come on, that’s easy,” he waves you off. “It’s a backscratcher.”

“Cakebreaker.” You whisper.

“Yeah, like I said, a cakebreaker.”

“Just like you said.” You giggle and look back down to your food, trying to once again hide your blush and the way you swallow thickly despite his kind rejection. Friendly.

A little while and some small talk later, you hear the jingle of the bells from your shop door, eyes wide in alarm having remembered you locked it. Dean goes stiff at the sound too, his head perking up to listen.

“Hello? Dean? Y/n?” Sam calls, making you both slump in your seats again.

You roll your jaw, “Did he seriously just pick my lock?”

“Well, I wasn’t answering my phone, so probably.” He flicks out his phone showing six missed call notifications, pouting in a fake apology before sucking in a quick breath and shouting, “Yeah, Sam. Down in the kitchen!”

“You shouldn’t ignore him like that, it could have been important.”

“And let him drag me away? Not a chance,” he finishes with a wink. Friendly.

You hear Sam’s feet hurry down the stairs before you see him, his face tense for a second until he observes the scene and shifts to something resembling embarrassment.

“Ahh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt -”

“No, it’s fine, Sam.” You flash him a smile, “We lost track of time. There’s still some food left. Want some?” You move over to the still simmering pan, lifting it to scoop the food onto another plate before he can answer.

“Oh, Sammy, you gotta try this - “Actually, we kind of have to hit the road.”

The brothers talk over each other again, and this time there is no hiding the way your face falls. Dean let’s out a quiet ‘Oh’ as he wipes his mouth with a napkin and brings his cleared plate to the sink.

“Well, take the leftovers. You gotta eat, too.” You dig out a to-go container, packing it up as you hear them smacking one another behind your back. You plaster on a smile, turning around and gripping the container. “Now Sam, don’t you dare let Dean steal a bite of this,” you tell him sternly.

They lift their hands, waving behind themselves while they make their way out. Friendly.

You pause and nod at both of them, a sad smile drawing your lips tight, “Til next time, guys.”

Everyone was packing up, talking amongst themselves as you wrapped up the class.

“Now, on the back of your recipe cards, you’ll find some wine pairing suggestions. And remember, if you refer a friend, you get one class free,” you spoke above them.

They start to wave you off, making their way up the stairs and out of your shop as you follow, ready to lock up for the night.

“I missed it, huh?”

Your head shoots up, surprised by Dean’s voice, before you collect yourself, smiling while you shrug in confirmation.

“Good night,” one of your regulars, Janice, says with a hint of a question and a pointed eyebrow.

You flick a glance at Dean, then back to her with a nervous, restrained smile. “Goodnight, Jan.”

She smirks and ducks her head as she walks out, pulling her friend’s sleeve as she not-so-subtly checks out Dean while he leans against the counter.

You usher the rest out, chewing on your lip, your stomach doing flips as the nerves flare up again. You face the door, taking your time with the lights and the lock until you catch the figures being reflected in the window and notice Dean watching you - waiting. Just the way he leans against the furniture makes this appearance feel friendly. The blush couldn’t be stopped at he caught your look in the glass, and you quickly pulled your teeth away from your lip, straightening out and turning back to him.

“I, uhh. I thought you and Sam had to go?”

“Sammy had to go. I stuck around.”

“Everything okay?” You ask, anxiously shifting as you try to focus without staring too directly at him.

“Yeah, things are fine. Muriel checked out by the way.” He pauses as you roll your eyes. “And I just...you know I was hoping to get in on that lesson. Expand my horizons. I don’t suppose I could get a private lesson now that everyone’s gone?” Friendly, that definitely goes in the friendly column.

“Well, I hope you guys didn’t torture her too much, or else I might have to upgrade from cookies,” you smile as you walk past him toward the back stairs. He follows without having to be asked. Biting back the hopeful question you really wanted to ask, you clear your throat, “So, you’re serious? You want me to give you a lesson?”

“If you’re tired, or it’s too much trouble then-”

“No! No, it’s not a problem. Just...surprised...is all.”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I nee-ever said that,” you say as you throw your hands up in defense. “I’ve still got some food from the class if you’re hungry. That’s easy to make, probably even for you. But, mayyyybe we can give the rosettes a go?”

He grins at your teasing, before questioning you.

“You want me to help you make cookies?”

“They’re deep fried, they barely count as cookies. Unless...you don’t think you can?” You challenge. He stares you down before sliding his jacket from his shoulders.

Challenge accepted. You gather the containers for sugar and flour, “Okay, you start mixing this stuff, and I’ll get the oil started.”

You work with your backs to each other, him tossing questions about the recipe over his shoulder, and you multitasking as you tidy up while waiting for the oil to heat. You check over Dean’s shoulder, finding him mashing the ingredients like he’s trying to put a hole through your countertop. Your hands come to rest on his forearm, stopping his movements. He slumps a little, staring at you with adorable wide-eyed uncertainty.

“Here, a little lighter. It’s not gonna fight back.” You guide his arm in a circular motion, gently whisking the flour with the egg and milk mixture.

“Thanks, I got it.” He gives you a sheepish smile before pulling his posture back up.

“Sure.”

You turn back to the stove, watching the oil, wondering about watched pots while trying to think of something to fill the blaring silence.

“So? No Sam tonight then?”

You hear him push a breath through pursed lips. “Ahhmm, nope.”

“He got something against eating?”

“I wonder the same thing all the time,” he says, chuckling.

“Well, more cookies for you. Okay,” you pause to think through the recipe one more time, “We should be ready.” He sets the bowl onto the counter, standing so close he’s pushing into your side as you continue. “So, we need to get the iron nice and warmed up in the oil.”

“Always good to get warmed up,” his voice low and throaty in your ear.

You stifle a snort, looking at him, waiting for a twitch, or a wink, or anything else to let you know which column to bank that one in, but he’s got such a damn good poker face. His one eyebrow bends slightly, and you notice the corners of his mouth pulled in - pinching, just hinting at a smirk, but not even that gives away the intent of his words, and he seems to know it. The cockiness there instigates you, eyelid twitch and all, and before you can overthink it, you continue on, voice dipping into something more sultry.

“Ye-up. So after a minute or two, and while the iron’s hot, you dip it in the batter, nice and easy. Not all the way, you don’t want to just thrust it in there.”

“Oh, come on,” he groans.

“What?” You scoff.

“Really? Do you hear yourself?” He tilts his head, forehead wrinkled in disbelief.

“You got a problem with the way I teach?”

“Nope. Please continue.” The glimmer of amusement in his eyes makes you swallow hard. Friendly, with a little bit of friendly...or maybe it’s the other way around.

“Okay, so then you kind of swipe it in the hot oil, before finally plunging it in there.”

“Kind of tease it first, then dive in?” His voice wavers, and you glance at him, noticing him trying and failing to maintain a straight face. Your mind adds a tally in the column for the even more confusing friendly followed by a question mark.

“You’ve got it.” You watch as a bit of a blush creeps over his complexion. Your own heart pounds as your chest constricts, trying to keep your breathing normal instead of the adrenaline-fueled panting your body is calling for. “Okay, so now, see how the edges are puffing up and opening away from the hot iron?”

“Puffy and open, sonofabitch,” he whispers. You feel his hand on the small of your back, a little shaky, but blazing hot through the fabric of your top.

Now, your ears start to burn as you restrain yourself from backtracking. Your skin immediately heats up enough to draw out a light breakout of sweat, and you tremble with jitteriness as you opt to continue with the lesson that’s hopefully still tame enough to brush this all off as a joke if it goes south.

“That���s perfect, now we can take this chopstick and help push the cookie the rest of the way off the iron. Then you flip it, let the magic work while it’s face-down, and it’s finished.”

“That’s how you finish?” He sounds strained. Friendly.

“That’s - ah -,” You’re thrown off for a moment, knees weak at his implication. With how close he’s standing you can smell the mixture of sweat, and air, and whatever deodorant or body wash he used, something probably named Ocean Breeze. It’s mouthwatering and exactly what you would describe as masculine. You think you’ve got more in the fun column, but the thrill of the moment tempts you to push on. “You know, it’s not always that easy? Sometimes there’s a big mess, and then there’s the praying to god that you can actually make it to the end. But it’s worth all the effort, especially if they’re only an occasional kind of treat.” Friendly.

His eyes are bright and focused hard on you. He shifts a little as he wets his lips, “You don’t mind only having them once in awhile, even though you like em?”

Your mind races, eyes dancing back and forth between his as you search hopefully for a double meaning to his words. Head close to shaking side to side as you try to determine - cookies, or cookies?

“Nuh uh, nope. Sometimes there’s just no time, or...someone could be kind of picky, or prefers variety or something,” You struggle to find a good innuendo. Inarticulate sounds escape from you as the panicky rush constricts your chest until you finally let it spill out. “Or maybe sometimes someone has other obligations and the other person can understand that and still enjoy the cookies, even if they’re just...cookies.”

Friendly.

His mouth hangs slightly open, chest heaving as he looks you up and down. “Just,” he pauses to clear his throat after his voice shakes, “Just to be clear, we’re not just talking about cookies?”

The tension snaps within you and you giggle nervously. “No. I hope we’re not. I’m certainly not.”

“Okay, good, me neither.” He dips his head to place his lips against yours in a quick and confirming type of kiss. He pulls back, looking at you from under his brow, eyes narrowed as his expression goes back to cocky. “Can I teach you to cook sometime?”

A laugh escapes on your exhale. “Sure, what’s your specialty?”

“Well, I was thinking pancakes,” he smirks, waiting for you to take the bait.

“I only eat breakfast in the mornings, you think you’ll still be around tomorrow morning?”

“Until you kick me out,” he assures you, nose and lips brushing against yours as he leans in again.

Tag Alert: (As always, if you don’t want me to tag you, just let me know)

@attractiverandomness @mrswhozeewhatsis @deathtonormalcy56 @kittenofdoomage @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @babypieandwhiskey @brewsthespirit-blog @mysaintsasinner @idreamofhazel @impala-dreamer @sis-tafics @littlegreenplasticsoldier @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @ultimatecin73 @mrsjohnsmith @bringmesomepie @sharingan-rasengan-chidori @mandilion76 @muliermalefici @mogaruke @seenashwrite @notnaturalanahi  @anokhi07 @deandoesthingstome @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @ceeceewinchester @kathaswings @aprofoundbondwithdean @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @ilostmyshoe-79 @iwantthedean @roxy-davenport

[revwinchester]

Wine and Dine and Apple Sauce

Summary: The reader and the Winchesters are taking on a coven of witches when the reader ends up under the influences of a spell.  Gabriel, who has developed a crush on the reader, is left behind to care for her.

Pairings/Characters: Gabriel x Reader; Castiel, Sam, Dean

Word Count:3121

Warnings: some cursing (language), some cursing (spell work), reader ends up an infant, mostly just fluff

A/N: This is for 2 challenges!  It’s my entry for this week’s SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge being hosted by @thing-you-do-with-that-thing (”Are we completely sure that’s how it’s supposed to look”) and for @klaineaholic‘s 400 followers challenge (”My power means nothing to an infant”)!  Both of the prompts are in bold in the text!  I added tags about a ten hours after I posted the fic in the first place.  Sorry for anyone who’s already seen it and just got a notification. :)

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Wine and Dine and Apple Sauce -

“Who is that?” Gabriel asked.

He and Castiel had been invisibly following the Winchesters on their latest hunt, making sure that they didn’t hurt themselves or worse.  They were after a particularly dangerous coven of witches but had declined the angels’ assistance when it had been offered.

Castiel looked in the direction his brother was pointing and smiled.  “That is Y/N, she’s a hunter that Sam and Dean met some time ago on one of their cases.”

Gabriel was transfixed, openly staring at Y/N as she greeted the Winchesters, hugging them like old friends.  Castiel was still talking but Gabriel wasn’t paying attention anymore.  Instead, he watched as Y/N pulled off her beanie and ran her hand through her shining hair before settling the hat back into place on her head.  

“She was raised by witches but, after she found out they had killed her parents, she took to hunting them, instead,” Castiel’s introduction concluded.

Gabriel waved his hand at his brother.  “Yeah, yeah, Cas, thanks.  Which one of them is she sleeping with?”

Cas didn’t answer.  He looked at Gabriel, confusion coloring his features.  “Why would you assume that, brother?” he asked perplexed.  “To my knowledge, Y/N isn’t sexually active with either Winchester.”

Gabriel was glad to hear that.  Usually when there was an attractive woman around, it was a safe bet that one of the brothers wanted in her pants.  Either they hadn’t succeeded, yet, or she was a good enough hunter that they needed her.  Maybe both.  Either way, it meant Gabriel had a shot, still, and he was going to take it.

“You’ve got a handle on things, right?  You’ll make sure they don’t do anything incredibly stupid?” he asked Castiel.

The seraph nodded and Gabriel took off to prepare.

----

“Are we completely sure that’s how it’s supposed to look?” She asked Sam, swirling the glass in her hand.

“You’re the one who was raised by witches, Y/N,” Sam replied with a sly smile.  Both of them were in a little over their heads and the photograph of the liquid someone had taped onto the page was in black and white and not at all helpful.

Y/N barked out a laugh.  “Yeah, we didn’t really get too far into my magical training before I killed the assholes who killed my parents,” you reminded Sam, swirling the glass again.  “What does the book say?”

Sam consulted the text again.  It wasn’t the first time she or Sam had resorted to using magic on a hunt bit this tracking spell was definitely the most advanced thing either of them had tried.  “Thick, bright green liquid.”

“Well, it’s kind of more chartreuse but that’s technically bright green, right?” Y/N asked, trying to reassure herself.

Sam nodded.  “Yeah,” he assured her.  “I mean, we triple checked the ingredients and Dad had me speaking Latin since I was five so I’m sure I got the incantation right.”  His voice was strong but Y/N could tell that he was nervous about this, too.  

She nodded in response and lifted the glass in a toast to Sam.  “Alright, well, bottoms up, then.”  Y/N put the glass to her lips and downed the liquid.  Nothing happened for a moment but then, suddenly, she was gone.

“Shit!” Sam cried out, scrambling for his phone.  This spell wasn’t supposed to do that, Y/N shouldn’t have disappeared.  “Shit!” he shouted again for good measure as he simultaneously dialed Dean’s number and prayed to Cas.

Before Dean could answer the phone, he and Castiel were standing just inside the motel room door.  “Jeeze, Cas, you gotta warn a guy before you do that,” Dean complained.  

Sam interrupted his brother, harshly shouting his name.  “Dean!  Y/N is gone.  We tried that tracking spell she found and she disappeared.”

“You don’t think…” Dean begin, “It didn’t take her right to the witches, did it?” His face was painted with worry, bordering on panic.  The brothers had known Y/N for a long time.  She was a great hunter - one of the best - and an even better friend.  She was like a sister to them and they had to find her and get her back.  He turned to Cas, hoping the angel could track Y/N.

Castiel’s head was cocked to the side and his gaze was fixed on a point across from where Sam stood.  “Y/N hasn’t disappeared,” he told the brothers, “she’s still here.”

As if on cue, a loud wail sounded from the floor where Cas was staring.  The brothers gave each other confused looks and Sam crossed around the table to where Y/N had been standing.  He looked down to the source of the noise and his eyes went wide.  Sam stooped down and scooped up a baby from where it was nestled within Y/N’s clothes.  He did his best to sooth the child.  She couldn’t be more than six months old and had a shock of hair on her head the same color as Y/N’s.  “Um, guys, I think I found her.”  Sam’s voice was nervous as he held the baby in his arms.  She looked so tiny compared to his giant frame.  

Dean shook his head in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish for a moment before he collected himself enough to ask “What?”

“I don’t…” Sam started loudly, causing the baby to cry again.  He took a breath and leveled out his tone before continuing, “I don’t know.  Something must have gone wrong with the spell.  We were pretty confident we got it right but…” he indicated the crying baby that he was now holding against his shoulder.  Sam rubbed her back and bounced her a little bit, hoping to calm her down again.

Dean turned to Castiel.  “Is he right?  Is that Y/N?”

Cas crossed the room to where Sam stood with the baby and placed his hand on the back of her head.  “Yes, this is Y/N,” the angel confirmed.

Sam looked to Cas with hope.  “Can you fix it, undo the spell?”

“No,” Castiel replied.  “This magic was consumed, it has to work its way out of her system naturally.”  His touch and gravely voice seemed to sooth Y/N further and she was drifting off to sleep against Sam’s shoulder.  “From the feel of the magic in her, I estimate that she should be back to normal by morning.”  He raised his hand and passed it over Y/N’s back, conjuring up a diaper and some appropriately sized clothes for her.

Out of nowhere, lights like fireworks burst and crackled in the room and Y/N woke up and squirmed in Sam’s arms until he flipped her around so she could see the source of the commotion.  Her tiny eyes were wide and her mouth was open in joy at the display.  When Gabriel stepped out from the center of the lights carrying a bouquet of brightly colored flowers and a large, swirled lollipop, Y/N giggled and clapped before reaching out to the archangel.

Gabriel looked around at the people in the room with confusion.  “Where’s Y/N?” he asked, “She’s supposed to be here.”

“Why do you care?” Dean asked.  “And how do you even know Y/N?”

“I don’t, not yet anyway,” Gabriel replied with a wag of his eyebrows.  The baby was still reaching for him so he took her from Sam’s arms.  It had been a while but spending centuries raising fledglings meant he’d never forget how to care for something so small.  “Why do you have a kid here, anyway?”

Sam managed to look sheepish as he explained that she had been hit by a spell only a few minutes earlier.  “So, Gabriel, meet Y/N,” he concluded, a hand coming up to nervously scratch at the back of his neck.  

The archangel looked down at the tiny human in his arms and then back at the Winchesters and Castiel.  “How the hell did this happen?”  The archangel would have been shouting if not for the baby in his arms who had now begun grabbing for the lollipop he had brought with him.  Instead, his anger simmered just below the surface.  “You were supposed to be watching them, supposed to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid, Castiel!”  He snapped open the lollipop’s wrapper and gave it to Y/N as he started pacing the room.

“How am I supposed to impress her now?  My power means nothing to an infant,” Gabriel moaned, turning back to Y/N who was now happily sucking and gumming on the candy.  “Let’s find the witch who did this and take her out.  That should solve the problem quicker than letting the magic leech out of Y/N’s system.  Find the witch and I can take her out with a snap of my fingers.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed at that suggestion.  “Yeah, uh… there was a group who worked on it,”

“We can take them all out.  As long as we get the one who said the incantation, we’re covered,” Gabriel explained frustrated.  The Winchesters should know that, he thought.  

Sam looked down at the ground as he continued talking, explaining to Gabriel just what had happened.  “So, Y/N found this book of spells and she and I put together what was supposed to be a tracking spell.  She did the measuring and mixing, I took care of the Latin…”

“You have got to be kidding me.”  Gabriel’s voice was full of disbelief.  “I don’t suppose you’ll let me kill you to fix this…” the archangel began but Dean interrupted him.

“You are not killing Sam,” he said, his voice stern.

“I’ll bring him right back,” Gabriel promised.

“You are NOT killing Sam.”  Dean’s voice was harsh and Gabriel knew he wouldn’t be winning this argument.  He considered just doing it for a moment; using his powers to kill Sam for a few seconds and then healing him just as quickly.  Dean might not even notice if he could get the older Winchester out of the room.  But Dean was on high alert now that Gabriel had suggested it and he’d be hovering by his brother’s side until Gabriel was gone or Y/N was back to normal.

“Look, we need to take care of these witches before they disappear into the wind and take their shit out on some other town” Sam interrupted the staring contest between his brother and the archangel.  “Cas says Y/N’ll be fine by morning.  If she’s not, you can kill me then, ok?  But for now, can either of you track the witches?”

Castiel shook his head.  “They’re warded from me but Gabriel may have more success.”

Gabriel shifted his focus from Dean to Sam before he closed his eyes and felt around for the coven.  “They’re about 10 miles out of town, holed up in an ancient farmhouse.”

“Alright, Dean and I will go take care of them.  Cas, you with us?”  Sam asked.

Castiel answered in the affirmative and Sam turned to Gabriel.

“Y/N really seems to like you,” the younger Winchester admitted.  “Will you stay here with her?”  Sam used his best puppy dog eyes on Gabriel, realizing that the archangel would be hard pressed to resist that look combined with the prospect of watching over Y/N.  

Gabriel agreed and his brother and the Winchesters formed their plan and made their way out to the Impala.  They agreed to take the afternoon to stake out the house and make their move that night, when most of the witches should be asleep.  Gabriel would be on call if things went sideways but they were all pretty sure that the brothers and the angel could handle themselves.

After the trio left, Gabriel was left with Y/N in the motel room.  He looked around at their surroundings and Y/N started to squirm in his grasp, wanting to get down and explore.  “This is not a safe environment for a child,” Gabriel told her, holding her tightly against his chest.  “I can’t fathom how the Winchesters didn’t die growing up in shit holes like this.  Especially Sam, he was your age when their dad got started.”  He quickly formed an idea of what he wanted in the room and snapped his fingers, changing the space to be much more child friendly.  The carpet was plusher, the outlets all had covers over them, and even the wallpaper wasn’t the drab, dingy brown that it had been a second ago.  Instead, it was bright and fresh and the new flat screen television was playing Sesame Street.  Gabriel placed Y/N down in the Chicco baby walker he had conjured up - it was supposed to be the safest brand in the market right now - and he watched her as she played.  

Eventually, Gabriel figured he should feed her something besides the candy he’d brought and so he zapped up some food that was appropriate for a tiny human without any teeth.  As he fed Y/N, he started talking to her.

“You know, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” he confessed.  “I was going to make my grand entrance and sweep you off your feet.  I had planned on changing this room quite a bit but I had a more of a romantic feeling in mind, not a playroom.”  He sighed as Y/N giggled around another bite of food.  “I was going to wine and dine you, try to make tonight really special after we had ganked the witches.  None of this apple sauce crap.”

Y/N had stopped eating and was looking up at Gabriel like she was actually listening to him.  Babies were weird, he thought, but he pressed on.  “I know we don’t know each other, that we’ve only just met, and even that’s a technicality because you’ve got no idea what’s going on, really, but I think you’re beautiful and if Sam and Dean trust you on hunts, you’ve got to be strong and a bad ass, even if your spell work could use a little improvement.”  Gabriel chuckled to himself at his joke and at the tiny baby glare Y/N was giving him.

Her face shifted, though, with a huge yawn.

“I think it’s time for someone to get some sleep,” Gabriel commented, lifting her from the baby walker and holding her against his shoulder again.  He patted Y/N’s back a few times until she burped and then he laid her down in the motel room’s bed and smoothed his hand through her hair.  

He stood up but Y/N reached out to him, her tiny hands opening and closing in a grabbing motion.  Gabriel swept her up off the bed and laid down himself, resting Y/N on his chest.  He didn’t require sleep but he could lie here with her.  Gabriel snapped up a soft blanket to cover them and Y/N drifted off into sleep.  He watched her for a while before deciding that he would spend the rest of the time concentrating, in a trance like state that he used to call “Prayer Answering Mode.”  It allowed him to hear and respond to prayers just a little more quickly and if Castiel and the brothers needed him on this witch hunt, seconds could make all the difference.  

---

Gabriel was pulled out of his trance by the sound of a door slamming.  He shifted on the bed but stopped suddenly, remembering that he had an infant on his chest.  Except, he didn’t.  Instead, the space where the baby had been was now occupied by a fully grown, very naked, sleeping woman.  

Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around Gabriel and their legs were tangled together.  There was a scrap of fabric poking out from beneath her collarbone and Gabriel surmised that when she shifted back into her normal body, the onesie she had been wearing had torn apart.  

“What the hell?” Dean’s gruff, tired voice filled the room and Gabriel turned his head to look at the source of the voice.  Sam, Dean, and Cas were standing in the doorway, covered in blood.  Sam’s eyes were wide and Dean looked scandalized.  Gabriel realized what they were seeing - their friend, naked and on top of him - and he went to snap but Y/N caught his eye first.

Her eyes were open and she didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed.  “What did you think would happen when I changed back, Dean?  That the clothes would grow with me?”  Y/N’s voice was thick with sleep as she wiggled a little bit and pulled a bit of torn fabric out from under her stomach and tossed it at the brothers.  “Whichever of you is cleaner, go with Cas and get me some breakfast.  Bacon.  And Eggs.  And a bagel.  Things I can chew.  The other one, get in the shower.”

Gabriel smiled.  Y/N was bossy when she first woke up.  Gabriel found that he liked it; it was endearing.  

Once the boys were moving, she rolled off of the archangel and pulled the blanket with her to cover herself.  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“For what?  I just did what anyone would have,” Gabriel replied.

“For taking care of me, for making this place safe… For calling me beautiful.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about…” Gabriel stopped speaking for a moment.  “You heard that?” he asked sheepishly.

Y/N smiled shyly at the archangel.  “Every word.”

Gabriel would have been blushing if he had allowed his vessel to react the way a human might.  “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize that you knew what was going on.  I wouldn’t have…”

Y/N stopped Gabriel with a hand over his mouth.  “I don’t mind.  ‘Beautiful’ isn’t a word I hear often, especially from other hunters.  I liked it - I like it - and, if you wanted, I wouldn’t mind trying that date you were talking about.”  Y/N’s voice was quiet, as if she might scare the archangel away if she spoke too loudly.  

Beneath her hand, Gabriel was fighting off a grin.  “Ov kuhs ah wah dah,” he spoke into her hand.

Y/N giggled a little and moved her hand away so he could talk.  “Of course I want that.”  Gabriel let a small smile grace his lips.  “Just promise me, no dabbling in spell work this afternoon, ok?  I’d like to spend time with the real you.”

Y/N threw her head back in laughter at that and she got up, wrapping the blanket around her form as she made her way to her duffel bag for some clothes.  “No spells.  I promise.”

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport @sumara62 @ginamsmith @gallifreyansass

Gabriel Tags from @mrswhozeewhatsis: @mrswhozeewhatsis @vintagevalentinexx @theficlibrarium @bowtiesandapplepie @itsemmyb @crzcorgi @deerlululucy @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @MrsJohnSmith @manawhaat @growleytria @thegleegeneration @samtomydeanwinchester @supermoonpanda  @sis-tafics @meganwinchester1999 @kittenofdoomage @ferferelli @lilyoflothlorien @olitzisbae @the-morning-star-falls  @ackleslaugh @roxy-davenport @chrisatplay @bkwrm523 @faith-in-dean @kreborn17 @for-the-love-of-dean @sleep-silent-angel @trenchcoats-and-bees @curliesallovertheplace @not-so-natural-spn @skybinx-blog @thebunkerismyhome @feelmyroarrrr @winchesters-princess @katnharper @tia58 @deansleather @castiels-forbidden-angel  @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @winchesterswoonathon @jotink78 @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @babypieandwhiskey @wayward-mirage  @mysaintsasinner @shelovesallthethings @hexparker @alangel1895

Pond Gabriel Tags: @manawhaat @bkwrm523 @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @deathtonormalcy56 @for-the-love-of-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @mrswhozeewhatsis @captain-princess-rose @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @ilovedean-spn2 @wi-deangirl77 @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @fandommaniacx @oldfashioncdvillain @your-average-distracted-waffle @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @mysaintsasinner @deals-with-demons @bohowitch

[writingfromkitchenator]

Truth and Consequence

Written for @klaineaholic‘s 400 Followers Fic Challenge!

Crowley x Reader

Word Count: 2190

This turned out angsty as hell, and I’m pretty sure if I did a sequel, it would get even worse, so probably best not too.  XD  Enjoy!

“So tell me then, what you want from me!  And whatever that is, I’ll do it!”

You both froze, your head tilting to the side as you looked at the King of Hell, who was breathing hard, multiple emotions flickering across his face as he stared at you. Neither of you ever recalled him shouting at you before, even with all the things that had gone wrong in the time you’d known each other.

“Excuse me?”  You asked, raising an eyebrow.  “You want to try that again?”

Crowley let out a slow breath between his teeth, his eyes narrowing on you.  “I said to tell me what you want from me.  Whatever you want, I’ll do it, because this is tiring love, this game, and I’m not sure how much longer I can play it.”

“Game?”  You asked, confused.  “May I asked what game?  You mean the one where you use me for my spell work?”

His teeth ground together and you could practically hear it, but you were unfazed, throwing another handful of herbs into a fire.  “Honestly Crowley, you may be the King of Hell, but you can be so unclear at times.”

There was a growl and you found yourself suddenly pinned to a wall, Crowley pressed against you, his face millimetres away from yours.

“Is this clear enough?” His voice was low, both threatening and sensual and had your breath catching in your throat.  “Or do I need to go even further Y/N?”

You don’t answer, currently incapable with him so close, but he took it.

With another growl, he crushed his mouth to yours, making you whimper at the intensity of the kiss as his body pressed against yours, hands desperate, emotions washing over you.

The door burst open, snapping you both out of the kiss as Crowley rounded on Sam and Dean, eyes burning with fury and you slumped against the wall, breathing hard.

Their guns were raised.

“Back away from her Crowley.”  Dean ordered.

“Or what?”  Crowley asked.  “As if you two aren’t already a pain in my side enough, you need to interrupt us now.”

Sam’s eyes flicker over to the small burning bowl on the table, the flames flickering blue.  “Then tell us what you’re up to.”

“I’m keeping Lucifer caged up to try and control him and use him as a weapon against my enemies.” Crowley said before stiffening, his gaze flickering to fire too before looking back at you.

You couldn’t meet his eye, still breathing hard, holding back tears.

“What have you done?” He asked in a low voice, hands clenching by his side.  “Y/N…”

“It’s a truth spell Crowley.”  Dean said for you, making you shut your eyes. “And man am I glad we got her to that.  Are you insane?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Crowley hissed.  “So no, I’m not insane.  I’m trying to make things go back to the way they were!”  He shot another look back at you.  “Clearly though, I need to be rid of yet another witch from my life.”

Your head snapped up, almost expecting the worse, but instead, he just vanished.

You let out a shaky breath, sinking down against the wall as Sam and Dean hurry over.

“Are you alright?” Sam asked, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“No…” You breathed, shaking your head.  “It wasn’t meant to be this way…”

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe before he does something.”  Dean helps you up but it was at that moment it all seemed to sink in.

“What do you two think you were doing?”  You shout, pulling away and leaving them with questioning looks.  “I told you I could handle it!  I told you just to let me do it!”

“We thought he was hurting you.”  Sam said gently.  “We thought-”

“I told you from the start he wouldn’t!”  You continued to shout, your voice starting to break.  “I never expected this but you shouldn’t have got in the way!”

“Whatever,” Dean grunts. “The fact is, you’re okay and now away from him.”

Your eyes burned with fury, making sparking within.  “You really want to play that game Winchester?  If you didn’t-hadn’t-dammit!  You blackmailed me into this and now you are going to be so heartless!  You promised to stay out!  You promised you’d let me handle it!”

“He’s Crowley, a damned demon, a part from wanting more power why would you even care?”  Dean asked.

“I may be a witch Dean but it doesn’t mean I don’t experience emotions.”  You snarled and turned your gaze on Sam.  “Now give it to me.”

Sam hesitates, looking to Dean, who just rolls his eyes and shrugs.  Carefully, he pulled a necklace from his pocket and handed it to you, you snatching it away and quickly returning it around your neck, the cameo soon sitting protected under your shirt.

“Now, if we’re done?” You snap and turn on your heel, waving your hand so the fire went out.

“You stay out of our way Y/N.”  Dean said after you.

You paused and glanced back at them.  “No boys, you stay out of my way.  We could’ve been allies in this, in fact, we should’ve been, I like this no more than you, but this-” You hissed, cutting yourself off and storming away before you could do anything else foolish that you knew you would regret.

Things had never been friendly between you and the Winchesters, but things hadn’t been hostile either.  You were a witch and they were hunters, but you had helped them and they had helped you, which had been enough for them to not kill you so far.

This was something else.

They knew you were working with Crowley, knew you helped him a fair bit, especially in recent years, but they never went beyond what you had considered a mutual agreement between the three of you.  They knew that you would help them if they asked.

You sat on your lounge, the place a mess around you from where you’d been hurrying to pack before your legs had given away a little and you’ had to sit down.  You stared at the cameo in your hand, your thumb brushing over it and you felt a faint trickle of warmth from it.

Sighing, you returned it under your shirt and stood.  You knew you couldn’t stay here, not anymore, but you also knew that you had to go and see him.

Surprisingly, the demons let you in, let you pass unhindered through the halls to the throne room.  You held yourself tall, as if nothing was wrong, and gently knocked, as you always did, on the throne room door.

It opened and you stepped inside, Crowley not looking up from the glass of whiskey he was swirling in his hand.

“Crowley.”  You said as calmly as you could as the door closed behind you.

“Y/N.”  His voice made you wince, devoid of emotion.

You drew in a deep breath. “I wanted to explain.”

“Don’t bother.”  He took a drink.  “Just leave.”

You shook your head and stood your ground.  “No Crowley. I need to tell you this.”  When he remained silent, you continued.  “Today was not meant to go the way it did.  Sam and Dean had promised to stay out of it, had promised not to interfere, but they took that moment as you-you attacking me.”

Crowley’s expression was impassive.  “So you intended to lie to me?  To get what information you wanted and move on?”

Sighing, you wanted to step closer, but knew better.  “To protect you Crowley.  I know what the Winchesters are like, I know what we’ve both been through with them to know, but I promise you if I had a choice, then I wouldn’t have, I would’ve laughed in their faces and walked away.”

There was a flicker of anger across his gaze.  “So what did they possibly have against you that would make you turn on me?”

You carefully pulled the cameo out from under your shirt.  “This.”

Crowley raised his eyebrow. “A necklace?”

“My mother.”  You looked back at him, your eyes shining.  “I have no idea how they found out about it, but they did, they stole it from me and used it against me.  Her soul is trapped in here Crowley, I don’t know how, but I know she is, I can feel her in there, and I will do anything to keep her safe.”

Crowley held your gaze. “Why didn’t you come to me for help?”

You opened your mouth for a moment, pausing, before you decided that you really had no choice.  “Because I was getting tired of feeling used.  I wanted to feel as if I could still do something, wanted to make sure that I wasn’t too deeply involved in this.”

“In what?”  There was a question in his gaze, one you knew that you would have to answer.

“Being in love with you.” You said quietly.  “I was convinced that it was one way Crowley, that there…there was no way that you could feel the same.”

“Because I’m a demon?” He asked, completely unreadable.

“Because of your own past.” You said flatly.  “Because of your mother.  I convinced myself of it so I didn’t have to endure the heartbreak of hearing it from you myself.”  You swallowed as he took another drink, seeming unfazed by yours words.  “What you…admitted earlier took me so off guard, I had no idea how to respond to that because not once did I ever hope it was true.”

Crowley finished his drink with a sigh and stood, making you swallow as he carefully stepped towards you. “Why didn’t you just ask me about what I was doing?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t answer.”  You stood your ground.

“And why do you think that was Y/N?”  He asked stopping before you, still keeping his expression blank.

You swallowed, having not really thought about it before.  “I don’t know.”

He shuts his eyes for a moment, letting out a steadying breath.  “Yes you do.”

You stare at him and realised that he wasn’t going to move without an answer.  Thinking back about what happened before, when he was under the truth spell, and you realised that you had your answer.

“You wanted to protect me.” You said quietly.

Crowley purses his lips as he opens his eyes again but avoids your gaze.  “Yes.  Seeing as there are only two people in existence that could potentially put Lucifer back in his cage, I knew, that should things go wrong here, then you would be one of the first he came after.”

“Crowley,” You kept your voice even.  “What about the danger to you?”

“As I said, I have it in control.”  He said flatly.  “Now, it’s time for you to go love.”

Your mouth opened, a little shocked.  “What?”

“Leave.”  He growled, his gaze finally meeting yours, dark with too many emotions.  “You have said your piece, so it is time to go before I make you.”

“Make me?”  You echoed.  “Crowley, we aren’t-”

“We are done here.” He said and took another step closer so you could feel the heat radiating off his skin.  “You used a truth spell on me Y/N.  How else do you think I’d react?  That I’d be pleased that you had finally dragged the truth from me about I felt for you?  Something I have been so conflicted about these last few years, convinced that you were content on toying with me, thinking that you knew and didn’t care, that you were doing what my own mother had done-”

“Never.”  You breathed.  “I would never Crowley-”

“And I don’t even get to tell you on my own terms.”  He growls, his hands gripping tightly on your forearms.  “Instead, it all just comes up and I don’t have control, I do what I’ve been dying to do for years…”  His gaze travels to your lips for a second before returning to you.  “I never considered you like my mother.  That cold hearted bitch could never compare to anything like you.”  He pauses. “But this comes close, so you will leave. Me.  Be.”

Your heart hammered and you swallowed the whine in your throat as his grip momentarily tightened before gently slipping away as he stepped back.

You were quick to break your gaze away from his, unable to look him in the eye as you breathed deeply. “I am sorry Crowley.  For what it’s worth.”

Crowley stared at you for a moment longer before moving to the side of the room to pour himself another glass.  “I will find you if I need you.”

Swallowing thickly, you nod and head for the door, pausing at the handle.  “Be careful.  Please.”

Without waiting for a response, you left, closing the door quietly behind you, ducking your head to hide the tears as you hurried away.  Crowley stared at the whiskey in his glass, his knuckles white, his breathing steadily growing harder before the glass shattered in his hand.  He leant on the table, ignoring the blood, and stood there for a long time.

[seenashwrite]

The Midwife: Part Two

Status: Complete (Part 2 of 4) Word Count: 2.4K Category: Mini-series; Behind-the-scenes canon compliant; Mystery; Historical; Teamwork; On-the-hunt   Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Various O.C.s; References to familiar people/places Pairing(s): N/A Warnings: None Author’s Note: post-story Overall Summary: In the mid-1950s, a member of the New York City chapter of the Men of Letters is sent to the United Kingdom to assist with what appears to be another stack of cold case dead-ends, when he suddenly finds himself questioning one of his closest-held convictions.

         *~* The Midwife : Master Post *~*

. 

She was already sipping and though the sugar cubes in my teacup had long dissolved, I was still watching the dark orange liquid swirl around my spoon. The soft clink of her cup coming to rest on its saucer prompted me to stop. I cleared my throat to try and clear my head, setting the spoon aside, then raising my eyes.

"Try it,” she said. “Make sure you like it. We'll whip up a different kind if not."

"I'm sure it will be fine." I lifted my cup and drank to prove it to her, forced a small smile as I swallowed. I was a coffee person. I was not going to let my hostess know.

"I thought I'd begin with imparting information. You and your colleague have gotten many things..."

"Wrong?"

"Twisted."

"Ah."

"The professor is not elusive due to assistance by a coven. Not by what I'd call magic."

"What would you call it?"

She rotated the teacup slowly between her hands, eyes not leaving mine as she replied. “I would call it ingenuity.”

"And her daughter?"

"The girl is long dead. The completely ordinary girl. Your second incorrect assumption."

"But Sunder had been with angels, we---"

"I cannot speak to the professor's personal life. I can only say she was in the company of a Seraphim before she left."

"But how can you be certain that they weren't.... weren't involved for longer, that perhaps---"

The borderline glare cut me off well before the cold tone. “This is your concern - knowing if they were involved?” She uttered a short tsk, gave me a slow shake of the head as she once more lifted her teacup, but she paused to say one last thing before drinking.

“Humans find such fascinating ways to waste their time.”

EARLIER THAT DAY

There were only two stops for our assignment. We came away from Dartmoor with nothing but ruined suit pants and shoes. Burt was annoyingly optimistic the entire time, while I was beginning to feel something akin to despair.

“Chin up!"

“Shut up.”

Our conversations had definitely devolved.

The present locale was more of a straight shot back to London, so that was something positive, likely getting us back expediently once we were done. However, the area of our forthcoming search was larger than that at Dartmoor. Much larger. 

A handful of local teenagers there were easily paid off - and they sold themselves short, should've charged a higher fee - to get us going in the right direction. They'd been monkeying around out in the moors since they were children, to their parents' chagrin, I'm sure.

Here, in Sedgemoor, it was another story - we weren't going to be getting much assistance in terms of a guide. The locals were beyond wary to speak with us, and I was thankful more than ever for Burt's ability to slip into a full accent and conversational slang because I didn't know how much more of a wild goose chase through peaty sludge I could stand. Had I been alone, their standoffishness would've resulted in a reaction from me that could've cost me my career. Quagmire, while apt, didn't quite cover it.

A few willing - slightly drunken - souls at the inn's pub gave us options for ideal places to kick off our trek. We were smarter now, replacing our typical garb with sensible slacks and boots, though Burt had adopted a more safari look than my own, complete with khaki Bermuda shorts and a hat that would’ve made Hemingway proud. The bright white knee socks made me cringe.  

I'd taken on the Sherpa role and my own personal, upright yak was bearing the burden of a large backpack filled with our testing gear and water and emergency supplies. It was good for him, he needed the physical exercise. As for mental exercise, I dearly wished for a scaling-back; he'd already started in on a new notebook back in Dartmoor, jotting almost constantly now, page after page filled with thoughts I didn't have the heart to discourage.

My partner-in-chaos had somehow convinced himself Nephilim were hiding in the moors.

We'd gotten off the train and to the inn later than I'd have liked the night prior, and despite downing four pints of stout brew while Burt worked his charms, I'd tossed and turned the entirety of the few hours we'd had to rest. Burt talked almost the entire time on the train, talked the ears off the people in the pub, talked in his sleep. And he showed no signs of stopping.

“Think about it, Jacky - we don't know how angels communicate, or if they can recognize each other on sight, at least, down here,” Burt was saying as we slogged along, mid-afternoon now, having set out at just past the crack of dawn.

I kept quiet. Down here. As if heavenly residents were above us.

“Can they possess any ol' body, like demons? Do they monitor the ones on earth somehow, with some sort of---"

"Concentrate," I interrupted him, extending a hand out to help get him over one of the less death-defying portions of a rhyne.

Once he was across and distracted with catching his breath, I pulled out the compass to check how we were faring.

"Not much further," I told him. "Ready?"

"Because what I keep going back to, is - are they keeping track of Nephilim? Are they even aware of exactly how many there are?" Burt went on, not acknowledging me.

I sighed as I put the compass back in my pocket, then kept walking, my pace keeping me several yards in front of him.

"You'd think so, you'd think they'd want to keep those powers under control. Wouldn't you? Jack? Wouldn't you think?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. The headache coming on was long overdue. I was desperately trying to keep my tone in check. "You mean God? That's what you mean, specifically - God himself or angels acting upon his orders, right?"

"Right."

"Then Burt, if I were God or a mighty archangel, and my minions were procreating against my wishes, no - I would not be keeping some sort of school attendance or sporting roster. I would snap my fingers and blow the disobedient to bits, but not before I did the same with their offspring."

I was scanning the moderate upwards slope we were coming upon that was absolutely blanketed in thick fog, wondering how our small flashlights were supposed to help us navigate through it, when I noticed the absence of sucking and sloshing behind me. I stopped and turned. Burt was standing stock still - and sinking slightly - staring at me with a dropped jaw. Then he made the sign of the cross, who could guess why, causing me to roll my eyes and huff.

"They would be God's children as much as the angels," Burt said softly.

Now my jaw dropped. "Did we read the same Old Testament growing up? I know you're a good Catholic boy and I was raised as Protestant as it gets, but I'm pretty sure the both of us, and a slew of other faiths, are square with the idea that God is vengeful---"

"Can be vengeful---"

"---no, he IS vengeful, and he doesn't tolerate disobedience. Not from any of us, angels included, or are you also forgetting the Morning Star's boot in the ass?"

We stared at each other for more than a few heavy moments, the only sound a fierce, whipping spurt of wind.

"They would be considered abominations," I finally said. "Pick a sacred text. Hell, it's even what the Apocrypha says. It's what our experts say. Why are you acting like it's the first time you... Damn it, Burt!"

"Those translations are debated!"

"You know, you're right - maybe they are just giants. Hey, think the Moles consider this drowned mess a leftover from the mother of all floods? We'll play archaeologists, carry back some oak-sized bones on the plane? No, wait - maybe we should be looking for a beanstalk!"

Burt frowned. "What if they're just fallen? What if they just need... deserve... some grace?"

"Do you not understand the concept of 'abomination'?"

"That's not what Sunder concluded."

"And what the hell do you know about Sunder? What do I really know about Sunder? She destroyed most of her work when she ran off---"

"Now who's throwing out wild theories?"

"It's not wild, it was in the original case reports---"

"So now we're trusting the Moles when they're saying nothing beyond what we saw was recovered, Jack? The very ones that were trying to force her into joining up? Threatening her daughter if she didn't?"

I narrowed my eyes. "They're real pieces of work, you know I'd be the first to say it. But there was nothing in the things we've seen that showed they were anything other than a bunch of chafed asses after a woman - who, by the way, was ten times smarter than their best lore gurus - had the gall to reject their precious invitation."

Minutes passed as Burt seemed to be involved in an internal debate with himself regarding what he was about to say in response.

"Have something to share?" I snapped.

"I know they did it because I asked Father... and two of Mother's older brothers."

I was floored. That Burt had asked, and that they had apparently given him answers, was a hefty breach of our protocols. Mixing family and Men of Letters business - even in legacies, even regarding business long gone stale - was a serious violation. For more than just him.

Burt could have been banned, any other active members of his family banned, and any living retirees would face a lengthy investigation, the punishment for any guilt unearthed, well... I chose not to think on it long. Instead I turned away and kept trudging towards the slope.

"They weren't directly involved," Burt said, and I heard him trying to pick up his pace to catch up with me. "But they saw things, heard others talking. And I believe them."

"You believe rumors."

He was undeterred. And he spilled his guts, every drop of what his family had relayed. How the Moles assigned to recruit Sunder took advantage of the fact that she'd been widowed. How they wanted to make her believe they could have her daughter taken away. That the Men of Letters were influential enough to make authorities think she was more than just an academic, that her recent work showed she was insane, unfit to care for a child.

"So how is that anything other than a threat?"

I stopped and turned again, almost colliding with Burt. "Are you -- are you actually trying to say you think the Moles tried to make her run? Just so they could hunt her, force her to be a member? Is that what you're driving at?" A bit of a glare was coming to his eyes, but I didn't stop. "Are you trying to get your whole family banned? Get me banned by telling me all this? You've put me in a position of deciding whether or not to report you!"

Burt was close to fuming, I could tell by the veins coming out in his neck and the new beads of sweat creeping from under his hat that were not from exertion. "No, I don't think they knew she'd run!"

"Then what?!"

"I think they figured out what we did, that she was getting information from angels - at least an angel, who knows if there were more, and for how long. Something must've gone wrong, and badly wrong, for her to run. And, yeah, she could've contacted the Moles. Sunder was nothing if not logical, she knew they wanted her, and she’d know we'd be her best hope if she got on the wrong side of the heavenly host."

Another fit of harsh wind, and it seemed to drag the line of fog closer.

“‘We'?! She's been out there playing with fire all this time, and to what end, we don’t know, which is the point. Yeah, that is what we should be working on, not whatever this garbage goose chase is, but we're not," I said, my jaw so tight my words were slipping out through clenched teeth. “This is our mission. We’re off the Sunder case, Burt! I’ve accepted it! Now get it through your thick skull!”

“Y-you.... you've accepted it?" Burt scoffed. "Tell me another one, Jacky. And while you're at it, make me believe you don't want to find her so we can help her."

So there it was. Burt's passion had nothing to do with finding her to assess the danger, and everything to do with keeping her - and if we were right, possibly her Nephilim daughter - safe. I was very close to punching him right in that chubby mug of his.

"Stop acting like you know Sunder! Stop acting like we can get into her mind. We can't - she's gone completely 'round the bend, whatever she's doing, and it's gonna get her killed. She's not going to be a problem for long - that is my theory. Case closed."

Burt and I stared at each other for who knows how long before he took a deep breath and tried again.

"I don't claim to be in her head. But she’s a mother---"

"Mother to a---"

"---and you don't have any children, Jack. You can't understand. We're God's children, sure, but the angels were his first, and their creation was purposeful, they were designed, they were planned, and you can't plan to create a life and not have love be part of it."

My ire crumbled right along with his face. I wanted to kick myself. Burt's wife had suffered so many miscarriages, I'd truthfully lost count. They'd finally gotten past a worrying point with her current pregnancy and it had only added to his geniality. Not presently, though, as I'd just single-handedly managed to crack his sweet spirit into pieces.

"Burt, I didn't mean to---"

And suddenly his expression went back to fierce determination as he demanded the truth in one simple question:

"What did you do that made them take the Sunder case away?”

Author's note: This is doubling as an entry to  @klaineaholic 's Challenge Celebration for reaching 400 Followers, because she provided such an excellent set of prompts from "Steven Universe" that I couldn't resist. My prompt was the quote "Humans find such fascinating ways to waste their time.”

Feedback makes my ❤️ go boom

See Nash Write : Master  |  See Nash Write : Mobile 

🏷️🏷️Wanna be tagged? Hit me up! 🏷️🏷️

[sweetonmylove]

The “I’m Not Crying, You’re Crying” KiriBaku Angst w/A Happy Ending Fic Rec List

Have you ever just NEEDED a good cry? Yes? No? Well, here are some Angst w/Happy Ending Fics that might help you decide. Don't worry, your tears won't last long and your pillows make good absorption material anyway ;) As a thank you to my staggering and greatly appreciated 400+ followers and the authors who keep feeding me the sustenance that maintains me, I have 2 more lists after this to include a random fluff filled list and a AU list. Thank you for sharing in the KiriBaku loving hours with me!!

Boys Are Stupid *NR* ~ Deviance

I fucking cried over this one! Angst (like strong), Eventual Happy Ending, Bakusquad, Mature Bakugou, They're third years, Pining Bakugou

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17079770

Mixing Signals *E* ~ Shippeh (In Progress)

Future fic, Hurt/Comfort, Breaking Up/Making Up, Aged-Up

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041733

Drabbles/Oneshots Collection *T* ~ Dadzawa (In Progress)

3 chapters that are comprised of Break Up/Pain, The Make Up, and Fantasy! AU with fluff

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18993016

Heartworm *M* ~ Clairsail (Orphan_Account)

Aged-Up, They haven't seen eachother in two years, mild sex content, slow burn, angst w/a happy ending

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12391308

Little Words *M* ~ Nightmoonz

Soulmate AU, Hurt/Comfort, Getting together, Angst w/a Happy ending

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602462

Nothing But Fucking Red *NR* ~ ClementineKitten

Soulmate AU, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Fluff

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826893

Say Sorry *NR* ~ Deviance

One shot, Emotional hurt, Angst w/Happy ending, Apologies, Bakugou is bad at feelings

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170779

What Else Is There *T* ~ Deviance

Misunderstandings, Angst w/Happy Ending, Soft Bakugou, Crying Bakugou

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665613

Perfect Fit *T* ~ Deviance

Post-Break Up, Making Up, Angst w/Happy Ending, Miscommunicating, Lack of Communication

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17451641

Hide Your Bruises *NR* ~ Deviance

Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Bakusquad, Protective Kirishima, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18529450

My Best Friend's Hot *E* ~ Obsessed_As_A_Coping_Mechanism

Pining, Fluff, Light Dom/Sub, Loss of Virginity, Rollercoaster of Angst and Smut

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432880

I Even Like His Shitty Hair *E* ~ KirishimaUnbreakable

Bakusquad, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Breaking Up and Making Up, Top Kirishima, Bottom Bakugou

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263685

Really Fucking Stupid *M* ~Firesparks

Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst w/Happy Ending, Aged Up, Pro-Heroes, Mutual Pining, Jealous Bakugou

Bakugou avoids Kirishima due to jealousy over Kiri's boyfriend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263475

Nightmares *E* ~ Kgfanfics

Implied/Referenced Torture (Kamino), Aftermath of Torture, Recovery, Consensual Sex, Love Confessions, Angst w/Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090752

Someone Has To Know *NR* ~ TuesdayTerrible

Soulmate AU, Soulmate Quirk, Pining Kiri, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Kiri gets hit with a quirk that leads him to the truth he's always known, and the sacrifices he's willing to make

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305514

Earrings *M* ~ Madmaxima

Work in progress (7? Ch.), Body piercings, Explicit sexual content, Friends w/Benefits, Lack of Communication, It gets a helluva lot worse before it gets better, Not actually unrequited love, Insecurity, Freeform, Mutual Pining

When Kiri starts getting piercings in his 3rd year, it somehow leads to a very complicated relationship with his best friend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865704

Mr. Sunshine *G* ~Deviance for Maplefudge

Kiri needs a hug, Soft Bakugou, No Plot/Plotless, Angst and Hurt and Comfort, Cuddling and Snuggling

Kiri can't always be a ray of sunshine and Bakugou is there to comfort him and be gentle

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743670

You Are Invited! *NR* ~PurpleNyghtsWrites

Aged-Up, Pro-Heroes, Weddings, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Drinking, Drunk Bakugou in a bridesmaids dress

Bakugou is a pining idiot who has lost touch with the Bakusquad and misinterprets some very important stuff

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737607

@shippeh @maraudermonkey @kingdomheartstrash

[ao3feed-crowley]

Oh, What a Night

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2sEN0Gj

by LexieCarver

Pairing: Crowley x Reader Beta: @raspberryama Word Count: 2212 A/N: @klaineaholic Kiri’s 400 followers fic challenge with the prompt, “I like to think of it as more experienced than used. @seenashwrite Nash’s 200th follower celebration with the prompt, “Hundred people surveyed, number one answer’s still on the board! Name the douchebag who’s in charge!” @nickiwinchester97 and @rosie-winchester Nicki’s and Rose’s 300 Follower Impossible Prompt Challenge with the prompt, “It tastes like fall in a cup.”

Fluff, sexy but no smut. Sorry peeps. Enjoy.

Words: 2212, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Crowley (Supernatural), Reader

Relationships: Crowley (Supernatural)/You

Additional Tags: Fluff, Sexy but no smut

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2sEN0Gj