#maybe take this as a sign that you should be really nice to a mutual today - they're probably struggling bc this hobby while amazing?

[redhead-reporter]

hey. hey all you mutuals reblogging that 'thank you for putting up with me' meme. are we gonna have a PROBLEM here? do mj and i need to lock you all in a room and recite the thousands of reasons that y'all are WONDERFUL and IRREPLACEABLE and entirely too fucking hard on yourselves?

if the way you run your blog brings you JOY? if this is a hobby for you, not a jobby that stresses you out? then you are doing AMAZING, sweetie, and don't need to apologize for shit.

[ebodebo]

Tough As Nails—Lasso

thinking about cowboy!simon riley… | part three |

<- previous next ->

You would have never guessed your summer away from the confines of the city would have brought you into an entanglement with your father's ranchhand. It was unprecedented. Scandalous. But, so fucking hot, nonetheless.

"What're you thinkin' about so intently?" Your thoughts subsided as you glanced next to you to see a shirtless Simon beside you, curious eyes dull into your own. 

You really tried to sleep in your room because you didn't want to disrupt his sleep, but once the clock struck eleven and you were lying awake, making friends with the ceiling once again, you decided to give him a visit.

"You." You cheekily smile as you move to rest your head on his chest, his arms coming up, engulfing your waist. 

"You're trouble. You know that?" He murmured into your hair before kissing the top of your head.

"So, I've been told." You laugh out as you hear your phone ding from under your pillow. Then, ding again and again. You reach under the pillow and retrieve the device, only to see four texts from your friend.

Sam: I'm sitting right where you walk in.

Sam: Text when you're on the way.

Sam: Where are you?

Sam: Did you forget we're meeting at the bar?

Shit. You were supposed to meet your friend at the bar thirty minutes ago. You sprung out of Simon's bed as you frantically grab your boots and slip them on.

"Your boyfriend mad?" Simon sarcastically says, a smirk playing on his lips as you roll your eyes, though your annoyed front dissipates as a slight smirk plays on your lips too. 

"I think you're the one who's trouble." You suggest, walking over to him, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. 

"Is that right?" He gruffly mumbled into your lips, chasing yours as you pulled back, grabbing your hat off his side table.

"Nice hat." He laid back down, putting his arm behind his head, making you question if you wanted to leave.

You look away from his arms and into his eyes, as you raise a brow before speaking. "It's yours, Simon." 

"I'm aware." He cockily smiles as you turn to head out the door, a smile spreading across your face.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆𓃓⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You had been at the bar for maybe thirty minutes, and your friend, Sam, was already shit-faced, and you were tipsy at most. 

Sam and you had been friends for as long as you could remember. But, always just friends, platonic. So, the following words that shoot out of his mouth come as a shock to you.

"God, you look so fucking hot." He slurs out as you take a sip of your drink. You look up at him, eyes wide, as you take in what he said.

You should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he meant it as a friend simply uplifting another friend. 

"Thanks," you say, looking away from him to observe an old Budweiser sign daunting the wall, hoping to absolve some of the awkwardness you felt. 

"No, no. I mean it. You're so fucking hot." He says, leaning back in the booth a little. "I've always thought so." His voice is earnest as his confession rings in your head. 

You look back at him and gulp before continuing. "What do you mean?" He lets out a laugh. 

"Don't play dumb. You know I have feelings for you."

You take a big gulp of your drink, hoping the alcohol will help ease the uncomfortable turn this night took and the guilt that is starting to eat at you. Truthfully, you've never had any romantic feelings for Sam, and you thought the chaste feelings were mutual, but it seems you were very, very wrong. 

"Been too busy screwing that ranch hand to notice." He murmurs, almost low enough to where you didn't hear him, but you did. 

"Excuse me?" You say, narrowing your eyes.

He scoffs, leaning closer so his elbows rest on the table. "You heard me." He takes another sip of his beer before continuing. "Since you two started dating—" 

"We aren't—" You interrupt before he does the same.

"Don't." He pauses, throwing his hands up and clenching his jaw. "Don't start that bullshit. We both know you are." He hisses, grabbing his beer yet again, taking a swig.

"You wear his hat, for Christ's Sake." 

You stare at him, eyes wide. You are completely taken aback by his words, simultaneously shocked and hurt. You try to ease the tension, but he manages to get his words out first.

"Just didn't think you were so easy." 

His words felt like a gut punch. Here was your supposed best friend insinuating you were a slut. No way would you sit and listen to whatever else he had been sitting on, drunk or not.

"Talk to me when you aren't shit-faced." You eruptly stand and throw a fifty on the table before walking out the front door. 

A part of you is upset when you step out the door and turn to see that Sam didn't follow you out. Another part of you is grateful because as soon as you step out of those doors, tears start pouring out.

You sit on the curb on the street and swiftly pull out your phone, your finger hovering over the call icon and pressing the contact you know would always answer.

"Date go well, then?" Simon's gruff voice filled your ears, offering you comfort. 

"Simon." You try to hide the wobbliness of your voice, but to no avail.

"What's wrong?" His voice is filled with urgency, switching entirely from how he playfully answered.

"I—can you—can you come get me?" You stutter, wiping the hot tears streaming down your face.

"Where are you?" You can already hear the raddle of his keys and the swing of a door opening. 

"The bar on fifth." You supply, sniffling.

"I'll be there in ten." You don't even touch how the bar is a good thirty minutes from the ranch. You don't care; you need to get out of there.

Simon makes you stay on the phone until his truck pulls up, probably ten minutes or so. Then he steps out and walks over to you, sitting on the concrete ledge. 

"Let's get you home, okay?" You weakly nod as he helps you up into his truck.

You feel a little guilty leaving Sam behind drunk, but he's friends with the guy who owns the place, so he'll just stay in the basement part of the bar until he sleeps away the drunkenness.

The drive back to the property is silent but comfortable. You're glad Simon doesn't ask for details because you would feel embarrassed relaying what Sam said to you. But you had been thinking about one thing Sam said intently, repeating it over and over again. You don't mean for it to slip out, but it does.

"Do you think I'm easy?" Simon glances at you, looking out the window.

"What?" He questions.

"Like...you know." You trail off, hoping he'll fill in the rest.

"No. I don't know. Tell me what you mean." You fidget with your fingers, thinking of a less blunt way to express what you mean. But, you just let out what you mean, blunt and all.

"Slutty." You murmur, looking up at Simon. He swiftly turns his head towards you and pulls the car over to the side of the road, switching on his hazards. 

"Who told you this?" He demands, his hands gripping the steering wheel as they slowly turn white. 

"No one." You insist, bringing your hand up to pull one of his off the steering wheel. 

"No. Someone told you that, and I want to know who," he says as you take his hand off the wheel and encase it in your own.

You look up at him and close your eyes briefly before murmuring, Sam. Simon closes his eyes as he takes a long, deep breath. You stare up at him, nervously chewing on your bottom lip.

"Please don't say anything." You finally say, gripping his hand tighter.

"He called you a slut, and you don't want me to say anything?" He finally looked down at you to see your pleading eyes. He sighed and gripped your hand back.

"Fine." He sucked his teeth as he turned off the hazards and pulled back onto the road. 

It was silent as Simon drove the rest of the drive back to the ranch, but you spoke once he made it through the gate.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" You shyly ask. 

"Where do you think I was headed?" You look out the window to see you're going toward his house on the property.

"Oh, you're good." You smile, feeling a sense of joy for the first time since you stepped into that bar.

"You're even better."

a/n: kitten whiskers i finally got my lazy ass up to make part three ( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter pt 3

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read part 1, and part 2

Warnings: some arguing, some cursing

WC: 3.2k

A/N: hi, I think this is going to have 1 more part, maybe 2 if I end up with enough writing for it.

“Am I really that bad of a flirt that you thought all those conversations we had were strictly professional?”

“What?” Sounding like a stuck record you repeat yourself. You couldn’t believe the sentence you had just heard come from Jessie’s mouth.

“Do your other coworkers offer you their jacket? And stay late to talk with you?” She’s staring at you like you’re an idiot, like you should have known she had a crush on you. She’s acting as if she was walking around with a sign with it spelled out for you and you were in the wrong for not knowing.

You’re skeptical, there was no way she was actually interested in you. Your Mom was right, you didn’t have a career yet, you were so much younger than her, you were her physio, she was a professional athlete with her whole life sorted out. Maybe this was a test, maybe your Mom had sent her in here to see what you would do. Maybe she was joking with you, maybe she knew you had a crush and she was teasing you. Seeing if she could make a fool of you. You’re so lost in your own thoughts you lose track of time.

“I’m going to go. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, pretend I didn’t.” Jessie’s soft voice breaks your mental spiral. She pushes her chair back starting to stand up.

“No, wait.” You put out a hand to stop her. “Sorry, I just, it's a lot to process.” You’re not sure what to say next, she sits back down and you both sit there looking at each other.

“Why didn’t you just say something before?” The question comes out of your mouth as nearly a whisper.

“Because like you, I've also been told it’s unprofessional to date a teammate, let alone a staff member, my whole life.” She adds a small sigh, her breath moving some of the hairs that had fallen in front of her face out of the way. “Plus I couldn’t tell if you were feeling the same. You spent a lot of time with me but I couldn’t tell if you were just doing your job or if you were too nervous to tell me to shut my mouth and leave you alone.”

“I was, I do feel the same, it’s just, it’s complicated.” You sigh, you know you’re about to open yourself to the complexity of having mutual feelings, when you both know you shouldn’t. “It’s just, this is my job and you’re Jessie Fleming.” Your hands gesture up and down her body. You notice a small blush come across her face. “Plus, like you I figured this is your job, you were forced to spend time with me, how was I supposed to know it was by choice? I’m just a student trainer, so I thought why would you have any interest in me when you can have anyone.”

“Because, in the best way possible, you treat me like I’m not Jessie Fleming.” She puts air quotes up when she says her own name. “You just treat me like a regular person. You ask about my family, you ask about my aspirations, you ask about my favorite places to visit and where I want to go. Most people ask me about soccer and sure it’s nice but what’s even nicer is not feeling like I have to be a professional athlete all the time for someone to be interested in me.”

Not sure what to say, you stand up to throw out your coffee cup that you had essentially chugged in the past few minutes using sips of the drink to calm your nerves. Instead of returning to your seat you take a place leaning against the wall, off to the side of Jessie, looking down at her as she remains in her seat. You were too restless to sit back down.

You let out a sigh as you let your back hit the wall. Conflicted between the two sides of the situation. You could tell her you can’t see her, tell her it’s unprofessional, inappropriate. Or you could tell her you want to try this. You let your head fall back gently against the wall, you shut your eyes trying to get a clear thought through your head. Your hands are balled into tight fists at your side, both out of nerves and frustration, unsure of what to do.

When you lower your head back down and open your eyes you come face to face with Jessie. While your brain was screaming between your choices she had abandoned her chair to stand in front of you. You jump a bit, startled by her presence.

“Hi.” Her smile is infectious, she says hello as if she’s just greeting you, as if she hadn’t just confessed to having feelings for you.

“Hi.” It’s a breathless response to her but you’re at a loss for any other words. You do exactly what you know you shouldn’t, you subtly ask her to kiss you, breaking your eye contact to look down at her lips, your own tongue coming out to wet your lips. By the time you go to make eye contact with her again she’s already moving in toward you.

Her lips are on yours, your brain is short circuiting, her body is gently pressed to yours, your back against the wall of your office. The kiss was gentle, her lips softly melting into yours, it couldn't have been more perfect. You could taste her coffee on her lips, as she could likely taste yours. She smelled sweet, her hair, not pulled back like usual, softly brushed against your cheek as if bounced from her forward movement. Your hands found themselves placed on her hips where you could feel her shirt was tucked into her joggers. You couldn’t tell if the kiss lasted 2 seconds or 20 minutes, your concept of time completely thrown by her actions.

“Hey we need you upstairs-” the door opens, the voice of your Mom coming through as she comes to grab you for an impromptu meeting. She was expecting to see you at your desk finishing paperwork, or just on your phone. Not expecting to see the team captain pinning her daughter to the wall of the office.

Jessie pulls away out of surprise, turning toward the door, taking a couple of steps back from you so your bodies are no longer up against each other. You do the same, only you’re against the wall and unable to back up from her, you stumble slightly as you try to move, cursing yourself for not previously locking the door. If she hadn’t already seen the two of you, from the way you scattered from each other it was obvious what you both had previously been doing.

“Are you kidding me?” Your Mom shouts. She’s only looking at you, not acknowledging Jessie’s presence. You knew she wasn’t going to yell at Jessie, but you knew you were about to wish you had called in sick today.

“I’m going to go.” Jessie mutters under her breath before awkwardly rushing to grab her coffee off your desk and passing around your Mom to leave, she doesn’t look back as she turns the corner.

You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but your feet. You can feel the anger radiating off of your Mom.

“Sit down.” She instructs you, she’s talking through her teeth, pointing at your desk chair. You obey, keeping your head pointed at the floor. She stands across from you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You don’t know what to say or what to do besides sit unresponsive to her. Blinking rapidly you try to comprehend that Jessie had just kissed you, and also that your Mom had walked in seeing her kissing you.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.” Slowly lifting your eyes, your Mom is standing glaring, arms crossed, face red. “What the fuck are you doing? I just told you, you can’t be messing with her and you said there was nothing going on! Now I walk into her practically defiling you against the wall? So what, did you fucking lie to me before? You know how I feel about lying.”

“I didn’t lie before.” Lying was the one thing your Mom hated the most, you learned that as a kid. You didn’t lie to her, you didn’t lie to anyone, you were often honest to a fault. In this case it was the truth, or at least your truth, before it hadn’t crossed a completely unprofessional line, when your Mom had questioned you in the car, nothing had been going on. Now it had, you had kissed, that crossed the line into unprofessional.

“It’s one thing to have a little crush, you cannot be having sex in your work office.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” You couldn’t believe you had to be having this conversation with your Mom, you had hardly been able to wrap your brain around the fact that Jessie had feelings for you and that she had just kissed you. “It was just a kiss.”

“She had you against the wall. So help me god, if you fuck up this opportunity, I will be so pissed.” Her hands come down hard on your desk. You know that if Jessie or any other player was in the training room they’re hearing every word that she was screaming at you. “I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am, and I was able to get you this job, if you mess up, it’ll come back on me!”

“I’m not going to fuck up this opportunity. You are so fixated on Jessie and I that you ignore all the good work I do! You don’t acknowledge that I’ve been helpful, that I was able to get Jessie back to playing, I help out the team, but you’re so fucking focused on my personal life you don’t see it! Mark sees it! He likes my work, he acknowledges me. He actually appreciates me, you don’t!” Now you’re yelling back, adding to your list of unprofessional actions today. You know you shouldn’t be yelling at her, she was looking out for you.

“I see the work you do but I’m not going to congratulate you when you clean up, that’s your job. But yes I’m focused on your inappropriate work relationship. I don’t want to see you ruin your life because you want to kiss a pretty girl.”

“She’s not going to ruin my life Mom.”

“She can. She’s the captain of this team. You realize that's a huge deal right? Do you know what it’ll look like if it came out that she was sleeping with the student on the training staff? That’ll ruin your future and tarnish her reputation.”

“I’m a student but I’m an adult mom, it’s not like I’m a 17 year old student. I’m an adult! I can make my own decisions.”

“Yes you’re an adult but this is work! You don’t get to make any choice you want, there are rules and paperwork and protocols you have to go through to do what you’re doing. It’s not as easy as the two of you deciding to make out. There are rules to protect you and to protect her, you two need to respect that. I have half a brain to drag her back in here and give her the same talk, but I won’t. You’re lucky I’m not up in Mark's office telling him to reconsider the offer you’ll be getting to take you to Paris with the team. You cannot be seeing her while you work on this team.”

“Okay.” Agreeing to your Mom’s statement but also not wanting to. You didn’t want to have to ignore Jessie again. You wanted to sit by her, talk with her, share smiles across the room, and you definitely were interested in kissing her more. But you also knew she was right, it was unprofessional, at least while you were still working for the team as a temporary student, regardless of age. There were policies, it was only right that you, and Jessie both follow them and odds are the Captain of the team isn’t about to go marching into the HR office to declare that she just made out with you in your office.

“Just so you know, I didn’t lie before. I promise, that was the first time.” Hoping it’ll ease your Mom’s anger a bit you try and explain the situation.

“Now, we’re both going to be late, thanks for that. We have a quick meeting upstairs.” She ignores your statement, and turns to leave. You follow her out of the room, thankful to see no one was in the training room and hopefully no one else had heard your screaming match.

When you walk into the conference room it’s both a mix of team and staff. You can feel Jessie’s eyes on you and your Mom as you both walk in. Even though no one knew what had just happened in your office, you couldn’t help but feel like somehow everyone knew. You could feel your cheeks turning red, taking a quick glance in Jessie’s direction she gives you a sympathetic smile.

You’re not even sure what the meeting was all about, talks of Paris, talks of getting enough sleep, talks of staying in communication with each other, all go in one ear out the other. It’s like a fog has covered your head, you’re unable to grasp anything being said by the coaching staff, by the training staff, by the players. After a couple of hours the meeting is dismissed. Everyone begins to clear out of the room. You stay sitting, drawing circles onto your notepad, not a single note from the meeting written down. A couple of the players say goodbye to you on their way out of the room, you give them a quick acknowledgment and well wishes, Jessie leaves without saying anything to you.

Mark makes his way over to you, placing his hand on the top of your pen, stopping your mindless scribbling.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to help finish packing up but yes, I have a second.”

“I want you to come with the team to Paris. Is that something you’d be interested in? I understand it’s a large commitment, about two months of your time.”

“That would be incredible, I’d love the opportunity.” You’d get to travel, just like Jessie had said.

“That’s great, there’s some paperwork that’ll come with that, I’ll have the administration send it over for you to look at and sign. Since youlll be staying with us, I’d like you to continue your check-ins with Fleming. Keeping her up to date with the girls statuses as they have a few weeks away from camp. Is that something you can do?”

It takes everything in you to not immediately say yes, of course you wanted the excuse to talk to the girl but you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t be given the chance to have private conversations with her anymore.

“I can, I think it would maybe be beneficial to have someone more senior on the team involved though, just since I’ve never seen how things operate not in the camp setting.” Making the mature choice, you try to incorporate someone else into your chats to make them professional.

“That’s fine with me, I’ll check with some of the team and see who can help you out getting comfortable with that. We really appreciated your help at this camp, it was nice having you, a lot of the girls were appreciative of you too.”

“Thank you, Mark. I learned a lot. I’m looking forward to Paris.” You stand up and shake his hand before he heads out of the room. You grab your note pad tearing off the top page with scribbling across it and you toss it into the trash as you walk out of the conference room.

“Hey.” You hear and feel her as Jessie grabs your wrist. She had been waiting against the wall outside the door. Looking around nervously at who might see you two you shake your wrist from her grip.

She doesn’t even begin to talk before you start, “Jessie we can’t, what happened in my office cannot happen again.” You try and keep your voice low, not wanting to alert anyone around you.

“I know. I crossed a line, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry. I’m also really sorry your Mom saw and I’m really sorry for whatever happened after I walked out.”

“Just a lot of yelling.” You kick your left shoe with your right, feeling uncomfortable at the mix of tension and guilt sitting in the air between the two of you. “She was mad, especially after I told you what she had told me already.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, it’s on me. I’m the older person here, I’ve been around this team longer, I should know better. I can tell your Mom that, if that’ll help. I can tell her it was all me.”

“I’d maybe avoid her, if you can help it. She thinks you were trying to ‘defile’ me against the office wall. And naturally she isn’t too happy about walking in on that.” A small laugh escapes as you quote your Mom’s words back to Jessie. Now that the initial fear of your Mom’s wrath is gone you found slight humor in the situation.

“Oh no.” Jessie’s hand comes to cover her mouth and the blush on her cheeks spreads.

“Yeah. At least you’ll be able to avoid her for a couple weeks until preparation for Paris starts.” Trying to make light of the situation. You can see Jessie is still a little uneasy about it.

“I guess.”

A silence falls between the two of you. Both standing in the hallway looking at each other. Knowing you both wanted each other but also both knowing you couldn’t have each other.

“I should go, have some packing up to do.” You point in the direction of the stairs that lead to the training room.

“Okay, so are we friends?” She asks you. The question is so innocent but it tugs at your heartstrings. You want to be able to tell her you’re friends but you can’t.

“I mean, maybe just coworkers for now? We can figure out if friendship is an option later. Once this all settles.”

“Right, that’s smart. So I’ll see you at the next camp then?” You can tell she looks a bit upset at your answer, but she accepts it.

“See you then Jessie.” You turn from her, it felt sad leaving her, knowing it would be weeks before you saw her in person again.

“Bye.” You hear her shout after you as you turn to go down the staircase. Hearing her call after you makes a smile break across your face. You knew you’d see her soon but you knew it wouldn’t feel nearly soon enough.

[silverskyeline]

'number one fan'

series (part 1) - rockstar logan meets popstar wade backstage. what could go wrong? (1.1k words) pairing - logan howlett x wade wilson tags - first meeting, rockstar!logan x popstar!wade, enemies to lovers, swearing, logan feels drawn to wade, alcohol mention, kind of cute, wade is his number one fan, band au, wade still wears his deadpool mask, wade uses the name 'deadpool' as a stage name.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

logan had never heard of their support act, but by the name alone he wasn't particularly interested. what kind of a name is 'deadpool' anyway? they probably play some regurgitated heavily sampled pop trash, the same sort of crap they loop on the radio that makes his ears bleed. or maybe metal, but not the good kind.

'deadpool'. . . what a load of shit.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it's not until logan finds himself backstage that he lands eyes on him, the front runner.

well, it's less that it was a casual encounter, more that wade makes his presence known in the only way he knows how.

"OH. MY. GOD." he squeals, balling his fists and shaking them as he squirms in front of the taller man, "it's you." he's adorned in merch, a shirt with logans face on it, badges on that same shirt, plus some stickers that were very obviously homemade. logan winces at the sight, but his eyes are more preoccupied with that mask he's wearing. red and black. what was he supposed to be, was this a sex thing?

there's silence, but only for a few moments, wade quickly fills it.

"can you sign my boobs?" he tilts his head, trying to meet logans gaze, pointing to his flat chest, "pretty please? i swear i won't sell it on ebay - or, well, i mean i guess there's probably people on ebay looking to buy human skin but-"

"don't do autographs," logan grumbles, thinning his eyes as he shakes his head. he pushes roughly past him, eyes glancing around for the rest of the band. why'd he always get dumped with the crazy fans?

"riiiight, gotta keep the fans at a distance, huh? smart, smaaart. . . i promise i'm not the kind of fangirl to hide in your basement. if i was i wouldn't have just told you that," he rambles on, following closely behind logan like a lost puppy, "the attic though? now that's-"

logan stops, wade walks directly into his toned back, stumbling backwards like a connecting bumper car.

taking a nice, deep, calming breath that does nothing to soothe the storm brewing within him, logan turns to face him once more.

"you know, you're taller than your wiki says. you should really do something about that," wade sighs, hands on his hips "unless you're the one that edited it. anyone can edit it, by the way - wikipedia, total garbage fire. i once had a back-and-forth fight with a mod while i tried to change the 50 states of america to just say: 'canada'. rest assured! i am banned for life."

a beat, and logans eye twitches. "do you ever shut the fuck up?" he asks with a look of sheer confusion on his face, he's not even sure what half of those words that spill from his mask-covered mouth even mean. and though he can't see through the material, he can tell the dumbass in front of him is smiling.

"no, not really," he shrugs nonchalantly, "it's one of my charms, that's what my wiki says. totally truthful. 100% accurate. 101% filled with grammatical errors."

logan groans and shakes his head in disbelief, he mutters something along the lines of 'this fuckin' guy' as he walks towards his dressing room. he had to be a joke, right? there's no way this guy was a serious musician, he could hardly hold a conversation never mind an instrument. who the fuck booked him?

"w-wait, where ya' goin?" wade calls out meekly, waving dramatically like a wife who's waving off her husband at war, "am i seriously not gonna get an autograph?"

slamming the door to his dressing room, logan disappears inside leaving wade to shrink in disappointment.

". . .aw man, wait 'till the mutuals find out i met the logan," he smirks, causing his mask to wrinkle as he searches desperately for his phone in one of his many pockets.

-

logan pays no attention throughout the support act, in fact, he remains holed up in his dressing room nursing a bottle of whisky. it was a pre-show ritual of his, and he wasn't going to give it up now. not even when his mind lingered to the little masked creature who annoyed the fuck out of him despite only being in his presence for a few minutes.

what? why the fuck was he even thinkin' about him?

whatever, logan thought, couldn't let people like that get inside your head. you give them too much room and they take root there like a bad smell, and logan had enough anger issues as is. he did not need this guy to make it worse.

so when he takes to the stage, his mind is firmly clear. well, as clear as it can be. logan often finds his mind to be slightly murky, waves never calm or gentle, a storm he couldn't quite tame. but music alleviated the heaviness of his thoughts, grounded him, finding peace in the melody, in the rough texture of the strings, the harsh beat of the bass that hits you in the chest like a bullet.

his eyes open, settling upon the audience.

until one audience member lets out a particularly loud shriek.

one that sounds all too familiar.

logans eyes immeditely hone in on the same guy from earlier. he's cheering in the front row, louder than everyone else. his body is pressed against the barrier as he waves a crudely written cardboard sign in crayon that says 'marry me logie' with a large red heart at the side.

maybe it's something in his pure enthusiasm, or the balls he must have to not feel an ounce of embarrassment, or maybe the fact that he's almost sort of endearing in a pathetic kind of way. but logan finds himself. . . smiling? no, it's not a full smile. that's rare, reserved for real special occasions. but it's close.

he's always found himself drawn to strays, because they often remind him of himself - lost, looking for a home, looking for somewhere to belong. and in that moment, logan could see something reflected in that stupid fucking weird mask of his - a craving for connection.

fuck.

in that moment, logan knew that this idiot had already taken root in his mind and was trying to make a home there. he couldn't let this happen, he wouldn't let this happen. he was a stranger, a deranged one at that.

no, this was not happening.

logan steals a glance in his direction once more.

except it was.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 5 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, mutual pining, SLOW BURN

words: 6.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 5 ► oh, and, my love, did i mistake you for a sign from god? or are you really here to cast me off?

Your train reached Paris at almost exactly eight o’clock in the evening and the rain was pouring. The wedding reception had started at seven, but Jungkook didn’t mind being late, even though the longer he lingered with you on the streets, the more the rain ruined your outfits, and your hair, and your make-up—but not your mood.

“I prefer being late,” he said when the two of you caught a cab from Gare du Nord to the wedding venue in the 8th arrondissement. “Less small talk if you show up when everyone’s already said hello to everyone.”

“I see your point,” you said, sliding over the backseat as Jungkook climbed in after you. “But it’s still rude to be late. Especially to a wedding. Especially when you weren’t even going to come to said wedding at all.”

He gave the driver the address and turned to you, resuming the conversation, because he had a very important point to make, “my grandma used to say that as long as I’m not late to my own wedding, I’m fine.”

You snorted at this, but your expression wasn’t mocking. You remembered his grandmother with nothing but love. Thoughtfully, you replied, “she’s a wise woman.”

“She is, yeah,” he agreed. “She always wanted to go to Paris, by the way. Remind me to call her.”

“That’s nice,” you commented, turning to the window as the streets of Paris passed outside, all in a blur of streetlights, reflected in puddles of rain on the pavement. “I think I’ve always wanted to come here as well.”

This surprised him and he paused in the middle of reaching for his phone. He’d already forgotten what he was going to check on it as he looked back at you again. When he spoke, there were minor notes of offence in his voice.

“You did?” he asked. “You never told me.”

“Yeah,” you said, not meeting his eye—you were far too captivated by the rainy streets outside the car window. They were nothing magical on their own, you supposed, but there was something about them tonight in particular. “I don’t know. It’s not my dream destination, but it’s Paris. Can you say you’ve travelled if you’ve never been here?”

Jungkook thought about it. “Well… I mean—there are other cities, too. Isn’t Paris a bit overrated?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged, still glued to the window. “Probably. I’ve still wanted to see it for myself, though.”

He could tell, as he leaned forward until he was able to see the neon lights from the signs outside reflected in your eyes. The taxi ride should have taken about twenty minutes, but now Jungkook wondered if he’d manage to ask the driver to take a longer route without you finding out.

“In that case,” he said finally, “I’m glad I brought you here.”

You turned to give him a look, but were startled by his close proximity. You nearly bumped your cheek into his when you craned your neck.

Realising—from your widening eyes—that he’d entered far into your comfort zone, he scooted back in his seat. But your heart was already giving orders for explosions to go off in various parts of your body.

You cleared your throat and looked back out the window—not because of the view this time, but because it felt safer this way.

“We would have come here eventually anyway,” you said. “You’re performing at Cabaret Sauvage in less than a month.”

Disappointed by your purposefully emotionless voice and words that took all credit away from him, Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Sure. But,” he emphasized, “with me, you didn’t have to wait a month.”

“Okay,” you settled—partially. “Thank you for turning my whole schedule upside down.”

He smirked at the sarcasm. “Oh, anytime.”

In an attempt to conceal your own smile, you returned your attention to the billboards and bright window displays outside.

“So, if not Paris,” Jungkook started again after a minute, “what is your dream destination?”

He wasn’t expecting your reaction to his question to be so severe: you seemed to lean towards the window—away from him—clench your jaw, and focus even harder on the view outside – as if you were trying to transport yourself there, instead of staying here with him.

“Amsterdam, I think,” you replied eventually, in a voice so reluctant and quiet that he wouldn’t have heard you if he wasn’t literally right next to you.

“Really?” he asked. “I’m assuming it’s not because of weed?”

Smiling somewhat, you shook your head. And then did not elaborate more.

“Anne Frank?” he tried again.

“Maybe,” you said. “But also because of simple things. Not necessarily significant in history.”

Jungkook found himself having to push as if he was trying to find out what your deepest fear was, since you resisted fully opening up. But this was something that, honestly, seemed quite superficial to him, so he was rightfully perplexed.

Still, he asked, “such as?”

You sighed, not having expected—let alone, planned—this exchange to progress that much.  

This felt like the start of a long conversation—capital C. Getting to know each other by participating in obligatory small talk that would soon lead to deep analyses of each other’s darker sides of the subconsciousness.

And the last time you and Jungkook had had a proper conversation about something that was not related to your jobs in the slightest, was months before you broke up.

So, it wasn’t that Jungkook was being invasive with his questions right now. It’s that he was personal. And he’d stopped caring about being personal with you long before your relationship ended.

“Like riding bikes in Canal District,” you answered finally—he was glad to hear it, although he did not like the way you sighed as you spoke. As if this conversation was a hassle. Fortunately for his overthinking, you continued, “I’ve wanted to do that ever since my uncle went on a business trip to Amsterdam when I was seven. He’d brought me so many postcards, I could easily imagine myself having been there with him.”

Jungkook stayed quiet. He remembered your uncle—your mother’s brother. He was a surprisingly caring man, even if he looked like he ran the mob.

And Jungkook remembered the postcards, too—you had them pinned to the bulletin board above your desk in your dorm room back in university. He wondered, briefly, why you’d never mentioned the story behind the postcards before. He’d always assumed you just liked the pretty views on them.

Sitting next to you in the taxi, he counted something under his breath.

“We’re going to have,” he started, then calculated again just in case, “three days off in Amsterdam.”

“I know,” you said, sitting up straight in your seat as the taxi took a turn past Palais Garnier. “Believe it or not, I didn’t plan it like that.”

“Let’s say I believe you,” he teased. “Should we go bike riding in Amsterdam?”

You turned away from the window to look at him, surprise evident in your lifted eyebrows. “Us, two?”

He nodded. “Us, two.”

“On your day off?”

“On my day off.”

Not hiding your skepticism, you licked your lips and told him, “Jungkook, you spend your free days getting wasted with your friends.”

Although that was a fair statement – he had to admit that much – he still tried to defend himself, “that—that’s not something I have to do every single time.”

“It’s not?” you asked. “Then why do you do it?”

“Because I usually have nothing better to do,” he replied. His honesty was amplified by his body language: eyes cast low, hands intertwined on his lap.

He hoped you wouldn’t misunderstand—he wasn’t trying to imply that he preferred his friends to you. Or to anyone else, for that matter. Truly, if you would have called, he would have abandoned everyone else in a heartbeat. But he was more comfortable keeping that to himself.

“And riding bikes sounds better than getting drunk?” you asked instead, the question laced with persistent disbelief.

“Riding bikes in Amsterdam,” he corrected, choosing to avoid the mention of you doing it together, “sounds better.”

“Okay,” you said, still not convinced. “You talk now, but let’s see if you change your mind when we’re back on the road.”

“I won’t,” he insisted with newfound confidence. Despite his assuring tone, his gaze still scanned the mat on the floor of the taxi. “I promise I’ll take you bike-riding in Amsterdam.”

Even more surprised now, you waited until he lifted his eyes to meet yours before you repeated, “you promise?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug—but the nonchalance was pretend. His hands were tightly pressed into each other on his lap, because otherwise he would have been reaching for you. “Cross my heart. I’ll take you bike-riding if it kills me.”

The exaggeration finally got you to laugh. “Why would it kill you?”

Your laugh had broken the spell. He felt himself relax as though something heavy had been lifted off of him, and with you laughing next to him, he was as light as the air around you. Nothing could crush him.

“You never know with bikes,” he replied, smiling, too. “I’m just saying, I’ll make it happen for you.”

After a detour down the Champs-Elysées under the tiny compact umbrella that you’d packed (it was still so beautiful with all the lights around—even more so in the rain), you finally arrived at the wedding, which was already in full swing.

It took the newlyweds a good fifteen minutes to notice you and Jungkook, but you wouldn’t have blamed them if they didn’t approach you at all.

As soon as they did, however, you immediately tried to apologise for being late—both, tonight and in general, considering that the two of you were only added to the guest list for the wedding a few days ago. But Kihyun and Chloé cut you off, both joking that they were just glad you made it here, because they had thought you’d gotten lost in Paris.

“I sort of wish,” Jungkook replied, casting a meaningful glance your way—you pretended not to see it. “But no time to get lost when we have an important wedding to get to.”

Your friends smiled at this, accepted your congratulations, and, instead of returning to the rest of their guests, actually stayed to catch up with you—as if this wasn’t their wedding. As if you were back in university, eating ice cream on the quad benches with all of your mutual friends, and fighting off the campus pigeons.

You had to admit, seeing Kihyun and Chloé again was very nice. You’d always considered them Jungkook’s friends more than your own—all three of them had graduated from the same major, even though you had quickly become Chloé’s class-skipping partner—but they were the one pair of his friends that you’d always approved of and, eventually, befriended, too.

Seeing them newly married, however—while you could still remember that one almost tragic double-date that you’d tried to go on, where Jungkook and Kihyun nearly broke their necks, racing on Vespas—now that felt overwhelming.

“You’re right on time, by the way,” Chloé said to you while the two boys discussed Rated Riot’s upcoming tour dates, seemingly attempting to make plans to meet up again, after the pair would return from their honeymoon. “I was just about to toss the bouquet.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Come on,” she grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from Jungkook.

You glanced back at him for help, but he only grinned at you, like he’d done so many times before, when you’d go to parties together and he’d force you out of your comfort zone, because he knew you’d thank him for this later.

You weren’t sure if you’d be grateful for it this particular time, though, as you found yourself in a crowd of bridesmaids and very drunk guests within fifteen minutes of arriving at this wedding.

You looked around and, with a sudden start, you recalled the reason why you were here in the first place.

Bending your neck to take in the people around you, you tried to guess which person in this wedding, could have been the hypothetical ex that you still didn’t think really existed.

There was no one who could have been it.

You’ve met most of the people here before and none of them looked particularly eager to talk to Jungkook or to avoid him. Everyone was indifferent—except you, as you kept looking back at him to find him already watching you every time—and that was the final confirmation.

There really was no ex.

You had no idea why he’d brought you here.

Distracted by your thoughts, you chose to just stand in the middle of the crowd. As you tried to avoid having your feet stepped on, you brought a hand through your hair. You liked crowds at concerts. You didn’t like crowds of very determined wedding guests.

Never having caught a drumstick or a single guitar pick at any of the concerts you’d gone to in your whole life, you felt rather stupid standing there. And the significance of catching the bride’s bouquet was lost on you, too—you’d never believed in the prediction that whoever caught it would be next to walk down the aisle: your mum had told you she’d caught it three separate times, and she had barely been married once.

You heard Chloé count down backwards from three and you extended your hands above your head; more as a protective instinct than anything else—to avoid getting smacked on the head.

By some harrowing chance, almost as soon as Chloé’s countdown finished, you felt the stems of flowers against your palm and clutched at them, reflexively. You heard claps and excited cheers around you before you registered that you’d caught the bouquet.

Lowering the classic, white rose combination, tied with a neat, pale bow, you swallowed and looked around, unable to conceal your overwhelming discomfort as you listened to earnest applause around you.

This felt embarrassing more than anything else. Irrationally so, of course, but embarrassing, nonetheless: like walking into an empty restaurant and interrupting the conversation of the staff. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on you, and there were drunken shrieks of elation somewhere in the room.

You realised as you held the flowers awkwardly—like it was a bomb meant to be defused—that this was why you preferred to work backstage.

“I’m so glad it was you!” you heard Chloé exclaim. You turned to see her clapping her hands as she made her way towards you.

A few women you’d never met hugged you as if you were going to your own wedding as soon as this one was over.

You were frozen with an uncomfortable, twitching smile on your face and only sobered up somewhat when Chloé reached you. She was laughing as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders—in her defence, she tried to fight her amusement, but you looked completely anguished, nearly grief-stricken. It was ridiculously unfitting, and, at the same time, so completely in character for you.

“I’m not entirely sure how this works,” you told her. “Are you certain I’m not supposed to toss it, too? Sort of like a relay race? I saw one of your younger cousins who looked very excited to catch the bouquet, but she had an obvious height disadvantage.”

Chloé clutched you to herself tighter in a comforting manner.

“No, love,” she said brightly. “My cousins are twelve and thirteen, they both can wait for their turn. And I’ll see you at your wedding. Hopefully sooner rather than later? It’s been too long since we’ve last chatted.”

“It has been,” you agreed, “but if we’re only meeting at weddings, then I’m afraid this might be the last time we see each other.”

Laughing again, she rubbed a soothing hand on your back and assured you, “the bouquet can mean whatever you want it to mean. I’m just glad you’re here tonight. And I’m sure Jungkook is, too.”

With another soft smile, she nudged you in his direction and walked away to join her husband. Before you could begin pondering what she’d meant by that, your eyes caught sight of Jungkook, who was still watching you—in a relentless way. Like he hadn’t looked away from you once since you left his side.

You felt almost awkward as you approached him—all of your steps leaden under his watchful eye—but as soon as you were close enough, he grinned and said, “you look like you survived an alien abduction.”

And everything was okay again. For the time being, at least.

About an hour later, you and Jungkook had settled by a cocktail table at the back of the room.

The bride’s bouquet rested between you as you sipped champagne and took everything in: all the couples dancing around you, the kids kicking the balloons, Kihyun and Chloé being unable to stop smiling at each other as he twirled her around to the gentle melody of the wedding band playing Biffy Clyro’s “Many of Horror”.

“I still believe,” rang through the venue as the song went on, “it’s you and me ‘till the end of time.”

You nodded along to the rhythm, tapping your fingers against the table. You’d stopped resisting after your first glass of champagne and allowed the familiar melody to take you back to the days when you and Jungkook passionately screamed the lyrics of this song at each other in your dorm room.

The two of you dancing with each other was a far more violent affair than Kihyun and Chloé’s smooth swaying: your twirling involved a lot more kicking, stepping on toes, and tears of laughter as you eventually admitted your absolute incompetence when it came to dancing. Jungkook, on the other hand, seemed very skilled at it—but then, when compared to you, probably even a well-trained rabbit could have danced better.

You smiled fondly at the memory, happy that the bubbles you drank and the long trip you’d taken today made you feel just dizzy enough to look back at the old days without wishing you were there now.

You were glad to be where you were.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was on his third glass. He kept glancing at the bouquet on the table with immense discomfort as he painfully remembered Sid’s words on their first night in Prague: “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

What if Sid was right, then what would he do? Would he get up on stage and perform a fucking love song for you and your new husband? An angsty, yearning love song with a powerful guitar riff—like the ones you liked and the ones he kept writing; the lyrics dripping with all the sentiments that would mean nothing to him, while you married someone else.

I still believe it’s you and me ‘till the end of time

He couldn’t do it. He’d never do it. He’d rather—

“Jungkook,” you said suddenly, your voice catching him off-guard.

“Hmm?” he looked at you, an almost alarmed expression on his face. The descent from deep inside of his mind and back to reality was a painful one.

“I have a question,” you said.

He finished his drink and put the empty flute down on the table. “Alright.”

“There’s no ex,” you said, deciding it was finally time to clear this up, “is there?”

After almost two hours at the wedding—where he hadn’t mentioned his ex once—both of you already knew the answer to this question. But he still graced you with a formal response, because he knew he owed you an explanation.

“No,” he said. “There’s not.”

You nodded, your expression the same as before.

He was relieved. He’d expected a drink in his face.

“So, tell me then,” you continued. “Why did you need me to come with you to this wedding?”

For the first second after you asked this, he thought he could have just admitted it. There was no condition in the bet about revealing the truth to you, after all. And it’s only a bet—it’s nothing significant.

But you were standing in front of him in your dress, the leather jacket that he’d gotten you hanging on your shoulders. You were looking at him with tired, tipsy eyes. And you were smiling—but still trying very hard not to—as you sipped your champagne.

There was a sense of future in the air.

Your future, together.

And the realisation that the bet was significant, despite his efforts to convince himself otherwise, had finally kicked in—he was afraid he wouldn’t just get a drink thrown in his face if he told you. He was afraid he’d lose this future.

“I, uh… I just didn’t want to be here by myself,” he ended up saying. This was, technically, not a lie, either. “I always go to these things alone.”

“Why go at all?” you asked then. “You were pretty definitive when you RSVP’d “no” months ago. I was the one who emailed them both of our responses.”

“Well,” he said, looking around at the waiters, passing out drinks, as he tried to buy time. “I don’t know. I feel different now that I’m in Europe. So close to Paris. I guess I changed my mind.”

As you’ve learned in the past few days, that was his excuse for everything.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, taking a sip from your glass. “Humour me about something else, would you?”

Happy that the waiter was finally close enough for him to reach, Jungkook grabbed another champagne flute from his tray and then looked at you again. “What is it?”

“Why would Sid tell me you were dating someone,” you began, “and then warn me not to let you go to this wedding?”

What a perfectly logical question. Truly, he couldn’t see how the question could have been more perfect.

It was so perfect, in fact, that you could engrave it on Sid’s tombstone after Jungkook killed him.

“You know what? I actually have no idea,” he said and then threw his head back to down the champagne in one big gulp.

He kept the liquid in his mouth for a second—prolonging the time he didn’t have to speak to you, all while you watched him suspiciously—and then swallowed, finally.

“Really,” he added in response to your questioning look. “He’s an enigma.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to describe him.”

He nodded, eager to cement the point he was making. Additionally, he suggested, “maybe he was just jealous.”

You squinted your eyes at him, trying to find the causal relationship between Sid lying to you and Sid being jealous.

You tried to guess, “jealous of—of not going to Paris with you?”

“Of me going with you,” he said.

You picked up your champagne glass again—you weren’t drunk enough to have this conversation. “What?”

He shrugged. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

Your scoff was almost reflexive, and you were very glad that you hadn’t taken a sip before he had said this. You’ve heard plenty of unexpected things in the span of these past few days; all kinds of manipulations and weak cop-outs – but this one was, by far, the most ridiculous one.

“Maybe he has a crush on you,” you countered, clearly considering this statement to be an accusation more than a compliment.

He snickered at this. “Fair enough. Maybe he does.”

Swallowing, you put your near-empty glass down on the table and gave him a long look.

“So, he just did that to spread chaos?” you asked. “No other reason?”

Jungkook shrugged again. “Nothing else I can come up with.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said calmly and watched him freeze, startled by the bluntness of your words. First, you finished your champagne, then your sentence, “but I’m willing to drop it if this is nothing more than Sid’s game. Tell him to never speak to me again, and let’s leave this at that.”

Jungkook was relieved, and, at the same time, scared to feel relieved. He felt it necessary to say, “I’m sorry Sid did that.”

“Don’t apologise for him.”

“I’m not. The apology is from me,” he said. “I should have made sure he wouldn’t bother you, let alone lie to you—”

“I don’t care why Sid lied to me,” you cut him off. “I care why you did. Why you went along with it.”

He knew he should have seen your question coming, but he chose to pretend he could talk around this topic instead—and that’s why your words knocked all breath out of him.

It was simple: he’d played along with Sid’s lie, because he thought it’d help him convince you to come to Paris with him faster; he’d lied to you to win the bet.

But he hadn’t lied to you when he said he didn’t want to come to this wedding alone. He wanted to come here with you. The bet seemed more like an excuse now—a distraction from his anxiety that he equipped as a pretence to ask you out.

He was painfully aware of this now: he’d always wanted to ask you out again; just one more time. One last first date of your lives.

He realised this, and there was no way he could pretend otherwise, not when his mouth dried up every time he looked at you.

And yet, that seemed even more difficult to admit to you.

Inhaling, he said, “I thought Sid’s lie would get you to come with me.”

That did not feel much like an explanation.

“You could have said that Sid lied and just told me that you changed your mind about going to the wedding,” you said, waving your empty flute around. “You’re allowed to go where you want to. You’re an adult.”

“Well—”

“To a certain extent,” you added, “because, of course, you have your reputation to consider. Yours and the band’s, too, actually.”

“So, you would have just let me leave the tour?” he questioned, doubtful and, honestly, disappointed. Asking for your permission to do something felt childish, but it also felt like you cared. And he really needed you to care.

You remembered his threat about bringing his friends with him if you wouldn’t go, and asked, “would you have gone to Paris alone?”

He looked down. Then, he told you the full truth, “I wouldn’t have come here at all, if you hadn’t agreed to come with me.”

“But I said no,” you said, still trying to make sense of this. “I didn’t want to go. You kept pushing.”

“I really wanted us to go together. That’s why—you know.” He swallowed. “That’s why Sid’s lie seemed so convenient.”

“Why did it matter that we went together?” you asked one more time. “The real reason.”

He didn’t reply right away, because he was too tipsy for this. It was only champagne, he could have easily recited the alphabet backwards if he was asked to. But it was getting difficult to keep up with what he was telling you.

He didn’t want to lie, not anymore, so he tried to only tell you the truth and keep quiet about the things he didn’t want you to know about: like the bet. And, of course, the fact that he had, apparently, been in love with you for ages. This particular realisation had surprised him on the train earlier, and he was the one with the feelings. He couldn’t even imagine how much it would probably shock you if he told you.

You waited, at first; assuming that he needed a moment to gather the courage to explain. But a minute later, your patience ran out.

So, you tried to answer for him—offering an option that wouldn’t be satisfactory enough, but it would be comfortable for you to believe, “just because they’re our friends?”

“Yeah. Sure,” he said, but it sounded like he was just agreeing, because he could tell that this was what you wanted him to say. “We’d known Kihyun and Chloé for so long. So it’s for, um—for old times’ sake, I guess.”

You needed a minute to arrange everything in order in your mind. Everything Jungkook had said seemed convincing enough if you closed your eyes, but it still felt like a half-truth at best.

You knew there had to be a different reason why Sid didn’t want Jungkook to go to Paris—or, perhaps, why he didn’t want you to come with Jungkook.

Not to mention, Jungkook could have convinced you to come to the wedding much faster if he’d told you the truth instead of going along with the story about his “ex”. Of course, that’s assuming that he really did only want to come here to witness your friends get married like he’d said.

But you wanted to believe that what he’d told you tonight was true, because this way, you wouldn’t have to ask any more questions or overthink. And, truthfully, a part of you was afraid to ruin this—whatever this pleasant hum that had gathered around the two of you on the train to Paris was—by interrogating Jungkook further.

Not to mention, you’d outgrown Sid’s silly games and simply wanted peace.

Even though you didn’t speak, Jungkook seemed to read the thoughts in your mind as he chewed on his bottom lip and said again, “I’m sorry.”

You blinked, registering the discomfort on his face. “What for?”

“For the lying and the—well, everything,” he said with a resigned sigh.  “I realise this was a very backwards way to convince you to come here with me.”

“It was. And thank you for owning up to it,” you said. “But next time you try to do something weird, do try to leave me out of it, would you?”

He grinned at this—he couldn’t help it. “Define weird.”

You were smiling, even though you rolled your eyes in response.

“Lying,” you said then. His smile faltered. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but don’t lie to me.”

Solemn now, he nodded. He realised that this gesture alone wasn’t convincing enough and redeemed it by clearing his throat and saying very decidedly, “I promise I’ll make sure Sid doesn’t bother you again.”

“Good,” you said. “Please do.”

“Thank you for coming here with me,” he added. “Despite everything.”

You were about to retort with a dry “you’re welcome”, but decided to take a different route and make him work a little bit. It only seemed fair.

“I don’t think a simple ‘thank you’ will suffice,” you said slyly. He cocked an eyebrow, not having expected to hear the playfulness in your voice. “This was a huge favour, after all. I could have been sleeping on the tour bus right now.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun,” he countered. “I saw the look in your eyes on the cab ride to the wedding.”

“Well, I had to adjust,” you defended. “Can’t exactly sulk the entire time, I’m not a toddler. Unlike some people.”

You turned away as you said this, smirking, while he scoffed, indignant. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

He was instinctively opening his mouth to respond, but only managed to squeeze out an incomprehensible syllable that turned into an impressed tsk.  

“Okay,” he decided then, tongue in cheek. “So, how can I repay this massive favour?”

“I’m not sure you ever will, to be honest,” you played. “But you could start by gifting the newlyweds a song.”

Jungkook glanced back at the platform in the corner of the room that was set up as a stage for the band. The musicians were taking a break and having drinks by the bar right now, so it was empty.

He looked back at you. “I don’t sing at weddings.”

“You used to,” you pointed out.

“Once. They made me wear a suit with a bowtie. A tight, neon yellow bowtie,” he reiterated. “It nearly made me suffocate. I would have died looking like I ran away from a low-budget circus. I’m not doing that again.”

Trying to keep your laughter in—you hadn’t actually been working with Rated Riot yet when they performed at this wedding, but Yoongi kept pictures, and he pulled them out every year on Jungkook’s birthday—you reached over the table to touch him.

“I’ll make this easier for you,” you said as you gently undid the first few buttons of his black dress shirt.

His breath got caught in his throat the second he felt your fingertips brush against the bare skin between his collarbones. It lasted for less than a second, but he was certain your touch had left a mark.

“There,” you said, pulling away. You seemed to have no clue of the revolution you’d started in his chest, which was a wonder. He was convinced his face had passed all the colours of the rainbow in the span of a minute. You continued, “nothing’s blocking your airways now. I’ll even do you one better—you don’t look like a clown tonight. You actually look good.”

Funnily enough, he had fewer problems breathing before you leaned closer to touch him. And before you told him he looked good.

Weakly, he asked, “I assume you have a song in mind, then?”

You nodded. “Chloé once told me she loved this one when she was younger. “As Long as You Love Me” by—”

“No.”

 You were grinning as you finished, “—Backstreet Boys.”

He was shaking his head with enough vehemence for you to feel a soft wind on your face.

There wasn’t anything wrong with the song of choice—other than the fact that Jungkook doubted very much that Chloé had ever mentioned it to you; he suspected you were just setting him up—but he held a personal grudge against it ever since he impulsively performed the song at your birthday party six years ago.

You had already been so drunk at that point, you could only remember glimpses of it all. Fortunately, someone had filmed Jungkook as he was using your floor lamp as a microphone stand when he performed Nick’s part at the beginning of the song. Later on, he’d gotten so immersed that he’d pulled up a chair to perform the dance routine, too.

You still had the video saved somewhere on your cloud storage.

“Your debt will be fully repaid if you include the choreography,” you added now, knowing it wouldn’t convince him. You just needed to say it to see the tips of his ears turn red at the memory.

His lips were pursed as he watched the mischievous glint in your eye. He’d missed it, he realised, even if your teasing was at his expense.

“You don’t think I’ll do it,” he observed. You shrugged—an obvious challenge—and he looked back at the platform again.

“I’m going to need a mic stand and a chair,” he said. Your eyes visibly brightened—he hadn’t seen you this excited in years. Keeping eye contact with you as he walked backwards to the platform, he pointed a finger in your direction. “This is for you.”

You cheered—caught in the moment and in the champagne you’d had tonight—while he climbed on the platform and turned the music that had been playing from the loudspeakers off. It took everyone at this wedding by surprise. They all turned to look.

The musicians seemed largely unfazed, until he picked up the guitar that they’d left leaning against the wall by the platform. They were already about to approach, but Jungkook extended a hand with so much self-assurance that they froze right away.

He said something else—you were too far to hear—and that seemed to relax them. They returned to their drinks and Jungkook, finally, climbed onto the platform.

Admittedly, until the moment he did, you really didn’t think he would actually do it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke, his voice muffled as he tapped the microphone to make sure it was working. You looked back to see the surprised looks on Kihyun and Chloé’s faces. “It’s a very special night tonight, as we know. And I have a very special gift for my friends. Congratulations on the beginning of the rest of your lives together, guys.”

The newlyweds both cheered and Jungkook chuckled lightly. The microphone caught the sound and you felt your heart respond to it in eagerness as it pounded against your ribs.

The second he played the first chords on the guitar, the room seemed to come to life. Some people recognised the melody and rushed to the designated dancing space in front of the platform, their hands in the air—and it felt, for just a moment, like a Rated Riot concert. Others still looked confused, but very entertained by the unexpected turn of events.

“Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine,” he began to sing and it immediately turned into a battle of which one of you two could last longer without cringing, “I'm leaving my life in your hands.”

You lost the battle as soon as Jungkook began the chorus and put the guitar down so he could perform the choreography with the chair—as much as he could, anyway, because the chairs at the venue didn’t fold. Your nose was scrunched, and you couldn’t help shaking your head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

He watched you nearly the whole time—only looking away to nod encouragingly at Kihyun and Chloé, both of whom were dancing in the middle of the room—and his voice was louder, much clearer without the instrument accompanying it.

You’d watched him tear his shirt off on stage at Rated Riot shows, and you’d never had to cover your face. But your hands were on your mouth the moment he dramatically dropped to his knees for that last “as long as you love me” in the song.

His head fell in a theatrical manner as soon as he finished the song, and the room erupted in applause. He thought he could discern your laughter amidst the noise, and he was smiling when he looked up.

It took him a minute to return to you after the performance—people asked for more as he walked past, others were patting him on the back, and some guests, who turned out to have been in attendance at the previous party, gaily informed him that he did “much better than last time”.

His breathing was still heavy when he reached you, exhilarated.

Beaming even before he heard your response, he leaned against your table and lifted an eyebrow. “Well?”

“That might be the best performance that I’d ever seen,” you said. “I’m sure it’ll haunt my dreams. Thank you for that.”

There was enough genuine awe in your voice to make him laugh.

“So, you don’t regret coming here with me, then?” he asked. His eyes were glittering when he looked at you—with excitement, adrenaline, and hope.

“No,” you said. Your soft smile had rendered him completely incapable of looking away from you. “I’m actually glad I came. And not just because I got to see you sing Backstreet Boys in front of everyone.”

Heated suddenly, he said, “that stays between us.”

Even though you’d been looking forward to telling everyone on tour about this, you decided he deserved your agreement.

“Fine,” you said. “But it’s a shame the rest of the world wasn’t able to enjoy this.”

“Hmm,” he lifted his chin. “That was for your eyes only.”

“What about the rest of the guests?” you asked. There was a certain delight in your words that he noticed and quietly basked in.

“What guests?” he replied with a grin. “I said this was for you.”

You were shaking your head, but there was humour in your eyes and on your lips, and his own smile felt like it might cause his cheeks to tear.

There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for you at that moment. He was flushed, and his head was spinning. The entirety of his chest, it seemed to him, had begun to float.

He was happy.

You were still here with him, teasing and laughing. He’d seen his old friends get married, he’d seen them dance. He was about to join his band on tour, about to perform all across Europe.

Everything was going to be perfect. He just had to get this bet over with—quietly—and then figure out a way to expand the cavity of his chest, so it could contain his heart and the thousands of obnoxious, never-ceasing fluttering wings around it.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “the summoning”

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[tiredfox64]

Part two of my kill for hire reader?!?!?! Like the brothers all court her? Different endings on who she chooses?!?!?!

Go for the Kill

Prior notes: @eemr1000 @livingdeadgirly @k3ythesapphic COME GET YOUR FOOD BEFORE THE MOLES GET IT. Tbh I struggled a little but i think I did okay.

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Just get inside!

You made quite a reputation for yourself. You have been most useful to Lord Liu Kang. Thanks to the help of the Lin Kuei your skills have grown substantially. And look at that, you made three new friends as well. Well, they want to be more than just friends.

It didn’t take long for the brothers to recognize that they all liked you for their own reasons. Bi-Han liked how deceitful you can be just to get the job done. Kuai Liang applauds your tactics and finds your intelligence to be quite attractive. Tomas saw your huge potential and finding out you are actually sweet drew him in.

Yes, yes, you certainly have a nice set of bachelors just waiting to nab you for themselves. But, uh, who are you gonna pick?

I mean they haven’t even asked you out yet. You’ve been busy with more killing assignments so they haven’t gotten the chance to have you alone. It’s fine, it gives them plenty of time to think and prepare a way to court you. They have their own ways, it just depends who gets to you first.

You get back to the Lin Kuei temple after another successful killing. You’re a bit tired and just want to settle down for the night but you can already hear all three of them making their way towards you. Well, now it’s just one since Bi-Han decided he gets to see you first. It wasn’t a mutual decision he just pushed his brothers out of the way.

“I see you are successful once again. I do not expect anything less from you.” He compliments you as if you haven’t been killing for who knows how long. You noticed he grabbed onto your hand, ready to drag you away from everyone else.

“It is incredible how perfect you still look. You look like you barely broke a sweat.” Now Kuai Liang was coming in. He grabbed your other hand with the same intent Bi-Han has.

“You must be tired after that assignment. Maybe you should relax for a little. I can help you.” Who do you think just snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist? That’s right, Tomas.

You could feel tension in the air building up as you looked at all three brothers. They weren’t looking at you but they were glaring at each other. Something’s off but you can’t tell.

“Come with me, I have something important to discuss with you.” Bi-Han spoke.

“Whatever you have to say, brother, can wait. I have something important to tell her as well.” Then Kuai Liang spoke.

“I have something just as important to say to her.” Tomas pitched in.

“Why don’t you all just tell me what you want to say.” You were snappy since you were tired.

There was silence. They were unsure about confessing right now. But if it has to be done, so be it. Bi-Han will go first obviously. He pulled you in close, glared at his brothers, then looked down at you with a less cold look.

“Ever since the first time I saw you kill that fool, I knew you were the perfect woman for me. Skilled, precise, vicious even. You belong next to a grandmaster like me. I would hate for some incompetent fool to have their hands on you and ruin a perfectly good woman like yourself.”

To be honest, you were shocked. Did Bi-Han really have his eyes on you this whole time? You would have never guessed.

I mean it’s not like he deliberately made time to train you every time you were at the temple. It’s not like you caught him giving you that devilish smirk whenever he watch you kill someone else in your own devious way. And when you asked everyone else if he has ever smiled at them that way they all thought you were mad. Cause when the fuck does Bi-Han ever smile. There was never even a twitch in his lips at anything enjoyable other than you. Alright so there were signs you just didn’t think too much into it.

Now it was Kuai Liang’s turn. He yanked you away from his brother and held you close. He looked at you more warmly and a less cold expression overall.

“Your beauty and intellect has awed me. I have never met a woman with your skills. You are a rare kind of person that I would hate to let go of. My desire for you burns brighter and hotter than the fire I produce.”

Kuai Liang’s words were sweet. You believed him since he was always such a gentleman to you. He always complimented and applaud you for your plans. Your ways of execution were unlike anything he has seen. You always appreciated that you felt equal to him. He never held back when you two would practice which helps make sure you were always at your best.

Don’t forget about Tomas. He pulled you in by your waist. His head rested on your shoulder, just appreciating your presence before confessing.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen someone with such skills that could rival a hunter. Not even in my homeland did I see many like you. I see so much potential in you and I want to be next to you as you develop your skills further. No one could rival you.”

You always heard Tomas cheer you on. He wanted to know your tricks and you would happily share them with him. You two had a closeness that came from your sneaky skills. He was great to practice with when preparing for your next assignments, except you wouldn’t actually kill him of course. You appreciated that he saw that you were actually sweet and never questioned if you were just putting up a persona or not. He wasn’t afraid of hearing that sweet voice of yours and think that you were about to poison him.

He let you go and now they were all looking at you. It’s your call. Whoever you will pick will have you for himself. Now pick. Who will you be with?

Bi-Han

(So…this is your choice)

You walked up to Bi-Han. You had your eyes on Bi-Han for some time. He is strong, he helped you better your skills, he’s got a handsome face, and a voice that sends shivers down your spine. Clearly, you’re digging him too.

That devilish smirk came back. In his mind you made the right decision. A woman like you is fit for a grandmaster. Your devious tactics combined with his high title is a great combo.

You didn’t even have to verbally say yes to him he took your approach to him as the answer. Unexpectedly, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

Well he can’t have you in front of his brothers since they wanted you just as badly. You didn’t know where he was taking you but you recognized soon that he took you to his office. Just for extra measures since the locks apparently aren’t good enough, he froze the door handle. Now no one could get in and no one can get out.

Bi-Han wiped all the papers off the desk before placing you down on it. He leaned his body against yours to the point he pushed you onto your back. You heard a little hum of desire before he spoke up.

“Finally, we are alone. I have you all to myself.”

Kuai Liang

(Is this correct, reader?)

You walked up to Kuai Liang. You need a gentleman like Kuai Liang. Not just that but his body drew you in. So warm and well built. All those times he would pin you down during practice made you fall for him hard. Even his serious expression was attractive to you.

You made Kuai Liang a happy man today. A lovely lady like you is something he has dreamed of. One that is just as tough and precise when plan making as he is.

“You have quite a way with words, Kuai Liang. I can tell it came deep from your heart.” You commented as you placed your hand on his chest.

He looked at you so lovingly. In your heart you felt like you made a good choice. He held your face as he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead. The kiss felt hot. His desire truly does burn hot.

You heard a groan come from Bi-Han. At least Tomas can act happy for his brother. Kuai Liang will surely get shit for this from his brother. But it doesn’t matter. He has you and he couldn’t be more happy.

“Do not worry about him. He is just upset that I have a beauty like you in my arms now.”

Tomas

(Your eyes see true)

You walked up to Tomas. You want someone who sees so much in you. To hear that you remind him of his homeland made your heart melt. You never heard something so sweet.

Tomas was ecstatic. Being picked is such a wonderful feeling. He picked you up in his strong arms and twirled you around as if you were a princess. Hey, I bet he would give you that princess treatment you deserve.

You giggled as he placed kisses all over your face. His beautiful huntress. All his.

Of course Bi-Han groaned and wanted to start a fight with Tomas. For once, Tomas would not let his brother get in the way of his happiness. He threw a smoke bomb in Bi-Han’s direction which made him go into a coughing fit. At least Kuai Liang was happy that his brother found love, and that he didn’t get hit with a smoke bomb. He turned his attention back to you again.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere more private, my dearest.”

Bonus: All of them

(I’m the writer I get to have a say!)

“Well, you clearly all like me. Why not I just date all of you.” You said it so casually.

You stumped them all. It wasn’t because they didn’t think of that it’s because it’s not something one would usually say in a situation like this. But you ain’t the usual kind of gal, are you.

“Can’t I love you all equally? Don’t brothers have to share anyways?” You keep bringing up these points which stump them further.

Ah yes, the tactic of confusion.

You can easily love them all. They will get their own special treatments. There is so much to love about each one of them. You were already debating on this before so you had this all set in your mind.

“Perhaps you can. I am unsure how this could work but it will not hurt to try.” Kuai Liang answered.

“Yeah, I think this could work out. You always find a way to make things happen. it will make everyone involved happy.” Tomas added on.

Kuai Liang agreed with Tomas which made them both on board with this. Bi-Han was more hesitant. He should have you all to himself. But it would make some things awkward around her. Oh fine! At least he still gets you.

“Fine. We will have it your way. But I get to have you first.”

Bi-Han picked you up and threw you over his shoulders. You get a sense of deja vu but you never experienced this, right?

All the brothers start to argue and insist he put you down. It was a no from him every time. You sigh as you realize this could get a little complicated.

Oh dear, looks like Bi-Han needs to learn that sharing is caring.

After notes: Alright yall I gotta go gamble and fight senior citizens for pickle rick, giants football, and a Japanese switch. I will throw hands. Sorry if this ain’t the best I did my best. Adiós!

[hiraethwrote]

VENT SESSION LETS GOOOO — you’re allowed to scroll if you don’t care mwah

i spend an ungodly amount of hours on this app, and i look at you as my friends so just want to let you guys know

i am also a very nosy person myself, so seems only fair i share my own situation. but if you don’t care about all this, you can just keep scrolling. i honestly don’t mind lol

anyways… a few weeks ago, i told you guys i was going through something that was kinda heavy — yeah my bf and i were going through some stuff and started seeing someone professionally… we broke up

there was an understanding that this might be outcome when we first opened up this can of worms, and there turned out to be a lot of underlying issues that both of us had refused to acknowledge

it was definitely a mutual decision. though it’s a hard pill to swallow, we came to the conclusion it was the best for the both of us

we want such vastly different things in life, things neither of us should compromise on. to me, life came at me a lot faster than i anticipated and felt like there were things left unexplored — and neither of us want to hold the other person back from what we want

however, this is a person i have been with for six years, a quarter of my life. there’s obviously a lot of shared history which is hard to let go of. it’s also so incredibly painful when we’re not splitting due to lack of affection and love for the other person, but because our desires and wants in life just don’t align

he is still my best friend, and because of how our life situation is, we will continue living together as we have been doing for the past three years (he only lives here half the time due to work), until i move across the country when summer comes. we’re also going to celebrate christmas together because it just feels right lol

i would say i am doing as well as i can… we are obviously on good terms, but this is probably one of the hardest things i’ll go through. it is the biggest heartbreak of my life. but that is really just a sign that the time we’ve shared together haven’t been a waste. we can be proud of the fact that we’ve been honest, faithful, respectful and kind throughout the entirety of our relationship, to the point where this is so hard even though it’s the right decision

obviously, i am very scared of the path that lies ahead. he has been by my side for the better half of a decade, and i have the privilege of exploring things on my own. it’s obviously what i have been missing in my life, so i am excited for what’s to come, but terrified of living a life he’s not going to be such a big part of anymore

but things are going to be fine. idk how long it will take, i am suspecting very long, but i know in my bones this is for the best for us both. so with time, i will be happy

and not to worry, i have a fantastic support system. i have incredible friends who are there for me. i am lucky to have a family who is not guilting me about leaving a long term relationship, despite also being sad. and i’ve learned i have a great community on here who has showed so much kindness, and i am so grateful <3

that being said — i am not planning on taking a break from tumblr lol. if anything, i am starting to get out of my writers block. this past week i have written more than i have the last month so that’s good! i think i might try and be a little more productive than i have been the past few weeks (at least i hope so, work is picking up again hehe)

not putting this out here for sympathy or anything, but just a little update. i am interested in the lives of those i follow, so maybe some of you are interested in mine

wishing everyone a nice weekend 🫶🏻 i got work in the morning (day after the breakup that’s fun)

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

Stuck on the Past | Part 1

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

Warnings: Angst (ish), adult language, drinking

Length: 1.8k

Stuck on the Past masterlist

You couldn't remember the last time you'd gone out on a Saturday night. Your friends had been begging you to join them for a while, that much you knew, but with how stressful work had been, time seemed to slip out of your hands.

That was until this Saturday. Finally you'd been given the weekend off, and as much as you wanted to spend it in bed binge-watching all the Netflix you'd missed, you ended up deciding that a few drinks wouldn't hurt.

How wrong you were.

Thinking back, it started going south as soon as April mentioned going to the Hard Deck. Sure, you'd been a few times since it opened, and you thought it was a nice place, but you couldn't deny the strange feeling in your gut, almost like a warning. Maybe that should have been a sign that this wasn't going to be your night, but you ignored it, and decided to have fun instead of worrying so much.

"Hey!" April grinned as you walked in, standing from the booth your friends had claimed slightly away from the bar, "I was starting to wonder if you really existed all this time."

She laughed, giving you a quick hug before you sat down with the rest of your friends, "It hasn't been that long." You said, rolling your eyes as April pushed a drink towards you.

"Yes. It has." She smirked, "So drink up. We're making this a night to remember."

You were a couple drinks in, laughing with one of your friends, when the jukebox music cut out. You didn't take much notice until you heard it. The piano. April frowned, "Is someone playing the piano? How cool is that! Let's go look."

You stood and slowly followed her towards the edge of the bar. You knew who was playing. Of course, you knew. It was the same song he used to play years ago, when you were both barely in your 20s. Young, in love, and stupid.

April gripped your hand and dragged you forward to get a better view of the singer. There he was. He had grown, definitely, but he was still the same old Bradley Bradshaw. All smiles and laughs as he played the piano and sang along with his friends. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't look away. You dragged your eyes to your side to look at April, who's face began to fall in realisation.

"No. Way." She turned to you, searching your face for any sign that you might cry, "Please tell me that's not who I think it is."

You nodded, mouth dry from shock as you grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the restroom, locking both of you in a stall. You sighed, ran your hand through your hair and sat on the lid of the toilet seat.

April had both of her hands on her hips, her mouth in a tight frown, "What the hell is he doing here? Isn't it enough that he broke your heart, huh? And now what? Now he's suddenly back in San Diego! Seriously?! What the actual-"

"April." You interrupted, standing up and putting your hands on her shoulders, "It's fine. I'm.. I'm fine." She nodded, taking a deep breath as you sat back onto the lid of the toilet, "And anyway," you shrugged, "He didn't really.. break my heart."

April scoffed, "You have to be joking. You cried over him for like a year! I thought you were about to swear off men forever after him!"

"Probably would have been a good idea." You chuckled, "I meant that.. you know, it was mutual."

April rolled her eyes, "Whatever. What's our game plan?"

"What?"

"Well, for starters, I'm not letting you leave now we've seen him. You need to show him that this didn't affect you. Stand up."

You stood to face your longest friend. She'd been there when you'd met Bradly the very first time, and she'd been the one to pick up the pieces after he'd left. As much as April could be demanding, most of the time she had a point. The only thing you wanted to do right now was run, but you also knew that if he saw you leave it would look like it was because of him, and you didn't want him to have any sort of power over you like that. Not anymore.

You took a deep breath, "Okay, I'm not leaving. Let's go get shots." You were trying to sound confident, but your voice was wobbly and your breathing was uneven. Yeah, tequila was definitely going to help.

-

April ordered some drinks, and you both did a shot of tequila each at the bar. It did calm some of your nerves, but just knowing he was around was setting you off again. You sat back down with the rest of your friends and gazed around the room. Maybe you were in the clear? He'd sang one song and decided to leave?

Just as you felt better, you glanced to the other side of the room, at the pool table, where eyes were already on you. He looked just as shocked as you did, his mouth half open and eyebrows raised, grip tight on his pool stick. You felt yourself freeze. Should you smile? Wave? Shit, the longer you two just stared at each other the more awkward this was getting.

You blinked a couple times before quickly standing, "I'm getting another drink." Your friends were in deep conversation, but you assumed they heard you and hurried towards the bar.

You ordered another round of drinks before you felt someone stand beside you. You looked up and there he was, tall and muscular, very different from the boy you'd known all those years ago.

He grinned, "I thought it was you. I saw you in the crowd while I was playing but then I couldn't find you after." You opened your mouth and closed it again, trying to find words that wouldn't make you sound stupid. Before you could, your drinks were placed in front of you. "You need help carrying those?" He pointed at the four drinks on the bar.

You quickly shook your head, muttered a 'no thanks' and grabbed two in each hand, hurrying off to the booth your friends were sat in. Bradley watched you walk away and mentally kicked himself. He'd practiced what he was going to say to you since he saw you in the crowd earlier in the night. It could have gone better, but then again, what's left to say to someone you both hurt and never quite forgave?

-

You figured you'd stayed long enough that April would let you leave if you wanted to, so you grabbed your handbag, hugged your friends goodbye and made your way to the front of the bar. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was April.

Let me know when you get home safe. You did great tonight. He's not worth it!! See you soon x

You smiled and searched through your phone to find an Uber.

"On your way home?" You turned to see Bradley. Just when you thought you'd made your escape.

"Uh, yeah." You took a moment to really look at him. He had this hopeful look to him, you realised, like he actually wanted to talk to you. You sighed, "Just trying to get an Uber."

"You don't have to." He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes trained on the ground, "Look, I know things are awkward. It's been a long time. But, I can take you home. I've barely drank, I'm good to drive. If you want, that is."

He finally met your eyes as you shrugged. "It's been a really long time. I never thought I'd see you back here." You bit your lip, thinking over the situation, "But, sure. If you're offering, I'd like a ride."

He smiled and nodded, relieved that you hadn't ran away from him. He probably wouldn't have blamed you if you did. But this was something.

The drive to your apartment was quiet. You could feel Bradley glancing at you now and then, but you couldn't risk looking at him. You were already in his car, the same old Bronco he'd had since you'd known him. April was gonna freak when you told her tomorrow.

"How've you been?" He broke the silence as he stopped at a red light, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"Good. Busy." You answered, "You?"

"Yeah, good. A lot of deployments but it's been fine." He took a glance in your direction as the light changed, "I wasn't planning on coming back. There's this mission. I'm not supposed to talk about it-"

"It's fine." You cut him off. That made more sense. There was no way he'd come back here for you. That just confirmed it.

He sighed. You wondered if he was regretting offering you a ride home. Probably. "You look good." He said instead.

Your head whipped round to look at him, "Don't start."

He was smirking, "What?" He glanced at you again, feigning innocence, "I know things are awkward but am I not allowed to compliment my favourite ex-girlfriend?"

You cleared your throat and turned towards the window, "Your compliments were never just compliments, Bradley. They always led to something else and you know it."

You felt your cheeks heat up as he glanced at you again, a small smile on his face. "Would that be a bad thing?"

He pulled up in front of your building, turning to face you fully as he turned off the engine. You turned to him, arms crossed and voice sharp, "Yes. It would be a bad thing. History is a there for a reason and I don't wanna repeat it." You opened his door and stepped outside, "Oh! And by the way, you are definitely not my favourite ex-boyfriend!"

Bradley chuckled, "I always used to love it when you'd get angry, your cheeks get all flushed. It's cute."

You mouth hung open, what was he playing at? "Thanks for the ride." You said, shutting his car door and walking towards your apartment building with a huff. Even when you unlocked your apartment door, you couldn't quite believe what had happened. How dare he flirt with you like that? You two hadn't talked in years!

You climbed into bed and decided to sleep it off. At least you wouldn't be forced to see him again. You'd be at work and he'd be on his stupid mission. That was something.

Bradley stayed parked outside after he dropped you off. Partly to make sure you got in okay, but also to really think about what he had actually been suggesting. He hadn't seen you in years. Sure, you crossed his mind every now and then, sometimes he'd stalk your social media to see what you were up to, but he didn't know you anymore. You guys had history, that was true. The worst part about it? He didn't think repeating history would be a bad thing at all, especially if it was with you.

[elyvorg]

Kieran Part Bonus: I AM SO PROUD OF MY BOY

And now for my really actually final analysis post about Kieran, covering both the epilogue and also his scenes in the League Club room once you’ve finished that. Somehow both of these relatively short pieces of content still managed to be packed with delightful nuance showcasing both how Kieran’s still struggling with his issues and yet also how much he’s grown since his main arc. They are absolutely lovely and fill me with so many warm happy feelings about my boy.

Honestly, it’s remarkable, not just from a Pokémon-writing perspective but as a piece of fiction in general, to have this kind of satisfying follow-up for a character arc. Usually once a character’s arc reaches a resolution, their story just ends there, and we don’t get to see more of how they’re processing what they’ve been through and learning to grow further in the aftermath. So it’s a really wonderful breath of fresh air to get to see something like that for once here with Kieran! The Pokémon writers absolutely did not have to make the epilogue and postgame content focused on showcasing this, and yet they did. I am, once again, pleasantly boggled by how much they cared about doing Kieran’s story justice. Just, wowzers, man. There really is no more appropriate word for my amazement than that.

(This is an epilogue, if you will, to my previous two analysis posts discussing Kieran’s character arc in The Teal Mask and The Indigo Disk! Reading those before this is probably recommended.)

Before even getting into things that are strictly from the epilogue itself, can I just say: I really love that Kieran took a mental health break from Blueberry Academy to give him some time to process things? (Okay, the game only calls it a “break”, but let’s be real, it is for his mental health, and this is Good.) It just makes me very happy that the writing acknowledged that he’d probably need something like that after what he’s been through instead of going straight back to business as normal at school – and in an in-story sense, it’s lovely that Kieran realised he needed this and didn’t try and force himself to just keep going as if nothing had happened. He’s starting to learn to take care of himself and not push himself way too hard!

Making new friends

The first lovely sign of Kieran’s growth that we see in the epilogue is that, not only does he want to catch up with you, he also wants to meet your friends from Paldea! He must have spent some time during his break thinking about the fact that you mentioned you had friends from there.

And the thing is, with Kieran’s insecurities, it would have been so easy for him to slip into a mindset of “your friends are probably way cooler than me, why would you need me”. But instead of letting himself get caught up in that jealousy spiral again, he fought against it and did the healthy thing of asking to meet them himself. Hopefully he can become friends with them too and then he’ll have nothing to feel jealous about! He outright says when he meets them, “Any friend of [yours] is a friend of mine!” Look at him go. (Arven should take notes on how not to act insecure about one’s best friend having other friends, because damn, Kieran’s managing to be more well-adjusted than him now.)

All this is also just a sign that Kieran’s hoping to try and make more friends in general. He’s such an introvert that he must have figured that’d be easier for him to do with people for whom he has a mutual friend to get to know them through. Plus, if they’re your friends, then he already has a guarantee that they’ll be good and nice people. Way more manageable for him than trying to approach complete randos.

And really, it’s such a huge remarkable thing for Kieran that he is trying to make friends now. Friends, plural! This is the kid who used to be so lonely and shunned by others that his big dream was to one day be like the ogre who, according to him, doesn’t care that it’s all alone. And maybe then, if he managed that, he’d be able to befriend the ogre – just that one other person who is also alone and outcast. It never even crossed his mind to try and imagine that one day he could be confident and worthy enough to just… have some human friends. That wasn’t even an option in his head – it was “learn to not care that he’s alone” or nothing.

And yet look at Kieran now, actively reaching out to try and make new friends! I am so proud of him.

Learning to ask for help

Soon after you meet up with Kieran, it becomes apparent that something is Very Wrong with his sister. According to Kieran’s account, it was shortly after he sent you the letter that Carmine became possessed, so it’s not that the letter was secretly a call for help in which he couldn’t bring himself to admit the actual problem.

And even now that you’re here… Kieran wasn’t going to tell you about this problem at all until Carmine happened to wander up and start mochi-dancing in front of you. He tries to play the whole thing off like it’s totally normal and she’s definitely just… excited to see you???, even though he has to know that doesn’t make any sense at all. On some level this is just because it’s really scary to admit to himself that something is very wrong and he doesn’t have a clue how to fix it. But it’s also because… he still doesn’t feel like he has the right to ask you and your friends for help.

This is one of the ways in which Kieran’s issues and low sense of self-worth from before are still lingering and have not just been magically, instantly fixed. While he may be making a conscious effort to fight through his insecurities to try and make more friends, he hasn’t started consciously tackling everything that was holding him back just yet. It seems like he imagines that asking your friends for help, these people he’s only just met, would just make him a burden on them and maybe spoil any chance he had of actually becoming their friend himself. (Although, even if you’d come to visit him alone, I suspect he’d still struggle to ask even just you for help, simply due to his old ingrained mindset that he’s not worthy enough to deserve it.)

Happily for Kieran, your friends are all good people who instantly unthinkingly offer to help without him even needing to ask them! Kieran’s sheer surprise and gratitude when this happens is so telling about his insecurities for why he didn’t feel he could ask, but it’s also lovely to see him starting to realise that his instinctive way of thinking about this is mistaken. Welcome to having friends, Kieran, this is how it works actually! Most people are good and will be happy to help out a friend in need! It’s okay to need help sometimes!

There’s another very innocuous line that I find interestingly telling about Kieran’s mindset regarding this. When you’re all at the community centre wanting to use the TV, Kieran laments that it’s stuck playing the tourism ad because the caretaker hid the remote, so Arven immediately suggests you all look for it. And Kieran reacts, in surprise, “Why didn’t I think of that?” It reads as largely rhetorical, but… it’s a good question.

Why didn’t Kieran think of just trying to find the remote? Because he’s spent so long stuck in a mindset where, if things are bad for him, it’s just what he deserves for being weak and there’s nothing he can do about it. His response to his problems during the main storyline was to completely separately fixate on making himself Stronger so that, in theory, problems would just stop happening to him entirely. It never occurred to him to try and just face and deal with his problems directly – at least not until the climactic battle with Terapagos, which was the first time he ever found the courage to take such an approach – so the notion to do so still isn’t quite habitual in his mind just yet.

Hopefully Kieran asking why he didn’t think of that wasn’t quite so rhetorical, and he was reflecting on it himself a little when he said it. He ought to realise that actually, taking action to directly solve his problems is a good thing and something he should strive to do more! He has already begun to do so in some ways by reaching out in an attempt to make more friends, at least.

Solving the problem

Kieran sure does get a lot more practice at Directly Solving Problems thanks to the events that go on to occur that night, doesn’t he. I love that the epilogue’s plot, while ostensibly just there to give players an opportunity to catch Pecharunt, is also a narrative that exists to let Kieran get to be a hero alongside you.

It’s somewhat low key, but Kieran definitely gets pretty freaked out about everything that’s happening. Which is really perfectly reasonable – though the effects of the possession are incredibly silly, it’s still got to be genuinely frightening to see people he knows getting controlled against their will by some unknown force, especially when this includes his own family. (One detail I love is that the game uses that lack of a highlight in his eyes during certain lines to communicate the fear he's feeling and trying not-so-successfully to hide; it’s a small thing, but it works so well.)

Once you’ve fought off his possessed grandparents, Kieran starts to panic, convinced it’s only a matter of time before it gets him (even though the evidence of how exactly the possession occurs is right there if he’d just stop to think about it for a moment). On some level, he must still have this sense that, if it can get all these people he looks up to, surely it’ll get him too who’s so much weaker than them. His inferiority complex is still there and affecting him, especially in this stressful situation.

Good thing Kieran has you by his side, the strongest coolest friend ever whom he knows he can rely on! If you hadn’t been there to reassure him and snap him out of it, he really might have lost himself to his panic. Or he might have just not even tried to battle the possessed people and do something about all of this in the first place – see the earlier point about how him facing problems directly is still not instinctive to him. He’s able to do so here, but a lot of that is probably thanks to being able to follow your lead. Still, this is bound to help him get better at doing so on his own in future!

Kieran’s also still a bit too liable to feel like things are his fault even when they really aren’t. He blames himself for not warning Arven and Penny about the mochi in time, even though he was literally about to do so when Pecharunt showed up and sniped mochi directly into their mouths. That can’t be called Kieran’s fault at all! He tried! (And, hey, it’s not like you made any attempt to warn them either.) But he still feels responsible for it anyway.

And he’s also still rather defeatist when it comes to facing Strong Opponents in battle. Kieran couldn’t defeat Nemona earlier in the day, so when it comes down to facing off against her in order to get to Pecharunt, he just feels like he can’t do it, end of. Really, that’s not necessarily the case – since this is an emergency and not a friendly battle for sport, there’s no reason you have to beat Nemona in a fair 6-on-6. Anything to get past her will do; the two of you could have taken her on in a 12-on-6 double battle, perhaps! Kieran did not need to momentarily feel useless in this situation, but he did, because not being able to win against someone still equates in his mind to being No Good At All. Kieran, nooo.

Happily, the narrative provides Kieran with something else to do with himself while you fight Nemona so that he is very decidedly not useless in the slightest – fighting off the entire town’s worth of people behind you??? That is equally as necessary as taking down Nemona, something without which you’d never have managed to get to Pecharunt, and it must take some incredible battling skill to be able to hold off that many opponents at once. Like, dang, Kieran. I really hope he’s able to reflect on this in the aftermath and realise how incredibly strong and cool that was of him, because it was.

(He was holding his own one-against-many, just like he always admired Ogerpon for doing!)

Kieran’s fear and pessimism also show through just a tiny bit as you’re fighting Pecharunt at the end, when he reacts to the fact that you were able to damage it. Apparently he was afraid that this thing would be completely invulnerable and it just wouldn’t be possible for even someone as amazing as you to beat it and stop the curse. Yikes, that must have been a scary thought. But still, it all worked out in the end! Kieran’s learning that even when things are scary and feel overwhelming, by facing up to them and doing his best, it’ll usually turn out okay! Especially because he’s not alone and has friends by his side to support him now.

And, hey, one way or another, it seems like the events of the epilogue did help give Kieran that last little push he needed to decide to go back to Blueberry Academy! I imagine he was already thinking about doing so – he is actually a very stubborn and determined person at his core, so I don’t think he could ever have been considering just giving up on it – but all of this probably helped give him the confidence to make that leap. The thought of apologising to everyone for how he acted must still be incredibly daunting – but, he’s begun to realise that he can face scary things!

His old Kitakami team

During the epilogue’s battles, I was absolutely delighted to see Kieran send out Poliwrath, one of the Pokémon he used in Teal Mask but not in Indigo Disk – because this is proof that he’s been reconnecting with the Pokémon friends he left behind back then! As it turns out, the rest of his team for these multi battles is the same as his Champion team, with only the Polis switched, but even so, Poliwrath’s presence is enough to be a promising sign for all of his old Pokémon friends.

And this gets further confirmed by his dialogue with Arven in the clubroom! Arven asks Kieran which of his Pokémon he’s closest to, and he mentions his Hydrapple (which has been with him since it was an Applin), his Poliwrath and Politoed, his Yanmega, and his Furret! This accounts for all of the Pokémon Kieran had in his Teal Mask battles up to the third one, after which he started to fixate hard on getting stronger to prove himself to you, so these are likely all of the Pokémon that were friends of his from the start. And he still considers them friends now, which means he reconnected with them all and apologised as necessary for any leaving them behind/thinking they were weak/etc that he might have done! Yes good, Justice For Furret was had, I could not be happier.

(Okay, we never saw the second Poli back then, but the way he talks about both Polis together suggests they’re a pair, so I imagine they were both his friends back then, too. He also never used Applin against you before evolving it into Dipplin – which is fair, Applin is very not good in battles – so the lack of us seeing another Poliwag/whirl is probably because he felt he needed to use a diverse team that didn’t have two of the same species. He doesn’t have to battle with all of his Pokémon for them to still be his friends, after all! He still doesn’t battle with most of them now in the clubroom battles either, which use his same Champion team, but that doesn’t stop them from being his precious pals!)

(On the other hand, since there is no sign nor mention of them in the postgame, I suspect that, like Cramorant before them, his Gliscor, Shiftry and Probopass from the final Kitakami battle got released. Kieran would have only had them for like a day or two during the events of Teal Mask, since he only caught them after he fixated on getting stronger, so I doubt he’d grown very attached to them during that time. Still, that’s okay, because hey, he did make them stronger, which is probably all they ever expected from him when they joined his team.)

Nemona is Good

One extremely delightful aspect of the epilogue and beyond is Kieran’s interactions with Nemona. It turns out that her outlook on battling is exactly the kind of thing Kieran needed to help regain a healthier view on it himself!

His feelings about his own battling skills are still very all-or-nothing at the beginning of the epilogue. When Nemona excitedly declares that she’s heard he’s really good at battling, Kieran’s pretty dismissive of that idea. He couldn’t beat you, therefore that means he’s Not Good At It, right? (Kieran, no.) He also says that Nemona “destroyed” him once they’ve battled – but based on the fact that she has nothing but praise for how good he is, I very strongly suspect that he actually gave her a really tough fight, and he only framed it that negatively because losing at all still makes his inferiority complex blow things way out of proportion.

Happily, delightfully, Nemona tells Kieran exactly what he has always needed to hear this whole time, which is that it shouldn’t matter whether you win or lose, because battles are fun either way! And with a moment to reflect on that, he agrees… yeah, they are, he had a lot of fun!

We’d heard from Drayton that Kieran was always a kid who’d deeply enjoyed battling, from the very beginning. But it seems that somewhere along the way he’d stopped loving it so much, at least when he’s the one battling - probably because he’d often lose, which would trigger his inferiority complex and make him feel bad. We only saw a small glimpse of his passion for battling ourselves at the beginning of Teal Mask, mostly when he watched you battle his sister, and a little bit in his own early battles with you, but he still felt bad over losing, poor kid.

But with Nemona’s help, Kieran’s been able to remember just how much he always loved battling and can just enjoy himself with it again! In your clubroom battles with him, he has a line just before he Terastallises where he says “these feelings never change” – and though he doesn’t specify what feelings he’s talking about, the one thing about Kieran that has never changed this entire time, even if he sort of lost sight of it for a while along the way, is the thrill he gets from battling! He also says in another line that he’s “having a blast” – which is phrasing that Nemona uses that Kieran never has before, so apparently he picked that up from her? Aww. I am so glad he could meet her; she is exactly the breath of battle-loving fresh air he always needed.

Kieran’s clubroom conversation with Nemona is also very good and helps him let go of his all-or-nothing mindset a little more. Nemona praises him for how quickly he climbed the ranks of the BB League, which he insists is meaningless because he pushed himself unhealthily hard and then still couldn’t beat you in the end. But Nemona helps him reframe it and think of it as: he was incredibly dedicated, and it must mean he really loves Pokémon and battling, which is true! This has to help Kieran view his training arc in a more positive light instead of focusing on the negative aspects like his toxic obsession and lack of self-care. Hopefully if/when he starts training hard again, he’ll be able to feel better about it and not associate it with all the bad things, thanks to Nemona! (But also, Kieran, please remember to not neglect self-care again, that was bad. I imagine he has indeed got the message about that, since the way he talks about that aspect in this conversation seems tinged with regret.)

Carmine is Trying

Another thing we see in the epilogue – admittedly only a small glimpse near the end, but it’s something – is that Kieran’s relationship with his sister seems to have gotten a little bit healthier? They each make equal-opportunity Sibling Banter jabs at each other, and Kieran doesn’t slump and shrink and look so defeated when she bites back against one of his. There’s probably still some ways to go here on their dynamic becoming completely truly healthy, but it’s definitely progress from before, which is good to see.

I think Carmine really must have reflected on her role in Kieran’s breakdown and is trying in her own fumbling awkward way to do better by him now. A delightful sign of this is one of her scenes in the clubroom, in which she resolves to be less protective of Kieran, even if it’ll make her lonelier without him around as much. That’s exactly what she needs to do! After all, this whole thing started because Carmine couldn’t bear to let her brother endure even the tiniest amount of badfeels that would have come from learning he happened to miss out on meeting the ogre. Carmine has realised on some level that she needs to have more faith in Kieran and his ability to endure and get through stuff on his own, rather than trying too hard to protect him from everything ever, which just results in coddling him and stifling his possibility for growth. She still does want to look out for him from a distance and be able to help if he really does need it, but she’s trying not to overdo it any more. Yes good, I am proud of her too.

Reconciling with his schoolmates

I said already in the Indigo Disk post that it’s incredibly brave of Kieran to resolve to apologise to everyone he hurt and make amends, and this is still true. That has to have been so scary, but he went and did it anyway! It seems he even apologised to the people who cared about him, such as his sister and Amarys, for worrying them with his behaviour – which also means he has managed to comprehend the fact that people cared about him, even back then when he was at his most unlikeable.

And by the sounds of what he says in his clubroom scenes, most people took his apologies well and are talking to him like normal now, which has to have been such a relief. It means a lot that Kieran wasn’t expecting anything of the sort and apologised anyway despite expecting backlash, simply because it was the right thing to do – but hey, most people are nice and can probably tell he was decidedly Not Himself during that time and are willing to put the past behind them! Social interaction isn’t quite as scary as he’d used to think, it turns out!

Even then, some things are still a bit weird, and with how far-reaching his impact as Champion was, Kieran’s bound to keep having to deal with this for a while. There must keep being more people he was a jerk to that he still hasn’t apologised to yet, people being intimidated by him because they don’t realise he’s changed, constant reminders of some of the hurtful things he said and did back then. Making amends is going to be a pretty long-term thing, but Kieran is putting in the effort to do so all the same, because it’s the right thing to do, and he is so brave.

Someone who is making this harder than it needs to be is Drayton, because of freaking course he is. He still insists on rubbing in the “ex-Champ” thing, even though Kieran has made it clear he does not appreciate being called that (of course, he no longer minds that he’s not Champion any more, but the fact that Drayton insists on constantly reminding him of his past self has to sting). On the one hand, Drayton is still concerned about Kieran in his own way, because he does effectively ask if Kieran’s eating better meals now, but on the other hand their entire clubroom interaction features him deliberately dodging Kieran’s genuine attempts to just engage with him in an effort to make amends, and, geez. This is exactly what he wanted from Kieran all along, and yet he is somehow still not satisfied. Seriously, Drayton.

At least Drayton is the only one of the Elite Four to be like this, and the others seem to be on good terms with Kieran now! Look at Lacey insisting that the past is in the past when Kieran acts confused that she’d want to help him after he was such a jerk to her. (Someone needs to take notes there, Drayton.) And it seems like Kieran’s got another good friend in Crispin, who’s in the same class as him! Our boy is making so many new friends and it is wonderful.

Of course, his insecurities are still around, and he’s still a little too liable to assume he’s doing something Wrong in social situations, as we see in a couple of his clubroom interactions. That one with Arven about his Pokémon is an example, as Arven phrased things as if he expected Kieran to have just one single closest Pokémon buddy, and Kieran seemed to feel bad that he actually had multiple candidates and couldn’t pick – but happily, Arven reassured him that it’s cool to not be able to choose, too! And in Kieran’s interaction with Crispin, he reflexively apologises for not having watched the latest episode of a show, but Crispin calls him out on the apology, and Kieran is able to question himself as to why he apologised and conclude that he didn’t need to, because it’s not like Crispin’s going to mind.

He is learning! He does not need to feel like he has to perfectly match his conversation partner’s expectations in order to be their friend! Kieran’s approach to his own issues has become so healthy and filled with self-reflection and growth, and I am so proud of him.

Friendship with you

Kieran is also able to be a whole lot healthier about his friendship with you, now that you’re properly friends again after everything! Possibly my favourite completely innocuous line in the epilogue is when he casually mentions that you and he became friends during the school trip to Kitakami. This is actually huge, because Kieran had spent so long utterly convinced that you couldn’t possibly have meant it when you called him a friend back then, not after the lie and all of his issues about being too weak to deserve it. But now, he’s been able to reflect on that and realise… of course you meant it. Of course you always wanted to be his friend, right from the very beginning! It wasn’t on purpose of you that he got left out of meeting Ogerpon at all, because you’re a good person and you wouldn’t do something like that, and he never actually deserved that after all.

(Perhaps sometime during his break, he had a proper talk with his sister about what happened and why she lied, and Carmine finally got to fully express that you and she never meant to hurt him and shun him with that.)

Kieran is still not over his idolisation of you, mind you. He reacts to you being the one to find the TV remote of all completely mundane things with “Wowzers! ‘Course you found it first!” – which, really isn’t a wowzers or an of course? Your magical protagonist powers do not and should not extend to this, and yet they still do in Kieran’s head. But even though he still views you this way, Kieran is so much healthier about it now. He’s no longer bitter and jealous and beating himself up for not being as perfect as he thinks you are, since nobody is (not even you, not really) – instead, he’s just so incredibly thrilled that he actually gets to be friends with someone so cool!

I really love that the devs went and gave Kieran a new losing animation for his clubroom battles, too. His previous ones always had him being varying levels of upset about losing, but not any more! He just stares in wide-eyed awe at your amazingness, and then breaks into a big smile and thanks you for the battle, because he still had great fun even though he lost! And he’s able to freely admit that he looks up to you because you’re so strong, or, in an optional line in the epilogue, he admits that he’s jealous that your friends are all really good people. He still has those feelings, but he’s able to healthily express them now without letting them twist him into something harmful.

It seems like he’s still a little insecure about if he deserves to be friends with you, though, based on a few small things. When he asks you for a trade in the clubroom, he appears hesitant to ask, as if he’s not sure he has the right to, and if you say no – even though there’s every chance this is just because you want some time to decide on an appropriately special Pokémon to give him – he slumps, probably having had his sensitivity to rejection triggered. And even once you’ve traded, he can later ask if you’re absolutely sure he can really keep the Pokémon you traded him, because he can’t quite believe he could get to have such a cool gift from you of all people. Aww, Kieran. Hopefully his hypothetical future interactions with you will help squash this insecurity of his further, because he deserves to feel comfortable in his friendship with his best friend!!!

Ogerpon

Another seemingly-innocuous but extremely good line in the clubroom is that Kieran can ask you if Ogerpon’s doing well and say that he thinks she’ll be pretty happy with you. He says this in a completely casual way, with no hint of bitterness – which tells us that he’s no longer jealous that you caught Ogerpon! It makes sense that he wouldn’t be, because he doesn’t need her acknowledgement any more like he used to think he did in order to feel worth something. He’s already got acknowledgement and self-worth and happiness now for so many other reasons, after all! So he can just be selflessly happy for Ogerpon that she’s found a trainer she can feel safe and happy with too, without being irrationally preoccupied over what she thinks of him.

It is interesting to see in this dialogue that Kieran initially calls her “the ogre” before correcting himself to “Ogerpon” – apparently, he’s only quite recently made an effort to shift what he calls her in his head. It’s true that in his reaction to her in the Champion battle, he did indeed just call her “the ogre”. It’d make sense that he didn’t actually work to shift his mental idea of what to call her during his Indigo Disk arc, despite knowing her species name, because the name “Ogerpon” likely brought back too many painful reminders of everything that happened in Kitakami. It was probably easier for him to just stick with “the ogre” and try to forget anything had changed. But he’s okay with what happened now!

And maybe Kieran trying to make a habit of using her name now is a sign that he’s started to realise that Ogerpon is her own individual who’s not quite the same as the mental image he always had of what “the ogre” was like? Maybe. It’s hard to be sure. Unfortunately the epilogue/postgame can’t do much with Ogerpon because it’s always optional for her to be on your team or even in your game at all (since you could in theory have released her or traded her away). But we can at least hypothetically imagine that in Kieran’s continued interactions with you, he’ll get the chance to hang out with Ogerpon a little and come to understand her better. It certainly seems now that he’d be able to hang out with both you and her without feeling uncomfortably jealous, which is a good start! (And Terapagos is on the list of ‘people’ he owes an apology to, so let’s imagine he gets a chance to do that, too.)

Moving forward

The “climax”, such as there is one, of Kieran’s mini-arc of scenes in the clubroom is him excitedly telling you that he’s had the BB League drop him from their rankings. Although your character seems a little bewildered by it (they are still a bit of a social dumbass), this is in fact an extremely good thing for Kieran! He’s taking a step back from the competitive side of things for the sake of his mental health, so that he can untangle himself from the toxically-obsessive mindset that he was in back when he was only focused on winning! Look at Kieran doing all this good self-reflection and self-care, it is so lovely to see. He doesn’t even seem to view this as any sign of him failing, either – he’s just comfortably acknowledging that he needs to do this for now for his own sake and there’s no shame in that.

Kieran seems pretty sure that he is going to want to get back into competing once he’s cleared his head a bit, but he’s already so much more casual and healthy about it! He says he’s going to shoot for the Champion title again, and even if you respond with a friendly taunt of “You still won’t beat me!”, he takes it so well. He’s genuinely okay now with the thought that he might never quite be good enough to beat you – he just wants to have fun trying. Look at how far he’s come!

In the meantime, while he sorts his head out, he just wants to spend time with his Pokémon (who mean a lot to him as far more than just sources of battling strength!) and his human friends (whom he has so many of now???) and figure out what he really wants to do with himself from here. Good for him!

Kieran’s still just a kid, and seeing him already learn how to grow from his mistakes and face up to his lingering issues and be just so emotionally healthy about things now is such a promising sign for wherever he’s going to end up in future. I love that the epilogue and these postgame clubroom scenes put so much effort into showing us this about Kieran now, reassuring us that he really is going to be okay. I truly could not be more proud of or happy for my boy.

[lunaekalenda]

no panties (warning!! rewrite of my older post)

warnings: neutral gender fem bodied reader, semi-public, mentions of spit, fingering, oral f!rec, a really little moment of mutual mast. enjoy enjoy. a pretty long smut surprisingly.

Enter a sex-shop needed more valor than you expected. And, specially, having such a man smiling at you and asking if you’re okay, because you froze at the door, fully blushed and shy, playing with the leather band of your bag, thinking seriously about turning around and going back home even knowing everyone would look at you because of your strange behavior. But, once you’re here, what can you do?

Your best friend told you this was the most discrete shop of the city as soon as she discovered your desire to get — finally— something to spice up your nights, even when all the toys displayed on the shelfs as if it were cupcakes did had a lot of adjetives, but not discrete. “Are you alright?” he asks again, and your eyes collide with his. He’s tall, and the messy raven bun gives him an irresistible aura, just increased by his sharp and slanted dark eyes looking directly at yours. He was softly smiling as you nod and got quickly lost between the shelfs, unable to hear his giggles. You awakened his curiosity, he has to admit.

You don’t even know why you’re here, in any case. It was late at night when, drinking with your friends on a near bar, one of them, kinda tipsy, started to tell with lots of unnecesary details how good she spends the nights now that she got something for her to enjoy. All of them started to agreed until the conversation got fixated on the only one that said nothing. You. They convinced you to get one to spend the lonely nights. To discover yourself. And it wasn’t a bad idea, but you’re maybe the most shy thing on earth, and just reading the red sign outside of the shop brought all the blood to your cheeks. It took you a while to push the door, entering the shop with your gaze low and the sundress lifting a little because of the wind.

While you walk between shelfs full of colorful toys, the boy keeps an eye on you, the same joking side smile while his eyes follow your body between the shelfs. You’re pretty, he’s not gonna lie. You’re attractive, and the cute sundress you’re using adapts so well to your body he doesn’t even need to imagine how nice your curves must be under it. He raises a brow when you turn around, cute eyes looking everywhere, open with curiosity. He presses his lips together to avoid a smile when you get closer to a wand, discovering that it vibrates by proximity. He gives a couple steps back, eyes still fixed on your graceful body moving between the corridors and the expositors. You sigh. There are too many things, and you don’t know where to use half of them. He decides to talk to you, silently approaching you as he stands next to you, both looking to rainbow ordered shelf.

"Are you searching something?" the dependent asks, with a side smile and sharp eyes looking directly at you. You feel how every single vein of your body rushes the blood to your cheeks at the same time that your heart jumps inside your chest because of the sudden talk, and you look to the shelfs full of sexual toys in front of you, avoiding his gaze, while nodding quietly. You can hear his calm steps and he easily reaches the shelf. It's ridiculously taller than you, and you can smell his cologne softly on the air. He smiles again. "So, egg? bunny? magic wand? for couples? panty? bdsm?" he keeps the straightest face while listing all the types of vibrators he has in front of him. "Maybe you're more into sucker..." he looks to the shelf on his back and you stop him, softly speaking.

"I... don't really know which one I should use... I never had one." words escape cutely from your lips, as the boy can't help but smile softly. Even when he's used to do these questions, he finds it a hundred times more enjoyable with such a cute customer. Taking a couple keys from his pocket, he smiles at you wider. Godess, he’s so damn attractive.... It’s almost an offense to be this handsome.

"I see... I'll need to make you some questions in order to find which one suits you better..." He points the door behind the shelfs as he speaks to his workmate. "Taking the customer with me for the questionary." the other man nods as his brows go up and down. Once he passes, he makes you enter, closing behind you two. You’re quite nervous. You didn’t know there was a questionary for this things. The attractive man sits in front of you as his gaze analyzes your summer dress. It suits you so perfectly he can’t even look up at your eyes again. He obligates himself, clearing his throat. He makes you sit on a table before sitting in front.

“I’m Suguru, and I’m going to ask you some questions, so we can define what type of toy you should buy, alright?” You nod, blushed again. Answer sexual questions to this man must be some type of divine punishment. He takes his tablet out. “First, did you ever had sexual encounters?”

Wow, the first question and you feel already like disappearing from shame. You nod quietly a couple times. It was a long ago, tho. You think about adding that to your answer, but your voice seems gone. “Was it recently?” you shake your head, thanking the gods for the question of the man sitting in front of you. “Good…” He takes note of “Size: little”, but his head starts to think about that. A long ago? You look so hot and cute… He would definitely change that.

“Do you usually masturbate using fingers or any other thing you can take inside?” Damn, he was using such a vocabulary… Isn’t the room too hot? He’s secretly enjoying the way that your eyes find more interesting places to look at than his face. You’re so blushed… He has been also aware on how your legs press under the transparent table. He crosses them on his ankles, his chest touching the surface as he sits properly, closer to you.

“J-just fingers…” you say quietly, and he takes note of that too, bitting his lip under the thought of yourself, using those little fingers, crying out his name and begging for him. The images are invading his mind as his eyes soflty scan you enterely. He wants to cross the table and kiss you. Fuck, you’re so cute, so red and flustered… He can’t keep making those dumb questions. He stands up, walking behind you. Even when you thought his presence might be intimidating, his touch on your shoulders make you relax.

“You’re too tense answering this…” he whispers, as his hands massage you softly. They sometimes get closer to your discovered clavicle, quickly going up again. Your skin reacts with electricity as his hands keep going. “Relax a little, yeah? Or else, I’ll end making the practical questionary…” It was a lie. Not that he would take things practical, but yes that a practical questionary exists. He never got wild with clients, and less on the shop. But seems like there are first times for everything.

“P-practical?” you ask. You cheeks blush again. How cute. His hands go down, reaching your breasts. You sigh under his touch, even knowing that there’s fabric between his palms and your skin, but already feeling that good.

“Mhm. You know, getting to know your body language to different stimulations.” he coos near your ear, as you press your tighs together again. Of course, he saw that. “Are you interested, honey?” his voice sounds so smooth you can’t help but nod. The attraction feels heavier when he’s behind you, hands touching you as his voice guides your thoughts. “That’s it, how I wanted.” He walks towards the door, closing it with the key, as he comes back. His body is again standing behind your chair, where you can’t see him, as his hand wraps softly around your neck, and the other slides above your chest to squeeze your breast. “No bra, I see…” His gaze goes to your pressed legs, and, with a quick movement, he takes the chair away from the table, walking towards the front, bending over the chair, getting so close to you as if he was gonna kiss you. His fingers lift your dress and quickly take your panties waistband, taking them away with a fast movement. He licks two of his fingers until they’re dripping saliva, getting so ready to follow the explicit images that his mind has been creating for the last 5 minutes. He looks at the stain on your panties under your blushed gaze. Of course, you’re wet. Ridiculously wet. He wants to know how will you end once he’s deep inside you.

“Let’s see…” he takes them, putting them on his pocket, an excuse to see you again. Even when he doesn’t plan to give them back to you. He would probably use them later on the darkness of his room, maybe smell you on them, maybe wrap his cock with them as he thinks he’s fucking you. He gets hard just with the thought of what you two are about to do. His fingers are still wet when he presses them against your core. "You'll may enjoy simple things..." you feel two of his fingers inside, a torturing and slow circle motion while his lips are dangerously close to yours and your body arches on the chair, searching more depth and more contact with his body. You try to kiss him, getting closer, but he parts with a giggle, asif he was having fun with it. "Maybe just a plastic cock will help you, but why should we just ignore that I can fuck you better than that thing could ever?" he whispers as his fingers curve towards your walls. You let a long moan out as your hands grip his shirt, taking a satisfied smile from him. "Just see how your body reacts to my fingers… To only my fingers..." Without a word, he takes them out. Your moan turns sad when you don't feel them inside. He laughs a little. "Remember we're searching your adequate toy, hm?" He kneels softly, eyes shining with lust as he licks his lips, tongue being such a tease while it passes above his pink lips, leaving glossy spit behind. “What I thought when I saw you… Maybe a sucker goes better for you." Without more words, his lips capture your clit, sucking softly, making you tangle your fingers on his raven locks, bun messier than before, and your legs cross behind his body, unconsciously pulling him closer. He won’t say it, but he likes it. How your body presses him, wanting him deeper. It’s a sign of how good he’s doing it.

“G-god…” you moan, as your body arches towards his mouth. He wants to hear you. He wants to hear you calling him. Calling his name. Crying for him, begging. He fantasizes with your voice breaking on a moan. He parts with glossy lips, licking his fingers again as he puts two inside. Your cute eyes seem about to cry from pleasure as your fingers are still tangled on his hair. “Please…” you beg him. “P-please…”. Right were he wanted you. Godess, he’s so hard… An d you’re making him even more, every single minute that passes. His autocontrol is almost reaching the limit line, and he doesn’t know if he will be able to keep looking how you become a mess without exploding.

“You’re missing my name, baby.” he jokingly sings, as his fingers curve inside you, making you gasp for air. His lips trace your neck when you let your head fall back, tongue playing near your jaw as he bites sweetly all way down your neck, including your clavicle, as his fingers keep fucking you softly, slower everytime, almost forcing you to say his name. Your shyness disappears as soon as his fingers move so slow you need to move against them. He kneels again, mouth near his fingers, and you can even feel his hot breath against your folds. You close your eyes, mouth open as he smiles for himself

“Please… Suguru, please…” His tongue licks you again, fingers still thrusting painfully good inside you as your head falls back again with a long moan. He’s enjoying this way too much, how your pretty legs get around his neck to bring his mouth closer, and how you try to mute your moans by covering your mouth with your hand. You look so pretty and so damn hot like that, dripping wet for him as he takes every single drop on his mouth. You taste so heavenly… But, sadly, he has a more needy place on his body, achingly hard against his pants, twitching with every moan he hears. With an audible kiss, the boy parts from you as his fingers also leave your cunt, and you’re already missing his skilled tongue on you. He laughs, unzipping his pants, letting you see the bulge against his boxers. Like that, standing in front of you, half undressed, with his bun almost gone and his t-shirt messy, all his tall body above yours, he sees you so little. There, legs open and fluids and saliva staining your inner thighs, such a cute view just for him. His muscles tense when you stretch a leg towards him, bare foot touching his bulgue softly above the fabric. He can’t wait no more. Taking your leg by the ankle, he gets closer with a long caress on your skin, his other hand rests on the chair back when he arrives near you, body hunched over you. He whispers when he talks, breathy moans leaving your mouth as his hand releases your leg and plays around your wet inner thighs.

“The good thing about working on a sex-shop…” he whispers, opening the drawer behind your chair. “Is the insane quantity of free condoms we get from promotions.” as he says it, he takes an alluminium package out of the drawer. “Would you like to try to put it?” he says, a smile on his mouth as he takes away his underwear, burying his hand on his hair, trying to accomodate it. He’s huge, and your hand takes the little plastic almost trembling, under his patient gaze. “Open it slowly and take it out. I’ll prepare myself, hm? Unless you want to…”

You doubt but, as soon as you see his hand stroking softly, you put your cold fingers on the tip, a moan escaping his mouth. Your fist gets around it and you begin to pump it slowly. His hips begin to rock against your hand without him noticing.

“Please, put it already… I want to fuck you.” he moans. “You seem so tight… I can even feel how good you will squeeze me.” His voice is shaky as both your gazes are fixed on how your hands put the condom on him, his teasing your core again with a sigh, and, as soon as it is done, he takes your body, still using the summer dress, and sits you on the desk, cock perfectly aligned to enter in you with a soft motion of his hips. He does it slowly, he didn’t forget about the first question. Maybe it was the second? He doesn’t know. His brain is shutted off because of pleasure as he buries little by little inside you, until he reaches his end. He sighs and you moan, you’ve never felt so full. Maybe your fingers won’t work anymore from now on.

“Tight and soft… And so, so, wet.” he giggles when your nails get buried on his t-shirt. Using your legs, tangling them on his back, you ask him to move without words. You need him to move. “Hm? You want something, pretty?” You nod. “Use your words. I know you can do it!” he encourages you, even when you can’t put more than two words together and pretend they make sense. You order your words before speaking, voice sore from crying.

“Please, ‘Guru… Move, please.” His laugh is soft as his hips thrust inside you, cock sliding out before another motion against your body. Each one of them makes you moan higher and higher, as you hide your face on his neck and he keeps your legs open for him to fuck. You’re almost folded in two as he keps pounding, that lock of hair outside of the bun against his eyes as your breath and moans collide in one. He sounds so good, so deep and so lewd you want to hear him moan all afternoon. To make him moan.

“Good, baby, keep ‘em open for me.” his finger caress sweet circles on your clit, hand sneaking between your bodies as your lips kiss his neck’s crook, soflty bitting. His hips follow an amazingly sensual pace, waving against you as your gasps and whimes are higher, all of them transformed into love bites on his neck. Those ones are gonna leave a mark Geto will be more than happy to show everyone. He won’t cover them, why? He could brag all day about the best sex he had had in months. Your voice distracts him as a saliva thread connects his skin to your open mouth, eyes closed in an expression of pure pleasure. Geto would gladly capture this in a picture and save it for himself and only himself. Your voice surprises him. “Harder, ‘Guru.” he laughs, and his voice coos on your ear.

“Are you sure?” Nodding, you close your eyes soflty, feeling how he bites your ear soflty. “Good.” His hands push your body slowly, making your back meet the cold desk as you lie on the glassy surface. He would pay to see your ass against the glass, moving with every thrust he gives you, your fluids staining the transparent surface. His hands take your hips, lifting them a bit, as he thrusts harder and faster against you. His hands help your hips to meet his cock halfway as you’re a mess of moans and gasps, unable to do anything more than feel pleasure. Your back arches due to the extreme pleasure you’re feeling. He has edged you twice already, and you feel so close to cumming… And he does, too. His cock ached from being jailed in those pants, and he even caressed it from above the fabric while eating you. You are the best sex session he has had in months, and he’s so stupidly hard… he feels that, if you squeeze him once more, he’ll cum harder than ever.

You’re about to discover it as you cum with a long sigh, a beautiful moan that will be stuck on his head for a long time, that will haunt his mind while working, having a shower or getting a drink. Your cunt clenches and squeezes his hardness, making him moan and keep thrusting you through your orgasm, so in search of his own, wanting to overstimulate you to the point that his dick is pressed against your walls while he cums. He smiles when the thought hits him and he thrusts slower, but harder. “Mmm… good, good, keep squeezing,baby, keep being so tight… I’m so close.” he sounds so needy it makes you squeeze him harder. Your own hand searches your clit as he keeps thrusting, emptying himself with a long groan, letting his body rest on top of yours, mixing your breathes as his hips give soft thrusts against you yet, as your legs still tremble from the experience. He sighs. It was amazing. Both of you try to regulate your breaths as he helps you to stand up, making a knot on the condom and arranging his clothes and your dress. You're red again, but you want to thank him.

"Thanks... It was good." you whisper under his lovely gaze, while he makes a bun again. "B-but I still don't know what to buy... And my panties..." he interrumpts you.

"Come back tomorrow. With a dress. And, just as a recommendation: don't put panties under. You won't lost the panties, and I won't lose time taking them off your body." With a blink, he gets closer for a kiss, bitting you lip. "I'll wait for you tomorrow with more practical tests. and remember: sundress and no panties."

[604to647]

Mi Galleta (Part 2 - White Chocolate Macadamia)

7.5K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Pero helps you out with a sticky situation at the restaurant and you get to know him better.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), very minor angst, unwanted physical touching (not from Pero), petnames (Cookie, baby, princesa, etc.), kissing, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV (discussed), cum eating, reader can wear Pero's jacket and it's long on her, Biker!Pero comes with his own warning.

A/N: I don't know anything about bikes! (Also does anyone have any non-dark biker romance book recs?) Series Masterlist

Pero doesn’t call.  Or text.  Not that night.  Or over the weekend.  By the time the work week rolls around, you make a vow to yourself that you won’t go to visit him during the day unless he does, and consequently you don’t go at all.

Feeling a little hurt, you wonder if maybe you made a bit too much out of what you thought was mutual flirtation.  It was his job, after all, to make it hard to gain access to the restaurant; perhaps he thought that your time together and all your efforts with the cookies and lunches were just a means to an end, and that once you were successful, desire on either of your parts to interact should cease.  That thought makes you even sadder; even though you were trying to find a way upstairs, your daily meet ups with Pero had become more - you had liked him.  He was gruff for sure, but you had enjoyed getting to know him and the discovery that he seemed to be softer than he appeared.  You had thought he enjoyed getting to know you as well.

“I’m sorry he didn’t call, babe,” Dorothy laments, giving you a big hug.

“It’s okay,” you pout, crushed, “…maybe I read too much into it.”

“You’re always so sweet, giving people the benefit of the doubt,” says Eloise, “He really ought to have messaged.”

“Do you think… you would be up for going to Lin?  To eat and drink, I mean,” Dorothy asks, sheepishly.

“Dorothy!!” exclaims Eloise, “We agreed not to-”

“Not to what?” you ask, curious.

The two women look at each other; Eloise looking exasperated and Dorothy trying to look innocent. “Okay, out with it,” you grin.

“So… you know how my friends from college are coming in from out of town this weekend?  I thought… it might be nice to take them to Lin!  It’s this super hot restaurant, still so exclusive, and the food was soooo good last week!  We all loved it!  And they have that extended cocktails list we said we wanted to try, remember?  I feel like it would be such a perfect place to take them!” Dorothy finishes in a hurry.

“You’re right,” you say softly.  You would have given Pero a similar rave review if you had had a chance, “They would love it.  You should totally take them there.”

“The thing is…” Dorothy chews her lower lip, which is generally a sign that she knows she’s about to ask something completely unreasonable, “… we still don’t know how to get it.  Just because we got in once, does that mean we automatically get in again?  Regardless… our chances of getting in or even just finding out how to are probably better if… you’re there?” 

Eloise shoots Dorothy a death glare.

“…but if you rather not see the bouncer guy… it’s totally okay,” Dorothy adds on quickly.

You sigh, but it’s not one of exasperation but of indulgence.  You know if you refuse, the girls would truly let it go, never holding it against you.  But… it’s also such a simple thing for you to do, you can’t really find it within yourself not to acquiesce.  You’ve always been this way: not a people pleaser per say (it’s not in your nature to do anything that truly makes you uncomfortable or against your character), but genuinely happy to extend yourself for others.  If you were to really analyze things, it’s probably that deep down you feel that with the advantages you’ve been afforded, your true grievances in life are little to none; the little things that may be troublesome to you are nothing compared to life’s real misfortunes that you’ve been lucky enough to have avoided.  Why not help if you can, your grateful heart always asks.

And, it’s not like you have to see Pero for more than a minute or two. 

“Ok, we can go,” you smile.  The way Dorothy’s face breaks into an expression of pure joy confirms for you that you’re doing a good thing.  Eloise is a little more cautious; she triple-checks with you later that you’re sure, and you reassure her that you really, truly are.

Pero recognizes Dorothy right away when she strides into the building lobby.  She’s heading up a good-sized group, maybe seven or eight people, and he’s hoping that you’re among the crowd.  As the rest of the party starts to file into the elevator bank, his heart leaps when he sees you bringing up the rear. 

You make brief eye contact with Pero as you pass his desk; the look in your eyes unreadable, but he thinks they’re missing a brightness he’s used to.  Pero wants to talk to you, ask you how you’ve been.  Tell you it’s only been a week but he’s missed you.  Apologize for not calling.  But then he sees Paul’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you after the group.  As he follows, he can’t take his eyes off the sway of your hips and the way this guy is touching you with such familiarity.  Who is this guy, anyways?  Is he your date?  Your boyfriend?

Seething, he reaches in the elevator to swipe the fob and press the button to the restaurant floor, keeping eye contact with you as he wordlessly steps back out into the hall.  You can’t look away from Pero either; you’re not sure if this is the scowl he normally wears to maintain his bouncer authority or if he’s genuinely displeased.

“Man, I’d love a mindless, easy job.  Thanks, pal,” chirps Paul.

You nearly snap your neck turning your head so quickly, unbelieving of Dorothy’s old classmate’s rudeness.  It seems that everyone but Paul takes notice of your horrified expression; you turn to face Pero again, hopefully conveying an apologetic look as the elevator doors close.

---

Pero decides he’s done for the evening.  He calls in someone to cover the rest of his shift and goes upstairs to clock out.  He saw via the computer that you and your friends have been seated in a private room, and he’s sure that you’re in for a fun night of cocktails and good food, maybe even some dancing – he’s not in the mood to see you come downstairs after a night a reverie with that smarmy guy hanging all over you.  Who the hell was that asshole?

Getting his backpack, Pero exchanges his suit jacket for a motorcycle jacket before going by the kitchens to say goodnight to the kitchen and wait staff.  That’s when he spots you.  You’ve tucked yourself against the wall at the very end of the kitchen serving window where the overhang of the counter creates a little nook you’re sinking into.  Pero watches you play on your phone, periodically looking up and scanning the hallway that leads back to the dining room, and that’s when he realizes you’re hiding here.  He can’t think of anything down this way for restaurant goers: there are no patron washrooms, and you don’t appear to be in need of any assistance – there are plenty of staff coming and going but you haven’t made any movement to flag anyone down for help.

Pero takes a moment to admire how beautiful you look tonight; maybe even prettier than he remembers.  Despite not knowing where the two of you stand, he doesn’t think he can pass up this opportunity to speak to you; and although he’s finding your somewhat squirrely behaviour to be adorable, he tells himself that it’s his gentlemanly duty to make sure you’re okay.  Never mind that the dress you’re wearing is doing wonders for your curves, and absolutely nothing for his self control. 

“How come you’re hiding by the kitchen?”

Surprised by Pero’s sudden appearance, you answer a little bit haughtier than you intend, “I’m not hiding!”

“You are!” He can’t help but be playful with you, “Why else would you be tucked away down this-” Pero cuts himself off; he’s just noticed that you’re fidgeting with the hemline of your dress, and not just tugging it down, but wrapping your fingers around a large piece of torn fabric, “How did your dress get ripped?”

You look up at him, eyes wide; you didn't realize it was that noticeable.

“Who did that, Cookie?” Pero’s voice is tight, barely masking his anger, but his eyes are soft, full of concern, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly you don’t care that he didn’t call - Pero’s here now and he looks like he’s about to kill someone for you; maybe that’s why you drop the hem of your dress and reach for him.  When your hand connects with his chest, it feels so solid and comforting; your body automatically follows, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head against his chest.  Though caught off guard by your actions, Pero instinctively takes you into his arms, pulling you in close; he brings his lips to your hair and rubs your back soothingly.

“What happened, Cookie?” he asks again when you pull away to look at him with your beautiful, shining eyes, “Who do I have to hurt?”

“Don’t hurt anyone, please.  It’s not worth it,” you lay your head back on Pero’s chest.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

You nod, but you seem tired.

“There’s a little terrace where some of us go to take breaks, you want to talk there?” Pero offers.  A quiet spot sounds lovely to you.

Pero keeps his arms encircled protectively around you as he guides you past the kitchens, through what looks like the staff locker room and lounge and onto an adjoining terrace, “No one will bother you here, Cookie.  I promise.”  You sigh comfortably as you take a seat on the patio seating; Pero takes the suit jacket he was wearing earlier out from his backpack and drapes it over your shoulders.

You smile at him gratefully, his presence alone relaxing you.  Pero waits for you to tell him what happened; he doesn’t press or push, just sits across from you and holds your small hands in his.

Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, you feel finally comfortable enough to fill Pero in, “The group I’m with tonight, most of them are Dorothy’s friends from college.  They’re fun and nice enough, but there’s this one guy that’s always been a bit handsy.”

Pero’s eyes darken as you continue, “Dorothy, Eloise and I call it ‘octopus hands’.  Just always touching and trying to grab.  Suckers for hands practically. He’s been like this every time we get together with that group, which thankfully is not very often.  Anyways, I had had enough of having to dodge him, so I pushed him away… he grabbed onto my dress and it ripped.  It was an accident.”  You shrug, as if describing the actions of a petulant child.

“And you were hiding from him because you think he might try something?  Get aggressive?”  If he were an animal, you would definitely describe Pero’s hackles as being up. 

You chuckle, “No, I told you I’m not hiding!  I’m avoiding the room.  It’s totally different.”

“Is that so?” smiles Pero.

“I’m trying to avoid the room because I don’t want to try to act like I’m not pissed.  Pretend like things are cool, because that feels annoying to do and I probably won’t be able to do a very good job at it if I’m being honest.  And then there would be a scene,” you say, making a face.

“You don’t think Dorothy will take your side?”

You wave off this concern, “Oh no, I’m not worried about that.  She’s got my back.  And I’ll definitely tell her about it, but I don’t think it’s the right time right now: in front of other people that are friends with Paul, and where everyone has been drinking.  I’d rather not put myself or Dorothy in that position.”

Pero admires the care you’re showing for your friends; if you appeared more upset or avoidant of what had happened, he might gently push you to ignore their feelings and give yourself more consideration.  As it is, you seem fairly in control of your feelings and the situation, so he doesn’t push.

“So, I was just waiting by the kitchens and thought I would go back in with our food when it was ready.  That way I would have something to focus on… instead of punching him in the face,” you finish.

“I’d like to have seen that,” grins Pero, “Is this the same guy who was touching you in the elevator?  The one who wanted an ‘easy job’?”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry about that, Pero.  That was so unbelievably offensive, I was ready to sock him then.  Yeah, that’s Paul.  I’m sorry,” you look pained at the memory of Paul’s rudeness.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Cookie.  Glad to know that’s not the kind of guy you go for.”

“Nope,” you scrunch you nose up good-naturedly, “I only go for guys who take my number but don’t ever text or call.”

“Oh princesa, I’m so sorry.  I wanted to text, I really tried… I can’t find your number in my phone,” Pero looks down, embarrassed.

“What do you mean?”

Pero unlocks his phone and holds it out opened to the Contacts app, “I looked under your name, then I tried ‘Cookie’, then I just started looking for different cookies: Chocolate Chip, Sugar, Ginger Molasses… I couldn’t find you.”

You take the phone from him and look at him dubiously but ultimately decide that he’s being sincere, “I put it under the cookie emoji.”

“The emoji? Where is it?” Pero really couldn’t look more confused.

Scrolling to the bottom of his contacts list, you show him it’s under ‘#’ and you when you pull it up, the top of the screen displays the silly selfie you took as the contact photo.

“Oh, Cookie… I feel so dumb.  I’m sorry,” Pero looks so much like a dog that’s been scolded that you soften and forgive him immediately. “I should have just texted you right away when you gave it to me,” he types out a quick message and sends it with a whoosh. 

When the notification comes in, you look down at your phone:  I��m sorry.  Forgive me, Cookie? :(

You laugh so hard.  Who would have thought that the scary bouncer with the menacing scar over his eye could be so adorable.  And sweet.  And protective.  And hot.  Your body moves with a mind of its own; to answer his question, you close the space between the two of you and kiss him.

Pero doesn’t know how it’s possible, but your lips are sweeter than your cookies.  He kisses you back softly at first, a gentle introduction of your mouths as he becomes increasingly familiar with the plush feel of your lips, the curve of your soft smile.  When your mouth relaxes into a sigh, followed by an oh, he presses deeper, tongue seeking an invitation; as you open up for him, he pulls you closer and lets his tongue do the talking, saying all the words that he wasn’t able to this past week.  Your hands wrap around his neck and thread through Pero’s hair as you let out a soft hum of contentment; Pero smiles at the sound and strokes your tongue with his a few more times before pulling off your lips, chasing after them with a couple of light pecks.  Opening your eyes, you answer with a flutter of soft kisses to the corner of his upturned mouth before snuggling in under his jaw, “You’re forgiven.”

“Do you want to get out of here, princesa?”

You begin to nod but then stop yourself, “Oh, I would love to, Pero, but… I already ordered and I wouldn’t want that food to go to waste.  Also, do you think I could just pay for it separate so I don’t stick the others with the bill?  Still… it would be a waste.  I hate food waste.  Plus, I can’t just ghost Dorothy and Eloise… I have to at least say good bye…”

“What did you order?” Pero asks, simply.

“The Chilean sea bass.  Oooh noooo… just thinking about it is making my mouth water.  Ok, I’ll admit it, I don’t want to leave because I want to eat it so badly,” you joke.

“Will you let me take care of it, Cookie?”  You nod even though you don’t know what he means to do.

“I’ll be 5-10 minutes, you can stay out here or in the lounge if you want.  No need to hide by the kitchen.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” you smile as Pero bends down to kiss you lightly.

“Fine, you can avoid in here if you want.  I’ll be back soon, hermosa,” and he leaves before you can ask about this new nickname that he’s added to the ever-growing roster.

When Pero is gone, you check your phone and see a few messages from the girls:

Where did you go?

Are you okay?

Was Paul being weird?

You type back a quick response: I’m fine!  Yes, he was being a weirdo!  But Pero found me, so…

A string of exclamation points and celebratory gif responses come in in quick succession.  You’re giggling and typing out responses as fast as you can when Pero returns with a heavy paper bag in his hand, “It’s all taken care of, princesa.”

You peek in the bag while Pero puts on his backpack, “I didn’t order all that.”

“I have to eat too, you know,” Pero pretends to scowl at you before kissing you quickly, “plus there’s a few appies and a dessert thrown in there, too.”

“Can… I pay?” It looks like a full feast.

“Don’t worry about it, Cookie.  Staff perk.” 

Not sure you believe him, you look at Pero skeptically, but he cups your face with his hands and strokes your cheek gently before giving you a deep kiss that leaves you dizzy, so you decide to just go with it.

“Ready to go say goodbye to your friends?”  Nodding, you take Pero’s outstretched hand; he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before leading you back to the dining room your friends are in. 

When you walk through the door, Pero drops your hand in favour of curling his palm around your waist protectively and walking a step behind you like a watchful guard dog.  You can only imagine the glower on his face as the room quiets and everyone stares at you; you would roll your eyes and laugh if not for the fact that you see Paul get up from his seat, only to sit down immediately with one glare from Pero. 

“I’m going to go, babes,” you say apologetically when Dorothy and Eloise come to give you hugs.  They both give you big smiles and so many kisses, never begrudging you for leaving – their only request that you promise to text when you make it home.  Blowing them kisses and waving to everyone, even Paul, you breeze out of the room tucked under Pero’s arm with his lips pressed to your hair. 

In the elevator on the way down, Pero helps you button up his jacket that you still have draped over your shoulders before pulling you in by his collar for another searing kiss that lasts the entire way to the ground floor; still light headed from his affection, it takes you a moment to register that he’s walking you towards to a sports bike parked just outside the doors.  Pero is pulling a black bike helmet out of his backpack when you stutter, “We’re going on that?”

“You ever been on a bike before, Cookie?” Pero smirks.

You shake your head, shyly, “Just scooters and stuff… never… a crotch rocket.”

Pero laughs uproariously, “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”  And you believe him.

Taking a walk around the bike, you can’t help but admire its sleek design as you run your fingers over the letters on the front frame.  Even though the engine is off, you can feel the bike’s power emanating off the metal; you don’t know anything about bikes, but you can appreciate a well-designed machine when you see one.  You can tell that a lot of care and time has been poured into this vehicle - loving upkeep and carefully selected mods (even though you have no idea what those would be); this motorcycle is clearly a labour of love and you’re starting to feel excited about getting to take a ride on it.  Pero watches you as you take in his bike, appreciating the way your gentle fingers skim over the frame, the handlebars, and then the seat of his Ducati; he spies the glint in your eyes go from trepidation, to awe, to excitement and suddenly he can’t wait to take you out on the open road.

“How do I get on?” 

Pero points to the little foot peg over the back wheel and holds out his arm to help you up.  You’re incredibly grateful for the extra coverage from the length of Pero’s jacket as you grab a hold of Pero’s steady forearm, hike up your left leg to step on the foot peg and swing yourself over the backseat as you would a horse.  Planting your foot firmly on the peg on the other side of the bike, you immediately close your legs; you’re almost thankful for the rip in your dress since it provides you with a little more give to spread you legs over the smooth back seat slant without flashing everyone on the street.  As it is, your dress is hiked up near the top of your thighs and you’re depending on the flaps of Pero’s jacket for some semblance of modesty.  Pero is kneeling next to the bike putting the food in his backpack when he sees you drop your foot from the peg and let your bare leg dangle down, lightly swinging it without your heels ever touching the ground.  He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything sexier in his whole life.  You’re using both your hands to hold your dress to the seat, leaning forward following the natural decline of the seat and smiling broadly at him, “Where are we going?”

Straightening up, Pero grins, “I can take you anywhere you like, princesa.  If you want to go home and have dinner by yourself, I’ll take you.  But if you’re up for it, we can go to a nice terrace with a view and have ourselves a little picnic?”

You nod at that option and bite your lip a little at how cute Pero looks as he puts on his backpack so it sits on his front like a baby carrier.  Then he does something a little unexpected: he reaches out with his helmet in both hands and holds it over your head, “Cookie, I only have one helmet, so this will have to do, okay?”  When you nod, Pero slowly lowers the helmet over your head then pops open the visor so you can still see him as he adjusts the strap under your chin.  It’s not bad but there’s definitely a little room for your head to wobble around; the inside of the helmet smells vaguely like Pero’s cologne and you feel a warmth spread through you as breath his scent in – when Pero leans back to inspect his handiwork, you give a little giggle and wobble you head around, “I’m a bobblehead.”

Pero laughs and reaches in through the visor opening to pinch your nose, “Ok, when we’re riding, keep your legs on the pegs and hold on to me tight, okay?  If anything’s wrong, tap my arm, and if you want me to slow down, tap my leg.  Ready?”

You give him a big smile that you’re not sure he can see and an enthusiastic thumbs up; before Pero flips down the helmet visor, he definitely sees your bright eyes shining with excitement.  Even though he knows you’re perfectly capable, he makes a show of helping raise your leg up and placing your foot back on the foot peg.  One of his strong hands holds onto your ankle while the other gently runs up your calf and brushes your knee, sending a shiver down your spine.  When Pero repeats the action with your other leg, you let him have complete control to handle and position you any way he wants and he feels his crotch start with how good it feels to have you soft and pliant in his hands.  Once satisfied with your positioning, Pero skates his hand up your thigh, skirting your raised hemline, and when he gives you a light squeeze to let you know he’s done, you inhale sharply and clench down on nothing. 

After Pero swings his leg over the frame of the bike and puts on his gloves, he waits for you to wrap your arms securely around his middle before starting the ignition.  As the bike roars to life, you give a little squeal of delight that Pero can hear even through the helmet and he smiles to himself.  Revving the engine a few times for effect, he takes off carefully but still feels you grip him tighter as you’re jerked back slightly; he can’t say he’s sorry.  Picking up speed as he weaves through the streets, he feels you rest your helmet on his upper back and his chest swells at how easily you’re taking to riding.

After about 15 minutes, Pero pulls up to another office building and cuts the engine.  Helping you take off the helmet, he finds you giddy with a big smile on your face; as you smooth down your hair, you exclaim, “That was so much fun!!”  The ride had been thrilling; you know Pero wasn’t going that fast for your sake, but you found the rush of the wind blowing past you and the freedom and danger of being so open on the road to be exhilarating all on its own.  The hum of the engine had been an unexpected comfort and the vibrations of motor reverberating through you had kept you alert and excited throughout your short journey.  Not to mention that being so close to Pero and his warmth, sinking in to the feeling of security he provides, has you turned on and tingling.  Finding your enthusiasm infectious, Pero helps you off the bike and leads you up to the building to which he gains access with a swipe of a fob he produces from his jacket pocket.

“You have one of those fobs for every building in the city?” you tease.

Pero puts his finger to his lips, “Restaurant industry secret, shhhhh,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

A short elevator ride later, Pero brings you to an empty terrace with a beautiful view of the city lights; you gaze around in awe as he starts laying out the food.

It’s a wonderfully romantic dinner.  The conversation flows easily, and you learn a little more about your grouchy bouncer.  You’re only initially surprised to learn that William, the restaurant manager and sometimes host, is Pero’s best friend, and that the two of them have worked together for years at various different restaurants.  Remembering William’s easy smile and friendly demeanor from when he sat your party both of the times you’ve dined at Lin, you giggle at the obvious dichotomy between the two friends.  If only potential restaurant patrons knew that big golden retriever energy awaited them at the end of the elevator ride should they make it past the scary Cerebus downstairs.  When Pero asks you what you’re laughing at, you simply ask him if he and William have always worked their current roles; apparently not - they both started out as bus boys and worked their way through the kitchen, though Pero’s never had the inclination to work front of house the way William has.  “You don’t say,” you jest, to which Pero gives you his most fearsome glare.  You’re not the least bit intimidated, especially when he follows up with the gentlest forehead kiss.

Between bites of the mouthwatering sea bass, you’re happy to discover that in addition to a common love of food, you and Pero have also both travelled extensively; to your mutual delight, you realize that somehow, you’ve eaten at some of the same restaurants in Europe and Asia.  When you both claim to know the best udon shop in Toyko, you agree to say the name at the same time - doubling over in laughter when you both name the same hole-in-the-wall in Shinjuku.  Throughout the easy flowing conversation, Pero finds ways to stay close and you welcome his every touch: a caress of your hair near the ear, a stroke of your knee under the table, a kiss to your hand.  With the sun now fully set and the chilly evening air giving you goosebumps, Pero pulls you close to his side - tucking your bare legs in between his to keep you warm as you finish dessert.  Pero looks into your eyes with longing as you both savour the last bites of the rich lychee flavoured flan.  When he helps wipe away an errant sugar smudge near the corner of your mouth with his thumb, he brings his face so close to yours that you’re caught short of breath.  He really is so handsome, you think before his mouth descends on yours and you get lost in the way he licks and softly groans into you.  Your tongue chases his as you open for him, and you gasp when Pero, palm under your ass, pulls you into his lap fully one handedly. 

Wrapping you arms around Pero’s neck to run your hands through his hair, you moan as his hands roam your back, pulling you closer against him still.  The kissing is downright urgent: a mirage of open mouths, panting, devouring.  Needing air, and a break if you’re honest with how close you are to just sinking down on him on this terrace, you bite down on Pero’s lower lip and nibble a little before murmuring, “Pero, please take me home.”

Pero’s eyes never leave you the entire time the two of you pack away the containers and make your way back to his bike, his look dark and wanting.  If he takes his time helping you on the bike, letting his hands trail up and down your legs, eyes lingering on yours before he flips down the visor, who can blame him.  If you press yourself tight against his back while he weaves through the streets, inching your hands lower and lower on his torso, seeking out his upper thigh for purchase when he accelerates, who can blame you.

By the time Pero parks in front of your building, the thrill of the ride and the hum of the bike between your legs has only amplified your want; you’re positively dripping for him.  You can barely keep your hands to yourself on the elevator ride up and Pero is on top of you the moment your front door closes.  Your hands fly to take off his jacket, his shirt, reaching down to frantically unbutton his pants without shame; stopped only when he insists on undressing you first, growling, “Need to take this dress off, hermosa.  Don’t want you wearing anything another man has touched for a minute longer.”

You step right in Pero’s space, locking desperate eyes with him as he reaches behind you to undo your zipper; he drags it down slower than necessary, drawing out the process.  When you whine at how long it’s taking, Pero chuckles, “Patience, princesa,” before pulling the zipper down the rest of the way and letting the fabric slip over your shoulders and pool around your feet.

“Holy shit, Cookie,” Pero breathes as he takes in your matching black lace lingerie set, “I think my heart just stopped.”  Suddenly shy under his gaze, you turn away to lead him to the bedroom, but he stops you and pulls you back so suddenly you crash into his chest.  Holding you flushed against him by a strong hand on the back of your neck, Pero uses his free hand to tip your chin up to look at him, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful,” before kissing you like his life depends on it.  His lips crush to yours, tongue mapping every slope and dip of your mouth, his one hand now gently gripping your neck under your jaw - caging you within his hands so that you’re left to the mercy of his desire.  One rough palm moves down your body to explore all your soft curves, lightly groping and claiming all the spots that make you moan into his mouth.  Pero walks you slowly to the couch in the middle of your living room so gradually you don’t even notice until the back of your legs hit the cushions.  He releases you at this same moment so that the soft impact has you toppling back, sat on the couch with a light bounce; you can only watch with lust hooded eyes as Pero lowers himself down to the floor onto his knees in front of you. 

“Pero,” you whisper, needy.

“I’ve got you, princesa,” breath hot, Pero kisses down your neck, hands holding your legs open so he can slot his wide frame between, getting as close to your body as possible. 

“Ohhhh, god, Pero… baby,” you whimper as his mouth worships your neck, nipping at your décolletage, then licking a wet stripe down to the valley between your breasts.  When his hands abandon their grip on your thighs to trail up, cupping your breasts, you can’t help but buck into his abdomen, seeking more of him.  Face buried in your chest, Pero chuckles, “Such an eager, pretty girl.  Tell me what you need, Cookie.”

Pulling down the cups of your lace bra so that your tits spill out, Pero gropes you roughly before his fingers zero in your nipples, alternating rolling, pinching and tugging on your peaks in an excruciating delicious pattern.  Smiling devilishly at you, “I’m waiting, princesa.”

“Fuc- oh, Pero, please.  Please.  Need your mouth, please,” you plead, desperation lacing every word. 

Without warning, Pero dips his head to take a breast in his mouth, and you gasp in pleasure, hands flying to bury themselves in his hair to grip his soft curls as his nibbles and swirls your hardened nipple.  Back arching off the back of the couch, you try to muffle you moans as Pero’s efforts with his mouth and hands electrify you to your core, heat pooling in your underwear. 

“Don’t do that, hermosa.  Want to hear you, want to hear what I do to you,” Pero comes off your breast with an obscenely wet smack of his lips before switching over to your neglected breast, his hand taking over for where his mouth left off.

“OH!  Pero, feels so good!  Right there, oh, ow!  Oh god, yessss,” the sting of Pero’s attention on your peaks only adding to your ecstasy.  Pero uses your lifted back to his advantage, his free hand now able to claw down your spine, grabbing and massaging your ass.  Having his hands so close to your pussy is sending you out of your mind; Pero’s hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once and you don’t know what to focus on.  It’s almost too much and you gently push him away so you can catch your breath; the dopey, shit-eating grin he gives you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

He does know, and Pero’s damn proud of it.  He’s never seen anything sexier in his life than you splayed out in front of him with eyes glassy from near over stimulation, tits pulled out of your bra and lightly bouncing as you pant, all while you pussy tries to grind down onto him for some friction.  He’s rock hard and he hasn’t even tasted you yet. 

Pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, swollen from where you bit them to keep yourself from crying out, Pero moves back slightly so he can admire you some more.  He can’t believe he’s here right now, that he gets to be the one that makes you feel this good; another smaller, possessive part of him triumphs that Paul never stood a chance - that you were always going to be his tonight.  And now he’s about to show you he’s worthy.

When you look back down at Pero with a lazy grin, breathing more even, Pero presses forward, “I’m going to taste you now, okay Cookie?”  Your soft ‘yes, please’, is all Pero needs to hear before he dives forward towards your dripping core.  Pressing hungry kisses over your panties, Pero growls when he feels the soaked through fabric on his tongue, “So fucking wet, princesa.  Is this all for me?”  All you can do is moan in assent as Pero continues to make out with your pussy.  His mouth never leaving you, Pero tugs off your underwear; tossing the wet scrap of lace aside to reveal your glistening cunt.  Running his fingers through your folds to spread your arousal up and over your clit, he takes a moment to drink in your near pornographic sounds before he lowers his mouth and positively feasts. 

You’re entire being feels like it’s been lit up.  Pero’s tongue presses against your seam, dipping in and out, teasing you with broad strokes and indulgent swirls.  His nose nudges at your clit over and over, as his entire head moves up and down, focused only on bringing you pleasure.  You think he’s giving you a break to collect yourself when he butterfly kisses up to your now throbbing clit, but reprieve is the furthest thing from Pero’s mind.  Just as you’re crying out his name in a heavenly melody, he breaches your tight hole with two of his thick fingers and seals your clit in between his lips and sucks.  You squirm, trying to get away from the sudden onslaught, but Pero lays his other arm across your stomach to hold you down so that all you can do is take, take, take.

“I-I-. I’m so close, Pero.  Ohhhh nghhhh, baby, ohhh, so c-close,” you’re simpering, eyes closed and head thrown back, desperate for more while simultaneously sure you can’t handle it. 

“Open your eyes, princesa.  Eyes on me while I eat your perfect pussy,” Pero commands, nuzzling your aching clit with the tip of his nose to get your attention.  When you look down, you lock eyes with Pero as his takes your nub between his lips again, lightly flicking his tongue while his curls bouncing against his forehead from the force with which his fingers drive into you.  When you grab onto his hair and pull him deeper into you, he hums his approval and the vibration does you in, you step off the cliff and let go as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave.  Pero continues to finger fuck you through your high while rising on one knee to palm at your neglected tits and kiss you long and tender. 

“Oh, Pero. Ohhh, that was- oh god,” you can barely string together your words; you’re completely wrung out and spent.  You’re now Pero’s pliable fuck doll, good and ready for his cock and not much else. He lifts your legs and maneuvers you into a laying position on the couch and it’s all you can do to try and keep your eyes open while you wait for him undo his pants and free his hard cock.  He’s magnificent: long with an impressive girth, a thick perfect vein runs along the underside of his length, ending at a bulbous weeping head; you want to feel the heft of him on your tongue.  Your hunger must show in your eyes and the way your plush lips instinctively part because Pero chuckles, “Another time, Cookie.  Right now, I’m going crazy every second I’m not in this tight cunt.”  He looks around the room looking for his backpack to get a condom, when, as if you’re reading his mind, you offer dreamily, “Pero, I’m clean.  If you want…”

His dick jumping at your words, Pero want you to be certain, “I’m clean too, hermosa.  Are you sure?”

“Want to feel you, baby,” your eyes dark with lust, “Fuck me bare, Pero.”

How’s he supposed to last when you have a mouth like that? “Fuck, princesa,” he breathes as he runs his tip through your dripping folds, adding to the sheen of leftover slick he transferred from his fingers; Pero fists his cock and coats it in your release to ready himself for your tight hole.  Hovering over you, he lines himself up to your entrance and captures your mouth in a passionate kiss as he slowly pushes in.  Every quick inhale of air you take to replace what he pushes out of your lungs is music to Pero’s ears.  Your tight walls almost choke him as he feels you spread your legs further, one leg now dangling off the edge of the couch in order to accommodate his size.  Pero is remiss to leave your lips, but he’s unable to resist the temptation to lean back and watch your face as you take his full length.  You hold his gaze amid your lust-filled haze, a blissed-out smile spreads across your beautiful face that cracks only when you lips form a soft ‘oh’ before relaxing again; Pero is hypnotized by this pattern repeating itself over and over as he pushes in deeper into your cunt.  When he finally bottoms out, you let out a breathy ‘Fuck’ before pulling him in for a slow and patient, soul affirming kiss.

Full. You feel so full.  “Taking me so well, princesa.  God you feel so perfect around my cock,” purrs Pero,  peppering your face and neck with soft, soothing kisses; waiting for your go ahead to move.  When you give it, he starts slow; dragging his cock nearly all the way out, before pushing back in with the same tempered control – you reward him with a call of his name and praise on how good it feels to be split open.  Over and over, he thrusts into you with the restraint of saint until he feels your arousal start to drown his cock, and only then does he pick up the pace; you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into his back to press him deeper, encouraging him to fuck you harder until he’s driving his cock into your cunt with a force that punches the air out of your lungs every time.  His grunts combined with his filthy words affirming how you were made for him, how he wants to stay buried in you, how you’re creaming so pretty around him, push you closer and closer to your edge again.

Snaking his hand between your bodies to toy with your sensitive clit, Pero feels you clenching down, “Come for me, Cookie.  You look so perfect when you come, need to see you come on my cock.”  You want to please him so.  You’ll give him everything he asks for, so long as he never stops looking at you the way he is right now: wrecked, desperate, devoted.  Doubling down on his attention to your pulsating bud, Pero draws perfect circles with his thumbs as he continues to rut into you with abandon, chasing both of your releases.  This time, when you come, your back lifts off the couch and Pero catches you, pulling you close as you shout out his name over and over into his shoulder, biting down and sucking into his skin so to muffle the string of obscenities rolling off your tongue.

The sting of pain from your teeth brings Pero to his precipice, and he manages to choke out, “Where do you want me, princesa,” before laying you down gently and pulling out.  Still lightheaded and cock drunk, you gaze through your lashes at Pero and almost shy, request, “Paint my tits please, Pero.”

Fisting himself furiously, the timidness of your tone in contrast to the lewdness of your words sends a tightness through Pero’s whole body right before he jerks and splashes ropes of cum all over your pretty breasts.

When he’s done, he steps off from over you and kneels by your head, kissing you appreciatively.  He reaches to grab a box of tissues but when he offers them to you, you giggle and swipe your fingers through his milky spend and pop your fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean.  Pero feels his softening dick make a valiant attempt to jump back to life as he watches you clean every last drop of his cum from your chest, licking your fingers and swallowing with a hum.  After he helps you up to your feet, you cup Pero’s face in your hands, stroking his scruff with your thumbs, and he melts under your tender affections.  “Stay over?” you look up, doe eyed. 

Grabbing you at your waist and sweetly kissing you as he walks you backwards toward the bedroom, Pero grins wickedly, “Of course, Cookie.  I’m not done with you yet.”

[mqsi]

hey!! can i please request an angsty pedri fic🥺🥺 enemies to lovers in which he takes it too far and makes a cruel comment about her past relationship, thank uuu

Hii,thanks for the request. The poll results said I should do 2 separate fics so here’s the angsty one. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

——————————————————————————

You were never fond of Pedri. It annoyed you how the whole interenet thought of him as a sweet, loving guy when In reality he was arrogant and not that nice. But maybe that’s just towards you. He was not fond of you either but no one around the two of you could understand why. You had a mutual friend group at it became normal for you and Pedri to taunt each other at gatherings.

Today, you were forced to sit across from him in a restaurant. One of your friends was celebrating her birthday and she decided it would be a good idea to make a seating plan like this. You were fine with ignoring him until the topic of relationships and love came up.

You had a pretty ugly break up a few weeks ago and It was still sensitive talk to you. Your ex cheated on your and during the heat of your argument, he hit you. Since then you’ve developed trust issues with men’s touch. You were silent during this conversation until Pedri specifially called you out.

“Are you still crying over your ex?” he asked.

His friends nudged him in the shoulder as an obvious sign to stop talking but to no avail.

“That has nothing to do with you” you replied.

At that moment the waiter who was about to place your drinks down came beside your chair.

You were happy to get a distraction until you felt his hand stroke your neck lightly and place itself on your shoulder. You jumped, making him spill the drink down on the table,the glass rolled down and broke. Shreds of glass flying between everyone’s feet under the table.

“I’m so so-“ the waiter began but you cut him off.

“What the hell were you doing?” You said getting up from your chair “Why were you touching me like that?”

His eyes widened for a moment before pulling back his composure “Miss, it was probably my sleeve or something that grazed you while I was placing down your drinks” he replied.

“No It wasn’t. I felt your hand”. You replied now annoyed and emberassed. Your friend came up trying to calm the sitution. You turned around, now facing Pedri again.

“Are you capable of not making a fuss? Seriously?” he said sarcasticly laughing.

“Pedri I really don’t need your remarks now”

“When are you gonna stop acting like that towards men, all scared and shit. Just because your loving boyfriend hit you in a fight doesn’t mean every other male will” he continued.

You felt tears in your eyes and got up from the table “You crossed the line” you said before running off outside. Your friend was now glaring at Pedri

“Pedro. Apologise. Now” she said, and he just clicked his tongue.

The restaurant you were in was close to the river so you sat down beside it,watching the moonlight sparkle on water. Your makeup was ruined, tears streaming down your cheeks. You can’t help but curse yourself for letting Pedri’s words get to you. Just as you calmed down a bit, you heard his voice behind you.

“Hey”

You ignored him and stared down at the river.

“Look, I’m sorry. I went overboard” he continued now sitting down next to you. You were still refusing to look at him.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned him”

Silence.

“Can you at least look at me?” he said, his face now close to yours.

You turned around and felt your heart beat fast. Pedri was looking straight into your eyes, your noses just a few centimeters apart. His hand reached your cheek, wiping your smudged mascara with his thumb.

You gulped, looking down at his lips. He had nice lips.

“I was wondering If you would ever apologise, this is a surprise” you replied and Pedri licked his lips, a slight smile appearing.

“I wanna do something more” he said switching from looking at your eyes to your lips. You could hear your heart beat in your ears.

The hand that was wiping your makeup was now holding your cheek gently. You leaned it but backed away mid way but Pedri was more straight forward, grabbing your face on both sides and connecting your lips. You felt another tear roll down. He pulled away smiling softly

“Are you crying because I kissed you?”

You laughed and looked down, before kissing him once again, now with more passion. He stroked your hair gently and you wrapped your hands around his neck.

“Isn’t this a mistake?” you said

“It sure doesn’t feel like one”

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[pauking5]

Addicting Taste Chapter 10

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x female reader oc

Genre: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, found love, fluff, spice, a lot of teasing, angst

Word count: 45.1k

TW: panic attack, mentions of anxiety, unhinged violence, some gore, mentions of heights, a lot of cursing

A/N: I know this one was long overdue but she's here for you in all her glory and pain. She's been a constant work in progress for the past five months and it's all going downhill from now, so buckle up. I hope it's good and not a bore to go through considering she's long as hell but I thought you deserved the little extra treat for waiting so long. Lastly, don't hate me but this one's loaded emotionally. I had a few cries but more from editing it so many times that my eyes gave out. Chapter 11 is already in the works but she's gonna take a while. Not too long though *wink*. Hope you missed these three wimps as much as I have. Their team dynamic means the world to me. Sidenote: we are heading slowly to the rurouni kenshin the final verse soooon ;) Can't wait for you to read all that's coming. So, enjoy lovelies. Please send some sign of life through after you read so I know I didn't go off the fucking rails yet. Kisses and prayers :')

Playlist: espresso - sabrina carpenter, favorite - isabel larosa, queen - loren gray, lilili yabbay - seventeen, the boy is mine - ariana grande, training season - dua lipa, been like this - doja cat, tears in the club - fka twigs, i think i'm in love - kat dahlia, wicked game - ursine vulpine ft annaca, broken - seether ft amy lee, don't deserve you - plumb, words - skylar grey, these walls - dua lipa, hearts - jessie ware, lonely together - sofia karlberg, borderline - tove lo, theory of light - eternal eclipse, 5sos - teeth, within temptation - wireless, rescue my heart - liz longley, and so it begins - klergy

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Asshole. Idiot. Rash, unpredictable, self-absorbed jerk.

You punched your pillow hard with every new word popping into your head that described the way Enishi acted moments ago at the breakfast table. There were a whole lot of insults and even more curse words running less and less wonderful with the growing upscale of your anger at the gray-haired man, but several questions popped in over them.

What the fuck happened to him?

I know he's a Gemini and two-faced behaviour is hard to hold back from, especially when you're being an unreasonable dick unable to interact with people. But this bipolar back and forth is too much, even for him. He's like a fucking riddle, so hard to decipher, figure out and understand, especially when all he does is close himself in like that, pushing people away like they're the plague.

He's jealous of something? Someone? Then just say that. Just say anything about your feelings so that I don't have to keep being the one assuming and wondering where you stand. Human beings like communication a lot, maybe he should try it sometimes. Sometimes soon before I put my foot through his face and carve some really nice indents under that jaw-

Jerk. Handsome, good-looking, impetuous little shit.

"UGH I WANT TO PUNCH HIM SO BAD!" you screamed into your pillow for the tenth time this morning. Koru just looked at you like you've grown a second head, choosing to retreat away to the safety of the other side of the bed.

"Damn, so you really are down bad for him."

Your head snapped to your door seeing the blonde leaning on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and amusement ever-present on his face. He was enjoying your misery and these fucking pre-school games a little too much for his wellbeing. You spared him a look that you weren't in the mood for teasing then went back to digging a hole in your pillow, kinda hoping it would turn into a real one if you hit it harder from a different angle.

He walked over to your bed and sat on the edge just as you plunged your head deeper with a fresh wave of embarrassment hitting you like a truck.

"Is it that obvious?" your voice came out muffled.

At first, he chuckled lowly to himself at your conflicted appearance. Taking another look at you, he decided that he could push your buttons just a little more. "Want me to lie to you?"

Lifting your head briefly, you narrowed your eyes at him ready to smack him to the end of the planet in the hopes he would fall off into a black hole or something. But then you thought about it again and nodded your head, hoping he would come with some fresh new insight. Though you regretted it as soon as he opened his mouth.

"It's not obvious at all. Not like you're drooling over him all the time, chasing looks at him when he's not looking and sizing him up with your eyes for some fashion plans to revamp his really outdated and boring style," he counted on his fingers hitting every single point like he put his hand in your head pulling out your very own thoughts.

Not sure what you were expecting but it wasn't... this. If the hills weren't so far away, you would've happily ran up the slopes to the highest peak and walked off straight into the abyss of the valleys below by now, hopefully eating some grass on the way and dying. All because it really was that obvious to everyone else but not to him. That says a lot considering he's the one that goes around analyzing people and noticing stuff like a detector before you even know what goes on.

"Kill me now," you whined, crashing back into the pillow with a fake sob that sounded more like a mewl that even the feline next to you wouldn't be able to reproduce.

"Look, what he said back there was rash and a teeny tiny bit stupid," he started with a finger up in the air, but once you shot him a murderous look he recalculated his words and dropped it back down. "Okay, maybe extremely stupid. But give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Benefit of the doubt?" you sat up on the bed, appalled at what you were hearing. "You slept together in the same bed for one night and now you're suddenly not in a deathly competition to win my heart or something like that anymore?"

"Haha, I have no idea what you're talking about," he scratched the back of his neck, throwing his eyes around the room as if it wasn't identical to his own.

"I may be oblivious most of the time but I can read bullshit when I see it," you said sharp and clear. The authority made his eyes dart back to you instantly, his adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat before he sighed loudly, shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Before you rip my head off," he reached out and put Koru between you as leverage so you wouldn't lash out on him, "just know he agreed to it too. He seemed pretty confident he could just kick me out of here if he won you over."

Motherfucker.

Was that all I was to him? Something to own? Just another sword to be displayed like a trophy in his office?

Having your suspicions confirmed that this shit was actually happening, with extra details too, was definitely not on your bingo card. He went too far. Actually, too far wasn't even fully describing how dumb this game he took part in was. You expected some shit like this from Cho because the cogs in his brain didn't always turn at a normal speed or to an intellectual degree higher than dolphins. No offense to dolphins, I adore them. But you did not expect this at all from him. Not after everything you've already been through. After opening up and being real with each other for him to throw it all on a fucking bet.

If this was his way of showing interest in you, he was doing it all wrong and backwards. Instead of winning you over, this would make him lose you. Completely.

Then it hit you. Your revenge plan could use a few adjustments. It was time you became this man's headache, raging when he least expected it, like an ever present reminder not to fuck with the female species.

Make that two men actually.

You turned to the blonde with a grin on your face stretching wider and much more creepier than your usual smile, telling him you were up to no good. And when you were up to no good, chaos ensued faster than a flint could light a fire.

It was time to play dirty. It was time to take over possessive misogyny with some pure, raw and unleashed female rage, plus some fun mind games because apparently these two fuckers loved them more than anything in the world. Unfortunately for him, but happily for you, the blonde sitting on your bed looking rather confused at your sudden change in behaviour will be the first to get a taste of it.

"What if you won me over?" you asked, physically batting your eyes at him, mentally rubbing your hands like a fly plotting to raise hell.

All he did was blink repeatedly, trying to process that those words actually left your mouth willingly. He must have thought someone put a hex on you or you were sick since he placed his hand on your forehead before you slapped it off, nearly shoving him off the bed.

"Say what again?" he asked cluelessly, tilting his head to the side.

I will repeat myself solely for the sake of my own sanity.

"Exactly what you heard," you clapped your hands together, meaning business. His eyes darted to your enclosed hands, narrowing in suspiciously as he listened in more attentively. "What if we make it seem as though you did win me over?"

"To make him jealous?" he pondered your words for a moment as you nodded eagerly. Seems like he wasn't that hopeless after all.

The way your eyes sparkled up at him told him two things - you really wanted to make mophead jealous for reasons he was able to see clearly on your face like the light of day, and the fact that he could use this to his advantage. Somewhere in this temporary play pretend, he could actually win you over and make you forget about him. It was a win-win situation either way. He was just surprised that you had it in you to join the game like that.

He took a while to gather his thoughts rendering you a little uneasy. Something told you that your motives weren't solid enough for him to accept the proposal. That he needed something more to cement it. So you threw in another side to the deal. One that was sure to get him going before you reeled back on your own plan.

"Help me," you took his hand in yours, stroking the back of it softly to appeal to his ego, "and I will grant you a wish."

"Can I wish for anything-"

"If it's something dirty-minded, freaky or horribly disturbing, your balls," you pointed at the crack of his pants, trailing your eyes up to meet his, "will be Koru's to play with."

Gulping and wide-eyed at your words, he looked down at the ball of black fur nuzzling his thigh lovingly then turned back to you, seeing absolutely no difference between your auras. Turns out adorable could also be lethal if touched wrong.

"Deal," he lifted a hand to you, tilting his head to the side with his usual goofy smile back on his face.

"Good," you shook hands, sealing the deal with your pinkies and a stamp. Just like old times.

His hand lingered on yours a bit more, long pinky and bigger thumb gripping your smaller ones gently, a lot more gentler than before. The rough boy he used to be, making empty promises he couldn't keep and acting like the world owed him everything was still there, but the mature man, a lot more sure of himself going after what he wanted was the one holding your hand now smiling warmly back at you. He did change.

Your smile slowly grew dim and shy as his golden eyes peered back at you, light and playful, enveloping you in his gaze, secretly swapping your fingers for your whole hand, sitting in a comforting hold in his bigger one. You realized he was right that night he pulled you on top of him, pressing your hand against his heart and yours, both beating almost in sync. He was still someone who took up space in your heart. Maybe not a whole half of it, but a part that was big enough to make you look at him too, as a man.

You were looking now and it would be one of the biggest lies you've ever told yourself to say that it didn't send your heart racing. There were unspoken feelings swarming in your chest even after all these years, not quite as strong but it was enough that they came back to life now.

Shaking yourself out of it, your hand fell from his large one back into the safety of your lap. Koru shimmied her way in between you, looking for head rubs and you obliged with a smile, focusing on her. Cho's hands joined in your peripheral vision, petting down the fur on her back. The feline started purring loudly, letting you know she was enjoying the double attention a bunch as you held back a chuckle.

Blondie wasn't off the hook yet. Your plan was to make both of them lose their heads and this was just one small part of it. In trying to pretend with Cho you would get Enishi jealous enough to hopefully talk to you about why he was acting like the douchebag of the century and maybe about his feelings towards you. He reacted more than he spoke, so this was your only shot at luring him out enough for him to act on it.

You would also take the blonde where he least expects it to make up for the constant teasing, though you were still considering if you were swerving towards gentle or wicked payback with him. Not so sure yet, but it was all in due time.

Either way, it was a win situation for you and a loss for them for behaving like animals in heat, treating you like a mere prize to be possessed.

They say you can see the worst in someone if you push them to the edge of the cliff. That's exactly what you were planning to do to them. Slow, hard and tense. Just the way they liked it.

You want to play power games, boys?

I will bring the fucking revolution to you.

Just you wait.

Twenty-four hours.

That's all you gave them to prepare for what they would never see coming.

You let them simmer, avoiding all contact with them. No cooking, no training and no sight of you around for the rest of the previous day. They went to each their own as you spent the day plotting your retaliation bit by bit, second by second, breath by breath.

They were on your land now, weaponless, rash and with a strong ballsy will to conquer it. Too bad they won't even reach the gates of your palace before you opened fire this time. Initiating phase one.

Getting out of bed, you headed for the heap of clothes stashed in your wardrobe and looked through it, smiling devilishly as you pulled out your secret weapon - a red and black corset mix of lace and satin mimicking a tank top. The red lace ran strident crimson against the layered black satin lines stitched overtop on the sides, from the hem all the way to the straps, tight as hell but hot on your upper body. A little fun project you let your hands wander over from scraps and basics you grabbed during your visit at the textile market.

Pairing it with black leather pants and a pair of flat combat boots, you went to the full-body mirror and took a good look. The outfit hugged your curves better than anything you've ever worn before, putting on display everything you wanted. Your hair hung in a luscious ponytail, high enough to whirl it once and catch someone around the throat with it. Perfect.

Time to get the wild hunt running.

Heading to the kitchen, your strides echoed in the hallway more sure of yourself than you've ever been. You grabbed a quick breakfast and sauntered outside with your humble companion, the jian sword with a red tassel. She's been sleeping in your room more than hanging back in its place on the walls in Enishi's office since you started bonding after she smacked your wrists multiple times. She left your skin painfully bruised but she gave you good lessons to learn from.

Taking to the spot in the middle of the garden, you sat in the patch warmed by the sun that still shone bright this late in the winter, just taking the light in and relaxing every knot in your shoulders. This is so nice. You held your palm out to it soaking the warmth in with closed eyes. Then you started training, waiting for the prey to come to you.

It wasn't long until the one of the felines caught your scent, coming to circle the perimeter in search of you.

The blonde hyena approached first, lurking by the kitchen window for a cup of coffee. Still in a slumber state, he paid no attention to the rest of the world or to you training outside, just a glance away, and went about his morning routine. He brewed his coffee the way he liked it, black with a lot of sugar in it and the tiniest drop of milk and stirred it well, taking in the smell of the steamed roasted beans that woke him a little. He lifted it to his lips just as he turned around to the kitchen window, coffee cup stilling mid-air before he even took a sip.

There you were - clad in red and black, hair swinging in sync with the red tassel on your sword, practicing what looked like advanced sword techniques. Leaning back on the marble island behind him, he took a sip of his coffee simply watching you, lips sobering up into a grin.

You moved about with the grace of a deadly cobra, a total contrast to the quiet small snake you used to be. A sense of pride filled him as he recalled how you used to doubt your every step, calculating them over and over again every mission you went on. Now, you stepped with confidence knowing exactly where your strengths laid, training with a weapon that was foreign to you entirely but knowing exactly where you wanted your blade to hit and how you wanted it to hurt. The lost, confused girl that tingled his senses years ago, was now a strong woman his heart longed for even harder.

His princess. It was part of the reason he called you that - the fact that you were still so committed to do good by vengeance in hopes it would help someone live in peace if you got rid of some of the scums crawling the earth like kings. And to tease you. Although, there was one more reason for it and one day, he'd tell you why but it wasn't time yet. Soon enough.

Before he knew it, he was on his way to the office, checking to see it was empty of a certain silver fox he despised with every single bone in his body, before he went in and grabbed the twin katanas he spotted a few nights ago. He rolled them around to get a feel of their weight. They weren't his twin katanas that got broken in a fight long ago, these ones much heavier and dull, but they would do for now.

You were taking a break on the ground, stretching your limbs around to release some tension when the blonde joined you. Confused at why he was carrying a pair of katanas with him and the fact that he wore preppy clothes, much more appropriate for training than waltzing around, his hair tied up in a small up-do peeking over his head like a pineapple, you threw him a look.

"Let's train together," he simply said, throwing you that cheeky smile of his.

One bites the bait.

Without a word, you got up dusting off the dirt and grass from your pants and got in position. He followed, twirling around the swords to show off at which you rolled your eyes, then put his right arm forward and his left backwards and you grinned, recognizing his point of combat hasn't changed - he used one sword for attacking and the other for defending, both probably stolen from Enishi's stash.

"Nice toys you got there," you nodded at the swords.

"Why thank you! I got them from your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," you gritted out, circling him around the sunlit path.

He lifted the sword in his right hand to eye level, tracing the blade down with the pads of his fingers as if to intimidate you or something. "You know, he does seem to act like that most of the time."

"What?" you stilled, lowering your sword.

What the fuck is he on about?

Pleased that his remark made you drop your guard, he turned his blade to catch a glint of the sun that temporarily blinded you before he charged towards you opening the sparring session with his right katana coming for a slash across. Cunty move. You defended with your jian, catching the rough blade with the edge of your own, pushing the attack back before he could send the other one towards you.

He stumbled behind to catch his footing and you couldn't help a small smile from dancing on your lips. He seemed to forget those weren't his katanas, way too unbalanced since they haven't been used probably ever for anything other than décor on Enishi's walls. Most of them were blunt, stolen or brand new, but none of them saw the actual battle beside his and your jian. They were different from his own by a lot of degrees, blades way too wide turning the weight heavier. As a result, he grappled with keeping them balanced as they constantly fell out of his grip. But being the renowned sword thief that he is, he solved that problem rather quickly and accommodated to them.

Giving them another swirl, his whole body turned in a spin that lifted the leaves off the ground. Then he came at you again more sure of himself this time to send a faster diagonal slash to your side that you barely avoided. You jumped backwards just as the other katana came down to strike you instead colliding harshly with your sword, pushing against it as he tried to shove you off your feet but you stood your ground.

"Why are you holding back, princess?" he sneered, teasing you without an ounce of strain in his voice. His constant pleasure pushed you to the brink of impatience.

"I don't want to skewer you just yet, blondie," you replied, flashing him a cocky smile before you rolled forwards in a tumble, letting his sword fall into the grass, getting stuck in a small muddy patch.

Before he was fully facing you, you threw your double-edged blade at him with precision. The speed of your attack had him throw both his katanas up in defense at every hit you delivered, diverting them left and right. Where you hit your blade high into his right, you kicked the other low with your foot, keeping the same drill going as you shoved him all the way into the open tree line at the back of the garden.

Another push from you had his back pressed against an old oak tree. He barely slid out of your range of attack just before your blade could meet his neck, getting stuck in the raunchy tree bark. While you struggled with getting it out, he disappeared and hid among the dense tree line, making himself completely invisible to you.

Plucking your sword out, you advanced through the half-barren path, dry leaves crunching under the pressure of your boots. You came to a small clearing checking for any spots he could be taking cover in then stopped. You'll find him when he wants to be found. Closing your eyes, you focused all your senses into action, listening for any noise that could pinpoint his location. You knew he was watching you from somewhere waiting for you to give up your searching and head back, so all you had to do was sit there playing dumb to lure him out.

A loud icy gust of wind blew in, rustling up the branches and a neatly stacked pile of leaves in a corner to your left. Disregarding it, you turned to the opposite side knowing that was his cue to charge at you. You moved to the left just as a sharp whoosh echoed by the tip of your ear, throwing your sword up to meet his attack blade. He brought down his other one swiftly sending you into a tree. You grunted as your back crashed with the bark, praying the rough edges didn't pull the stitch work on your top. One thread loose and I will end him in the name of fashion.

He advanced to you again looking to throw you off your feet with a swing, moves threading to get an opening somewhere that you weren't guarding well. If he thought you would go down easy, he sure was as dumb as a rock. You ducked out of the way, running towards one of the sturdier-looking trees and using the momentum from the dash, you jumped onto the bark pushing with the sole of your foot at the same time you swung your sword overhead, coming down onto him from above. A little trick stolen from Enishi. Since your aerial needed more work he caught your strike with both katanas tossing you to the side, back on the patch of open grass in the garden. You landed on the pad of your knee, sword balanced behind you to keep you from toppling over.

Aerial class with Enishi is officially suspended. He's lucky I don't pay for that. He'd have amazing reviews for sure.

"Someone's feisty today," he sung walking over to you, one katana swung over his shoulder nonchalantly like he didn't just haul you over like ten meters over.

"You haven't seen me feisty yet," you retorted, up and heading for his throat.

This time, you worked with a combination of slashes, using your smaller form and improved stamina to throw him off balance and prove a point. It worked, seen as he kept stumbling over his steps unable to keep up with you, but only for a while.

You were faster than him, much faster than he would've liked to admit without letting it affect his own pride. But he had the extra experience on the field. When your blade went to dig into his side, he pushed it away almost instantly, like he expected it, whirling around you. Your sword was half-way lifted up, ready to turn around and search for him, when a katana flew in your line of sight under your chin stopping just a few inches short of slicing your neck, the other following suit around your waist.

"Gotcha, princess," he whispered in your ear, stepping closer behind you.

He had you completely caged in his hold. The blades didn't sit too close to do any damage, but the fact that he pressed to you firmly from behind was enough to make your insides twist with flurries of all kind.

You could sense his amused smirk from the way his breaths fanned the back of your neck, which was already burning hot with effort, hair on your nape raising at the cool air and his breath. He was ready to throw you another remark when you caught him by surprise.

"Teach me," you breathed out, trying to steady your racing heart from giving anything away. "Teach me how to fight with two swords."

He chuckled under his breath, entertained by the idea. One of the blades lowered down, letting your middle free but your feet stayed locked in place, waiting for him to move the other away. Instead of that he took one more step taking him even closer to you and tilted your chin upwards with the hilt of one of the katanas. You shuddered at the sudden contact with the cold edge of the blade, squeezing your eyes shut to control the erratic beating of your heart.

"I can show you a few tricks," he spoke next to your ear low and deeper than his tone sounded on the usual, sending weird chills down your spine, then moved away from you just as a sigh of relief escaped you.

You put your sword down in the grass as he motioned for you to come closer to him. He placed the heavier katana in your right hand, knowing that was your main combat hand, and the slightly leaner one in your left. You tested them in a few swings, finding it difficult to push them forwards in a slash without dropping them. Those things are heavyweights. How the hell did he even spar with these? His twin katanas were a lot more lighter on hold than these.

Stepping behind you, he pulled your arms upwards horizontally so they sat parallel to each other, sliding his hands over your inner biceps all the way to your forearms. His warm fingers padded over your skin with electricity sparks in his dive down to lock his palms on your wrists, covering them completely. If he wanted to he could just snap them broken with one move.

Since he was taller and towered over you, you were pressed flush against his torso, the top of your head reaching just below his jaw. You could headbutt him and crack his jaw if you wanted to.

He moved you around in the basic one-sword positions to accommodate the feel of the blades in your hand. "You need to find balance and patience with them."

Lifting your leading arm for a practice slash to the side, you focused on the way he led the blade from the top all the way to the ground in all but one breath, followed by your rear with force pressing on your wrist as if you defended an incoming enemy blow, bending your arm diagonally with his own, moving as one.

His forearms stretched over yours entirely to better control the practice swings since you struggled to hold them by yourself, not used to their exertion on your muscles. You watched the ramifications of muscles on his arm move together in sync, willing yourself to focus on the blade in your hand rather than the way he enveloped your whole form.

"Treat them like they're your own hand extensions," he instructed, laying both of them over each other in a front cross for defense. The motion brought your bodies closer, your back almost fully in his chest.

Your head turned to the side to find his own already angled towards you, light brown eyes searching yours for something. He was so close, holding you in an embrace that felt dangerous but safe, awfully resembling those ivory statues of fallen angels around cemeteries that curled their wings inwards as if to protect something. You were aware that being this close to him was dancing on delicate grounds, both for yourself and for him. It wasn't good. Whatever this was it couldn't happen, thundered your mind. Or it could, argued your heart. I'm not doing that charade ever again, a thought that echoed just how torn you were. You loved that charade, yelled back a younger version of you that would pray at the moon for him to look at you like this.

Avoiding his eyes took a lot of willpower, but you managed to turn your head away from him looking for a distraction. Anything that could break you out of the trance he put you under again that spurred something way too fervent and filthy in your belly, before you said or did something stupid that you would regret.

Perusing the juniper grass around the garden, you let your eyes run free to any place that looked more interesting as if you haven't been in that garden a thousand times before. They went all the way to the outdoor table preoccupied with the sheet of material thrown over to protect it from rain when movement caught your eye in the alabaster kitchen windows. In a fraction of a second, your eyes flew there and stayed fixed inside, heart getting stuck in your throat.

He was there.

Watching. Steeling in the silence of the kitchen with his arms crossed over his broad chest, looking right at you. Not at the man behind you or the way he was holding you so dangerously close or the way he breathed the same air as you. At you.

He was yards away. Not in front of you or next to you. Yet the intensity of his stare alone made you draw in a broken breath, heart pounding unsteady in your chest with every beat that passed with him still sitting there, unmoving, gaze unwavering from you in the slightest. Goosebumps littered your whole skin, rushing from your nape down to your lower spine in ardent shudders, forgetting all about the man behind you whose arms still held yours in a firm grip.

A clenched jaw. For a good moment that was the only reaction you got from him. Then he did something completely odd - he smirked at you. A knowing, full, almost pleased corner of his lips tilting up in a promise of mischief and disaster kind of smirk. Of all possible reactions you expected, a fucking smirk like that one was not it.

You blinked once and just like that he was gone, probably aware of just what that insufferable smirk left in its wake because it made something pulse deep down inside of you, so primal and fiery like it sat dormant for an entire lifetime, waiting to set alight and rage only for him. Something that came alive every time those dark eyes were on you. A feeling that you loved and hated with your entire being.

Both of them took the bait, I guess.

But what the fuck was that?

The cold evening rolled around sooner than you expected it to, without any other contact with the male species, surprisingly. You went to the kitchen, cooking up some dinner for yourself and Koru, letting your thoughts whirl with the ingredients you stirred mindlessly in the pot.

You couldn't take your mind off the way your taunts were received today. For one, Cho reacted exactly the way you wanted him to, running to your side absolutely ecstatic to join you in training. Getting so caught up in practicing sword wielding with him however, was a small unplanned detail that made your heart flutter. It wasn't part of the plan but then again, does anything under the roof of this house ever go according to plan?

On that note, Enishi's reaction was something you were unprepared for at all. Lurking in the shadows like a ghost stalking his victims, he just threw you that smirk as if he knew what your intentions were, where your plan was going. It gave you the eebie-jeebies and not in a good way. You stared at your reflection in the kitchen window, thinking so intently about how he stood in the same place as you that his stare flashed in front of you again like it was happening right now, making shivers cross your body on all sides. You dropped the spoon in your hand with a loud clatter that brought you back from your eerie vision, mumbling curses as you scrambled to get it out of the pot before it sank completely. You got it out with another spoon throwing it in the sink before the heat singed your fingers, then leaned your hands on the counter hanging your head to breathe a sigh of relief.

Jesus Christ, this house seriously needs an exorcism. I need to ask Wu for a frankincense delivery because it's getting too freaky lately.

The door to the kitchen opened and closed behind you, signaling that you had company. Turning around you were met with the blonde, a small smile of content on his face as he approached sheepishly and sat near the stove, a few inches away from you. He loomed over the pot, taking a good whiff of what you were cooking with his eyes closed - sausage and potato stew. His favourite.

Now this was by no means phase two of the plan. You didn't mean for it to happen, but it was the only edible thing you could whisk up with what little you found around the kitchen. A shopping spree into the village was way overdue, since apparently it's only your stomach who is hungry 24/7 on rotation. Definitely not the thirty bulky men lurking around the mansion waiting for food to magically drop out of the sky.

You had a hunch he would catch onto the smell and come running anyway. His eating schedule was as bad as Enishi's - they were either skipping meals to train or eating three meals at once like it was an olympic sport. There was literally no in between. Blondie however has been asking you to cook stuff for him at random times of the day lately, catching a liking to your cooking. Plus, you bonded a lot over food when you first met so it was no surprise he was inhaling the steam from the stew like it was opium smoke or something.

"Can I have a taste?" he asked in a tone so soft you almost cooed.

"It's not done yet," you replied pushing him away from the stove before he plunged his head in, stirring the pot some more.

You caught sight of the way he licked his lips, absolutely bewitched by the simmering food and you gave in. Who were you to deny a hungry tummy? Food tasted better before it was put on a plate anyway.

Leaning behind to get a spoon from the cutlery drawer, you stirred the pot with it and gathered a good spoonful from the side with some of the stew ingredients that looked cooked and some sauce. You blew on it, carefully lifting the still steaming spoon to his mouth with a hand under it in case it spilled over. He dove in and slurped the contents way too fast. This fucking idiot.

"MY TONGUE," he screeched, flailing about like a child, fanning his tongue with his hand as if that helped anything.

I refuse to believe he is the famed Sword Hunter. He belongs in kindergarten.

Some of the leftover sauce dripped down the side of his lips and before you could help yourself, your hand lifted to them, thumb swiping over the plump pink mounds from one corner to the other, tracing their outline as you gathered all the sauce on your finger. Mindlessly, you brought it back with the intent to reach your lips when your thumb was redirected back to his own lips.

You froze in his hold yet again, watching wide-eyed as his tongue slipped out to meticulously lick your thumb clean from bottom to top on each and every side, all while holding your eyes hostage to his honey orbs. Taking an empty gulp of air, you tried to keep your face composed, devoid of any sign that the scene before you that looked like a hallucination from the depths of your mind, affected you in any way. Because it did. You pressed your knees to keep it together, willing your heart to still in your chest and the throb between your legs to chill. This was not the time to get horny. Get your ovaries together, Miyu. You're better than this.

The kitchen door opened again with a crick, prompting you to snatch your hand away from the blonde's hold, stepping away to put some space between you. The feel of his soft lips trailing up and down your finger with his tongue lingered, only making it all worse. Curse men. Then your eyes flew to the door to see the gray-haired man sitting by the frame, face drawn in calm, tranquil disparity, devoid of any emotion, just looking at you with those dark eyes of his.

Damn, he's so emo today. Genuinely concerned, did someone piss in his tea this morning? 'Cause I would've liked to be first.

You were fully aware that he caught you in the act yet again. But why did it bother you so much? Why did it bother you that he wasn't reacting at all? Did he give up on the bet and winning you over? That was hard to tell. Either way it was nothing short of an oddity, seeing him stand there just observing playing some sick and twisted game alone in his head.

Weirded out and confused, you turned back to the simmering pot announcing the stew was almost done. The two walked to the table at the other end of the kitchen, taking a seat on opposite sides. They regarded each other briefly with a scowl, before they both turned to watch you work on the food.

Humming to yourself, you swayed side to side as you stirred the pot, stew nearing its boiling point. It was late evening, but your ponytail still sat high on your head since early morning, not one lump falling loose from it. Your apron sat snug on your waist, letting the red lace on your back be visible on purpose. Let phase two commence then.

The intensity of their stares carved a trail of open caves on your behind, each one digging his own personal hole with unsaid things in a dent of muscle they liked better down your back. You could feel the tension hanging in the air, zapping chills on your nape, but you paid it no mind for your own peace of mind because only god knew the dirt you imagined right now including both of the men at your back.

Enishi watched you, fist tightening under the table more and more with every sway of your ponytail that fell in sync with the sway of your hips. For some reason, that ponytail raised all senses of possessiveness in him. He wanted to pull that hair tie off and throw it into a fucking fire with every other existing band or fabric to tie it up, his only wish to let your hair free from its grasp and watch it cascade down your shoulders, wild and messy, just the way he liked it.

Cho's thoughts echoed the same pictures, though in a gentler, more sensual parallel. The blonde wanted that hair tie off too, thinking of how smooth your hair would feel with his fingers carding through it for hours on end as he drew patterns down your bare back and watched goosebumps rake your form.

That ponytail was their undoing.

Unaware of their thoughts turning as lewd with lust as yours, you focused on the stove. You thanked whatever deity makes you double the food quantities every time you cook because you had just enough stew to split it into three filling bowls.

Fixing the table up with the food and cutlery, you placed Koru's plate with her own chicken mix down by the marble island before you went to sit down at the head of the table, a safe distance from both of them. They waited for you to dig in first before they followed, a silent thanks giving for sharing your food with them. They were far from deserving of it considering how they behaved lately, but you weren't going to turn a hungry stomach away. You knew better than that.

The three of you ate in silence, tension gliding through the air in the kitchen uncomfortably, stabbing your exposed skin like a drifting torrent. Stolen, sneaky glances made their way to you but whenever you turned to catch them they were focused on the food in their bowls. Shaking the rigidness away, you pulled up a tactic to the table - playing with your ponytail.

Sitting back in your chair, you lifted a hand carding through the hair from the top of your makeshift hair tie, where it sat tight, with a languid stroke, falling to the base of it, twirling the ends around your fingers. Both males stilled, looking right at the way you worked around the length, drinking in every swirl of the locks glowing silky and luscious in the soft golden light above you. You had them wrapped around your fingers, their full attention not even on you but entirely on your hair.

The minute you let go of it, going back to eat the rest of your food, they grunted in unison at the loss of their visual stimuli. The sounds had them locking eyes, one pair dark and blazing with murderous intent, the other amused and light in teasing, both fighting each other in a battle with no clear winner.

Another point scored for me.

The rest of dinner was uneventful. You finished up on your food, getting up to walk to the sink and wash up everything. Cho followed right up, grabbing his plate and helping you put stuff back to its place to be done with it faster. You worked quickly with your new helper, since Enishi was rather absent from that role these days. Placing the last rinsed plate back in its cupboard, the blonde turned to you confused to see you with a cleaning towel.

"Let me do it," he reached out, grabbing the cloth to pull it his way.

"I can do it," you said, pulling it out of his grasp, back into your own.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Thank you for the help," you nodded, sending a grateful smile his way. At least someone in this house was being helpful and not a killjoy.

Left with nothing else to do, he turned to leave when his eyes locked on the silver fox in the corner, still busy finishing his own food, but watching the interaction between the two of you, tongue poking his cheek, jealousy written all over his face. The blonde took advantage of his moment of weakness, spinning back to you in a heartbeat. Wide-eyed at his sudden proximity once again, you were about to ask him if he needed anything when he leaned down to your ear. The edge of his lips grazed the tip of your ear just like the did with your thumb, heart thrumming loud in your ears with his words.

"Lose the ponytail, princess," he said, voice dripping with sin twisting your insides together.

Satisfied with the lethal stare pointed his way and your puzzled look, he pulled away and turned around, leaving on his merry way. You stood there with a gulp stuck in your throat and cloth frozen in the air until the door shut closed, shaking you out of it. You turned to the island with the cleaning cloth just to get your breath caught in your throat for the millionth time today.

He was watching you again. That simple, infuriating and extremely loaded gaze he fixed on you rapped your pulse upwards, stealing your breath away. You couldn't avoid it no matter how hard you tried.

Say something, your eyes pleaded with him.

Anything.

Pure silence followed. None of you blinked or moved. A hopeful gaze from you. Nothing from him. Nothing at all. Just silence that cut through you like a sharp knife, willing you to fill it. But you had nothing else to fill it with. All your words spiraled in your head on a roulette but you couldn't pull the trigger on any of them. They were all too loaded, harsh, strong and heavy to be said or felt.

Stop looking at me like it matters, you shook your head in disappointment.

Koru's soft fur rubbed your leg bringing you back to reality seeing her walk out the door. Busying yourself as far away from him as possible, you got to cleaning the rest of the kitchen. You hated how easily he gave you icy chills and hot flushes simultaneously with just one damn look. You hated how your body soaked it in every time, like an addiction you could never lose. You hated how badly you craved his attention. You hated everything he made you feel right now.

Frankly, you stayed behind not for the need to clean, but to keep him company. You hated eating alone and he deserved at least that, even if you sat in different corners, to each their own, without as much as a word spoken between you.

When he was done with his food, he joined you at the sink next to where you worked on scrubbing the dried splotches of food from the stove. He washed his plate, rinsing it thoroughly, before he wiped it and put it back in its place. You finished on the stove and grabbed Koru's plate from the floor, storing the rest of her food away for later.

It was so domestic - how you worked around each other in the kitchen like it was a normal everyday occurrence. Although, now, your egos took away from the usual peace that came with it, the ritual feeling almost empty and tedious and not like something that relaxed you on the regular.

Turning on your heels, you came face to face with him, a hair's breadth separating you. Both of you just stood there, gazing at each other waiting for the other to make a move. His chest expanded, rising up with calm and collected breaths. Yours went rampant, trying to focus somewhere else that wasn't him. You were close to exploding this time. You needed to get to your room not stay here and play hooky with someone who couldn't talk.

For Christ's sake.

You moved away first, heading to the sink behind him to rinse the dirt from the cloth and place it back in its place. Passing by him without another thought, you rushed to get to the door, hoping to get out of there faster because if you stayed any longer you would implode.

You never reached the knob.

In one swift move you were lifted off the floor and place up on the kitchen island. In a heartbeat, the strong arms gripping your waist moved to cage you in their space, hips pushing between your thighs, opening them wider on each side. It all happened so fast that it sent your vision swimming but once you started breathing in the sweet musky jasmine scent, your eyes betrayed you, focusing on the perpetrator invading your senses.

From his long, slender fingers, your eyes started a long drive up the sinews of his forearms and the veins spreading in tendrils on top of them leading under the blue sleeves, taking notice of the angry twitch of dominance that made them more prominent as he leaned forward. Climbing up further, you took the crossroad to his shoulder instead of his chest, following the crinkled neck of his kimono.

That damn indigo kimono, matching the color of the darkened night sky behind him, that covered the whole trunk of his neck so chastely, leaving out just enough for curious wander. Your wander.

The things you wanted to do to that neck were for your lips to kiss and never tell. For your tongue to lick and drag over that lump in his throat and never stop. For your teeth to graze and bite until you had enough of him. Until all you could taste was him.

Averting your eyes from it, they landed on yours truly, falling down from that disheveled mop of hair you wanted to pull on without stopping as you devoured him, descending to those eyebrows drawn in vexation observing your shameless perusal, and finally settling on his eyes. Those eyes, pitch black obsidian blazing in the darkest fire you've seen, burning, staring right back at you. Luring. Tempting. Waiting.

Waiting for what?

Jaw locked tense, nose standing tall above the arch of his lips. Lips that haven't felt yours in so long. Lips your whole body has been aching for. Lips that were pursed in full control looking for something.

By the looks of it, he was determined to get something out of you by keeping you there in place on the cold marble. A reaction, a flutter, a falter. Anything that would tell him you gave into him tonight, even in the slightest, without as much as an effort from him.

And you took him in. The entirety of him. Stretching larger than you remembered him to be, broader than your closeness to his body could capture from this angle. This view alone made your heart pump a little faster, too fast to be normal, pushing you to drag an involuntary breath in. When you let it out, he spoke to you, for the first time in the last two days, taking that breath away from you just as quick as you released it into the air between you.

"You know I can fuck you right here if I want to, right?" he stated, his voice low and raspy, driving deep inside of you straight to the pulsing mound between your legs as he fixed your gaze.

I know you, echoed at the same time in your head.

That reminder was a constant voice in the back of your mind. That whatever you did with anyone else wouldn't fulfill you the way only he could. That only his voice could boil and melt the blood in your veins. That only his fingers could graze you on the inside and outside, both in sweet relief and anguish, separately and at the same time.

Your body craved to have him even now, completely enraged with him and willing to forget it for a while. To have him in every possible way that a mere mortal could, struggling to keep the control you worked up for the past two days to keep in your grasp.

It was bold of you to assume that a close encounter like this didn't make you feel anything, other than the slight tip of your foot downwards grazing the side of his leg.

But he was wrong to assume that you would submit to that powerful gaze like last time, even bolder to be certain that you didn't have some kind of advantage this time - the fact that you've denied him of you just like he denied you of him. I'll give you a taste of me. In my way.

Latching a secure hold on the front of his blue kimono, you kept his focused gaze as you undid the material around his middle with one swift pull of the loose, messy knot that kept him so closed off. Parting the sides away, you laid your hands flat against his abdomen. Agonizingly slow, you lead them upwards, feeling the depths of his toned form even under that heavy tank top you imagined ripping apart in so many different ways, reaching all the way to his ribcage. There, you felt him pull in a breath of his own, chest expanding open under your palms, holding the breath inside his pursed lips.

You caught him vulnerable, choosing to keep composed though the tick in his jaw told you he was close to losing it. The very breaths underneath your hands telling you that he was affected. You could feel his very heart at the tip of your fingertips, beating in a staggering rhythm.

It was your time to strike.

"Are you saying you don't want to," you spoke in a sweet whisper, smooth and saccharine like a shot of whiskey, as you trailed your right palm to the collar of the top, getting closer, under the unwavering gaze of his eyes turning a darker shade with your every move.

Your hands almost reached his neck. Cold fingers almost touched what looked like sizzling hot skin calling for your touch under the pale, small, flickering light behind you, when you saw something. So small but so unmistakable that if you blinked you might have just missed it. You might've been crazy, caught in the heat of the moment, but you definitely saw the slight bent of his head to the side, giving you more access to his neck, making that cursed vein more visible to you, uncovering it from the confines of the cotton surface.

You got closer, breath fanning over it dangerously close when he finally let a breath out. A full breathy, guttural, low groan. His hands gripped the counter edge harder, knuckles turning white in anticipation because in that angle he couldn't see you. He couldn't tell where you were taking this at all and he hated it. You could tell he did, smirking in satisfaction that you got him right where you wanted filling you up more than anything ever could.

And you stopped, removing your hands from his body, sitting back on the marble top, denying him once more.

The way his body recoiled backwards in response was a reminder that he had his shortcomings too. That he could act as dominant as he wanted, push you to the brink of insanity with as much as a stare, lay his touch on any inch of you he desired, but he couldn't put you out of the game. Him, of all people, would never be able to put your fire out. Because as much as he knew you, you started learning his ways too. You knew what made him tick, what kept him coming for more, what made his eyes sparkle with want. You knew him now. And it would take a lot more than this stupid game of his to make you unlearn all of it.

Though on the other hand, he did deserve a little token of, not appreciation per se, but a taster of what he was missing by being an idiot and placing a bet on your feelings.

So, you motioned him with your pointer finger to come closer to you. Hesitantly, he leaned down reaching your space again as you leaned up to his ear, tricking him into thinking you would whisper something else that would relay your desires to him in some way, only to bite down roughly on his earlobe, dragging it between your hungry teeth.

Once your lips were connected to his skin you wasted no time, moving from his ear under his jaw to lay eager open-mouthed kisses to the crane of his neck, quenching a thirst inside of you that was banished to the dessert for way too long. Finally savouring the moment you placed your lips on his skin like it was the last time you ever had the chance, sucking it hard and rough with the ravaging need of a wolf. This, was more for your own pleasure rather than his own, though it seemed to turn him on too.

His fingers unfurled from the edge of the counter planting themselves on each side of you, palms open fully on the marble top, greedy neck pushing into your lips to cover more, search more for the right spot, hips pressing into your lower body as he fell forward between your legs. He tried keeping in his grunts but the slower you went down his neck the less he could keep them inside. Struggling to abstain yourself from touching him, you lost that battle before it even begun.

Both of your hands sneaked under the blue kimono, going to his broad shoulders, gripping onto the bands of his tank top to pull him closer and move them under the material, feeling the mightiness of his toned body tense up under your palms. His pulse went rapid against your lips, grinning against his skin, relishing in the fact that you now knew you had the same effect on him that he had on you.

You sucked and nibbled relentless, hands climbing to his nape, fingers tangling in the curls at the back of his neck as you circled the whole area near that vein on the side of his neck, hearing him come undone inside with every grunt rumbling in his throat. But it wasn't where he needed you, the prominent, hard bulge in his pants tapping the inside of your thigh repeatedly, the more you drew him closer with your legs tangled around his waist.

If it was up to him, he would've had your bare stomach pressed against the cold marble, one hand gripping your jaw raw and rough as he bit off your lips, the other pulling your ponytail like a savage, fucking you blind by now. Rutting deep inside you, leaving his scent on every inch of your skin available on the outside, scorching every part inside of you that ached for him. Greedy and possessive like an animal devouring his prey.

But it wasn't up to him.

The power games shifted your way a while ago. You took his power away, rendering his bearings haywire and he didn't even notice. His power was fully yours now and you were willing to fight dirty and wild to keep it in your hands for as long as you wanted to.

When you felt his hand sneak up to your backside to reclaim some semblance control, you unglued your lips away from his neck, pulling away in a heartbeat. Like nothing happened. Like you weren't attached to his sweetest spot, teasing him just like he teased your own in the artillery room a few nights ago, playing his own game way more brutally and intense than he ever could.

Sitting back to get your breath under control, you took a good look at him this time. At his messy hair from how your fingers pulled on it, the side of his kimono falling from his shoulder unceremoniously, at the pale skin on his neck turning light pink from how hard you bit on it. His eyes were blown wide, still consuming the rest of the sensations you left on his skin, his breaths still running a lonely marathon that you abandoned bare moments ago.

"You're all talk and no action," you said, steady as you straightened your back and patted his chest, jumping off the kitchen island all in a beat, leaving him there scattered and defeated, exiting the kitchen with a wicked smile on your lips.

You made sure he knew just what he was up against the next time he even thought of playing around with you. He didn't give you the upper hand this time. You just took it before he even got a chance to win it. You made him see how it felt being manhandled dirty and raw, left at the height of it to deal with it by yourself, left bare and open for anyone to see.

He thought no one could dominate him, tame him, deny him. He was damned if he still thought that after tonight when he let all those supressed feelings show on his face. There was one person who could take him head on with absolutely no shame or remorse over their actions and it was you.

Mission accomplished!

Miyu - 2 points. Enishi - 1 point.

I could play this game all day.

The morning arrived slowly, lazy like a warm embrace in the hands of the still winter. Birds chirped outside your window as you rolled in bed to face the white, warm sunlight, a smile of satisfaction sitting on your lips as you stretched your hands overhead.

Is this how kings felt conquering something after years of battle?

You felt like a winner after the events of the previous day, still streaming in your head as proof of your conquest, especially with Enishi. Replaying the way he looked in the kitchen last night, folded and open to your desire, had you feeling like you added extra years to your lifespan.

Koru climbed in your lap, purring in delight to match your good mood. Before you could bask too long in the positive and the gratification of your hard work, since bringing men to his knees was no easy feat, the weight of something unknown settled in your stomach. You couldn't really put your finger on it but something was growing in there, gnawing at you impatiently to figure what it is. Maybe it was nothing. Or you were just hungry.

Shaking it away, you got out of bed with a smile and went about your day as normal.

Training outside in the warmth of the sun by yourself for a bit, your feline friend keeping you company as she chased butterflies around the garden trying to catch them but getting distracted by other flying insects.

Cooking some food from the quick groceries Wu managed to get from the market in the morning before he left in a rush. Though it was not much, it was enough for the gang on the grounds.

Cleaning your room up, an overdue task that proved grounding and calming. You moved some things around and made space for a work desk adjacent to the vanity, right in the sunlit corner of the room, to stash all your spare materials and tools away.

Most of the day went on, doing things by yourself and for yourself, often joined by Koru, with surprisingly no man in sight to disturb you in any way - mental, physical or emotional. It was pure bliss, calm, serene. Absolute peace to yourself for once.

The afternoon rolled in slowly, finding you snuggled up with a book you found in Enishi's library. He had a bunch of romance works in there that no one would be reading anyway, definitely not him of all people, or the killing machines guarding the place. So, you helped yourself to the shelves, taking as many that piqued your interest back to your humble abode.

You let the large cream windows in your room wide open to get some fresh air inside, kitten settled in beside you, playing around with a spare ball of thread.

Reading away, you were deep into a really good part in the book when that feeling creeped up on you again. You didn't know if the words you read triggered it or not but something did because a familiar heaviness sat on top of your chest, a little tighter than earlier in the day. You massaged your chest in hopes it was just indigestion, when Koru looked up from her temporary toy, placing a paw on your thigh with eyes wide in alert. As if she sensed something was wrong too.

"I'm fine, little one. I think I just ate lunch too fast," you smiled in reassurance. The feline abandoned her toy and came to sit against you, letting the ball roll to the end of the bed finding you much more interesting than the whirly thread.

You tried to get back to reading but that sensation just persisted in your belly, stirring your guts up into stressed nodes. Every time you tried to get past that line your mind would pause and not take it in at all. You were on your third read trying to absorb it when the air chilled around you all of a sudden. Looking up from the book to the windows, you caught the beginning of sunset, setting down over the nearby hill in pale yellow colors, most of the light that pooled in your room gone with a beige hue. You got up to close them just as someone stumbled into your room, throwing your doors open with a bang that startled the living daylights out of both you and your cat.

"There you were," spoke the blonde, rushing to take his recently designated seat at the end of your bed. "I've been looking everywhere for you today."

I guess that was more than enough peace to last me for a year.

You made your way back to the bed, taking back your comfortable spot against the pillows. Koru gave him a toothy hiss for his lack of manners then plopped in your lap.

"I was literally everywhere today," you stated as a matter of fact, stroking her soft. "What's up?"

He turned around to face you better, goofy energy on his face turning mellow as he regarded you for a moment. The spicy ensemble you wore yesterday was nowhere in sight today - to his relief - replaced by a champagne-colored oversized shirt and a pair of navy pants. Your hair was braided messily, falling down your shoulder with a few strands loose, tied sloppily at the end with a piece of fabric matching the dark blue shade of your pants. You were dressed like you again.

Blue wasn't his taste at all, preferring the browns and reds much more on you since they flattered no just your features but your personality. But he had to admit this dark shade did suit you, comfortably chic and elegant. If anything, mophead's obsession with the color rubbed off on you too and in a rather good way.

"You're staring," you snapped him back to attention waving your hand in front of his face. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're falling for me, blondie," you joked.

"Something like that," he replied, flirty smile back on his face.

You grinned in response, unaware of just what he harbored in his heart for the past few years. If only you knew. If only he could tell you.

Marking the page you were on before you closed the book and put it to the side, you gave him your undivided attention, blinking up at him with warm eyes that paired up with your small tight-lipped smile, the one that made your dimples pop and cheeks puff up slightly. If hearts could make louder sounds than simply thrumming with a beat, his would roar like a tiger on his way to challenge the king of the jungle, which he was currently doing anyway.

"Come on, be serious for once," you pushed his shoulder playfully, feeling your cheeks tint pink from the way he looked at you.

He hoped you couldn't tell what that look meant because that one look alone spoke of love - the unconditional kind, like it's always been there, twinkling in his eyes like a promise he couldn't make out loud. Thankfully, you thought it was just one of his very sarcastic ones, grinning back at him all-knowing but so far from the truth of it that he just let you believe it for his own peace of mind.

"Tell me what's so urgent that you turned the devil's lair upside down to find me."

He grinned back at you, chuckling at your choice of words. Whatever you were reading had you soften up into a romantic and it wasn't doing him or his heart any good. He peeked to the side raising an eyebrow as he read the title of the book laying on the safety of your pillow before you caught up to him, attempting to block his view.

"Wuthering Heights?" he leaned over you and grabbed the book, getting up before you could snatch it back from his hold. "Since when were you so lost in love that two people losing their minds over each other is your go-to read?"

How does he know about this book? From what I know he isn't well-versed in anything intellectual, including reading.

"Since when do you read?" you questioned, following him around the room to retrieve your book.

"Since forever," he hummed, avoiding you and your tiny hands at all costs, grateful that you were smaller in height but annoyed that it meant you were very fast on your legs.

He dove into the corner between the vanity and the work table, right by the window, completely covered away from you and opened the book. Your hands wrapped around his waist to tickle him but that sneak attack didn't stop him from looking at the small paper notes neatly stashed inside, hanging on the side of almost every page. Reading some of them, his eyebrows hit his hairline surprised by your opinions to every chapter he landed on. "You annotated this?"

"Yes, now give it back," you snarled back. Leaving your tickle tactic, you threw your hands around him to grab it but he turned away to the window ledge leaning over it in a way that he was bent over it and his back was fully blocking you. You muttered a string of curses under your breath, cussing him out for being so tall. "Fucking street lamp pillar."

"I heard that," he laughed.

He rushed to the page you were on a few moments before he broke in the room, pushing his broad shoulders around to keep you behind him. Eyes scaling the pages, he rushed to the last line you marked halfway read, reading it out loud.

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be. And if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger," he recited, word for word, his previous attempt at teasing turning into seriousness by the time he reached the end of the line and the words registered.

Feeling like he intruded on something too personal, he took another look at the sentence, memorizing it. Something just told him to. Then he turned around and gave it back to you, genuine sincerity present in his eyes. Taken aback, you took it and went back to the bed.

"Why are you here?" you asked, tired of games and eager to get back to the book, plopping back down beside Koru.

He replied to you with a question of his own.

"Remember the bonfire night a few days ago?"

The night flashed through your mind from beginning to end, spinning the cogs in your brain a little too fast that it gave you whiplash. You did remember. The slow dancing to the crackle of fire, the heavy drinking, the sword debates like it was your local sword club night, carrying two very drunk people to their rooms only to have them cuddle in the same bed. Even the small half-spoken promises made in the dark with a tipsy conscience. You remembered all of it.

I wish I could forget some of it.

"What about it?"

"I know I was drunk-" he started before you interjected raising a finger in the air.

"I would say more than drunk." He shot you a look that indicated he wasn't finished yet. "Okay, continue."

"Among other things, I remember you making a promise that we were gonna talk. About... you know. Everything?"

There it was. One of the rushed, painful promises you made that night. Your hand stopped petting Koru, luscious fur warming up under your frozen touch. Your heart fell somewhere in the depths of your stomach at the reminder that you indeed did make that promise and that it kinda expired the next day without you fulfilling it.

Cursing yourself, both for making it and not keeping it, you looked up at him only to see that hopeful look in his eyes again. The same look he's been giving you since you've met again. The one that wished to make your relationship better and clear up what happened in the past.

"I just want to make things right with you," he added, looking down in his lap with a friendly twitch of his lips, lost on what else to say.

Your own eyes darted down, busying with the design on the duvet, the maroon wooden floors, even the white swirling into golden motives on the walls as if you never saw any of these details before. You wanted to talk to him and clear things up too, but you weren't even sure where to start.

It wasn't stalling. No, not even close. There was just so much to go through and you knew starting somewhere, anywhere, would be good, but you were lost on what. On the unsaid feelings that were still there, deep in your heart, still keeping you awake at night because he never gave you a chance to let them out? On the fact that he left right before you confessed those very feelings to him or that you lost control that night killing a bunch of people in cold blood? Which one of these was a good, relatively positive conversation starter that said 'Let's be friends again'?

Then you felt that pang in your torso, making your chest feel heavy again. Was he the one making it heavy or was it something else looming over you, waiting to catch you off-guard?

You were about to answer him when an unwanted visitor cracked your door open just a notch. He peeked his head inside and looked at the way the two of you were perched on the bed with the cat wiggling her tail between you, having what looked like a heart to heart.

Before he started sending daggers to the blonde coddled on your bed way too comfortable for his liking, he remembered why he was barging in the room in the first place and looked at you with a gaze that spurred that tightness in your chest further.

"Sorry to interrupt your bonding session, but we have news." His eyes softened when they landed on you, sending the growing pit of worry in your belly ablaze as he continued. "It's about your parents."

Your heart dropped.

You sat up abruptly, not wasting another second before you were swiftly on his tail as you followed him to his office without another word. The knots in your stomach churned and twisted in anticipation, and not the good kind that had you over the moon, but the one that could stop your beating heart as fast as a snap of fingers, wishing you could just teleport there and save up time.

Was it good news or bad news? was the main question running rampant.

If they were bad again, you were probably better off digging a hole into the ground and hiding from everything and everyone for an undetermined period. Your hopes were low to zero that it could be anything good in terms of the way most of your recent leads and missions went. But the urgency in his step kept the hope alive within you. Maybe it was something good this time around. So you kept that hope close, cradling it like a kindle that could go out on the smallest breeze, bracing yourself for whatever waited for you on the other side.

Wu and a few members of the gang were already sat in the office, waiting for the three of you. By the incognito citizen clothes, too shabby to be something Wu would ever wear freely out in the world, they definitely went out to gather information from places far more dangerous than the corner of the street.

"Master, madame," Wu greeted both of you, sitting with four of his men by the side of the desk, dejected looks on their faces.

You gave them a court nod, stopping in front of the desk, confused as to what was happening that required having so many people present. That and the fact that it might be really private information that was being shared. Whatever it was, it made that thing in your chest sit around your lungs like rope, tightening more with each passing second that no one uttered a word. Until Wu finally broke the silence halting the rope a little.

"We've been looking for the prisoner that escaped a few days ago. His name is Kenzo Hebi."

Kenzo the Snake. In all the years you've been graced by presence, you never caught his name. Or knew anything about him besides the fact that his wife was a leech just like him. But apparently he knew everything about you and your family, slithering into it enough to slowly destroy it. That name suits him entirely.

"Though we didn't find him particularly, we did find his boss. He's been working for the Daos."

The Daos you encountered back at the casino? If anything they didn't look like big bad mafia lords that a businessman had deals with, especially considering their shitty poker skills. But alas.

"The Triads?" asked Cho taken aback at the info. "What does a Yokohama businessman have to do with the Triads?"

Hold the fuck up. The Daos are part of the Triads? If Enishi knew that, he left out that part back when he briefed you for the mission. You threw him a look and as if he sensed your question, he shook his head that he didn't know that either. This was new information to both of you.

"How do you know that?" you asked the blonde in hopes he would elaborate and dissipate the common cloud of confusion.

"I have a few hatchets to bury with them," he crossed his arms on his chest, leaning backwards on the marble pillar behind him. His exposed forearms flexed in tandem with his jaw, a clear indicator he wasn't selling you doughnuts. He did have history with them. "I did some digging on them to get some leverage and found that they paid the Triads for security from time to time and they were occasionally trading arms."

Wu confirmed the information briefly before Enishi took over the conversation reeling it back to the main point. That man. The sly lizard that took everything from you.

"You may know him as a friend of your father's," he peered at you, noticing the way you scrunched your nose in disgust at the thoughtless pun, shifting on your legs impatiently. "But we caught him for an entirely different reason that night."

Speed-walking to his desk from beside you, he pulled open some drawers laying out a few maps on top of each other. You all gathered closer around them as he started explaining, trying to keep up with all the new information revealing itself.

"Besides that, he stole from one of our gun factories down the Eastern side of the Huangpu River," he pointed to one of the maps sketched to outline the exact settlement of the city of Shanghai. You honed in on it, recognizing the spot to be a textiles factory, about a few blocks away from the last place of refuge that you had to vacate, since the commander's troops were on your tail. Well, more on the tail of that one gray-haired criminal that you broke out, harbored, fed and now lived with. But anyway.

"The factory is kept under a textiles cover so the commander wouldn't question it." That made a lot of sense, especially since he checked all establishments regularly to make sure they had all the necessary papers to function.

"Anyway," he continued shifting some more paper around looking for something in particular. "While we may steal from other mafias sometimes, we do make a majority of our weapons there. Usually, people know better than crossing into our territory, but somehow that fucker managed to steal most of our stock."

"So you brought him in for questioning," you added as the story started piecing itself together. He nodded briefly still shuffling the pile of maps around, eyes grazing the ink without a break.

You would've apologized for nearly killing their source of information but he had it coming anyway. You thought back to the way you assaulted that man down in the basement as soon as he opened his mouth to talk nonsense, thinking he just happened to fall there as you were looking for your parents. As much as you hated to admit, it was a good outlet for your temporary rage.

"Yes, but as it turns out he's just one piece of a bigger puzzle." He shuffled the map he was looking for your way. You picked it up to see several places, all circled around the river in strident red ink - other factories, shops and even restaurants labelled with the names of other mafias, some of them that you've encountered on your own missions before.

Enishi handed you another map of the neighbouring cities, red circles turning into an overwhelming spiral of scarlet stretching across the rest of the country.

"It wasn't just us. They stole from every mafia on the mainland."

Stealing from every mafia and undercover at that without anyone suspecting anything? What could they possibly be planning that they would go that far? Unless... No. That wasn't possible. But all things on the table in front of you pointed to that.

"Oh my god," you gasped as the realization hit you. "They're making the gangs blame each other in order to start a war."

Enishi nodded, confirming your suspicions. But if this was happening already, like Cho recalled earlier, much, much worse was on the way. Things that could be catastrophic for everyone, not just for the crime world.

"But the triads haven't been around for that long. What could they possibly win from that?" asked Cho, voicing out your very thoughts.

"Mafias control a big part of trade, both imports and exports. By blindly gaining their trust and working under them, they can make a mafia crumble from the inside and take over it completely," added Enishi, leaning forward on the desk, eyes lost in the whirlpool of ink and paper. "If they abolish the mafias they gain control of everything going in and out of the country."

A coup d'état. This was way too much to process. Not just this but what told you that no traitor was lurking on the mansion grounds right now, right under Enishi's unsuspecting nose, watching your every move, eating the very food you've been cooking, hiding in the shadows until it was time to rat himself out. But then again the whole thing with the Triads was too complex. They barely got funded a couple of years ago and they already branched themselves out like a silent poison looking to kill and replace the systems that have been around for way longer than you've been alive. This was shaking up the natural order of things that wasn't even natural in the first place.

With all of this coming to light... there was something else you kept hidden. Something you haven't told anyone before since you didn't want it to reach the light of day in case it could put you on the radar again.

A few years ago, after the whole thing with Cho happened, you went solo again. Work was somewhat going well, you were getting jobs left and right, becoming the main person people called on for their long, insatiable, egocentric hitlists. You did the jobs, you got paid, you lived somewhat comfortably in a dusty old barrack. But as much as it was good business for you, it put you in the vizor of someone you never wanted to get involved with - the Triads.

At the time, you've heard stories of other assassins getting hired by them and they almost contracted you too back in Japan. You refused because working for them would've cost you every ounce of the freedom you barely had anyway. The triads gave you a roof over your head, fed you and trained you to the best you could be, but they took away every other semblance of humanity you had to make you nothing more than a killing machine, executing orders devoid of any conscience. A puppet to be controlled in their revolt against the state.

You refused them. Multiple times. Some of them involved taking your pistols out and you didn't just threaten anyone. But they got so persistent, hellbent on having you join them that it got to the point where they followed you, watching you on your missions, finding your whereabouts at any hour of the day, until you had enough and left the country silently.

That was the main reason you tried to stay under the radar when you came to Shanghai. You did your work under a different name, changed safe houses every few months, didn't get acquainted with anyone, doing everything in your power to try and erase any footprints that could lead them to you. Because anything pinpointing your location meant delivering yourself to them on a golden platter.

You lived your life in the shadows more than you wanted to, wishing it could all stop one day. The running, the hiding, the constant fear that someone was on their way to get you and drag you back into the darkness where she waited for you, since they definitely wanted Barairo, the crimson rose, not you. You wanted to fight them, let her out to destroy them every chance you got. But you didn't know what you were up against until now.

Coming back to the present, you tried to make sense of all the new, concerning details and what you already knew about the Triads, failing to see anything in this tangled mess relating to your mom and dad.

"Okay, but where do my parents stand in all this?" you let out the long-awaited question looking at Wu, hoping that he could finally spill what you wanted to know.

Were they dead? Were they alive? Did he find them or anything else that could lead us to them?

Instead of answering you, he peered over to the very man that called you over tonight. He was sitting in the shadows behind the mahogany desk with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were cast downwards, staring gaping holes into the maps, avoiding your curious ones at any cost, despite being the one who commenced this meeting in the first place. Something was off and very weird about it. He was always so collected, holding nothing back. Why was he on the defense so suddenly? Then he sighed. A long, stacked breath of air. Enishi doesn't sigh.

"What's going on?" you pushed, stepping closer to the desk, wanting to know why he was taking so long to talk.

He hesitated telling you, trying to push this dreaded conversation aside as much as he could for the past few weeks, but he had to. He was done keeping things away from you. He knew the risk - that he could lose you either way. If he talked, you would cave in on yourself, shutting him out completely. But if he didn't, you would have your suspicions and question him until you pried it out of him.

It was now or never. He preferred for it to be never. But it was time. He could be dishonest and false with anyone else. But not with you. Not when you put your trust in him for it.

Taking a deep inhale with eyes closed, feeling nerves grip him for the first time in a good while, he pushed it out with the exhale, guilty raven eyes looking at you with the weight of steel.

"Your parents had ties to the Triads."

Time stilled as the words left his mouth one by one. Not one soul moved. Yours froze and thawed over in seconds at just that one sentence. A sentence you never thought you'd ever hear in your life.

You struggled to process the words like he spoke in a foreign language you had no recollection of ever hearing or speaking before. They rolled over and over in your head, brain working overtime in turning each one back and forth, until they started registering sharp and clear and as they did, your knees went weak with their weight. Those horrifying seven words echoed again with more impact this time, ears ringing as you scurried backwards away from the desk to get yourself seated on the couch somehow, so you wouldn't crumble in front of everyone.

Your mind ran empty of everything, nausea making her hideous presence felt so deeply in that pit in your stomach, setting fire to the incessant bellows of worry that ate at your peace little by little all day. Your eyes weren't even focusing on the worried pairs of eyes gathering around you, one more concerned than any of them kneeling down before you. He spoke, getting you to focus on his words but they weren't what you needed to hear at all.

"There's something else you should know."

What more could be worse than this?

"Our meeting wasn't a coincidence."

What?

"I know that they tried to contract you," he continued, giving you no time to think straight. "They've been looking for you."

"How do you-"

"I've been watching you for a while, way before you moved in. We've been looking for any leads on the guy and stumbled upon the Hikari name. One clue led to another and I found you."

Your eyes darted to the ground away from him, grinding your teeth with newfound anger, trying to keep your temper under control. He hasn't talked to you in days, not one single word save for the heated interaction you had last night in the kitchen. But the one time he does talk is to chirp like a fucking canary that he played Judas with you.

He lied to me.

All this time, he didn't want to take me in. He never wanted to train me. He wanted information from me. He wanted to know if I was involved in this godforsaken world in the slightest.

All this time, I was a pawn in his game. He was right. I really was just another stray he took in. I've been so stupid.

Forget the stab in the back for now. Your parents were your main priority here, no matter how much this hurt. You focused all your leftover energy on them since you might have a safe shot at finding them. Even if that meant keeping your alliance with the devil sitting right in front of you, still playing angel in disguise despite everything he just told you that he's been hiding from you for months. Wasting any more precious time, like this, was signing their death sentence.

Feeling the repercussions of his betrayal came later, you told yourself to ease the ache a notch. For now, you'd keep your own feelings at bay and fight for your parents. For now, you'd keep the anger inside just a little more.

That was until he chose to open his mouth again.

"Are you okay?"

You've got to be shitting me.

"Am I okay?! You're telling me that my parents were somehow involved in organized crime and expect me to be okay?! Do you realize how fucking insane that sounds?" you threw a hand through your hair trying to make sense of anything in this mess. It sounded ridiculous even as you said it out loud yourself. "T-they were tailors, they weren't bad people."

"I know it sounds difficult to believe, but Wu ran the information and it checks out," he added, as if your world wasn't barely standing straight already and some more truthful angst would do the trick to tilt it over fully. Fucking amazing.

You weren't going to believe it at all until you sat thinking for a good minute, going over your last interactions with your parents years ago, and certain things became way too clear in your head just like idea bulbs. Or trauma bulbs in this case.

The way that snake threatened them every time he came to the tailor shop. The fact that your parents had a lot of foreign clients coming from outside of the city, all the way to some tailor shop in the middle of practically nowhere. Or that you were living comfortably, homeschooled, safe, unlike the rest of the district that was in peak war age.

It all started to make a whole lot of fucking sense.

"Their clients, the expensive textiles they imported, even our house," your head dropped to your hands as it all became crystal clear in a messy mix of truths you couldn't swallow past that lump in your throat. "None of it was really ours was it?"

"I'm sorry," he rubbed your arm trying to comfort you, even though he knew nothing could actually bring you peace, especially coming from him after everything he just told you, after he lied. "But they weren't bad people. They were just whisked away in the midst of it all."

"Does that mean we can't find them?" you asked, hating the way your voice broke on the last word.

"On the contrary," he turned up a smirk, just like he did whenever he knew something helpful. A solution out of the hell ride you were slowly buckling into. It somehow brought you some hope that things weren't as fucked up as they seemed. Though you highly doubted that.

"If they are affiliated with the triads, even in the smallest, we have a chance at finding them sooner than we think."

A chance. That's all you needed. Even the smallest of hopes in the biggest pile of all this fantastical fuckery would do you good right now.

"There is someone who knows enough about their plans to send them to the pits of hell if he wanted. We arranged to meet with him."

Okay, that's great. A possibly wanted man wanting to meet with the leader of one of the mafias who could have him killed or put him out in the open to the Triads for them to get him killed first? Highly unlikely.

"Why do I feel like there's more to that?"

"It took some persuasion, but he agreed to meet us in the worst place possible. The Shanghai Club."

"You've got to be joking," exclaimed Cho, finally joining the conversation since his own ass could be in danger now. "That place is crawling with the commander's troops and triad members."

"That's why I said it's the worst place possible," added Enishi as a matter of fact, turning to look Cho dead in the eye.

Ignoring their bickering, you gave it a thought. You had a safe shot at finding your parents this time. Sure, it could end up in a bloodbath no one wanted to wipe clean after, but you were willing to take it.

No more waiting. No more looking around to find fairy tales from random henchmen caught red handed with information that was common knowledge in their world. It was time you decided what you wanted to do and right now that was following your incredibly twisted guts. If you had to dive into that hell again, then might as well do it on your own terms. 'Cause the first time went fantastic.

"When?" you simply asked.

"Hold on a second. You're not actually thinking of going are you?" asked Cho, though it wasn't really a question and more of a statement that he would get in your way. "That's a suicide mission."

"I have to," you played with the hem of your shirt, trying to calm a shrill of tremor climbing up your hands. "They're my parents, Cho. I can't just leave things like this. Not now when we have a certain lead."

You turned back to Enishi with hopeful eyes finding his own still on you, waiting for your answer. This was probably the last thing you would trust him with ever. "It is certain this time, right?"

He didn't hesitate to nod his head, a genuine want to help passing through his eyes at your question. Good.

"If we're going there, we're gonna need new outfits!" you chimed, trying to find a way to get out of the room before the walls would cave in on you and someone took notice of the unnatural way your hands started shaking. That knot in your chest tugged at you more insistently now with the heavy tension in the air and the multiple pairs of eyes watching you with pity, the one thing you hated the most in the world.

"I want both of you in my room later," you added, nodding at the two men that would accompany you. You only registered how suggestive your words sounded after they left your mouth, all eyes in the room staring at you widely, only adding to your discomfort. Men.

"To get you sized and ready, obviously," you clarified and with that you shuffled off the couch and left in a hurry without looking back.

The two males exchanged a look, trying to make sense of your behaviour, expecting a different reaction to all of this, not you being ready to stitch and sew outfits in the dead of night. The blonde shrugged in response, lost on what to think anymore, more preoccupied with finding an escape route of this. But something about your reaction rubbed the other one wrong, watching your back retreat out the door with growing nerves himself.

You walked this hallway so many times before. But right now for some reason it seemed to stretch longer, wider, walls tilting in on each other under the weight of gravity. Each step on the creaky wooden floors made you jump in fright, the trepidation of your heart louder than the constant ringing in your ears, heavier than the bile gradually rising in your throat.

Taking faster strides to reach the familiar tall oak arches, you pushed the doors to your room open. Going straight to your work desk, you pulled out all the materials you could find to start working and get your mind off things. Pacing around from corner to corner, unable to locate the cushion of needles you always, you ran to your vanity as your heart pumped faster. You searched around and messed up the recently organized drawers, throwing things on the ground behind you, hands shaking with anxiety only to find the damn cushion nowhere in sight, more worry gripping you.

You took a look at yourself in the mirror, staring at the dim orbs that resembled your mother's eyes. The faces of your parents flashed before you, standing next to each other in a tender embrace, expanding that painful throb in your chest.

What if I will never find them? They were gone for so long. There might be no trace of them on earth anymore. That simple thought made each breath your lungs took harder to call inside, taking you even longer to let them out. Your vision darkened, a new wave of dizziness throwing you off balance as you grappled with your breathing that was slowly going out of control, coming out in shorter pants and wheezes.

Panic filled you from that annoying pit in your belly, stretching upwards inside of you to grab onto your neck as if to strangle you for ignoring it for so long. To make you pay for every missed chance of finding your parents. For every connection you built on blind, broken trust. For every life you took that probably didn't even deserve it. For following the worst of devils on earth fooling yourself they would save you. For being a failure in every fucking way and not being able to do one thing right by your parents, by the people you cared about, by yourself. For everything you did, for all you were doing and for everything you will do. You lost the fight. You let your own personal inferno come alive.

I warned you, a voice echoed inside of you head, dark with malice and death. You leaned your hands on the vanity table, your whole body trembling, spasming under your weight that seemed unbearable to keep on your own two legs, struggling to stay upright. This wasn't happening. This couldn't happen.

Not right now. I can't lose control now. Not when I'm so close to find them.

You caught the glimpse of a silhouette in the vanity mirror, entering your room in a haste. Maybe it was death remembering you existed, finally coming to take you away as payback for avoiding its call to hell so many times that it found it amusing and let you simmer until you finally broke yourself. The devil surely loved the sinners that did it to themselves the most.

The shadow moved behind you, looking less like a demon from hell and more like a human being the closer it got to you. Maybe it was one of the angels still around you, fighting for your redemption against all odds telling it you couldn't be saved. That you didn't deserve the saving.

Whatever or whoever it was, they called your name with a voice so angelic, like a dream was playing before you in slow motion. A tone so holy that you could trust it to take you anywhere it wanted to, whether it was heaven or hell. It might have been your hallucination kicking in as you were falling apart. It tried to get your attention but they seemed so far away. So, so, so far away from the abyss you had one leg inside. Until their arms wrapped around you, secure and supportive, stable and safe. Maybe it was your mind cooking up nonsense, but you felt that hold on you like someone was actually holding you for real.

Their secure firm tightened around you just like the panic pressing down your neck sending you into sensory overload. You refused to let go of the vanity table, your only anchor to reality, digging your hands into the wood so hard your nails chipped at the edges. A hand came up to your cheek, cupping it gently to turn your face towards them. You stared at the blurry blob in the shadow morphing into a face, slowly becoming clearer in the haze. Their mouth that moved with a voice so angelic before turned into a velvety demonic sound, words finally making their way to you, drilling loud into the quiet.

"Look at me," he demanded, tone warm and steady to get you to focus on him.

Him. You needed to get away from him. You couldn't be near him right now. He hurt you. He broke your trust after you gave it to him with everything you had. All your secrets, your pain, your heart, all of it laid out on a silver platter. He took all of it and threw it into the fire, sitting on the sidelines without as much as looking back to see what was left of you as the ashes scattered away. He used you. He didn't need you. He's better off without you, that voice pushed again.

"Go away," you croaked out trying to shove him off, even as your hands shook uncontrollably and your knees locked in place.

He only held you tighter to him, musky scent you loved so much turning into a burning ash stench as you struggled to inhale any speck of air inside. You slumped against him pathetically, still holding the vanity in a death grip, refusing to let go and give up control. Give it up. Let me out. I can take care of him.

"Look at me," he commanded this time, demanding your attention. Moving anything was taxing, but when your blurry eyes brimming with tears finally caught his, willing him to let you go, he just wouldn't budge from beside you. "I need you to breathe, Miyu."

No, you don't. You need to let me out, she hissed so loud, sending your thoughts haywire.

You choked on a half-sob, trying to get air inside. You were trying. God, you were really trying.

But each haggard, piercing drag of air you ran after slipped further away, turning your chest into nothing more but a lead carcass, just as heavy and constricting as the barrel of your pistols must feel for a bullet. You shook your head, more tears spilling over your cheeks.

"I c-can't."

"Yes, you can."

He worked to loosen the grip of one of your hands on the edge of the vanity table, successfully plying one of them free. He placed it against his chest, letting you feel the beat of his heart, alive and working. He was real. So, so real. A lot more real than the voice in your head. You felt his chest expand under your palm, up and down, his own breathing calm and normal, alternating in rhythms. You tried to follow it in one brave, sharp intake of air but all that did was send needles to your own chest, pushing a pained moan through your throat.

You were drowning. Your heart was beating way too fast for it not to explode any minute. Your lungs weren't working with you. You were ready to accept it and sink into it, ready to let her do whatever she wanted and lose yourself, when his forehead pressed into your temple to keep you tethered here, keep you with him, keep you fighting. He was damned if he let you give into it right now.

"Please breathe for me," he begged, eyes blazing in a frenzy, trying to keep his own breathing stable so you could follow it.

Enishi Yukishiro didn't beg for no one.

The desperation in his voice scared you. It told you he would raise bloody murder to the entirety of the globe if you dared to let go right now. You didn't come this far for nothing. Your struggle wasn't in vain. You still had so much to fight for.

You swore to help him avenge his sister. He swore to help you find your parents. You couldn't let go now. None of those promises were fulfilled yet by either of you. She definitely wouldn't fulfill them. She would kill him before she even took her first step out of that cage. You couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let her. Oh, but you could, she taunted caressing those iron bars with sweet temptation. I will die before I let you touch him.

You tried a few more breaths but they barely went in, crunching the material of his kimono in your fist, pushing your lungs to work with you and take a fucking breath. Pathetic. Frustrated and defeated with yourself, you cried out wishing for a miracle when he spoke again, picking up the very broken pieces of your heart that he shattered with his own two hands, attempting to put them back together.

"I don't regret finding you. I don't regret taking you in. I don't regret anything we've done together. You're not alone anymore. I'm not alone anymore. I like having you around."

Letting his fast mix of jumbled words wash over you, you dug deep into the abyss clutching your heart and your lungs harder with each passing second, looking for a way out. There's no way out. There is always a way out. There had to be one even now as your world seemed like it was ending.

"I need to have you around, Miyu. I promised you I'm not leaving you. I'm here. I'm right here."

You tried again and again and again and again and again. You ran and ran and turned around in the pitch black of your mind that was shutting down, aimlessly looking for a speck of light to lead you out.

"You're strong enough. Come on baby. Breathe with me."

His voice became your saving grace in that moment. He became the surge of light you needed to follow in the darkness. With each word a brighter speck of that light lit it up, making it go back to its place away until it was unable to touch you. Until you couldn't hear her anymore. She was gone.

After what felt like forever, listening to his endless pleas, feeling his heart beating under your trembling hand and his touch holding you close, you were breathing. Somehow, the more you tried more air was finally available to you.

Leaning on the vanity, half-supported by him, you took more air inside like you were taking your first breath in the world, unaware of all that was waiting for you. That first inhale was raw, the large gulps that followed stabbing your dry throat as if knives had a parade inside its walls, fully aware of all that you've already been through. Fully aware that this was only the beginning. But you kept going.

His other hand came to sit around your waist, rubbing circles into your hip, small and large matching the rhythm of his breathing so you could focus and follow it as a guide.

Slowly, the breaths you took went down into your lungs deeper each time, filling them up with much needed air. The bile that rose in your throat went back inside. The chaos in your soul went quiet again with him by your side, holding your hand in the center of his chest the whole time. His fist closed over yours like a safe, guarding it there on top of his heart, not once letting go.

The darkness in your vision cleared a bit, leaving just a few dark spots lingering as you focused on the creature in the mirror looking back at you, resembling you. It was you - paled over, looking like a ghost, shaking like a leaf in the wind, held together by the man beside you.

Your hands stopped shaking, receding to an occasional tremor. Your heart still thundered wildly, still agitated from the thrill. Lifting up the hand you held onto the vanity table to test your balance was a bad decision. The moment you took it away, your whole balance left the safety of the wooden block and you swayed to the side, knees buckling under the sudden movement. But he caught you before you could fall into a pile on the ground.

"Fuck, stay put will you," he rumbled, gathering you in his arms to carry you straight to the bed.

He let you down on the mattress gently, placing you against the pillows and sat down next to you, taking your hand in his. His fingers settled on your pulse point, relief washing over him that it was slowly coming down from the high you were on. He did that a lot as you trained, chastising you about keeping yourself at a normal rate since he discovered you were prone to dizzy spells. Even Koru climbed in the bed, sensing something was wrong and nuzzled your thigh in comfort as you took a few more breaths in, this time to stop the leftover palpitations.

Reaching out to touch the side of your face, he swiped at the leftover tears that were still falling free. His fingers brushed away the hair sticking to your face as you focused on clearing the heavy weight in your chest, loosening apart that tight rope breath by breath until you couldn't feel it there anymore. It was gone just as fast as it came.

He cupped your cheek, drawing your eyes to him. His creased brows and the tension in his hold told you he was still worried. You didn't want to, but you leaned into his touch, almost naturally welcoming his comfort and to soothe both of you someway.

"Thank god I found you before something worse happened."

I didn't kick the bucket yet, you swine. And if I ever do, it won't be under your roof.

Feeling too self-conscious, you looked away from him, gaze falling on the mess you made in the room when you barged in, from the carpet around the vanity littered with all kinds of trinkets, darting to the heaps of fabric on top of your work desk. He followed it, a knowing look replacing the worry on his face. You still wanted to put yourself through working on those damn outfits right now.

"You need rest. Those can wait until tomorrow since the meeting is two days from now," he reassured you. "You have time."

"I'm fine," you said, frowning at your scratchy throat.

Were you saying that for him or for yourself? That didn't really matter right now. What mattered was doing something that didn't let you sit and overthink once your mind caught up to you, though it would take a while since it still felt like cotton was pushed around in it in every corner.

"If you didn't just have a panic attack," he started, handing you a glass with water from the pitcher on the nightstand, "I might have just believed you."

"I don't need your worry," you retorted, sitting up to drink the water.

"You're resting. Not up for discussion. If you as much as think of putting a foot out of the bed for anything other than going to the bathroom, I will have you tied to the bed."

"You can't do that."

"Watch me."

Too tired of this back and forth, you turned around to the other side, feeling furious. He treated you like a child in need of a time out session. Well, he might as well watch your backside for all you cared. You were too exhausted to throw a bigger tantrum right now though he did deserve to hear the end of it.

He stayed with you, absorbing the resentment seeping off of you. He deserved the cold shoulder. He wanted to come clean so many times before but there was always that doubt telling him that it would rip the bond you had at the seams and nothing would be able to fix it. He cared about the connection you had. It was the only real thing he had left. He cared so much that keeping things away from you proved harder as time went on.

When Wu walked into his office in a rush this afternoon and told him what he found out, he knew it was time to atone for it. Even if that meant hurting you in the process. Even if it meant you would be mad at him for the rest of your lives.

Dragging a hand over his face with a small groan at his own stupidity, he let his eyes fall on you, taking notice of the steady rise and fall of your back telling him you fell asleep. He got up and draped the covers over you before laying one of the softest kisses on your temple, his silent promise of protection whenever things went wrong between you. That you always had a place to run to when you needed it. Even if you didn't want it anymore, he would always welcome you. Wait for you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your hair, taking in the warm rosy scent of it to settle the guilt swimming in his gut a little. "I will explain everything to you soon."

With that he got up, turning for the door. He creaked it open then turned back around once more, spotting the dark ball of fur already laying by your side.

"Make sure she rests," he told the cat who just meowed at him in response, cuddling closer to you with a loud purring noise.

And now he was talking to the cat.

The dawn of a torrential downpour roused you from sleep. The sky ripped open, angry raindrops rapping against the glass violently mad as if to break inside. The wind hastened, howling nature awake. Lightning crackled bathing the room in bright white, followed by the deep rumble of thunder thunder reverberating so loud it shook you awake. It couldn't have been earlier than five in the morning, the world still dark and gray outside your window.

The beginning of a painful headache graced you, throbbing in pace with the heavy rain, splitting your skull at the crackle of lightning. You rolled around the bed on heavy limbs, hand aimlessly tapping the nightstand looking for the water pitcher. With a struggle, you pulled your body up in a sitting position only to frown at the lack of water on the cabinet. Both the pitcher and the glass on top were empty of even the smallest drop of liquid. Great.

Scrambling to the edge of the bed, you held your head, trying to get it to focus on the task at hand - getting water. If you had any chance of getting back to sleep you needed it. Something pawing at your feet grabbed your attention. Koru. She sat there, looking at you with those round balls of bright yellow glowing in the dark, meowing. You moved your leg away only to have her paw at it again and sit on it, meowing louder.

Not you too, you sighed.

You leaned down to give her a soft pet on the head for her caring nature, looking back at the empty glass with a long sigh.

If only you could bring me water, little one.

Suddenly, she got up from your feet and sauntered out through the small crack in the door. You would've followed her if it wasn't for the nauseating feeling rocking you like a boat on a furious sea. So you sat back in the middle of the bed, holding onto your head.

A few minutes passed, rain falling harder against the windows, headache turning into a full-blown migraine. No amount of massage or pressure from your fingers or rolling around the bed in different positions could cure it. Absolutely helpless, that's what I am.

The door cracked slightly ajar. You paid it no mind thinking Koru came back from her spontaneous stroll. Instead of a meow or paws paddling the floor to reach you, you heard lean steps, the rattle of glass and the sound of liquid flowing from one recipient to the other.

The bed dipped in front of you with a weight heavier than Koru's. Confused at who it could be this early, you let your hands fall from your head to look up and find a surprisingly awake Enishi holding out a glass for you, filled with water all the way to the rim.

You took it without a second thought, gulping down the whole thing in one breath. It went down your throat so rough but so soothing, getting rid of the stabbing dryness coating it. Asking for another, he went to pour it as you wiped the leftover drops hanging on the bow of your lips. He handed it back to you sitting back in his spot, joined by your dear black fur of ball that nestled by his leg. Turns out deception runs in the family, you thought, watching the two bond over keeping you in bed at any cost.

Glass back on your nightstand and throat somewhat better, a pang of pain returned, sending you to lay back down under the covers. You hoped you could find some comfort now that you had some water. Wordlessly, he got up and tucked you better under the duvet, drawing it up your back all the way to your nape. He spared one more look at you, cuddled up to sleep with the feline and left, closing the door fully this time, taking the small flicker of light he left you with away with him.

The next time you woke up, it was almost lunch time. The dark storm in the early morning left quietly, but the sky remained dull, devoid of any other color but gray. Just like my soul. The sweet smell of food wafted into your nostrils on barely the first conscious inhale of breath. Your stomach instantly grumbled at the delicious scent, only for you to turn in bed and find said food on a plate on the nightstand.

Blinking away the sleep from your eyes, you sat up examining the contents of the plate - dorayaki pancakes. As big as the palm of your hand, neatly folded at the opening and round with a bunch of filling. His apologetic pancakes. Huh. What is he playing at now?

Reluctant, but hungry, you took a bite, letting the berry jam filling melt in your mouth. He left you orange juice too on the side, tasting refreshing after the sweet brunch. If only his personality was this sweet all the time, though that was a stretch knowing him.

You felt better, either from the multiple sleep rounds you took or the pancakes. Not at one hundred percent, but still much better than you did last night. You had a long list of things to go through - talking with you know who, talking with blondie, a whole lot of talking. But for now, you had enough fuel and energy to get down to work on the outfits for the meeting at the club that was in less than forty-eight hours. Yours especially.

You changed out of yesterday's clothes and picked up some of the mess around the room. Finally sat down at your work desk, you browsed through the materials you had available - red satin, burgundy velvet, indigo satin, some green cashmere and black chiffon. A goth lover's dream. Blondie was right, that book did take a toll on you, among other things.

All things aside, red was your color. You always wore red, no matter the occasion. Even if it was just an accessory, like your mother's pendant that was on you at all times. It was you, in either shade or material. Blazing like a flame on its way to eat half of the world if as much as one gust of injustice blew your way. Crackling to a strong kindle if you were sputtering out in the cold of uncertainty. Drenching everything crimson if you needed to protect something.

You breathed red.

Unfortunately for you, you were left without scraps, only with new, untouched rolls of material, which meant you had to start from zero. You were good at stitching two or more different pieces together, reworking them into something new, but you never worked on something from beginning to end.

Working with a blank canvas was your mother's specialty. You never understood how she just visualized a client's order in one whole standing piece, full of detail and precise flair. The most you ever did from zero was a pair of pants that you had to wear backwards for them to work and not look weird. Sketching wasn't your forte either, much more your father's talent. You did know weaving, stitching, knitting, embroidery, anything that was a basic technique with textiles. But everything else was pure luck of the moment if inspiration somehow happened to hit you. Let's look for some inspiration then.

You walked to the wardrobe in the other corner, pulling it open to look through it hoping to find it there. Scanning all the heaps of clothes, your eyes landed on the dress you made for the ball a few weeks ago - the revamped wedding qipao. Enishi's shocked and appalled reaction flashed in your mind recalling the way you walked out in a new rehabilitated rendition of his expensive golden kimono and that cursed qipao. Chuckling to yourself with a pat on the back at the idea, you studied it a little, feeling like it was too on the flashy, gown side to be reused again, especially for a club. High society clubs required something classier, light, somewhat hot, but modest and combat appropriate all in one. Not a huge checklist at all.

Spreading out all the fabric and some clothes from the wardrobe on the floor, you sat in the middle, looking at all of them. Then you closed your eyes, willing the gods of creativity to give you some. You took a few deep breaths, focusing on visualizing a dress and some details, hoping something would pop into your head if you tried hard enough. Come on, brain. Work with me. After a while, you opened them back up, frowning at the mess of fabric around you with still no idea. That usually worked, especially if it was mission attire. Before you could get up and scour some more, a distant memory hit you like a truck.

A long, long time ago, back in Yokohama, your parents had this really stylish lady as a client. She came in one day, at the recommendation of a friend, looking for a dress for an overseas event. Her specs had some of your current requirements, heavy on the classic, save for the combat and hot features off the list. Your mom worked weeks on that dress, getting it as perfect as it could be. When the lady came by to pick it up and tried it on for one last fitting, she was stunned. The dress fit her like a jewel meant just for her, putting her uniqueness on display like she was part of the royal family.

You yourself fell in love with that dress, asking your mother to make it for you time and time again only for her to refuse. "I will make you one, far more beautiful than that one when you grow older, my little light," you recalled her saying softly.

Well, here I am mom, making it myself.

Grabbing the satin, your usual go-to, you measured the fabric and layered it in the shape of a skirt on a mannequin you bought from the village, measuring the exact diameter of your waist and hips. Marking the start of it, you pinned it to the dummy and worked down the hem line, drawing the drop bigger, pinching the material from top to bottom with needles.

Then you tugged the velvet open, working some of it in the shape of a bodice for the top part. You set that on the mannequin, fixing the rough shapes around and stepped back, looking at the mix to get a bigger picture. It looked okay... but the dark red on light red didn't work at all. The satin was too shiny and the velvet way too dark.

The more you tilted your head on the side, it looked even more mismatched. This is where your father would walk in to say, "I think you should change the colours, darling. It looks like a bed of roses threw up on the mannequin." He wouldn't be wrong.

Okay dad, one shade of red works then.

Whirling back to the mess in the center of your room, you noticed a roll peeking from under your bed. Since it wasn't in the pile on the desk, it must've been one of the items that ended up on the floor last night. You picked it up, rolling it open a bit - ruby velvet. Not too dark and not too light either. The dark shade matched the velvet top on the mannequin but it could work by itself for both a corset top and the longer skirt. Adding some sleeves and pulling the neckline a bit higher. Some ruffles on the bodice to give it more depth and frills on the sides to make it flare...

Okay, this can work. It would do.

The afternoon was in tow, sunlight brimming merrily through your window. You just finished working on the body of your dress and the rough shape, left with sewing the skirt and adding some small details here and there.

Shoulders, back and legs aching from standing too much, you decided to take a breather, laying down on the carpet to stretch your sore limbs. Eyes closed, resting on the warmed patch of sun on the cream carpet, you took a well-deserved break. It felt so good to have the sun on your face, even if it wasn't directly from the outside. It still felt so comforting, relaxing your body and warming you up with much needed serotonin.

Stolen away by the peace of the moment, you failed to notice the incoming company, sliding in your room as quiet as a mouse. Since you had your eyes shut, laid on the floor with arms and legs wide open like a corpse, he was quick to rush to your side to check if you were still breathing. Taken aback at the shift in the air around you, your eyes slowly opened to see him, right above you. His brawny, large palms pressed to the wooden floor on either side of your head, keeping him upright, while his eyes searched yours with concern. You just blinked up at him, confused. Thanks to the length of his arms, the space between you was big, though not big enough to still your rapidly racing heart.

Sitting in the silence of your breaths and the white noise coming from the open window, you just looked at him for a bit. His eyes were no longer dark, lighting up in a softer chocolate tone with the glow of the sun beating from the side. They weren't as intense as yesterday, way more tender and warm now. The usual blue rim on the sides, really noticeable when he was mad, was now a deep amber, complimenting the earthy brown pooling around his pupils. He really had the most beautiful and captivating eyes you've ever seen.

"I thought you dropped dead."

Way to ruin the moment.

"Get off me, mophead," you pushed against his shoulders trying to sit up but he didn't move at all from his position, letting you crash right into his chest. You frantically grabbed at the mounds of his back to not fall backwards, instead diving head first right into the crook of his neck. And he still didn't move.

You clung to him like a koala, eyes darting all over the place in a frenzy because if you looked right ahead, you would be met with that stupid neck of his. The close proximity alone invited you to take a whiff of it, noticing that the woody aroma that regularly hit you first was less present, totally overpowered by the rich, sweet and fruity jasmine. You nearly threw your head back with a moan at how good he smelled. Traitors weren't supposed to smell so good, so addicting.

"Why are you on the floor?" he asked, words rolling so husky off his lips that it had your belly tighten. Your body was no stranger to what that tone could do to you, especially so close to your ear that it shook chills awake down your back.

You didn't reply, distrusting your own voice. That only spurred him to turn his head to you. Before it could turn fully and cage you against his neck, you let go of his back forgetting that the hard wooden floor awaited you. Before hitting your back on it hard, giving yourself another pain you didn't need, one of his arms reached out to catch you, splaying flat on the middle of your back. He was holding the both of you up with just one arm fixed on the floor without a shake or a sway of the strain it took on his muscles. That's hot.

"My back was hurting and it was warm," you replied, gulping down air as you met his eyes again. Warm. So much more warmth than the heat of the sun could ever provide.

"But there's a bed," he stated, watching his brown orbs dart to your lips and back to your eyes a few times. Their rapid movement was almost hypnotic, putting you in a trance. The white and golden colours on the ceiling all swirled behind him, not one quite as powerful and bewitching as his own aura. The only thing that gave you a high so dangerous but so heavenly. A high that nothing else on earth will ever be able to give you. Will I ever be able to quit you?

"There's a bed," you repeated, more like a question than a statement, too stolen by those eyes to think straight. And he caught that. The way your pupils dilated and your lips parted told him you weren't quite here. So his gaze turned playful, preparing for a tease attack you wouldn't be able to get out of.

Lowering you down to the floor, he caged you between his arms again as he bent down, closing the distance between you. Breath caught in your throat, you pulled your arms closer to your chest in reflex and feigned protection, only to see the corner of his lips turn up with a mischievous smirk.

That goddamn smirk.

"Tell me," he started, tongue peaking out from the confines of his mouth to lick his lips, so plump and inviting, in devious teasing, "what's a bed for?"

He was completely taking advantage of your dazed mind, trying to play games with you and you just let him, unable to escape it.

"A bed is for... uhh... sleeping obviously," you replied unsure with a nervous giggle, more focused on how close he was to getting to your lips. They've been aching for him for so long it hurt that he was so close but not moving towards yours. Though his arms were almost fully bent on the elbows beside your head, nose almost touching yours, lips not headed for yours at all.

"Just sleeping?" he quirked a brow, pressing into your body at all the right angles, in all the places that yearned for it. The inner side of his biceps pressed into your shoulders on each side keeping you in place. His defined chest sat right onto your raising breasts, perking up slightly under your top from how much he turned you on. His torso jammed flush to yours, moving up and down, expanding with shallow breaths into each other. His hips dove right into yours, between your legs, feeling the mightiness in his pants bulge right onto your core. If he as much as breathed, it created friction in every single place he touched indirectly, overwhelming you in the worst way possible.

You closed your eyes to keep your breathing from spiraling and try to focus on something else, only to shudder at the feeling of his lips attaching themselves to your jaw. They didn't kiss it, hovering over the sensitive skin instead, blowing hot breaths on it, making your back arch instinctively at the near contact. Near. So near. They simply brushed all the way under it, heading upwards to your earlobe, grazing the side of your ear with temptation as he whispered, " What else?", so quiet and sensual that you whined audibly.

Heart pounding wildly, mind spinning out of control, breathing uneven and fast, your entire body so hungry and lusting for a booty call you didn't even initiate but craved like a feral wolf in heat. The Enishi Yukishiro effect.

"Why are you here?" you rasped, head rolling to the side, so dizzy and full with his presence and the sensory overload.

He loved the effect he had on you, turning you into mush with as much as a stare and his touch that implied his intentions with you were either soft and sweet or tainted by dirt and sin. Right now they were the latter.

"You called me over, remember?" he answered nonchalantly, tilting his head to the side with a grin, lacing his hands together above your head, acting so innocent. As if he didn't turn you on to the point you could jump his bones right there and regret it later.

"For the fitting," he added. The fitting, that's what you needed to focus on.

"Oh, right, the fitting." Sobering up like cold water drenched you instead of heat all over your body, you pushed him harder aside managing to get out from under him.

At last, you were up from that sinful place on the floor. Stretching your arms over your head and clicking your knees, you walked away like nothing happened. His eyes widened at your sudden change in mood, but that grin still sat on his lips when he turned around on the floor to see you better. Heading to the work table to pick up the suit he wore to the ball, you caught the grin turning into a grimace at seeing it again, recalling how uncomfortable it felt on his body that day, constricting even his air flow. You shook your head, giggling at the plain disgust on his face.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," you snickered, waving him off.

"Well, something is if you're laughing like a maniac."

"Your face is funny."

Pulling on a scowl that nuked his previous excitement, he got up off the floor, crossing his arms over his chest in disapproval at having to wear it again. He visibly sulked, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He truly is the most Gemini man I have ever come across.

"Don't worry," you assured him, pulling the outfit off the hanger. "I will make some adjustments to it and dress it down."

"What adjustments are we talking?" he raised an eyebrow, not liking where this was going.

You walked to him and patted his shoulder in encouragement.

"Get naked, hot stuff."

Handing him the pants, you turned around to give him some privacy to get out of his daily wear and into more proper clothes. You liked kimonos on him, you really did. But a suit and tie made the man look like a model. Okay, maybe you just liked how it compressed his biceps to the point you struggled to not salivate like a dog for treats. Actually, he looks good in anything-

Hearing grunts, you turned around to watch as he struggled to pull up the tailored trousers over his broad, sculpted thighs. Sweet baby Jesus. Pulling on each side he finally managed to pull them around his waist. Though that left you wondering if Wu had to help him that day too and couldn't help from barking a laugh out loud. He threw you another look carrying a fair warning and you stopped, laughing some more on the inside.

Walking over to him, your fingers tapped on the material of his tank top, telling him you wanted it off. No questions asked, it was discarded to the floor, leaving the mightiness of his topless form grace you.

Good god. Did he get more toned since the last time we... yeah, he definitely did.

You traced all the lines on his front with hungry eyes, unable to focus on just one single defined dip of muscle meat, assaulted by the cushiony pecs on his chest right under those bow-shaped collar bones, the flexing biceps on the sides, the abdomen that had more packs that you could count consciously without losing count, and the rest of the muscles he had in places you didn't even know could grow muscles. You had to physically avert your eyes before you had a stroke from how hot and hard your heart was pumping blood through your body at the sight. Including to that aching spot between your legs he grazed moments ago.

Dear lord, the men you put on this earth.

Circling around him, you stopped at his back, studying the ripples of fibrous sinews stretching over his broad shoulders and down his extremely bulky vein-filled arms, trailing down the line of his spine running down into the tailored pants, a pair of back dimples saluting you. He turned his head to the side slightly, watching you get lost in the detailed map of his back, chomping down on a finger nail in focus. He could see right through you, fully aware where your mind ran off to so he chuckled lowly to himself bringing you out of another pheromone induced daze as you shot him a "You're so full of shit" look.

You rounded back to the front, following the deep V of his abdomen falling from each side of his waist joining under the material of the pants. You cursed yourself for not paying more attention to these details before, too occupied with the way he rammed into you without notice on most occasions or in the dark. Reminded of his incredibly stupid confession the previous day that he's been lying to you for longer than he's actually known you, the thirst turned hot with anger in an instant. You weren't going to let his annoyingly handsome face and infuriatingly defined body reel you away from that.

Without a warning you dropped down to your knees before him, catching him off-guard. The rock in his neck bobbed down, looking down at your kneeling form with intentions that were less than fashionable and more into the sexual side of things. You caught that look, planning to throw it right in his face.

Getting closer to his groin, you hooked your fingers in the band of his pants, grazing the skin of his lower abs. The small muscles flexed together in response to the cool brush of your fingers. Then you pulled the pants upwards in a swift move instead of downwards like he probably expected, slightly crushing his groin, at which he let out a grunt of displeasure.

As if you cared about that right now. He sensed the change in mood and knew exactly why you did that. It was payback.

"I guess I deserved that."

You spared him a look of disdain, moving to the side to mark where the band of his pants needed to be pulled a little tighter since they were too loose on his waist. Pulling a safety pin out, you bunched up the extra material pinching it, accidentally and a little on purpose also pinching his skin. You hoped he felt that, even if he held back from showing it. Keep your masculinity intact then.

"You lied to me."

"It wasn't my plan to."

You moved your hand down the leg of his pants, making a mark where they needed to be shortened on each side. He was relatively tall, but the pants ran way longer than his height, coming down all the way to his toes, almost covering them. You rolled them over to his ankles, plying them together with another safety pin for future hemming, along with needles on some other spots on the seams that needed to be sewn again.

Then you got up, walking behind him and took the measuring tape to size up his shoulders from one end to the other. You wanted to see if you could adjust the shirt too, since he kept complaining it was too tight. You stared a big hole into the back of his head as you continued.

"Lying is a choice."

"Not entirely."

"You made that choice."

"I didn't want to make that choice."

Tired of this constant, incessant, frustrating and really idiotic back and forth you walked back to his front, arms crossed over your chest, eyes boring into him with pure, unleashed rage. You looked at him a lot more differently now - less like someone you confided into with your hopes and dreams before, seeing someone who couldn't fathom normal communication like normal people do. He wasn't normal. No, no, he was abnormal, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that he couldn't understand you and where you were coming from. He simply refused to do the simplest act of showing a person he cared, because he clearly did, otherwise he wouldn't be standing here playing dress-up and being poked by your needles.

"What do you really want from me, Enishi?"

His gaze fell from you to the ground, staying quiet. The man who always had his words with him was suddenly rendered speechless. Just like I thought.

Sighing, you walked to the bed to continue your work since talking apparently lead you nowhere with him. You picked up the original shirt he had underneath the suit, thinking of ways to make it work without having to buy another one. Because that's what people do. They talk and find ways to make it work as complicated and tangled as things seemed. But you'd be damned if you kept being the only one who tried to make it work. Whatever this it was between you.

You sensed he made a move to you, possibly coming to cage you in his space again and act all broody, leaving you with no way to deny whatever ideas he wanted to plant in your head again. You've done this trust and honor rodeo once and it was more than enough.

"Don't move," you said firmly, without turning around to him. "I don't think you want those pins and needles inside your skin all at once." Though he did deserve them. But even if they dug deep into each inch of his skin it still wouldn't compare to the pain he caused in your own heart. You can't compare the pain of a broken heart with that.

"I want to help you find your parents."

Red. That's what you saw when you whirled around to him, anger running in your veins hot and wild as you closed the space between you and got up in his face.

"Then help me find them. Stop making empty promises and do it."

"I'm trying."

"I've tried enough," you looked away from him, keeping to your own corner.

His hand came up to lift your chin, turning your face back to him. Turning your head away was no use. He held you in place with just the pads of his fingers, searching your eyes for the real reason you were acting like this. This wasn't about your parents or him lying to you. Something else hung on your tongue that you weren't saying.

"What do you want from me, Miyu?"

Your hand latched on his wrist with the intention to pull it away from your face. Instead, it wrapped around it, simply holding it. You couldn't find it in yourself to let go of him once you got to hold him.

"Why bother telling you? You won't give it to me," you gritted out, clicking your jaw in fury.

"What if I will?"

"You can't." You won't.

The way you said it implied he couldn't. Not right now anyway with all that was happening and the fact that he took his pride more seriously than your feelings. So of course he took it the wrong way. He was a man after all. If he wasn't intimidated by something he didn't feel like one.

"But he can."

"Oh my god," you slapped his hand away, "this is exactly what I mean. You can't get your head out of your own ass enough to see me without the other alpha or beta males lingering around me. You don't want to see me because you're too full of yourself to let other people in. You refuse to see me because I don't mean anything to you." You pushed a finger in his chest with each statement, getting most of your feelings out there in the open in the hopes he would finally understand you.

"I see you."

"YOU DON'T!" you yelled.

"I DO," he growled, grabbing both sides of your face to bring it closer. His hot breath ghosted over your lips in agony, fear, rage, and every single negative feeling he instilled in you because he felt them all the same. His hold on you only got stronger with the wave of tension you were both riding without a safety net. A safety net that got shredded to pieces the minute he lied.

"Let go," you pushed on his hands, threatening to draw fresh blood if he didn't let go.

"No," he rasped back.

"No?"

"No."

"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Room."

"Your room is part of my house."

This was turning into a screaming match quicker than you wanted it to, but it was all his fault. Pushing and pulling on you like a possession instead of a fellow human being. He turned that small, insignificant gust of wind that shook your bond into a fucking hurricane that was ready to destroy it. None of you were backing down from your egos this time. You've had enough of his selfishness and the keeping in the dark. You wanted answers. Answers he couldn't give you, refused to give you.

Why do we have to fight a stupid war as if we're not on the same side? Why does it have to always be so hot and cold with you?

With a huff, he let go of you, hands balled at his sides. You stepped away, going back to the table to grab the tools and get started on the pants before you exploded. He stood his ground. He wasn't leaving until you were done with him. It took more than an argument to make him leave in spite.

You kneeled back on the ground and worked on the material, not another word exchanged between you for the rest of the fitting. The next one he even dared to let out would have your fist right in his face. This might be his house, his room, his money. But the heart that hurt was yours. Not his.

After you checked that the vest and the blazer in the ensemble still fit him, he changed back into his normal clothes and left without a word. Blondie was next up. Hopefully it wouldn't be another yelling contest. There was no telling how much you could keep being peaceful today.

Cho walked in quietly, waiting for your instructions. He took his designated place in the middle of the room, wearing that olive suit you chose for him on your last market visit. The one that made him look like husband material. You got to work in silence, not a joke or insult thrown around like usual. He could tell something was wrong from how quiet you were and how your teeth chewed on that poor lip of yours, soon drawing blood if you didn't stop.

"Are you okay?"

You looked up, caught by the small worry in his eyes, so soft and brown that you could melt. You gave him a small smile and a nod, not at all okay but quietly telling him to let it go. You went back to working in peace, doing the hem on his pants right on the spot, since it only needed some small adjustments, rendering the waistline good to go.

"Sooooo - ouch," he started, yelping in pain as one of your needles poked his wrist accidentally. You apologized, trying to be more careful. "Can we talk now?"

The universe is having a laugh today. You gathered the material of the long sleeves of his blazer around your palms, trying to finish the last stitch at the bottom before you moved to the other.

"I want that too, making things right between us," you started with a sigh, recalling where he left off the other day before you got interrupted. "I just didn't know where to start talking about it all," you played with the material, thumbs smoothing it out over his wrist. You tried to think of what to say next but came up entirely blank.

Grabbing the bits you cut up off the floor, you threw them on the table and went to sit on the bed. He joined, sitting down beside you, shoulder to shoulder. Letting out another sigh, you shifted to lean your head on his shoulder, feeling comfortable enough to sit and think like that. You just needed a minute to collect your thoughts.

He was one of the few souls you made a connection with. Back then, it was all a mix of teenage angst, figuring out life, and fighting off crime lords of all sizes with a dash of falling in love for the first time. He was danger in all forms, kind of a lunatic and a major walking talking red flag, all in one package. You wanted one, you got all three. Now, he was oddly comfort to you, still the same soul you could tell anything to. Still the same guy that threw himself headfirst into something without thinking, a lot more mature about his feelings. He just saw you for who you are in this moment, not what you were or what you could be. He was still a lunatic in his own way. That wasn't going to go away anytime soon. But you wouldn't really change that about him.

Sitting here in his calm presence, touching knees and shoulders together, you knew that whatever this was, it was so much more than just a simple friendship. You've been through things together that would make others crap their pants. Those things tied you to each other in a bond that would never be broken. The past few years apart made it stretch to the point it nearly broke and you didn't want that. And whether that was more because of the way he acted now or the feelings you had for him before, it was a good question. But that didn't really matter. Because they were still here, still as strong and lingering as the day he left.

You accepted that he was going to be a part of you for as long as you live. But will he be a permanent one? That was the one big million gold lingo question you couldn't find an answer to.

Were you still mad at him for leaving you that night? Yes. Was it something that would keep you away from trying to mend what was broken? No. Not in the slightest. So at least you got that figured out.

Exhaustion came over you out of nowhere. Tired from working on all the outfits simultaneously and yet another heated encounter with Enishi, you passed out on his shoulder, crashing from working so long on autopilot. Your head fell to his lap like deadweight and he almost panicked if it wasn't for your snoring breaking through the silence.

This girl, he shook his head.

He came over last night, knowing something was wrong since you walked out of the office so fast. But mophead was already at your side, comforting you the way he wished he could. Being your support like he wanted to be. There was no point in him staying by the door longer than need be so he left with a heavy heart. Right now, he could tell you were pushing yourself way more than you could take it with your parents, the tailor job, even that one silver fox down the hall. So he just let you sleep, glad that he could at least be of some help to you for a little while.

Your head sat so uncomfortable on his lap with your neck bent at a weird angle over his thigh, that it made him laugh. Back when you were still a team, he used to catch you sleeping even on sturdy tree branches or flat against the walls, without a worry in the world. He snickered seeing that your habit of sleeping in the weirdest positions known to mankind hasn't changed at all. Sliding a hand under your head, he raised it up a little when you scrunched your nose in your sleep.

Cautious not to wake you, he propped a pillow under your head letting you rest a little more comfortably even as your legs dangled off the edge of the bed. He moved to let your hair loose from that tight messy bun, struggling with the hair tie until it snapped in his hands, all of your hair falling in your face. He threw the elastic band somewhere in the pile of discarded materials on the floor, hoping you would never find it. Leaning over to see you were still asleep, blowing the locks in and out of your face, he let out a breath of relief, knowing how godzilla you got if someone woke you up. He gathered all the strands of hair and laid them on your back, gently carding through it as you just slept.

It could wait, he thought. For you, I can wait even more.

Feeling watchful eyes on the back of his neck, sharp and poignant, he turned right in time to catch the gray-haired man at the door like he somehow summoned him. He watched the way you were perched on the blonde's lap in comfort, sleeping the day away. The blonde fought a snicker his way, wanting to show him how much he enjoyed his torment. But by the time he looked back from your sleeping form, he disappeared as quick as he appeared. He looked at you, eyebrows drawn in a frown even in your sleep, hand clutching at the material of his pants. That told him all he needed to know.

The sun was already down when you woke up, rather disoriented and confused at why your hair was everywhere but in the bun you put it in. Waving that off together with the man you slept on, you went to get some food since you've been cooped up in your room for too long. Of course the blonde followed in your steps like a duckling, stomach grumbling way louder than yours.

You made something quick, trying not to attract more hungry souls into the kitchen since there wasn't enough to make food for everyone. Going for some quick tomato pasta, you worked on the sauce while he made the table. The pasta boiled quick and the sauce was done before you knew it. You sat down and dug in together straight from the pot, finally catching up properly since you didn't get one moment alone that didn't include teasing or an overly exaggerated display of jealousy from Enishi.

Cho started, telling you about his missions in the time you've been apart and how he encountered the most incredulous people, lost his swords and how he fell out with the Ten Swords. Funny mishaps from his side that ruined most of his missions had you clutching your stomach from how hard you laughed. Close calls with death had you slow down on your food, heart clenching in anger that he was so careless, that you almost didn't meet again. Mentions of really idiotic stuff had you smack him repeatedly for daring to laugh them off, nagging him about his life choices that were often done with half a braincell.

When it was your turn, you told him about the relatively recent chapters of your life, jumping over your depressed pancake days. You talked about your new found love for cooking and how the gang ate your food like it was sent from heaven or something. And he could tell you loved the small attention it got even if you would never admit it. You told him about the way you tried working on clothes from time to time mostly to keep the memory of your parents alive. He knew how determined you were to carry that legacy with you, though you didn't accept it yet. Then you told him about the missions you went on and how they ended in the most odd ways, especially since you joined Enishi.

Enishi up. Enishi down. Left, right, forwards, backwards. Each mention of the gray-haired man had him look down in his plate in jealousy, wishing he was the one you had so much fun with. He wished you were still going on adventures together. Then he remembered it was because of him that wasn't happening. Because he left.

You didn't go into the obvious things that still hung in the air but at least you caught up on the other more positive things that you missed in each other's lives. Finished with your pasta, you went and brought over the leftover pancakes for some dessert. You dug in more confident than you did this morning, savouring the delicacy fully since you didn't know when you will get to eat these apologetic pancakes again, though Enishi fucked up a shit ton lately and there wasn't enough pancake batter to atone for it.

Cho extended a hand to grab one but you slapped it away, circling the plate with your arms protectively. "Give me one," he pleaded.

"No. These are mine and mine only."

"I can assure you those two will not be missed," he pointed to the small ones on the side, hand inching towards them. You shoved them both in your mouth along with the one you were eating, puffing your cheeks up to prove you weren't giving any of them away.

He knew why you were so protective over them - mophead made them for you. You barely talked to each other, avoiding each other for the past few days and doing everything in your power to keep to your corners like you would fuse and blow up if you sat in the same room for too long.

This morning, he was woken up by the smell of the very pancakes you were currently gobbling down faster than lightning. Thinking it was you whisking up the sweet breakfast, he nearly barged in the kitchen only for his hand to stop on the door, shocked to find mophead at the stove instead, struggling to fold the dough together without the jam leaking out. He would've laughed at the way he threw the pan upwards but it would've put him in trouble and he genuinely didn't want to face a sleepless demon that early.

So he walked away on an empty, upset stomach, but delighted at the "Fuck's sake" and "Jesus Christ" Enishi was throwing around. Putting his entertainment aside, he knew if this went on for longer the mansion would become the trenches.

"You need to talk to him."

"What?" you looked up from the pancakes, cheeks still full of them, some jam leaking from the side of your lips.

"You need to talk to mophead," he leaned over and wiped your lips with a tissue. "Just kiss and make up already."

"There's nothing to kiss or make up about," you shrugged, shoulders sagging on the back of the chair defeated on the whole Enishi subject.

"You're like two prepubescent teenagers throwing tantrums left and right," he started, laying a hand on your shoulder in support. "Respectfully, grow the fuck up."

"Excuse you, I am more mature than both of you together."

"Really? Cause that's not what I'm seeing."

"Then humor me," you leaned forward, "what are you seeing, all mighty and all knowing Cho Sawagejo?" He laughed heartily at the pun.

"Thank you for the compliment but that's not important. What is important is that I see a really beautiful woman, aware of what she wants, hiding behind the doubt that he created between you."

That hit the nail on the head way too quick. The small flirty remark didn't go unnoticed tinting your cheeks pink. Unable to process that you were actually doing this, you asked him for advice. "Well, what do you suggest I should do?"

"Talk it out. All of it. Or at least some of it. You can't keep doing this to yourselves as if the problem will magically fix itself if you just ignore it. So just tell him what hurts. If he's not as dense as he seems he will listen. If he doesn't," he paused to roll up his sleeves, "I'll make him."

"Make him what?" you laughed. "Do a dance or something?"

"Whatever my dear princess desires." Not the princess thing again. It made you go all mushy inside. "Oh, shut up you sweet talker."

"I know you love it," he winked. "You should get your eyes checked. They're doing a weird blinking thing," you laughed.

Okay, talking did help. Maybe he does deserve some pancakes. Not these ones though. I'll make him some later.

A stroll around the mansion helped you clear your head for a bit, getting your jumbled thoughts in a much better order. Doing the last rounds before you got back to work, you passed by the armory when a hand pulled you inside and the door shut tight behind you. Ready to throw hands at whoever dared to lay their hands on you like that, you came face to face with the very devil you were trying to steer clear of, scowl on his face noticeable even in the barely illuminated room.

"You've been avoiding me."

"I have not," you deadpanned going back to the door to turn the knob only to find that the door was locked.

"Yes, you have and you're not getting out of this room until we talk."

"Okay, maybe I have. And I have nothing to talk about with you."

"Oh, I think you do."

Placing your head against the door, you let out a deep breath of desperation. You really didn't want to talk it out now of all times. Today consisted of way too much talking. That and the fact that you were fed up with him and his constant, macho display of arrogance, coyness and everything else that was relatively manly and wrong with him.

Your head was still a mess and you were angry at him for acting like that other dimwit as if they knew how you felt and what went through your head. News flash, they had no idea because you yourself had no idea. You needed time to figure it out but they refused to give it to you. So if anyone needed timeout to sit and talk about their feelings in a room full of guns it was them two. Although, on second thought, that didn't sound like such a good idea.

You heard steps shifting closer behind you until they stopped. His hands came to sit on your forearms spinning you around to him. But you couldn't face him.

"I'm sorry," he spoke lowly, sounding honest for once. You had a hard time believing he actually was.

"You say that now but that wasn't what I felt from you for the past few days."

"I know," he said looking down at the floor, hands sliding down to hold your wrists, then his long fingers intertwined with yours. If you weren't so angry and upset with him you would've enjoyed the feeling more, letting him hold you properly, maybe even holding him back.

"Talk to me," he placed his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. Having him so close, right there with you, made some of the earlier rage drift away.

"I am," you exhaled, closing your own, breathing in his sweet scent. "What's going on with you, Enishi? You were so close and now you're so far away."

There was something about him being near you that made you forget everything, including why you were mad at him in the first place. One of the moments of bare vulnerability you had once in a blue moon. Until he opened his mouth and ruined the one moment of peace you got together in so long.

"I need him to leave. Before I tear him to shreds."

You pulled away shaking his hold off of you in an instant. So this was the issue. He was so fucking full of himself that it pissed you so much.

"This again?" you asked in disbelief that you were having the exact same conversation in your room a few hours ago, and every day for the past week.

"Yeah, this again. It's been almost four days and I would like to know why the fuck he's still here."

"We're going to the Shanghai Club tomorrow, as a trio, and then he's gone. We can really use the extra help considering he knows the situation as much as you do." You took a step towards him. "Why does it bother you so much?"

Why was he so hellbent on Cho leaving? I don't stomach him either sometimes but I like having him around. Was this still about competing with him?

"Is someone jealous?" you asked with a small grin. That only pushed his buttons further.

"This isn't about me being jealous!" he threw his hands up in annoyance. "Is that what you want to hear so badly?" he took one step towards you. "That I'm jealous?" another rushed and heavy step in your direction. You backed away from him. "What if I am?" he got so close that your next step backwards had the back of your thighs hit the table behind you. "What are you gonna do about it?" He lifted you up on the table and held you in place, hands digging into your side with possession, breathing heavy with lust, eyes ripping into yours with the hunger of a predator.

"I don't think you want to see me jealous, Miyu."

The way he growled your name with a deeper tone than you were used to hearing from him, so far from his calm and collected persona, shook you to the depths of your core. But not in a good way. He was being possessive. Treating you like you were his. Your heart pounded for him, your head reminding you again that you weren't his for him to act like this. That this was not the Enishi you knew. This would either end in hitting the bed in anger and frustration like the night of the casino mission, or in another screaming match. Pacing the scene, it seemed like the latter.

This was an uncoordinated tango of love and hate where you both stepped on each other to see who would come up on top instead of doing it together, dancing to the never-ending music in sync. You would never be in sync with him at this rate. Your rhythms were off in the worst way possible.

"You're right, I don't. But I also don't want to see you lose it like this over someone who doesn't deserve it. For a fucking bet of all things."

"You know about the bet?" he asked, rough tone falling down a notch.

You pushed him away and got off the table heading to the door. You've had enough of his shit. Why was it so hard to just admit to his feelings and tell you what he felt for you was real and not just something in your head? That he wasn't playing with you. That those unsaid things, his touches, his words weren't just foul play. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

"Unlock the door," you asked nicely, though your hand started trembling on the knob.

"You're not going anywhere. Did he tell you about the bet?" the betrayal in his voice was poignant, stabbing deep.

The bet was about you. What did it matter who you heard it from? Why did it matter what everyone else thought? Why was it so fucking important to blame everything on someone else instead of owning up to it? Why are you being such an asshole about it?

"I don't give a flying fuck about that stupid bet of yours." There were unshed tears threatening to spill out with every passing second and you weren't going to let them out in front of him. He pissed you off beyond prevail and thought he could get away with manhandling you like that all this time. If anything, he wasn't worthy of seeing your tears.

"Enishi, unlock the fucking door," your whole body shook with rage at this point.

It had to stop now - this waging war, the pushing and pulling and throwing each other off a cliff like that was all your relationship consisted of. Maybe Cho was right and a fuck would do you both some good. But what then? After that? You'd just be left with more questions and more shards dug deep in your heart while he would just continue being his stoic, ice cold self.

He hesitated moving to the door until he saw the way you bit your lip and clutched your hand behind your back, trying to hide the tremor. He went too far. Way too far.

"This isn't over," he went to open the door, holding it open for you. He looked at you as if there was going to be more of this in the future.

"I hate you," you muttered, looking him straight in the eyes, before you took off to your room.

Those were the last words he ever wished to hear coming out of your mouth. With each stride you took, getting farther away, each word plunged deeper into his chest like a knife. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you like that. But he did it. Heartlessly and cold.

Spending half of the night cooped up in bed trying to finish that book, you spent the other working on the outfits for the mission. Well, finishing blondie's and yours... Enishi's had a teeny tiny problem... actually, a very disastrous problem. Catastrophic sounded more like it.

Still enraged with him and wondering where he usually got the audacity from, you got to work on his suit a little too emotional, costing you his pants. You didn't mean for it to happen. You just dove into the material, turning them inside out to put an elastic band through them so they wouldn't fall off his ass but the minute you put the scissors to the lining to undo the hem stitch, it went through to the other side, putting a horizontal hole big enough for two fingers to go through.

You held the hole to eye level, eye twitching at the chaos that one simple hole made. Not giving into despair yet, you tried to sew it back together, which worked. Up until you dug the needle too hard making yet another hole. With a groan you threw them to the floor, banging your head against the work table a few times.

I can't let him go out with a hole the size of Antarctica in his pants. Bang. But I don't have pants of the same color either and even if I did they won't match the material of the vest and the blazer. Bang. I am such an idiot. Bang. Dear god send help.

Sad, shameful and more rage-filled, you looked around the mess in your room. No amount of cleaning could keep it together, just like your head for that matter. Groaning, you got up and went to pick up the scattered pieces of fabric with dread. What the fuck do I do now? Do I give him blondie's suit and make him wear something else? That would've been a great idea if there wasn't such a big difference in their heights.

As you reached the vanity table, a roll of what looked like fabric fell down, rolling open on the floor until it unfurled completely all over the carpet. Heavy indigo satin. Crouching down beside it, your fingers padded over the nearest corner, feeling the material. It was sturdy, soft, shimmering different shades of blue either way you turned it. Where have you been hiding all this time?

Gaping back at the ruined pair of black tailored pants still on the floor in a heap, you wondered if you could replicate the seam work on this one enough to make them somewhat wearable. It would be tricky considering it's light seam work on heavy material but it was doable. But that also meant copying the whole pattern of the suit, vest and blazer included. Three entirely different pieces, all worked from nothing with less than a day left till the meeting. Starting from zero...it could work or fail big time. You picked up the material and freed up another mannequin, placing the now unusable suit on another one next to it, getting your needle cushion ready for battle.

The things I do for you, mophead. Raise the paycheck, will you?

You woke up early for once, was what you would say if you did sleep. Busy fighting with fabrics and threads all night, you did fall asleep at one point but on the floor, huddled in a pile of material instead of the blankets. Waking up to the soft sound of meowing, you found Koru next to you, cuddled in a ball under the satin roll. Her head raised to meet you before it fell back on her paws.

"Hello, little friend," you cooed petting her fur.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sat up looking around, finding the room still drenched in darkness, the only source of light being the lamp near the work table. The sun wasn't up yet and sleep wouldn't catch you even if you tried anyway.

Grabbing a blanket and your boots, you huddled up and padded the halls silently, going outside in the garden, sitting in one of the frozen wooden chairs. The wind blew harshly on your face, whirling through your hair with a chill you could feel deep down in your bones. Snow was past its due time, its smell hanging in the crisp air, but there was no sign of it yet besides this cold wall of weather and gray clouds that just refused to leave. Just the kind of mood reflected in the mansion lately.

Throwing your head backwards with a sigh, you closed your eyes. Your chest felt heavy. The clothes on you felt heavy. The very water you chugged down moments ago in the kitchen seemed heavy, stuck in your throat, unable to trickle down inside. Something about the upcoming mission made you uneasy. More uneasy than you've ever felt, beaten down by what ifs.

What if this was another ghost track that would lead nowhere? What if this time someone got badly hurt? What if everything was in vain? What if -

"You're up early, madame," said a voice from your right, putting a stop to your rapidly firing train of thoughts.

You opened your eyes to see who sat down beside you - Wu, dressed in layers warmer than the ones of your blanket covers. The old man gave you a court nod and you smiled at him, happy to see a different face for a change.

"I could say the same about you."

"It is my duty to be up early."

"Oh, that's right," you chuckled, eyes falling back to the ground.

Another gust blew as the silence fell comfortingly between you. You drew in a breath letting it out in a steam cloud, watching as it dissipated in the air before another one took its place.

"Is there something on your mind, madame?"

"I wonder what isn't on my mind."

The old man smiled sympathetically at you, as if he happened to know just how chaotic your mind was right now just by looking at the way you were aimlessly drawing patterns in the ground with the heel of your boots.

"I take it master is giving you a hard time?"

"If anything he's about thirty percent of what's giving me a hard time." Wu gave you a knowing look, convinced that there was more to that confession. "Okay, maybe more than that."

"I'm not going to throw water at the parched ground and say he had it hard because something tells me you already know that," he started. You shifted in your seat, looking forward to have a second opinion from someone who's been around these parts longer than you have, nodding for him to continue.

"What I can say is that he doesn't always mean what he says. He's normally calculated in all he does, thinking it through over and over, but there are times where his sense of righteousness takes a stand without him wanting it to, hurting the very people he wants to protect."

"It still doesn't make it any less than what it is," you shook your head returning your eyes back to the ground.

"And what is that, madame?"

"That he hurt me," you whirled around to him quicker than you wanted to, thing at which the man could only grin. "Wow, that came out easier than I thought it would."

His smile grew wider and turned knowing with more wise advice to give.

"We often bottle up how we feel inside and add to it as time goes on. It's not easy to be straightforward with your honest feelings but it's often what can save you."

He was right. Though it didn't justify the consistent lack of understanding, it did explain the conflict going on inside his head. Because it was the same one going on in yours.

"Thank you, Wu."

"That's quite alright, madame."

Offering him a tight-lipped smile, you patted his arm in gratitude. He was like a paternal figure you missed having around. He often popped his head in your door to check how you were doing, you went to the market for food together, or always plotted behind Enishi's back with something. In a way, you were glad he had someone looking out for him all these years, guarding his back in the impenetrable fortress he built around himself.

"I'm heading down to the market," he announced, standing up from beside you. "Do you need anything, madame?"

"Yes, I do in fact," you nodded, trying to piece together a mental list of everything you needed, not just food wise, but material wise. "Actually, I'll just come with you."

You ran to the market with Wu, splitting up between buying food and getting the boys new shirts since you couldn't alter the ones they had no matter how hard you tried. The material was too prone to damage so you just left them alone, noting down their measurements on a piece of paper that you were currently passing to the lady in the shop at the end of the village, where you bought Cho's suit. Luckily, she still had a few models up to size.

Paying her, you took the bag with the shirts from her hold with a thank you and rushed down to the market to help Wu with the rest of the shopping. The sun was barely rising when you got back, going straight into the kitchen to make some food for everyone. Wu stayed to help you, laying out the table and foiling up some of the food for later too.

The rest of the day went by in a frenzy, running between the kitchen and the sink filled with dishes to the brim like you cooked for a wedding, feeding Koru and finishing up the last details on your dress, too busy to sit and think about another growing pit of unease in your gut.

Afternoon rolled around quick, finding you running about to call the boys over for the final touches on their suits. Knocking on Enishi's door, you found him freshly showered just as he walked out of the bathroom. Relaying the info from the doorframe without sparring him another look, you headed for the blonde's room. From the sound of it, he was still in the shower, taking his sweet time. You banged on his door hard getting sworn at.

"Be in my room in ten minutes or we're leaving without you," you yelled, hoping the urgency of your voice carried over the running water.

"Okay, mom," he yelled back, charming as always.

"Your mom would whoop your ass," you mumbled.

You got back to your room, pulling out their outfits and smoothing out the shirts, looking for any neglected lumps or thread that wasn't where it needed to be. It wasn't long before they walked in, throwing open both doors as they regarded each other coldly. Turning around at the sound, you nearly got a heart attack at seeing both of them only with a towel around their waists, hair still wet, droplets of water running freely down two different but very appetizing packs of abs. Miyu, focus. Choosing to move rather than speak for fear your voice might betray you, you motioned them to the middle of the room, handing them the suits.

Cho pulled out his, marveling at the little extra details you added. On top of adjusting the olive suit to a more fitted form, you added golden cuffs matching the buckles on his boots. Turning it over he saw a pair of stitches in the same golden color under the cuffs on each side instantly recognizing what they were - small twin katanas crossing each other, one of his signature moves.

You sat back watching his face light up with a smile of adoration, sending back a smile of your own. Turning to the other, you saw the look of confusion on his face at the suit shimmering a different shade of blue depending on the intensity of the sunrays bathing the room in warmth.

"I had a few... issues with the other one," you clarified, scratching the back of your neck nervous at what he thought of it.

He said nothing, inspecting the fabric attentively, rushing to the cuffs to be met with glinting silver. Turning it over, he let a small, barely there smile twitch the corners of his lips upwards, more to himself but you caught it. He ran his thumb over his own stitches - a small silver ball on each side, resembling his earring.

They might have been annoying, rash, infuriating even most of the time, but they were both your boys. You wouldn't have it any other way. They were the only ones you could count on to go to battle with. And that was your own silent promise of protection to them.

You waited until they dressed up, going around them for the last adjustments, one at a time. You started with the blonde, fixing the cinch on the waistline of his pants so the shirt didn't look too lumpy or too tucked in. Taking the vest, you helped him wear it, buttoning it from the bottom to the last one on top.

Too engrossed in finishing up, you came up to see him smiling down at you, flashing you a flirty wink, fully aware that you had an audience. You giggled back, thankful for the good vibes coming from at least one person in the room. Motioning him to the vanity, you worked through the tangles in his hair getting it to look more like hair than a bird's nest. You threw his old mess of a bandana and made him another one from scraps, setting it around his head. All that was missing was his full length dark brown coat and he was runway ready.

Done and dusted with the blonde, you sent him away to take Enishi's place on your bed, calling him over. He was surprisingly already dressed up, except for the vest and the jacket. If the weather wasn't as cold, you'd have him go out only in that shirt and the pants currently glowing azure like the sea. The top fit him perfectly, not too tight or too large, just spot on, hitting all the requirements in comfyness, movement and charm.

That shirt looked like an expensive piece of art on him, so flattering on his bulky form, the tousled edges and ivory shade taking it close to sculpture material. He didn't just make art, he was art. Though quite an impatient one at that.

He fought with the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt, trying to close them only to have the little fuckers fall between the pads of his fingers, getting lost in the entirety of his big hand. Coming to a stop in front of him, you smacked his hand away and pulled the sleeve in your grasp, closing the studs easily on first try. You patted down the sleeves from the shoulder down, smoothing out the shirt to its full length and beauty since you didn't have the luxury to iron it.

You helped him into the vest and the jacket, buttoning them up for him just like you did for the blonde. He watched you closely, gaze so focused on your face making it almost impossible to focus. Too intense for the slight shake of your fingers, that look made a finger slip off the jacket button you were trying to close, ripping it off the material and in two.

Hell to the no. With a gasp, you picked it up from the floor trying to figure out how it cracked. Putting the two halves next to each other, it was barely there but it was bright as day - the start of a crack right at the top of the button, slicing through the needle holes.

Why did I not notice it before? I swear I worked on his suit so much, checking everything again and again and it wasn't there before.

Sensing a meltdown he would rather not be part of, Cho stepped out of the room, taking the good vibes out with him.

"You've got to be joking," you let out, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

There wasn't time for this. You still had to squeeze in a shower and fixing yourself up and checking the last bits of your dress, since no one can do all of that for you. A faulty, on the face mishap on your first ever creation top to bottom pausing it all.

He saw you rub the outline of the broken pieces of the button with regret, teeth chewing down on your lip with a pout.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. Just... just stay here."

Running to the work table, you pulled open all cabinets and drawers looking for a blue button matching the rest on the suit. You found one, though in a different shade of blue that stood out from the others. You couldn't run back out to the market for another one right now. It would have to do.

Taking a needle and some leftover thread, you went back to him and started sewing the button in place of the one that lay in pieces on the table. Just like your nerves, but those were on the cold floor, long in pieces.

Your hands shook, rushing to get it done so you could go and wash up and get ready. But that thread simply refused to go through the needle, dodging every attempt at taking it through the ear, adding to the stress gripping you in waves again. Just get the fuck inside the damn ear, you begged the thread that continued declining your pleas.

Stopping, you laid your head on his chest, looking down at the floor. Your heart was beating fast in your chest again, tremor in your hands threatening to reach the rest of your body. If you didn't calm down now you risked another panic session and there wasn't time for it.

He didn't move, letting you sit there, speaking up deep and collected.

"Breathe."

A simple word that calmed you down instantly like a tranquilizer. You took a deep breath in, letting it out with some of the worry you were feeling, invisible heavy weight falling off your shoulders.

"Try again."

You tried again, this time getting the thread through the needle successfully. The new button was attached in place of the broken one in no time, going to size up the rest of his outfit.

Relatively pleased with the front, you gestured him to turn around and he complied, so you could fix the twisted collar. Getting on your tip toes, you rolled it over properly, patting down the material around his nape. Your hand trailed down from it to lay in the middle of his back, sitting flat. Something told you to keep it there, feeling the beat of his heart for as long as you could. If only we weren't involved in this mess. With another sigh, you let go, stepping away from him.

Grabbing your dress, a towel and everything else you needed, you left for his room to have one of the fastest showers in history. You washed up quickly, rubbing away the stench of kitchen from your hair and your body, replacing it with the first shampoo mix you could find. Once freshened-up, you wrapped your hair in a towel, moving to fix your eyebrows and pluck any other hairs that sat cozy where they shouldn't be. You then dabbed some powder on your cheeks to give them more color, followed by some lip balm on your lips that you found at the market on a good bargain.

Walking out of the bathroom, you took the dress off the hanger and shimmied into it carefully not to rip a seam or make more damage. Fixing it on your body, you walked to the mirror in the corner taking it in.

You ended up working with the ruby velvet rolls for the entire dress. The bodice was a sweetheart corset hugging the shape of your chest and breasts, worked in with a double inner layer for better strength. You didn't go too far on the corset boning, using only a few overlaying stripes of material and steel straws you took from another corset. Falling down your torso smoothly it stopped at your hips, coming down in a V shape, letting the rest of the skirt material fall from your lower waist down to the ground. A slit ran on the side all the way to your upper thigh, allowing for movement in case things happened. They always happened. You also made sleeves, starting from the overturned neckline, hugging part of your collar bones and your shoulders, falling down to your wrists to keep you warm. You couldn't leave it alone and added some small details to yours too - small vines of roses in a deeper red went down the stitch of the sleeves, the back sides of the corset and the seam line of the train falling to the floor behind you. I can't believe it's real. I made it. I made it mom. I wish you could see it.

The only problem you had was that you needed help lacing the corset, too far on the back to reach on your own. You tried pulling the strips but it only bent your wrists painfully, getting nowhere. As if on cue, the owner of the room entered, stopping in his tracks as he took you in from head to toe. You clocked him through the mirror, fully staring with his mouth agape, eyes jumping around at all the details on the dress, blood rushing to your cheeks making them redder than the blush you applied.

Snap out of it. You're still mad at him.

He walked to you, closing the distance in a few slow strides, placing a plate of some finger foods you made with Wu on the table beside the mirror.

"Did you eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

Your stomach grumbled ratting you out. Okay, maybe you were hungry, starving sounded more like it, and you would've eaten if you didn't have so many things to do.

"Eat something. I'll lace up your thing."

"I've got it-" you started, spinning to walk off only for two arms to hold you firmly in front of the mirror.

"Just let me do it," he said softly, looking at you through the mirror.

A huff later, you grabbed onto a fried meatball and some bread popping them in your mouth. His fingers moved your hair over your shoulder, slightly brushing the exposed skin down your nape and between your shoulders. You gulped at the minor touch, raising tingles on your skin. He picked up the dangling strings of your corset, lacing it up as you held onto the front with the hand that wasn't busy holding food.

Nostalgia washed over you, taking you back to the night of the casino mission, when he came over to your room just as you were looking for help to lace up your corset. He rolled the strings around his fingers the same nimble way he did back then, pulling the bodice tighter around you. You gulped down the rest of the food with air pockets, almost chocking at how close he was. So close you could feel his breath hit the back of your right shoulder.

Since you went double the cover and durability on the top, it didn't need to be too tight. Fully laced up to the last golden eyelets at the back just above your hips, he made a bow knot drawing his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. Pulling the two round loops to an equal width he let go off the ends, smoothing them to the velvet on the side. He caught your mother's necklace laying on the table. Picking it up he placed it around your neck, in its rightful place, placing your hair back over your shoulders.

Now that you were dolled up and laced up, the outfit looked even better on you. But something still bugged you. The dress sat a little too low, pressing the jewels on your chest together too hard. You went to pull it a little higher forgetting you had food on your hands so you turned around to him.

"Can you-," you blushed looking down at the floor in shame. You've been butt naked in front of him before but this was different. "Forget it," you mumbled.

He hated this. The fact that you couldn't talk to him and refused his help. But one look at your middle and the way your arms crossed over it and he saw why you were uncomfortable. Before you could run away again, he stepped closer and his fingers dug around the upper part of the corset at the back, pulling it higher so it sat better on your chest, giving your babies room to breathe and not get squished. The warmth radiating off his fingers was so welcomed on your cool skin. You had to stop a whine when they left your skin, snapping the velvet back in place.

"We'll be out front when you're ready," he said, letting his eyes fall over you one more time to take you in like it was the last time he would see you, then he left.

"So, the plan is go inside, talk to the guy to get the info, guard your ass and get back to the safety of my bed," said Cho, reiterating a version of the plan you went over in the carriage, that was more fit for his tastes.

"Yeah, basically," you replied.

Stationed a few buildings in front of the club, out of sight of the guards patrolling around, you scouted the place having not been in this part of the city before. It wasn't as heavily guarded as you thought it would be, but there was no telling how many people were inside. Scouting would've been easier if it wasn't so damn cold. The velvet and the coat kept you warm more or less, but your face was getting stabbed by the chilly night air. You sniffed to keep the liquid in your nose inside, eyes tearing up from the cold wind cutting mercilessly through every layer.

Too busy trying to gauge out the number of armed men around the place, you didn't notice Enishi approaching until he was standing directly in front of you. His hand lifted to your face, thumb swiping over your cheek bone tenderly. You were confused until you felt the warm droplets cloud your vision slightly before more of them fell. A few tears managed to roll out down your cheek. The stoic look that he gave you for the last few days was still there, just slightly contorted to a softer gaze.

"Why are you crying?"

At the sound of his stern voice you slapped his hand away. Soft eyes like a deer, voice sharp like a razor.

"I'm not crying, it's just too fucking cold to exist at the moment," you offered him a tight-lipped smile, telling him to fuck off kindly.

"She's right," piped up Cho, shaking beside you even though he had four layers on. "I feel icicles growing in my nostrils. Wanna see?"

"Ew, that's gross," you pushed him away from you before you saw something that would haunt you for a lifetime.

"Let's go in."

Enishi lead the way and you followed with Cho close behind, stopping in front of the guards. While Enishi made quick talk with the guards, one of the them on the side wiping the barrel of his gun with a cloth looked at you suspiciously. Like he knew you from somewhere. You smiled nervously trying to get the tremors in your spine to dissipate. He threw you a weird look before he got back to his gun. You let out a breath of relief when Enishi signalled you to follow him inside.

The long entry corridor was so dimly lit, stretching into a balcony overlooking an even darker area. Red and gold was everywhere. Burgundy satin veils dropped from the ceiling. The chandeliers glinted white gold with so many crystals layered on different levels that it would take you years to count them all on just one. Gold was all over the floor with glittery specks sparkling even in the dark. A big row of tables was scattered in the middle, all of them occupied, including the seats on the big bar at the side. Even the shelving holding the bottles was crystal-like, glowing. They didn't really need any lighting in here, the décor did it all by itself.

Cho offered you a hand before Enishi could, and you took it, descending down the rest of the steps. Walking around the tables, all eyes moved to you at once, some of the loud chatter ceasing to a halt. Some stared at your attire, disgustingly winking or sneering your way. Others quickly scanned you in dismissal to see if you're a threat or just a mere mortal walking around gods of the underworld, way more engrossed in the discussions they were having than to regard you. You assumed those were conversations one was better off not knowing about if they truly treasured life and all its beauties.

Suddenly, Enishi stopped. You halted in your steps too and before you could question it he turned to you, searching around for any potential intruders to your conversation. He leaned closer to you, looking for privacy from even the blonde behind you.

"Let me do the talking," he said, deep dark eyes focusing on you with authority. The kind of authority you didn't like. You opened your mouth to complain until he continued. "If they find out who you are, we might not get out of here alive. So, please, just let me take care of it this time."

This wasn't a warning for you to behave yourself. This was a warning that you were in the middle of a temporary ceasefire and shit could go sideways so fast if you weren't careful. There would be nothing any of you could do to stop it. Not even firing a bullet or breaking a neck. You had to keep a low profile if you wanted both the information and getting out of here the same way you walked in - unharmed.

With a scoff that you hoped didn't go unnoticed, you motioned for him to go on. He threw you another look in seer warning and to your disappointment, he turned back before you could tell him to shove it somewhere the sun doesn't shine. Frankly, you could defend yourself from anything after all the training he put you through. There was a part of you that just wanted to take matters into your own hands, get the info, put some holes through a few of these murderers that the world would be better off without anyways. But the other part, the one that was uneasy and worked overtime to tell you everything was going to go wrong all day, agreed with him. So you just followed behind, keeping your wits to yourself.

Advancing through the field of vipers, you arrived at the far back of the open crowd of tables, drenched into a darker black, the earlier gold at the entrance disappearing into thin shapes on the floor, falling almost invisible if you didn't squint. A deep velvety curtain separated you and finding out more about your parents whereabouts. The same curtain kept behind the sea of monsters that could rip all three of you apart without a sweat. You turned to Cho, catching his Adam's apple bob up and down in a quiet gulp. Even the freak in him that always looked for a fight was scared shitless.

Facing the curtain once more, you took in a shaky breath with eyes shut tight to calm the storm in your heart a little. This was it. If it wasn't... it was over. You'd stop searching. You would get on with your life and start anew somewhere else where no one knew you. You would get to finally live. With an empty, withered, aching heart for the people you grew fond of in such a short time and the ones who have been lost for even longer. Always grieving something that was never found. Always mourning what you found and couldn't keep. Never at peace. But living.

A hand circled around yours, squeezing tight in what could only be reassurance. You knew that squeeze well enough by now. There was no need to second-guess it. Because when you opened your eyes and followed it to the wide, determined pair of shoulders in front of you, you found the man that stood tall beside you all this time. The only person that has been your rock and did everything in his power to help you, even if his first step to you was deceiving. Even if most of what you built together was a lie, it was the sweetest one you've ever felt. The only one who awakened your soul to the brink of both life and death.

The man your heart will always long for.

The curtain was roughly drawn open by a burly guard, rattling to the side of the frame. The hand holding yours fell abruptly, the side of his face hardening as he forged ahead into the fire. Smoke hung in the air, the smell of opium pungent and raw, binding to every breath you took. If you could get a penny for every illegality you've laid eyes on since you entered the place, you would be filthy rich by the time you took three strides in any direction. Because these people made money in one breath, while others laid their lives on the line to die.

This room was larger than the outdoor reception, going around in a spiral on three different levels with red booths and tables lined up on each side. From the immense height of the place this was more of an inner hall, awfully resembling a theatre, definitely used for more private endeavours. Another staircase led down into the middle where a big group of guards and possible triad members played an intense game of blackjack. Supporters on both sides cheered so loud it could make your ears bleed if the volume raised up the slightest decibel. Some hands punched the air in defeat, others laid on the holsters of their guns and sword hilts ready to slice whatever they found inconvenient.

There was one thing they all had in common - sullen eyes, dull of everything but the want for blood. You haven't seen something like this since your time in the fight club and it made shivers go down your spine, spiking some adrenaline into your blood.

Thankfully, Enishi didn't descend down there, but took a right after the guard, leading you through the tables on the right to a set of stairs going up in a marble spiral. You couldn't even see the end of it. You followed the guard in eerie silence that was soon replaced by the ambient sound of violin strings. Thinking you were imagining things from the lack of sleep, you shook your head, but once you stepped on the second level of the hall, the music filtered through your ears.

The tune was almost too hypnotizing not to make you sway a little, like a cobra putting her victims in a trance before it devoured them limb by limb. Though the player was no cobra.

Walking further inside, your eyes went straight to the source of the sound, down in the middle of the pit of dire crime where even more people were dealing their demise in drugs and guns. There, a woman dressed in one of the finest yellow silks you've ever seen, held the instrument close, strumming it skillfully with her eyes closed. Her long luscious black hair, stopping shy of her lower back, moved in sync with the bow on the strings. She was deep into the melody reaching a building crescendo that kept you so focused you couldn't take your eyes off her.

The rising vibrato drove loud around the hall, straining with more tense and rough movements on the violin's body, rushing to reach the climax of the melody. The spike in rhythm made your own heart skip a beat, reaching an auditory high not even the strongest drugs could give you. She carried it all the way through to the last string where the song drew to a stable cadence, slowly drowning out with the fines of piece. And she opened her eyes.

She might've looked like the personification of life itself whilst she played, charging the air with her intense aura, but her jet black eyes told a different story. They were completely hollow, devoid of any of the feelings she instilled in you with the violin mere moments ago. She moved so gracefully even just to simply place her violin down. But she seemed so lost, somewhere inside her mind with no way to get out. Stuck inside this burning world she probably never wanted to be a part of. Just like you. Though you were on the other side of it all, where you still had a choice in your actions.

On your way to circle around the open arch, you passed by her and her eyes met yours briefly. You mustered a small smile her way, appreciative of her strength. She didn't smile, possibly aware of the repercussions if she so much as regarded you. But her eyes turned from those big, sullen orbs to the smallest, barely there crescents, squeezing in acknowledgment.

None of you wanted to be there tonight. Hopefully, you would both make it out for the better.

Cho being, well, his charming self, passed her one of his flirtatious smiles at which she didn't respond with anything other than ignorance, turning back to the bar behind her. Damn, rejected at first sight.

Following through to one table right in the middle of the arch, your eyes stayed fixed on the ring downstairs taking in the rest of your surroundings, looking for any sign you needed to pull your pistols out.

Enishi stopped and passed a court nod of greeting to the man sat down on the other side. He pulled out a chair for you, then sat down at your left. Moving your eyes to the man, you scanned him with suspiciousness. He looked like your average national secrets keeper, roughly middle aged with a small face graced by dark eye bags, high cheekbones and the beginning of an unkept moustache lining above his lips that kind of complemented the sneer he greeted you with.

The black wool jacket he wore over a neatly tucked-in shirt told you he bought his way out of life-threatening situations enough times to build a fortune. No commoner walked around like that. That and the fact that he looked way too confident for someone that was hunted by half the country for being in the know.

Shifting in your seat, you kept to your corner while Enishi made small talk with him. They talked about the state of current politics, the development of the inner and outer trade, touched on the business part, all of those really boring things to focus your attention on. The white wine you were served a while ago still swerved in your glass, captivating you much more than the conversation. Until your family name was mentioned and your attention was back on track.

"I heard you had information about the whereabouts of the Hikari's?" asked Enishi, diving straight to the point since he was clearly annoyed by the man's endless babbling.

"I do in fact," said the man with a tilted corner of his mouth. He laced his hands together and leaned forward on the table, eyes scouring his surroundings in security. "Did you bring what I asked for?"

What he asked for?, you lifted an eyebrow in confusion. I mean, there was no way he would've agreed to this if he wasn't going to get something out of it.

While you tried to figure out what that something could be, Enishi put a hand inside the pocket in his jacket pulling out a piece of paper, laying it out in the middle of the table, open wide for anyone to take a peep at it. A travel pass. Marked with official government seals for both in and out of the country, over an indefinite period, under a false name. His golden ticket out of hell.

The fucker put on a million dollar smile extending a hand to take it when Enishi's own hand laid on top of it at the speed of light, fingers stretching to cover the whole thing. His lips turned into a spine-chilling smirk directed at the man on the other side.

"Tell me where they are and you're a free man."

"One of them in exchange for the paper."

ONE?! I THINK THE FUCK NOT.

There was no way he was negotiating the lives of two people for a nicely written piece of paper with a gold insignia on it. This was fucking ridiculous.

Enishi voiced out your very thoughts, though more composed and in order than you would be able to at the moment because this rat was genuinely getting on your nerves. The more you looked at his smug smirk, the more your fingers twitched really violently under the table towards your pistols.

"The deal was for both of them."

"Yeah, well, things change."

You've got to be shitting me. Things change? The weather changes. My mood changes. It became really murderous right now, you know.

One look at Enishi and he was fuming way more than you were. His tongue pushed the inside of his cheek impatiently, hands fisting the material of the pants and his knee jerked up and down in a nervous tick. Knowing him, this was bad. Really bad.

Keeping your eyes ahead, you reached out to your left where your hand found his, enveloping it around his fist and giving it a good squeeze. You watched his eyes blink repeatedly, body relaxing instantly under your touch. He opened his fist, letting go of the fabric, and turned his own hand upwards giving you a tighter squeeze in response. All is okay, it said.

He knew the brute was trying to pour enough gasoline over you until a spark flew and lit the whole room on fire. But he wasn't going to give him the luxury of an easy way out.

Rolling his shoulder back and leaning over the table, he fixed the man with that one icy glare that meant instant death for him if he answered his question wrong in the slightest.

"It's quite a big bargain, considering two lives in exchange for one and a piece of paper, don't you think?"

Enishi let every word paint with malice, making the threat loud and clear that he wasn't going anywhere without relaying the information you came for. At least not in one whole piece of meat. He sat back in his chair, disappointment bright as day on his face, clearly rethinking his escape route. Seen as he couldn't come to an understanding with the man next to you, his gaze came to you, eyebrows drawn in bold challenge as he took you in for an easy target.

Keep your cool, Miyu. Don't lose it. Stay quiet.

His eyes walked all over your face, spending a little too much time on your red lips for his own good.

Keep calm.

Then they moved down your neck, bathing in the grace of your exposed collar bones, slowly diving down to your humble but really open cleavage.

Don't be rash.

The corner of his lips turned up into a grin, slowly growing into a toothy smile you wanted to bash in until all that shone was blood. Maybe tearing his mouth off his face and feeding it to a pack of dogs on the street would be good riddance too so no one would have to deal with him again.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Not from the places you probably frequent," you shot back curtly.

Well, too late to back out now.

"And which do you think those might be?" he asked, his attention solely on you now, his new object of entertainment.

You could feel Enishi tensing again beside you, his sharp glare digging into the side of your skull willing you to not say one more word. Cho tensed behind you too. But you being you, letting your conscience hit the ignore button, leaned forward and continued, voice dripping with charm and sweetness. The very thing this bloke's kind loved to death.

"Oh, I wouldn't know," you replied with a small giggle, laying your chin on top of your entwined hands. "But if I were to take a guess, it would be somewhere illegal, with a lot of guns and enough money to shove in the panties of naked women," you counted on your fingers each thing, getting more disgusted with each excited nod of his at your words.

The man stood quiet for a moment, the suspense of the repercussions following your small but meaningful conversation really killing the vibe. By vibe, you meant the patience of your chaperones that would face palm right now if they could.

Before anything unexpected happened, the older man threw his head back making a really heinous sound that resembled a laugh. Letting a half-smile on your lips, you turned to Enishi with a Why the fuck is he laughing? look at which he was just as puzzled, then turned back to the oddity in front of you that didn't belong to the human species in any way.

"I like this one," he howled, clearly finding you amusing.

"That's too bad," Enishi let out under a breath.

"And why is that?" he asked, not taking his curious eyes off of you at all, trying to intimidate you.

You were about to deliver another piece of your mind when Enishi went on, stating your status crystal clear.

"She's not on the market," he growled, the possessiveness in his tone unmissable for anyone around the table. That made the creepy stare finally leave you, replaced by the dark one of your gray-haired man.

"That's a shame," said the man, leaning back in his chair. "She would've been a great add-on to the deal."

"No more negotiations. You either take what we already offered or we're leaving."

The smug grin on his face turned into a scowl. You had the upper hand here, not him. He could try and turn it up and down and sideways, but he either took his freedom at the cost of spilling the information or being a dead man. More dead than the world already wanted him to be.

The static silence was all of a sudden filled by enthusiastic yells from below, belonging to the group playing cards two levels down. That veered you away from the fact that the man's eyes fixed on you with a different meaning this time. He took in your necklace again then your hair and your eyes and spoke before you could even catch it.

"I do know you," he started, amusement morphing into a knowing look.

Yeah, right.

"If you're going to say something like 'you're the girl of my dreams' I'm gonna have to stop you right there-"

"You're that troublesome Hikari swine that I've been trying to hunt down for the Triads all this time," he chuckled darkly.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

This wasn't supposed to happen. There's no way he was telling the truth. He must be bluffing to get the paper. There's no way anyone here knew you. Then it dawned on you. The guard at the main entrance cleaning his gun. The men at the reception. The very lizard who called you to negotiate his freedom. This was a trap. Enishi had a mole in his mafia. You were fucked.

"Say a word to anyone and your head will fly off your shoulders before you take a breath to scream for help," grunted the man beside you.

The chill running down your spine wasn't comforted at all by that threat. The nerves in your stomach weren't settled by it either. This was bad. So, so, so, so catastrophically bad.

It wasn't even your fault because the guy made it clear he knew you. He had information on you. He knew who you were. He knew you were looking for your parents.

Your gut was right again. The whole night went wrong. Your parents' safety was compromised, same with the safety of the three of you.

"I don't have to say a thing," he chuckled darkly. "This was the plan all along."

One lift of his index finger had every conversation and extra sound around you ceasing immediately. Guns cocked and swords unsheathed from every side of the level, pointing straight at you. Even the poker game downstairs stopped, followed by confused grunts at why the game stopped.

This meeting was indeed a trap. A possibility that none of you even considered in the slightest. You walked straight into the fire and you didn't even feel the very embers of hell burning under your feet. Nothing could even warn you of this. Not even your gut.

A quick glance around told you there were about twenty of them. Just on your level. You didn't know about the other ones and you had to count the pack at the poker table, the other people in the main room, the reception and the guards from outside. At most you'd get through half of them and meet your death in this stinky crime club. Or apply for a seasonal membership. Maybe that would chill the waters a little. Or money. Enishi had a lot of that. He would surely spare a few bags for charity-

"So you don't know where they are. Good. That settles it," concluded Enishi rather flatly, grabbing your full attention as you whirled in your seat to gape at him.

Settles what? My foot through your face once we get out of here? Probably as corpses but still.

"No, that doesn't settle it-" you were cut off by the whoosh of a knife flying from beside you.

It was too fast to catch who launched it, though when you traced the location of the sound, you saw Enishi's hand wide open, fingers flexing in the opposite direction. Your eyes trailed there spotting two silver knives, not bigger than three inches, lodged right between the scowling man's eyes, blood trickling down the side of his nose and onto the white sheet on the table, drenching it crimson.

Good luck getting that spot out, was your first thought. There went my only shot at finding my parents, was your second. Your third was swimming somewhere in the sea of contemplation when several voices shouted your name together with a rough hand yanking your arm to the left.

"GET DOWN!"

Before you could register anything, Enishi pulled you off the chair behind the table he threw over in a haste. Your instincts took a while to come around but once they kicked in your guns were up and taking aim, shooting over the safety of the table edge.

Enishi covered you from the side, sending smaller knives along the the lining of the middle level, launching them so hard they dug deep into anyone who even thought of aiming their gun at you.

Cho guarded your back, swords already unsheathed from the inner holds of his coat, cutting into the bullets flying at you. Thank god Enishi sharpened the blades before you left otherwise he wouldn't have been able to cut anything, not even a piece of cake.

You took out quite a few of the men rushing in from the front, taking cover behind the still upright body of the man who screwed you over. At least he proved useful for once in his probably completely miserable life. You shot one on the right, hid behind him, then shot on the left. But the safety block around you, ensuring your cover, dispersed way too quickly.

Cho dove into the crowd further behind you, trying to keep guards from the lower and upper levels from flooding inside. Enishi advanced ahead with your bullets, taking on the ones still on your level, now sporting swords since their guns ran out.

Who even expected this to turn into shooting practice? Because unfortunately you ran out too of bullets too. Placing your pistols back in their straps on your thighs, you fixed your dress and blew a breath.

Time to crack some skulls.

You stretched your arms, unaware of the incoming tackle coming from behind you. Two arms, smaller and thinner than yours, wrapped around your middle, the impact of the collision throwing you to the floor. You crashed over on your back as the person's hands dove right to your neck to strangle you, pinning your body down to the ground with theirs. Yellow silk flew in your vision immediately recognizing who it belonged to - the violinist.

She pushed down on your neck, unskilled and leaving way too much room for you to move. Since she was weaker than you, it was easy to turn the boat over by throwing her to the side in one swift kick of your leg. She flew off of you, crashing into the side of a booth. You coughed up for air since she got a pretty good hold of your neck. That horrible white wine climbed up your neck and you shoved it down deep. So not the time stomach. Come on. You handle shittier alcohol better than this.

You got back up from the floor just as she did, running at you with pieces from a broken glass. Her hand flailed about trying to graze you as you avoided her faster than she could move. One swing of the sharp glass had you bend backwards over the marble railing, nearly slipping and falling to your doom. Having had enough of her antics, you kicked the glass out of her hand and grabbed a hold of her wrist, spinning her to land face down on the side of the bar. She elbowed you hard and threw another piece of glass at you that did cut your shoulder enough for your hold on her to slip.

That's it, fuck girl code.

You grabbed a fistful of her long hair, wrapping it around your palm until you had a good hold on it and shoved her against the wooden surface multiple times and dragged her all the way to the end of it until she slid down to the ground. She still got up on wobbly legs, red dripping from her broken cheekbone staining the nice sunny yellow color of her dress. Letting out a growl like a wild cat, she launched herself at you again, grabbing onto your necklace from behind trying to choke you with it. You spotted a nearby gin bottle on a vacated table and grabbed it, smacking it down hard on her head, knocking her out unconscious. She finally let go of you, landing splat on the floor.

Why do all my attempts at making friends turn into befriending backstabbers?

Now that you were free and ready for some actual fighting, you noticed the level was empty. You ran to the stairs and got down to the first floor, spotting Enishi busy slashing people into shish-kebabs.

I should help around.

It wasn't long before you took notice of your next victims. Drawing backwards to the wall, you ran to the marble ledge of the circle at full speed, jumping over it to land right in the middle of the poker table, coins and cards rattling off the table at the impact. Lifting your gaze, you just so happened to make eye contact with the very people that made your last casino visit a tremendous pleasure.

"You," snarled the big man as he threw his hands on the table, staring you down like you killed his entire clan or something.

"Did you guys know you suck at poker?" you smiled at him and his two men, showing your teeth on purpose to piss him off. "You owe me money, sweetcheeks."

That remark was enough for him to slash his sword over the table. You jumped over it rushing forwards to kick him right under his chin. That sent him backwards in a daze struggling to keep upright. The tip of your boot scrapped his nose good, blood dripping down the side of it.

While he got his bearings around, you took on his men, fighting both of them at once. They were weaponless, trying to use the sheer force of their grip to reach for you but you were faster than them. On grabbed your arm and the other your leg and you served them exactly what you served your idiots the other day - a spin with a kick straight to the jaw and a fist right in the chest. They stumbled backwards then came at you again. One sent a fist and the other a kick your way and you jumped forwards through the small space between them, tumbling back on the ground to sweep their feet from under them. They both hit the floor with a thud, grunting in pain. Walking over to them with your fists ready in another fighting stance, their eyes widened and they scurried off the floor, falling over each other on their way to the exit.

Tsk, pussies.

Turning around, your smile faded instantly at the sight of the very angry mafia boss you beat at his own game, stole from, and now gave a nosebleed to. He was way bigger than you in size, towering over you. This was a rendition of David and Goliath you weren't excited for at all. You cracked a nervous smile and tried to run but he grabbed you like a toy, lifting you off the ground and into the air, way above his own height. You swung your legs forwards, wrapping them around his neck to straddle his face trying to strangle him.

He let go of your waist and grabbed at your dress instead, stumbling around to shove you off. You flexed the muscles of your thighs as hard as you could to cut his airflow when he ran straight into a wall. Your back collided with it roughly, loosening some of your grip on his neck but not enough to get you off. This wasn't going to work. So you changed your angle, rounding around to his back like a rodent, thrusting a strong elbow into the back of his head before he could even reach for you. The blow sent him falling face first into the floor, diving like a ship to its wreckage. He tried to get up murmuring some words you couldn't understand. You leaned closer and he grabbed your hair smacking you into the poker table.

"Little bitches like you belong in the brothel," he spat out with a bloody sneer.

That was enough to spur your rage and smack your head right into his, falling backwards on top of him. You punched him with all you had, until his face morphed into a deep garnet. His eyelids were swollen, his cheeks bruised and that sneer entirely gone from his cut lips. He was still alive but barely recognizable when you got up. "That's what you get for grabbing and talking to a lady like that. Learn some fucking manners," you spoke to the hunk laying still as a boulder.

The loud clinking of swords echoed from above. Your eyes travelled up just in time to see a lock of blonde hair tipping dangerously over the railing on the top floor. Checking on Enishi that he was okay with his own hoard of snarling men with blades, you ran to the stairs hoping to get to blondie before it was too late and he was flunked over like a chicken learning how to fly.

You heaved breaths like you ran a marathon, body working only on the rush of adrenaline you got from beating up the boss of the Daos. Stopping by the second level to take a breather, you leaned over the railing for support. Your eyes darted downwards at the spiral, looking at how far away from the ground you were already.

Now's not the time to freak out. Let's save blondie.

His voice echoed with a curse just as you reached the doorframe of the third level, finding a burly guard holding him by the collar of his shirt over the railing. His legs stopped running on air, hands gripping the guard's tight. He looked to the side at the drop below him and yanked on the guard's hand again. Looking left and right, you saw no one else on the floor and took off running towards the guard. You jumped high in the air and aimed a kick at his head just as it whirled around at you. You caught him off-guard, heeled foot colliding with the side of his face, pushing him to the side into a table without realizing that he let go of Cho in the process.

Your heart stopped watching the blonde fall, thinking that was his end. But you got too ahead of yourself. He grabbed a hold of the edge holding on tight to it as you let out a breath. Jesus Christ. You rushed to help him over to the safety of ground, sliding your hands under his arms and grabbing onto his shoulders to hoist him over. He grabbed onto you too, just not in the right area.

"That's my ass, you moron," you hissed, struggling to get him over.

"Sorry," he grunted. "Actually, not sorry."

That made you yank him so hard you ended up falling on the floor together. Staring at the ceiling, you caught a few breaths before the guard got back up and rushed at you with a sword. The blade came down on you as you both rolled to the side. Cho got up before you to pick up his swords, going back to dueling the guard while you aided with a kick here and there. Where you punched his side, the blonde cut his other one. The guard grunted in pain but continued attacking you.

One misjudged lift of your leg had him grabbing onto it with his free hand pulling on it and spinning around, tossing you into a table. The side of your head collided with the wooden edge hard, sending your vision swimming in black and white. Cho spared a quick glimpse at you before he attacked the guard violently, slashing his blade right across his chest, both of his arms and his legs, his back and everywhere he had exposed himself. He did it so many times until the guard fell to his knees in a pile of his own blood.

The world was a red haze around you, ears ringing and stinging at the same time. That awful wine climbed back up your throat nearly getting out this time. You were struggling to get your eyes to work when Cho kneeled before you dropping his swords to the floor. One of his hands settled on your shoulders trying to get you to focus while the other brushed somewhere over your right temple. He ripped a piece of table cloth and placed it over the open wound as you winced. The small prick of pain sobered you up enough to blink properly, slowly getting your vision back to normal.

"You're bleeding," he tapped the cloth gently gathering the small drops of red around the right side of your face, concern lacing his voice. You took his hand away, stopping his worried dabs at your scalp. "I'm okay."

His eyes dove down from the cut on your head to the one peeking from under your hair. He moved your hair away, brushing a thumb over the skin of your shoulder, grounding his teeth in annoyance.

"Who did this?"

"You have awful taste in women," you laughed, regretting it when it sent another pang of pain to your head. "I took care of her already."

"The violinist?! Seriously?" You nodded dabbing the cloth some more on your head. "Damn, she got you pretty good."

Honey orbs came back up to yours after he searched every other inch of you for more injuries only to find your knuckles bruised and bloody. But nothing else that looked life threatening like the gash on your head. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm good. Let's go kick some more ass and get the fuck out of here."

He straightened and gave you a hand, pulling you up to your feet. "I'll go check the other levels. Stay safe, okay?"

"You too. Meet you downstairs."

Enishi stumbled downstairs in the poker area with two crossed swords above him threatening to cut his neck open. He kicked the men in the shins and threw their swords away, landing a hit in one's stomach that ricocheted into the other's, getting rid of them both with a roundhouse kick. Another one came at him and he grabbed his jacket pulling him back to smack right into an incoming blade attack. That one got impaled before he even saw it coming.

Suddenly, even more pooled in with loaded guns aiming right at him. At the noise of open fire, you rushed to the edge of the railing watching as he dodged a few bullets and managed to get cover behind the poker table but there were too many shots flying through, sending splinters of wood everywhere. They were shooting with long bulky rifles as if this was a hunting party.

You had company too, bigger and wider than the last one coming for hand to hand combat. Defending his hits as best as you could, you tried getting some in with knee kick into his abdomen. Your fists aimed for his head until he dropped down to the floor and swiped your legs from under you, landing on your back with him on top of you strangling you.

I'm getting tired of this choking kink.

"MIYU, A LITTLE HELP OVER HERE IF YOU MAY!" shouted Enishi, throwing off a guard that pinned him to the floor out of nowhere, just in time to roll out of the way of more bullets flying past his head.

You looked around finding no weapon in grabbing distance. Reaching your hand down, you lifted one of your legs up and wiggled your fingers to grab a hold of one of your pistols. Your air supply was slowly shortening seeing stars when you finally got a hold of the handle, bringing it up and bashing it into the man's head over and over and over again until he fell to the side. Once you got some usable air back inside you pulled yourself over to the railing.

"DON'T YELL AT ME!" you yelled back down, scrambling to your feet to look for a gun around the place. You found a few, plying them off the hands of the bodies attached to them, but most were empty of bullets so you threw them back on the floor.

"I'M NOT YELLING AT YOU. I'M BEING SHOT AT IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED," he yelled back. You knew he didn't have a lot of time before a bullet reached him. He fought like a monster but he wasn't bulletproof.

As you rushed around, frantically searching for anything that could shoot long distance, you caught sight of the barrel of a gun peeking from under a table. It was a rifle. Its carcass still had a bunch of unused bullets in it. Bingo.

"HOLD ON."

Running back to the margin, you dropped down laying on your belly, positioning the barrel through the opening in the ledge, opening fire on the flank downstairs. You got most of them in the shoulder or the chest, aim slightly blurry due to the wound on your head and the huge distance to the ground.

Enishi looked at you for a second, eyes not worried but prideful. You took notice quickly as you charged the bullet carcass focusing on the task at hand. If there wasn't so much uncertainty between you right now you might've said it meant a lot. And it did but not right now.

Too focused on taking out the men at the entrance you didn't see the incoming attack. You rolled out just in time before a bottle crashed down on you in payback, finding the violinist at your demise again. Does she ever like read the room? She grabbed a chair and whirled it around trying to hit you with it. You grabbed one of your own hitting her with it and she fell to the ground. You checked she was knocked out for good this time.

Running to the staircase, you only got to the first step before you heard shouting echoed from the lower levels. Quickly backing up into the level, you looked for another way out only to find none. The staircase was your only shot. Veering around, you caught sight of the red drapes adorned on the side of a marble pillar, going all the way to the higher ceiling.

Spotting a sword under the guard Cho cut up like a chicken on a gyros stick, you ran to it trying to pull it from under him. Pushing his body over with your leg, you twisted it on all sides pulling on the handle until you finally pried it out. Without a second thought, you ran to the ledge leaning on it to grab a veil. It took several tries nearly meeting your doom since the fabric was drilled into the pillar. You kept trying. When you got a solid grip around it you tugged on it hard until you yanked it free from the side and the pillars it was stuck to under, pulling it over to you.

Supporting your weight on one of the pillars you got up on the ledge, dropping the rest of the veil down into the void. If at first this seemed like a good idea, now that you were looking at the red ends of the drapes whirling in the air about eight meters down into rapid gunfire and dirty restaurant tables, it seemed like the shittiest idea you could have come up with in your whole entire life.

Oh, for fucks sake. Just looking down made you nauseous and sick to your stomach. I hate heights.

Rough voices climbed closer behind you, followed by the echoes of gun magazines clicking open and closed only spurring the knots in your belly. One thing was for sure. If you didn't take the jump now and stayed to fight them absolutely weaponless, you were done for. You'd end up with holes in you and you worked too hard on that dress to ruin it with bullets.

Just close your eyes and jump, you breathed out, trying to calm your rapidly racing heart, beating faster than the bullets fired below.

Save your idiots and get back home to Koru, you reasoned with yourself, holding the sword close to you.

Come on, you've got this.

You let go of the pillar, balancing your boots on the ledge. On a deep shaky inhale of breath, you wrapped your hands tight around the veil giving it another thug to test its safety once more just for your peace of mind, and leaned back exhaling all your hopes and dreams into the void below as you fell forwards, going down into the fire.

Your mind emptied of everything else. The clangs of swords, the whizzing of bullets, the angry shouts of battle from above and beyond you. You made your senses entirely numb to the rest of the world. All you focused on was the wind blowing through your hair as you descended down the material at a faster rate than you imagined, holding onto that piece of fabric like it was your lifeline, your own purgatory between heaven and hell.

Peering down to spot Enishi, you caught him looking back at you in the middle of the crossfire in utter shock. You're batshit crazy, you'd hear him say once you got back to the ground - if that even happened - so until then, you focused on staying glued to the veil.

Looking out to reach above him, you plied one hand free from the veil and dropped the sword to him. He caught it, getting right into a swing at a guy who wanted to blow his head off, slicing through him before he got the chance to pull the trigger. Too focused on him, you failed to notice the rapidly approaching wall you were about to face plant into at an unreal speed. Mere seconds before you splattered into it like a bird into a window, your body reacted before your mind could think it through and your fingers loosened around the veil .You let go. With five more meters to go to the ground. And no one to catch you.

You scream pierced through the hall bouncing off the walls like a ghostly shriek, making everyone stop and look up at your falling form, including Enishi and Cho. They shared a look assessing the situation - they were both under way too much pressure as more guards and thugs pooled in from the entrance. The blonde immediately went back to his row of blades trying to keep the incoming ambush outside of the room. Though he was closer to you there was no way for him to get to you without getting torn to pieces first.

Enishi's mind switched to autopilot, butchering everyone that stood in his way with the sole goal of getting to you before it was too late. Sheer adrenaline flew through him like hot fire as he took off towards the poker table using it as a boost to propel him to the other tables, hopping from one to the other at a breakneck speed. Blades piled up in his way. He swerved blows left and right, keeping his eyes on you, rushing to get to the end. As you got closer to the ground, his mind preoccupied only with you and your safety, nothing more, nothing less. He needed to reach you no matter what. He couldn't lose you, not like this.

Not yet. Not now. Not ever, echoed in his head like the beating of a drum inside of his chest, loud and drowning everything else around him.

Before you could splat on the floor, he jumped off the last table dropping his sword and launched himself up gaining momentum from his run. He caught you mid-air, wrapping his arms around you the best he could. The force of your bodies colliding sent you sideways, landing on the lower level of the hall. Your bodies hit the ground, rolling over together like a ball. You squeezed your eyes shut, digging your head into him, hands grappling to hang on to his jacket for dear life. You slammed hard into a booth, falling on your back with him on top of you, still safely tucked in his arms but coming to a stop from the endless tumble.

You were in shock, taking quick breaths without realizing you were no longer in the air falling to your death but on the safety of the expensive burgundy carpet. Enishi called your name multiple times but you couldn't hear him at all, mind stuck in the loop above the floor. He hauled you up and propped you against a pillar trying to get you to focus on him.

"You're okay. You're okay. Hey, hey, look at me," he said softly, caressing the side of your face. Your eyes finally focused on him, terrified out of your mind but at least you were back in the present. "You're okay. You're safe now."

"Fucking-," you drew in a strangled inhale holding onto his shoulders. "Holy shit. Jesus. I-I'm never doing that again. I hate heights. I hate them so much." A bunch of incoherent curses and rambles spilled out of your lips.

"I know. I know," he stroked your arms up and down trying to calm you down. "No more jumping. I promise." You threw your head back to the pillar behind you catching your breath really good for the first time tonight when he spoke again. "Though that was pretty badass," he pointed up at the spot you jumped from and chuckled at which you punched his shoulder.

Once you were past the shock of it, you chuckled as well. "Well, hope you were watching because I'm never doing that shit again even if you pay me."

He laughed shaking his head at how amusement could hit you at the most random times ever. It was pretty welcomed considering the situation. Peering over the ledge to check on Cho, he noticed the blonde was getting outnumbered, not from the exit but from the rest of the hall.

"We have to get out of here now."

"Couldn't agree more."

"Let's get blondie and go," he pulled you up handing you a spare rifle, securing a firm hold around your hand.

You ran together to the door that was now missing the big dark red curtain, only a strip of material left above. You split up there. Enishi ran out through the door missing its curtain to check on the rest of the ground. You ran to the exit too, propping the rifle on top of the staircase leading down in the poker lounge, taking aim at the crowd surrounding Cho. You pulled the trigger relentlessly, drilling holes into every person around him, not waiting until they fell down to get to the next one. You were a Russian roulette they had no control of. Ten bullets was all it took and they all fell to the ground, writhing in pain or completely dead depending on where your bullet hit. The blonde looked at the pile of bodies lowering his swords.

"Took you a while," he teased breathing raggedly, still standing in the middle of the room.

"Was kinda falling from the sky in case you didn't notice," you deadpanned, pointing upwards.

He nodded just as Enishi came back from scouting the perimeter giving you the all clear through haggard breaths. "It's empty. For now. Let's get the fuck out of here."

It's been a few moments, between you running through the main room that was entirely deserted to the carriage and starting your ride back to safety, where everything was quiet. You slumped back in your seat, adrenaline of the fight wearing off a little. It started raining, faint droplets prodding against the small covered windows, making the atmosphere even more humid and heavy than it already was.

Pending chaos hung in the air and your stomach twisted in tight knots again. You tried to figure out what it was that ripped anxiety through you once more. Because it wasn't the mop of hair sitting before you, looking down at the floor, earlier relief on his features replaced by rage like something was going to crack. The wind blew. The carriage stumbled on the road swaying you to the side. Thunder rumbled deep into the darkened sky. And something did crack.

"You just couldn't stay away from it, could you?" boomed Enishi out of nowhere.

He was talking to you, trying to understand why in the world you couldn't just follow one simple thing he asked of you. To let him handle it. You talked to that scum like he wasn't the wolf in sheep's clothing, waiting for you to reveal yourself. You even went and nearly shook hands with death more times than he could count on his fingers - with the Daos, the violinist, jumping from the tallest level and so much more. All because you were simply and utterly the most hardheaded person he's ever come across in his life. He wasn't going to let you off this time.

"Not when it involved them," you shook your head gripping the material of your dress to keep your own wrath under control. "You know that."

"I told you I had it under control-"

"YOU DIDN'T! If anything it was you who made it worse," you spat out, sitting back with your arms folded over your chest, shooting daggers at him.

"I made it worse?" he pointed at himself, letting out a snarky laugh. "I think it was your ego trying to strike a deal with that scum that can't even be called a human being. I didn't take you for an idiot until I saw you entertaining him."

"AN IDIOT?! You were just as stupid thinking he would take the deal without leverage over us. Did it even cross your mind at one point that he never wanted to give us information and he was only trying to get us killed?"

"Don't turn this on me, Miyu."

"Oh, I will turn it however the fuck I want to. Because," you started counting on your fingers again, "number one, you had us go in there with no guarantee or at least some sort of backup plan. Number two, we left empty-handed with absolutely no clue where my parents are. And number three, which should be quite high up on the list actually, is that you're being an absolute asshole right now." At that he rolled his eyes, tongue poking his cheek in anger again as he looked away from you. "Wait, no, rewind that. You have been an absolute dick for the past few days. So, what the fuck is your problem?"

"My problem?! My problem is this blonde scoundrel you like so much getting ahead of himself to act like your fucking bodyguard tonight, nearly getting yourselves killed ten meters above ground," he said, pointing accusingly to the man beside you as if he committed heinous crimes against society. Well, he did, but not recently.

"Me?!" gasped Cho from beside you, obviously appalled at the exchange. "I only came for Miyu, not for you."

"I only came for Miyu," he imitated the blonde like a child, voice going a tad bit higher than normal.

Well that's an Enishi you don't see every day.

"You didn't even bat a fucking eye when she was falling from the sky, did you lizard?"

"I was getting cut up like a salami at the front door in case you didn't notice. Sorry I couldn't jump to catch her like you, Mister 'I'm the Prince of the Frogs and flying is my specialty'. My deepest sincere apologies that I can't repay your virtuousness with some fucking flies."

They continued bickering, each male throwing in more insults and angrily mansplaining their side, adding to the dull ache already forming behind your eyes. You averted your eyes to the small rectangle behind Enishi's head, watching the path covered by the forest you left behind.

Lightning struck, lighting up the path turning muddy in a bright white flash before letting darkness soak it up again. When you went to look away, a small flicker not bigger than a tiny dot in the distance caught your attention.

Thinking it was just your sleep deprived imagination playing tricks on you, you paid it no mind. But that flicker continued to burn, small, still there in the dark, till it grew slightly bigger, a flame now noticeable even as the carriage got further away. You waited for lightning to light up the path again so your worries could settle a little but the next strike didn't come. You sat forward, squinting your eyes at it unable to make out what the fuck it was. Then lightning struck again, this time illuminating what looked awfully like the very thing your gut has been trying to warn you about all day long.

Danger.

Shaken to your core by what you saw possibly a few yards behind about to head your way, your hands shot out to stop the two men bickering by your side, flailing in all sides as your mouth failed to work with you. They stopped, looking at you concerned. A familiar hand gripped your hand stopping your panicked wriggling sliding in your line of sight.

"What's wrong?" asked its owner, worry taking over the previous release of rage in his voice. You suddenly had the strength to speak.

"We need to get off the carriage. NOW!"

The urgency in your voice was enough to alert them. They followed the direction where your eyes were staring pointedly at, but it was too late. Whatever that flame flickering in the darkness is, it was launched right at you at lightning speed, growing bigger and wider the more it advanced towards the carriage, now resembling a giant fireball.

"GET DOWN!"

Before you knew it a loud boom echoed from under you, shaking the mahogany walls with a horrible sound. You felt the carriage leaping upwards and tilting on its side just like the contents in your stomach. It spun in the air becoming a death trap, losing gravity as it barreled off the side of the road. Timber creaked with each spin, sending you left and right into every wooden surface. You reached out to grab a hold of something only to be pushed harshly into the backrest, hitting the wooden wall with the back of your head so hard that black and white swam in your vision.

You blanked out a few times, coming to only to feel it still spinning out of control to god knows where. The only thing you could focus on was the smell of smoke that started enveloping the whole carcass with no ventilation to go out only inside your lungs. Bile rose in your throat playing an intense game with your guts that you couldn't stomach.

The force of it landing on the ground made a loud crack come from your right, followed by multiple louder ones as the body of the carriage rolled and rolled, slowly caving in on itself. You thought the spinning would never stop. That you would roll endlessly. Until it did, coming to an abrupt halt against what you assumed to be a huge tree bark. The body of the carriage hit it so hard that it split it into pieces, the force of the blow sending you far into the grass, together with a piece of broken wood you landed head first into and blacked out.

Pain was the only thing you could process. It hurt everywhere. Gravity held you down to the ground captive in a steel grip. Your sense of feeling was slowly returned to you, little by little in a haze, before it hit you like a truck.

The first thing you tasted was the blood on your lips, probably bitten in the mid-flight to hell. They felt numb, not responding to your intention to make them move open from being clamped shut. The dragging breaths you struggled to take in through your nose were just as rejected by your chest. Broken ribs, you figured. The question was how many of them were usable. A big part of your insides were messed up, pulse shuddering everywhere but in your chest. It took a while to feel anything else. You gained some feeling below your shoulders and tried moving your hand, successfully lifting your forearm. When you tried more, electricity shot up your nerves and your shoulder protested in pain. Same with your feet, although one ankle moved enough when you twisted it around. The other laid completely numb.

Opening your eyes, you tried focusing on something that didn't hurt. The putter of small droplets on your forehead turned into bigger arrows of water stabbing your face. The small rain turned into a monsoon. Tall trees lining into the clouded skyline gave you no comfort. You were in the middle of nowhere. No one lived here. No one even crossed these roads. The smell of fire hit you from your right, stomach churning at what you would find if you turned your head.

Taking an excruciating deep breath in, you willed the sore muscles in your neck to work with you and let you see what laid there. Once your eyes rolled to the side, your head followed and your heart ached at the sight. Among debris from what used to be a beautiful dark oak carriage, encrusted in golden crest motives, there were only scattered pieces of wood burning to a crisp, fire not extinguished at all by the rain but seemingly burning hotter, sputtering but deadly the more gusts of wind enraged it.

Looming further you spotted the sleeves of an olive suit you worked on for endless hours, ripped to shreds all the way to a pair of biceps, deeply scratched by twigs and splinters. Cho. His chest raised slowly but his eyes were closed, covered by his blonde hair that turned dirty from the mud he rolled through. He's okay, you sighed in relief. You weren't sure how okay since he appeared to be passed out, but at least he was breathing.

Then your breath got caught in your throat.

Enishi. Where is he?

You whirled your head around unable to pin his location, frustrated that you couldn't move the rest of your body and get up to look for him. You pulled on your limbs, stretching every wound into agonising pain as fiery tingles stabbed at your extremities to will you to stay put. But you couldn't stay put. You had to move before your body locked up completely. You had to look for him. He had to be around here. He had to be okay.

You moaned in pain rolling to your left on your dislocated shoulder. Looking into the darkened forest, you searched all pieces of burning wood and golden marble until something that looked like hair and a body appeared to the far reach of the forest opening. A gray dot that was now turning dark, lying in the grass with his head turned to the side that wasn't facing you. His suit was ripped to shreds even more, pierced by the scorched bushes behind him so hard that it reached his skin deeply. Parts of the fabric remained intact on the small twigs, floating in the wind. All the shreds had crimson blood leaking out, staining the beautiful indigo a lot of shades darker.

His chest wasn't moving. He wasn't moving. He wasn't conscious. The rain continued falling even harder making it harder to make out anything from your spot. You had to go to him. You needed to see his face.

Reaching out the hand that somewhat worked, you grabbed a flock of grass that seemed sturdier and pulled yourself in his direction. It hurt so much, ripping your wounds open wider. But you continued. Every pull scraped your knees, twisting your bad ankle even more, grunting with every rock and twig scratching against your broken ribs. Just a little more, you pleaded with your body, feeling the tingles slowly turn to numbness the more you put pressure on them. Just let me reach him, you begged to any god listening to give you some energy. Your nails dug into the mud, making use of anything you could find around you. A wooden plank, a larger stick, grass.

Three more weeds climbed in unbearable pain and you ended up next to him, gripping his arm to pull yourself up for the last time. Your forehead fell into the crack of his bruised elbow, letting out a relieved groan. I got to him.

Your eyes lifted to find him as still as a few moments ago when you found him, head turned to the other side. Stretching your right arm in pain, you grabbed a hold of his face to turn it to you. His beautiful lips were cracked, blood stagnant around his lower one, dripping with the beads of rain falling down.

His cheeks were both cut, one rougher than the other and a gash sat near his left temple. His eyes remained closed. Fear stirred inside of you and you started shaking him with what little strength you had left. The bell in his ear rattled noisily over the rain and your heart beating out of control in panic.

"Enishi," you croaked out, unstable and tired. "Open your eyes. Please," you cried, head falling onto his chest.

You listened for a sound in the blaring rain, being met with a small thud of a heartbeat. His chest was moving but way too slow for your liking.

Cradling his less damaged cheek in your hand, you rubbed it trying to get him to wake up. Come back to me, you screamed inside, leaning your head back on his chest. "You said you wouldn't leave me. Please don't break your promise," you laid a kiss on top of his chest, letting yourself cry. "I won't break mine."

A groan reverberating under you made your eyes snap to his. His eyebrows joined together in pain as he slowly came to and worked to open his eyes. Come on, open them, you encouraged, relief washing over you. You saw the small, barely there flutter of his eyelids before you were pulled away from him.

A rough hand wrapped around your broken ankle, dragging you away. You thrashed in their hold as they pulled you up, kicking back and forth, trying to reach back for Enishi only to be yanked harder. Your world turned upside down as they hoisted you up on their back, turning to walk away from the clearing back on the main road. Punching and punching until your hands cramped, you tried to get them to let you down. But they just wouldn't budge. Not even an inch.

Something hard connected with your head, turning the earlier throb from the crash drilling into every part of your head. Spots appeared even faster in your vision, threatening to take you away for good this time. The last thing you saw before you gave in were his dark eyes opening wide.

You wanted to scream. To let him know he wasn't alone. That you didn't leave. But it was too late.

Darkness took you before you managed to open your mouth.

Flashes.

Images flashed in black and white, familiar with the darkness of the night. Even in colours, too bright to be the morning sun or the brightness of daylight.

More flashes.

You blinked through the haze weighing your eyelids. A pair of dirty boots came into view, upside down walking on a concrete path. Your ears perked up catching some muffled voices. Then your eyes closed again.

The next time they opened, you were upright, propped on a cold stone wall in a pitch black corner. It allowed you to see the rest of the room. Dark light, rusty steel bars and cold floors under your feet, you figured you could only be in one place - a holding cell. Somewhere deep underground from how freezing cold and humid it was.

A set of keys jingled loudly against the bars, hurting your sensitive ears. That horrifying boom still echoed inside your head, as if it was still happening over and over again, spinning into the nothingness of the forest. Someone walked inside, steps composed and lanky, looking for trouble. Dirty dress shoes stopped in front of you. Your vision was heavily damaged from the constant hits your head took all night but you willed to work at least enough to identify the person. Your lack of a reaction made them crouch down before you, forcefully tilting your chin to them. Once your eyes came into focus, heavy but clear, you were ready to set all hell loose.

"You."

The sneering snake looked you in the eye with sheer delight just like the spawn of satan he was. The smirk on his face was enough to make your hands shoot out to his neck only to pull against the metal shackles restraining you.

"Pleasure to see you again, kiddo."

Thank you for reading :) Next

[vermil1ion-sky]

Reader getting injured in a fight and trying to act tough.

Characters: Scaramouche.

Just a little something to start posting aghdhgfhjd

-

"You're an idiot." You turn to glare at Scaramouche, who stands in the doorway of the bathroom. "Careless."

"Alright I get it okay?" With a sigh, you turn back to the mirror, cleaning the fresh cuts on your face. "Would it kill you to be nice just once?"

"This is me being nice." Scaramouche frowns. "I could say worse things right now, and it'd all be justified"

You roll your eyes, still carefully cleaning your injuries. "It's not my fault I got ambushed, the forest has good places to hide..."

"Or maybe you're just not observant enough of your surroundings."

You wave a hand dismissively at him and out of the corner of your eye, you can tell he's really annoyed. Yeah, you got a couple of scratches out of a fight, you think that’s a normal thing to happen

"Whatever. I could've dealt with them fine without you jumping in."

Scaramouche scoffs, crossing his arms while looking amused. "Oh yeah? Because from where I stood, you'd be fertilizer in the Avidya forest had I not 'jumped in' then." He takes a step forward making sure he's in your line of sight and smirks mockingly. "Would it kill you to admit you needed my help?"

You push him away slightly, turning to look at him with an annoyed look. "If you're not going to help then I suggest you get out and do something else other than mocking me."

He doesn't move, just stares as you try to mentally block him out. You wipe the largest cut on your cheek a little too harsh and it makes you flinch. "Damn it..."

Scaramouche sighs and opens his hand towards you, like he’s waiting for you to give him something. You look at him quizzically. "...What?"

He definitely looks more annoyed than before, grabbing the cloth you were using to clean your cuts. You’re about to protest, and he grabs your chin, making you turn towards him. “H-Hey! What-”

“Be quiet.” Scaramouche keeps your head steady and, to your surprise, he picks up on cleaning your wounds. He sees you looking at him confused and he simply raises an eyebrow. “...You said I should leave if I wasn’t going to help... so...”

‘I don’t want to leave you’ 

Is what you interpret from his words, or lack thereof, and you feel a fluttering in your heart, praying to any archon listening that he didn’t notice the way your heartbeat accelerated and how the tip of your ears feel warmer.

You stay still, his grip on your face surprisingly... soft, for someone as brash as him. He’s entirely focused on making sure your cuts won’t get infected, he passes a particularly sore spot, making you flinch but his hand keeps you in place.

His thumb softly caresses your cheek, maybe a reflex or maybe it’s his own way of comforting you.

Soon enough, he finishes. He throws the now used rag to the trash, letting go of your face. You stand there awkwardly for a little while, unsure of what to say, until you decide to break the silence.

“... Thanks...” Scaramouche looks at you and you expect him to tease you, to call you the names you’re both used to throwing at each other. It’s how your relationship works; tough words easily mistaken by outsiders as a mutual hatred, as two enemies merely tolerating the other, about to rip each others’ throats any second. Little would those people know it’s just your strange way of showing affection.

Strange, but it works well enough for the both of you.

Scaramouche simply sighs, rubbing the back of his neck - a telltale sign that he’s embarrassed, you’ve come to learn. “...t’s fine”

“...I mean it... Not just now but, um, before...” You look away, refusing to make eye contact; refusing to acknowledge that you’re about to say ‘you were right’ to your boyfriend of all people. “I really did need the help so, uh... y’know...”

The air is silent, awkwardness hanging in the air as you’re both standing there, not saying anything... The tension slowly feels like its draining everything from you.

So with a deep breath and a lot of courage, you step forward towards Scaramouche, and you grab his face, lightly squishing his cheeks with your hands. Before he’s able to protest, you pull him closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek and whatever he was going to say dies in his tongue instantly. 

“... Thank you for looking after me.”

What you thought would’ve been a solution to the silence ended up making it worse, as the air feels almost suffocating now. Slowly but surely, you feel your face heat up with embarrassment; the way Scara looks at you with surprise plastered all over his face certainly isn’t helping. You quickly let go of his face as if the mere touch burns your skin.

You turn to leave and maybe hide in your bed until the embarrassment passes but you’re janked back by your wrist, twisting around and clashing into a strong pair of arms, his lips capturing yours in an intense kiss that you can’t help but melt into. All the emotions Scaramouche can’t show with words, you can feel in the kiss.

He pulls away first, keeping his face close to yours. There’s a tenderness to his gaze that you rarely see, a vulnerability he shows to no one but yourself. His hand cups your cheek and you instinctively lean into his touch, craving whatever form of affection he’s willing to give right now; his thumb brushes over your bottom lip and he leans forward close to your ear, his breath tickling you and making you shiver.

“... Don’t start getting into fights just to make me kiss you...”

With that alone, the soft atmosphere switches to your usual bickering state. You push him away, jokingly and he knows it, covering your ear, the frown on your face completely negated of it’s intimidating intent with how red your cheeks are.

“You are insufferable.”

“Yeah... but you like it.”

[happyk44]

Just thinking about Todoroki seeing his classmates get together and yearning for something similar but the only person who isn't taken that he mildly likes is a certain spiky blonde who has displayed no physical interest in anyone.

It's easy with everyone else. He's picked up the signs. Blushing faces, stammers, longing glances. Most of it culminates into a mutual courtship but for the most part, some of it fades and wanes into the next crush.

He doesn't really get it.

He wonders if Bakugou doesn't get it either.

Maybe that's why he doesn't turn red unless he's screaming and why he doesn't preen himself like a bird when someone specific comes in the room. He never stammers. He's too confident. He sweats but he always sweats.

The more Todoroki watches him, the more he can tell that Bakugou is pretty. He knows what pretty is - what other people say it is at least - and Bakugou fits.

But it's somewhat more than that, isn't it? It's not just his face, it's his voice. There's a deep melody to it even it's only heard when he's hollering. And he has nice hands. Sure, they're calloused and tough, but always clean, deliberate black fingernail polish on his nails.

He smells good too. Strong. Like caramel.

He's never been one for sweets but Todoroki is always a little tempted to lick him just to see if it is anyway.

And his hair looks stiff but he's grazed it enough times to know how soft it really is. Uraraka is obsessed with Midoriya's curls and, if Todoroki transposes that onto someone else, he understands why. There's this forbidden element in Bakugou's whole stature. Off limits to everyone.

And he's pretty.

And Todoroki likes him in all his screeching brash honesty and aggressive manic grins and sparking popping hands and swears so dirty his sister would plug his mouth with soap

"Take a picture, Icy Hot," he seethes and Todoroki blinks out of his staring. Bakugou stares him down. "It'll last longer."

He cocks his head and then does so. Bakugou's face burns and he swats Todoroki away, snapping at him with no real heat. Todoroki bounces back and leans against the counter again.

Bakugou is always focused when he cooks. Can he blame him for staring?

"We should date."

Bakugou's hand goes so white around his spoon, for a moment Todoroki is certain he's going to snap the wood in half. "Hah?"

Todoroki pockets his phone. "Everyone else is dating."

Bakugou rolls his eyes. "So, what? You're a fucking sheep now, Two-tone?"

"No." With his eyes, he traces the outline of Bakugou's arm - the way his muscles twitch under his skin.

"You sure fucking sound like it," Bakugou mutters. "Everyone else is dating so we should. Ha!" He snorts - an ugly sound if it were on anyone else. "As if."

"Do you not like boys?"

Bakugou waps at him with the spoon again. Todoroki flees to the other side of the kitchen, spicy red sauce stinging his wrist. He licks it off his skin and resists the urge to hiss. It's really hot.

Bakugou watches him with a careful eye before turning back to his food. "Who I do and don't like is none of your business, Weak Tongue."

That's a new one. Todoroki chews on the edge of his tongue to regain any sensation that has now been dulled before answering.

"You like me."

Bakugou looks a second from blowing off his head. A usual reaction when Todoroki says they're friends. It's been a year of it though and his reactions have toned down.

He doesn't scream denials anymore.

That should count for something.

"I tolerate you," Bakugou snaps back. "I tolerate all of you."

Well, that's not true. He's not the opposite of who he used to be but he's changed. He doesn't growl during rescue training as much as he used to. He teams up with the others effortlessly - even if he still grumbles and shouts at them. And, although testy about it, he does let others take the lead when needed. Infrequently and only a couple people - Midoriya, Iida, and Momo.

Everyone else is usually relegated to "convince me and maybe I'll listen" but even then, it's more than what it was.

He stretches his sleep schedule on weekends to hang out with the class and his own little group. He helps with studies.

He even cooks when asked - although it does take a little praise to convince him but it's very rarely a lie when it's done.

"You like me," Todoroki corrects and he ducks when Bakugou aims a small burst at his head.

The smell of burnt hair singes above him but he pats his head and feels nothing on fire and so counts himself lucky. He took out the entire top of Kirishima's hair once. Although he looked quite nice when Mina evened it all out. And it seemed the connection over hairstyling is what brought them together in the first place.

"Say it again," Bakugou hisses, "and next time I won't miss."

He's still prickly about friendship but if Todoroki cared about that, he wouldn't be doing this.

"We should date," he repeats, taking a tentative step forward.

Midoriya's self-sacrificing tendencies must be rubbing off on him.

"I don't date extras," Bakugou says.

Todoroki pauses. "How do I stop being an extra then?"

There's a pinched look to Bakugou's face that screams "don't kill him, don't kill him, don't kill him" and it's presence makes him warm.

Something to work through later but for now he settles into that feeling and steps closer and closer until he's pressed into Bakugou's personal space.

Bakugou cuts his eyes at him. "Back up." Todoroki does. By an inch or so and Bakugou seethes. "Annoying," he mutters.

But he doesn't tell Todoroki to back off anymore. So he hovers.

The silence isn't palpable but it is tense. It cuts around Todoroki's throat like a noose, attached visibly to the flexing fist at Bakugou's side.

Bakugou stirs his sauce without word and Todoroki hovers nearby. His heart beats with every thump of the spoon against the pan. It's a near quiet sound but in the silence it feels all too audible.

Maybe this wasn't his smartest thought.

"Why do you want to date anyway?" Bakugou says at last. "Because, as is fucking obvious, if I did date, I wouldn't date a fucking sheep."

"I'm not a sheep," Todoroki mutters. He wrings his wrist. "Everyone else just seems so happy."

"So? You need to do what everyone else is doing?" Bakugou smacks him, a short shot from the back of his hand up against his chin. His head knocks back but Bakugou keeps going. "That's a sheep."

"I think it would be nice to see why."

Bakugou snorts as he turns off the heat. The sauce is bubbling and he gives it a final stir before spooning it into a still hot bowl of rice. "Get a fucking clue and maybe I'll think about it."

He drags over the other bowls he'd laid out for his so-called squad and spoons the rest of the sauce into them. "And ask me better next time, idiot." He cuts his eyes at him, a ferocity in them that sends a chill down Todoroki's spine. "I don't take to demands."

"It was more of a suggestion."

"Do I look like I give a shit?"

He did not.

Todoroki shifts. "No," he says. "That's what I like about you." Bakugou pauses, his shoulders tensing. "You don't care about things like that. It's weirdly calming."

Bakugou snorts. "You sound like my old man." His eyes cut him again. "I'm not gonna date my old man, Icy Hot."

"I wouldn't want you to." Todoroki reaches up, grabs a box of rice crackers out of the cabinet and holds it to his chest with both hands. "Enjoy your dinner, Bakugou."

He's halfway out of the kitchen when a fork smacks him in the back of the head. "Oi, dumbass."

Bakugou points at one of the bowls. "You can't live on rice crackers alone, idiot."

He brushes past Todoroki with a rough push, his free hand hot against Todoroki's skin. Their fingers just barely glide across each other. Todoroki stills, catching Bakugou's eyes as he grins, all teeth bared. Then Bakugou turns and shouts out into the living room for his "incapable extras" to go feed themselves.

Todoroki is gone before they can even notice he grabbed a bowl for himself.

[catchyhuh]

Hi! could I request a headcanon or something where lupin and the gang fall in love with a cop/detective reader or something? (I just think its a cool/fun concept that I haven't seen any one do yet, also if you can't or don't want to its okay sorry for bothering 😣)

you’re totally fine, don’t worry about it! i wouldn’t put that x readers were fair grounds for asks if i didn’t mean it. so. career incompatible love let’s get into it! oh the homoeroticism of the chase

disclaimer this got more. mental analysis-y for these guys than i um.. really intended I SAID THAT I WOULD TAKE X READER REQS I DID NOT SAY THEY WOULD BE WHAT MOST PEOPLE WOULD EXPECT

lupin:

easily the one who takes to the idea the most. lupin LOVES extra flavor added into his romances, so the conflict of being on opposing sides of the law is like. i mean christ he’s actively seeking out people who want to kill him every day, just being locked up is a nice alternative! so romantic

straight up never considers the potential ramifications of a setup like this because. uh. well it’s never really hurt him in the past! he’s not being selfish about this intentionally or anything, he just can’t imagine why it would be rough on someone else when it’s so easy on him!

to someone like lupin the third, the chase IS love. the idea of constantly being on each other’s tails, knowing the way the other moves and thinks to the smallest step, THAT is romance. that’s caring about someone enough to know them. he loves it

also, it tends to only come in brief, intense bouts. hiding behind a door, secretly coming to see the other to have a quick little dinner in private, thinly veiled flirting (mostly on his end) absence makes the heart grow fonder, and repetition leads to addiction. if anything, outside of, again, trying to murder him, this is the STRONGEST way to his heart

jigen:

took the longest to realize he was developing feelings to begin with/that feelings were being developed towards HIM. it just doesn’t make sense to him. how would he-- how would-- WHY would any of this happen? but there’s only so many times you can do that “touch that lingers a bit too long” thing during a shaky truce without something happening in your brain yknow 

it’s equal parts allure and contention, because unlike lupin, jigen knows all too well what happens when your morals just don’t quite align with your partner’s. he knows WAY WAY WAY too well about how things like this end, and he doesn’t want to spend a meager four months with you just to shatter your heart when the inevitable happens; you won’t change, and he DEFINITELY won’t. and if you would reassess your choices this guy may be fine as hell but he IS a murderer if ANYBODY should compromise it’s HIM

but. again. there’s that draw to it. so jigen does continue seeing you, under the grounds that he’s made it clear from the beginning what he expects to happen. you’ve seen him do this before with dozens of people who just aren’t thieves, so IMAGINE the mental tension when your entire job is STOPPING thieves. this can be a cute, simple, mutually beneficial behind closed doors thing, but he doesn’t expect long term attachment

that… doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it a lot though. not enough to mention it to YOU of course but there are subtle signs that he’s been mentally working out how this COULD work out. maybe the next time you move you could get a place with a back door hidden a little better out of sight?

fujiko:

at first, it’s kind of just a challenge for her. nothing personal, it just… started impersonal, as a lot of things with her do. it’s not often that fujiko actively enjoys being pursued, and she told herself initially that she was just drawn to you because of talent. the skill! nobody had come for her and her alone and actually come so close!

but as you imagine, as is always the case, she does fall in love. not until she realizes that YOU are in love, first, however. she hadn’t even considered it a real possibility until that moment, and then she considered it WAYYYY WAYYY TOO MUCH and guess what! now you’re finding special notes with lipstick prints hiding around your desk. how is she even. doing that what?

fujiko is also a bizarre master of hiding in plain sight. she can use her name, her face, everything, almost anywhere without raising eyebrows. so, if you were willing to make a little trip juuuust out of your jurisdiction, nobody would REALLY know you were spending a romantic weekend getaway with your esteemed rival, right?

not that it’s a competition but if it WEEEERE A COMPETITION things go the smoothest with fujiko. isn’t that baffling ISN’T THAT BIZARRE. fujiko’s so used to navigating bizarre unconventional shit that she really isn’t thinking twice about any of this, prepared for any outcome

goemon:

unintentionally gets a bit dramatic about it in his head. he never means for anybody to fall in love with him, but ESPECIALLY not when it could put their LIFE on the line! or at least their career life. their… current way of life. HE FEELS ODDLY GUILTY EITHER WAY

however, as has been proven before, if goemon is truly smitten-- yeah he will throw ALL this shit away ALL OF IT! now, i don’t think he’s AS extreme about it as he used to be, he’s not RENOUNCING his entire way of life like he used to when some pretty stranger made eye contact with him, but if you really, really and truly had him hooked, it… would not be hard to get him to slow down on the whole wanted criminal front. NOT THAT YOU’D WANT THAT FOR HIM EITHER, NECESSARILY, JUST THAT-- LET’S BE HONEST, NOT THAT HARD TO SELL THE GUY

there’s a real pattern here with all these guys, and that is-- they are insane and are completely and utterly drawn in by the simple fact that this is something that should reasonably not be happening. but against all odds, love is stronger, love is unafraid, and above iit all, you two have come together despite conflicting ideals-- or that’s how goemon sees it. i think the other three just really enjoy the “we gotta make out in a broom closet” type deal.

but make no mistake he’s not mad about that either lmao

the funniest/not funniest thing about it is that goemon is going to have what he calls “moments of clarity” where he goes No… I can’t do this to you. we have to split for your sake for your safety. and then a month later he shows up on your doorstep at 3 in the morning like “i simply missed your cooking.” it takes 20 minutes max before he caves and says he loves you again sorry about the moment of clarity ordeal my b

(honestly if you want more normal and not insane hcs just hit me up again because i think i accidentally went toooo much into the nitty gritty of it. sawry)