#oh lord he only got 4 of them :((

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

❝ AND THE DANCE FLOOR IS FILLING UP WITH BLOOD, BUT OH LORD, YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE! ❞

WORD COUNT — 17k

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, unrealistic circumstances, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst, medium long hair!gyu bc self-indulgence, tsundere-ish reader again guys sorry i love her so bad, mentions of parental neglect, this ended up so long help

♪ verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex,, florence + the machine - mermaids,, zayn - bordersz,, mikky ekko - who are you, really?,, q - alone,, danna paola - tenemos que hablar,, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, summer camp - i want you

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. the music recs above are also really nice to get into the vibe! enjoyyyy :D

[ ONE ] ✧˚ · .⋆ ★ [ JUMP TO PART TWO ]

i. ASK ME THE TRUTH AND I’LL TELL YOU A LIE

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police receives a call from you, saying your father hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector — whose name you did not bother remembering — before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what exactly happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that were the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

all you can do is sigh. “i was his daughter in blood and name only. nothing more.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

leaning back in your chair, you list a few things. “he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.” you state. like always, there’s a tangible coldness to your voice, which he finds soothing, for whatever reason.

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair.

you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

ii. THE HATRED WE BEAR

you find yourself staring at your father’s tombstone with a numb face and the wind breezing through your hair. your makeup is slightly smudged under your eyes from the tears you shed just an hour before, while you were giving the public a final speech regarding his passing.

the funeral was long — too long.

at a certain point, once the whole thing was done and everyone left, you decided to take a quiet moment for yourself in the graveyard to let everything sink in.

you made the mistake of thinking you’d left alone.

a voice you’re too familiar with speaks up behind you. “i’m sorry for your loss.”

of course it’s kim mingyu out of all people who’s still here, sneaking up on you.

you don’t have the energy to make a snarky comment this time. “i’d ask why you’re still here, but it’s a question i already know the answer to.”

he still offers you his answer. “i’m here to check up on you.”

well, that takes you by surprise. “why?”

“you lost the one parent you had left. i don’t want you to be alone.”

something about that sentence fuels a sudden anger in you. he’s got some fucking nerve, saying that to you. “maybe you should’ve considered that a couple years ago. you know, before you decided to become my dad’s little protege.”

even as a little girl, your bond with your father was a shitty one. your mother passed when you were young, so you barely have any memories left of her.

in an attempt to win his love and affection, you always did everything your father asked of you, yet your efforts were hardly acknowledged. you found him to be a harsh and cruel man, but surely with you being his daughter, his only child, he must’ve cared for you. or so you always told yourself.

something about your yearning for his approval and support changed for the worse when mingyu’s mother became a prominent business partner to your father, about nine years ago. it made him spend more time with the kim family, and you have no idea how or why it happened, but mingyu became like a son for him.

you saw how well your dad treated him, and you cried for a long, long time as you compared it to his neglect towards you. for every pat on mingyu’s back, you got scolded for not being good enough. whenever he got praised, you got discarded. it’s no miracle that you came to be the way that you are. detached, perceptive, appearing to be just as unfeeling as the man who raised you.

you hated your father. with all your heart.

but you grew to hate kim mingyu more.

so to hear him say that he doesn’t want you to be alone — that takes the goddamn cake.

he lowers his head at your words. “it wasn’t like that.”

“right. of course it wasn’t.” your voice is painfully spiteful.

“i wouldn’t have done it if i knew it was at your expense. i’m sorry.”

he’s trying to be nice to you, not understanding yet that it’s actually doing more damage, making you angrier. “the last thing i want is your fucking pity.”

“then what do you want?”

“nothing you can give me.” it’s a subtle final warning coming from you, because you’re actually about to explode at him. “just leave me be.”

“please, just... i wanna help you.”

like a ticking time bomb, you suddenly hit your limit. finally, you turn around, facing him, and it’s only then that he truly sees how upset you are, like a storm suddenly changing its direction, and he’s in the way.

“help me? you’d help me by getting the fuck out of my face. you wanna know what i want, mingyu? i want to know what in god’s name everyone loves so much about you, what it is that made my father shut me out completely and replace me with you. he gave you more love than he ever gave me. just looking at you makes me sick. what the fuck did he see in you that he didn’t see in me?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from pouring your emotions out to the guy in front of you. “why did he hate me so much? even in death, he favors you over me. he left you... everything. a final ‘fuck you’ to his own child. and for what? for you?”

the fact that you got word from your father’s lawyer that your father chose to leave everything he had to mingyu instead of you was like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

throughout your life, you always did what was expected of you. you were the perfect daughter.

and for what?

the fact that your father grew to hate you and love this asshole so much that he left you not a single penny to your name — that is your tipping point.

and mingyu just wordlessly allows you to continue ranting, almost as if he deserves it.

“what the fuck is so special about you, huh? because i don’t get it. sure, you’ve got a nice face and you’re a smart guy, but i don’t believe you actually give a shit about others. i bet you came here today to rub my dad’s inheritance in my face — you fucking pretentious douchebag.”

“i’m sorry. i never meant—” he stumbles, nearly falling over as he backs away while you keep stepping forward, feeling surprisingly small in front of you, in spite of his tall frame.

“i don’t give a shit if this is what you intended to happen or not! i’m all alone.” you show your sadness right between the anger and hostility, vulnerable in front of him. “no family like everyone else, no money, no house, nothing. abandoned by the one person i had left.”

he looks at you as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. he’s never even shown you a hint of vulnerability — nor have you for that matter — so why is he showing it now?

you’re too deep into your breakdown to think rationally about it. “you took literally everything that i had. and i’ll never forgive you for that.”

“please, let me—let me fix it.” he chokes out, as overwhelmed by your strong emotions as you are yourself.

the harshness of your words makes him feel like he’s crumbling in your presence. “talk to me like you care about me one more goddamn time, and i’ll make you regret ever meeting me in the first place.”

in all the years that you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him flinch — you doubt any of your words have ever hurt him.

until this moment, it seems. but why is he even hurt? you don’t care about him and he doesn’t care about you. it’s always been that way, and you have a hard time believing it’ll ever change.

the moment you walk away from him with a sharp pain in your chest, pushing him to the side by his shoulder, he’s left behind in a shocked and bewildered state, neither of you aware that a pair of curious eyes witnessed the whole exchange.

iii. ULTERIOR MOTIVES

“the full inheritance of your father has been transferred over to you.”

the cup of tea you were raising stills with your hand. your eyes narrow at your lawyer as you’re seated in the garden of your father’s estate. “what—how? why? it wasn’t passed down to me.”

“no, but the person it was passed down to can always make the decision to pass it on. and he did — surprisingly with no strings attached,” he tells you, putting the document from the notary in front of you, “i had it all double-checked. everything’s there, the documents signed by kim mingyu himself.”

just hearing the name makes you grimace, putting you off your tea. “and there’s absolutely nothing he wants from me?”

“nothing was mentioned, no. he did, however, leave you a note.”

“what does it say?”

your lawyer raises his brow as he reads it, handing it to you instead of reading it out loud, which makes you give him a puzzled look before casting your eyes downwards to the piece of paper.

tomorrow, 4:30, my apartment. all you have to do is sign the papers. i look forward to the day you’ll make me regret meeting you.

“that asshole.” you mutter to yourself, not loud enough for your lawyer to hear it, but he’s certainly got an idea of how you feel about the whole situation.

“you do, of course, always have the option to reject the inheritance, but i would highly recommend not to. frankly, in all of my years of experience in this field, i’ve never felt a bigger need to encourage a client to take a deal.”

once you’ve picked up the documents and skimmed over the words, you look back at him. “and if i did accept it, it wouldn’t contain any possible implications for me in the long term?”

“none. it is... fairly remarkable he’s willing to give you the full inheritance for nothing in return, even if he and his family are known for their wealth. but it wouldn’t be a significant loss for him, considering the capital he already has to his name.” the man explains, not needing to spell it out for you.

you put down your cup. “knowing him, i’m not so sure he doesn’t want anything. i suppose i’ll have to talk to him about it myself, tomorrow.”

your lawyer highly encourages you to do so, leaving you to spend the rest of the day wondering what he could possibly want from you.

and so the following day, at 4:30 sharp, you step into his apartment — penthouse is the more fitting term. you’ll admit, though, that he’s got style.

it’s dead silent in his place, save for the metronome in the background and the slow brew of his coffee machine. he’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with black trousers as he approaches you. “glad you could make it. coffee?”

“why are you willing to give me the inheritance?” you ask directly, not feeling up for the unnecessary chitchat. you’ve always hated small talk. “if it was just a set-up, i’m leaving.”

he doesn’t seem to be even the slightest bit surprised by your forwardness. “i’m willing to give it to you because a) i don’t need it, and b) i don’t want it. i think it’s ridiculous your dad set up his will like this.”

“well, that makes two of us.” you fake a polite smile, clearly very sarcastically, putting your hand on your hip. “you asked me to come sign the papers, but i have yet to see them.”

mingyu smiles a little at you. of course you’d skip straight to business — you never were a girl of many words. he walks over to a cupboard and takes a sealed folder with the documents out of a drawer, handing it to you.

when you attempt to take the folder from him, he swiftly retracts his hand like the asshole he is. “it’s not completely free, though.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “of course. i should’ve known better than to believe you were willing to do something out of the kindness of your own heart.”

he just keeps going as if he didn’t hear you, very much used to the little quips you throw at him by now. “don’t worry, i think you can manage this very small task for me.”

“just tell me what you want already—”

“my family’s hosting a gala next week, on friday. i’d like you to be my date.”

you’re baffled. this is what he wants in return for the inheritance worth millions of dollars? to have you on his arm for a single night?

oh, hell no. you’re not falling for it.

“why? you wanna publicly humiliate me or something?” you question, a deep frown settled in your forehead.

he huffs, annoyed that you’d think that low of him. “i know we’ve always hated eachother, but, maybe, during a hard time… it would be nice to have one relaxed night. and yeah, i wouldn’t mind doing that with a pretty girl to keep me company. what do you say? deal?”

not once in all the years you’ve known him has he ever called you pretty.

“fine. but don’t think about pulling any stunts.”

“wouldn’t dare.” his smile sits somewhere beween teasing and serious when he finally hands you the papers.

you sit down and briefly scan the documents, not signing them right away to have them checked by your lawyer first. “if everything in this is according to the plan, you’ll have them signed by tomorrow morning.”

“okay. see you friday.” he winks at you, escorting you to his front door, a subtle grin on his face that gives off the impression he’s planning something, and you can only imagine what it might be.

there is one good thing about having to spend time in his family home, though — and that’s to search his rooms to find anything that might implicate him having something to do with your father’s murder.

since there’s still a culprit to be named.

with your own agenda in mind, you walk out of his apartment, searching for the name of your stylist in your contacts.

you’re going to need a dress, after all.

iv. A PROPOSAL

with a stern look on your face, you look at the entrance of the gala from the tinted window of your car. it’s all bright lights and colorful decorations, candles, flowers — the kim family is well known for their luxurious and memorable parties. you’ve attended plenty of them. while you and mingyu may not get along, his sister and mother are genuine sweethearts, some of the kindest and most welcoming people you know.

if only you could say the same for the asshole you’re about to spend the evening with.

after checking your makeup in the pocket-sized mirror for a final time, your driver opens your door so you can step out of the car, which leaves you on your own in front of the stairs.

mingyu originally mentioned he wanted to pick you up at your home like the gentleman he very much claims to be, but you very quickly shut the idea down and told him you’d just meet him at his family’s mansion.

so here you are.

attending a gala only a month after your father’s funeral must seem like an… interesting choice, to say the least. the people you come across express their condolences and ask if you’re doing well — you wonder if the sentiment is real or not — and you tell them you’re here because it serves well as a distraction.

you’ve become an excellent liar over the years.

as you’re standing at the top of the stairs, leaning on the railing, you observe the people on the dance floor below. those who aren’t dancing are chattering, the noises of clinking glasses and laughter filling your ears.

most of the time, you’re able to somewhat enjoy this life. but the truth is that it can be as exhausting as it is glamorous.

but with your last living parent gone, you do feel a sense of freedom, even if it is lonely at times.

not like you didn’t feel lonely when he was still alive.

you didn’t love him or care for your father. you cared for the hope that someday he would change. that he would show you he did care for you, even a little bit.

but that day never came.

he was primarily an investor, so at least you haven’t been burdened with having to take over a business or anything like it. having no siblings either, you feel like you should take this opportunity to start fresh; focus on building your own career and use your father’s money for things he’d never approve of.

suddenly, you spot your date in the midst of the crowd, breaking you out of your train of thoughts. his half-long hair looks pretty on him, you have to admit, the few strands in front of his face paired with the tailored, navy suit giving him the appearance of a model.

he’s currently talking to an older woman who clearly seems to adore him, the smile he puts up making her give him a gentle, loving squeeze on his upper arms. like always, no one is able to read the bitterness you feel as your face remains neutral.

growing up in your restricted social circle of the country’s wealthiest families, your group of peers wasn’t extremely big. you all went to the same primary school, same private high school. mingyu was always one of if not the most popular kid at school. an effortless ace at every fucking thing. everyone loved him, be it your peers or their parents.

you wouldn’t say you weren’t popular. quite the opposite, actually. your best friend was the queen bee of the school, as she was always striving to be the best in everything. top of the class, highest achievements, a true perfectionist at heart. bold, definitely a bit judgemental and classist too, but once she’s your friend, she’s the sweetest girl in the world. she did like to dabble in some drama with others if it came onto her path.

and you were the opposite. you preferred to steer clear of any drama, much preferring to watch it unfold from the sidelines — as you usually just didn’t care enough to interfere with it — and you were never quite as talkative as your best friend.

the sentences leaving your mouth are always quick, direct, sharp and without stutter. you’re masterful at small talk, even though you hate it. you know how to play people like a fiddle. your father made you use your manipulation skills to good use rather frequently.

many consider you cold and calculated.

which is true, of course. but you still have a heart, even if it barely beats.

the outburst you gave mingyu after your father’s funeral must’ve come as a shock to him. no one has ever seen you in such a vulnerable and weak state, and out of all the people who could’ve seen it, it naturally had to be him — and that makes you uncomfortable.

once he’s finished his conversation, he looks in front of him, then up at the balcony — and he locks eyes with you.

you give him a look of acknowledgment, but that’s it. he doesn’t seem to mind, though, still shining as brightly as ever, making his way up the stairs as fast as he can. “i’m sorry i wasn’t at the entrance to greet you, i didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“it’s fine.”

he glances up and down, admiring the dress you chose. “you look gorgeous.”

the deeply dark green dress with its boat neckline, long and fitted sleeves and intricate gold embroidery makes you look elegant. with the dress itself already being quite the statement piece, you chose to pair it with dainty earrings, your hair half-up and curled.

“thank you.” you don’t bother saying anything about his appearance. he must be used to it at this point.

“can i get you something to drink?”

you test the waters by throwing in a joke. “what, planning on poisoning me?”

his eyes flicker for a moment, stricken by something you can’t quite place, which makes you blink at him. his flirtatious and charming self returns within a mere second, and he proceeds to snicker at your joke. “i could, but where’d be the fun in that?”

rolling your eyes at him, you take his arm once he’s offered it, keeping in mind you’re doing this for the inheritance.

the time goes by quicker than expected. he introduces you to some of the people he’s close with, tells you stories you’ve never heard before, even asks you about yours.

a few of his friends come by as well, surprised to see you by mingyu’s side. most people your age here know that you and him have never quite gotten along, to put it lightly.

when they subtly ask about it, mingyu tells them he insisted you came to distract yourself from the death of your father, and that you could probably use a party.

it raises more question marks as to what his motive is for asking you to be here tonight. what is he gaining from this? he hasn’t humiliated you yet. if anything, he’s only spoken of you highly, save for the little snark he keeps between the two of you.

it’s strange. really strange.

after a while, once all the guests have been drinking a bit, you decide to set your own plan in motion. this might be your only chance to snoop around here, as you doubt you’ll find yourself in here again anytime soon.

you’re literally invited in his home — you’d be a fool not to check his room.

unfortunately, just as you try to disappear from the crowd, mingyu extends his hand to you. “dance with me?”

just as you’re about to refuse him, you remember that this is the one night you have to be nice to him, all so he can give you the inheritance that was meant to be yours in the first place.

with a small sigh, you slide your hand in his, at which he grins triumphantly.

before you know it, you’re in the middle of the room together, and he has his one hand on your lower back, the other hand intertwined with yours. he’s smooth with his moves, you have to admit.

the question has already left your mouth when you process it. “why am i here? i’m sure there’s a reason i needed to be your date tonight.”

mingyu cocks his head at you. “i think you’ve had to endure a lot the past couple weeks. the incident, the interrogations, the press, the shit with the inheritance — i’m impressed you haven’t lost your mind yet.”

“how do you know i haven’t?” you ask, and he twirls you around, his hands feeling like they’re burning on your skin. “wasn’t my breakdown after the funeral enough to prove you otherwise?”

“well, looking back, i should’ve probably left you alone in that moment. but i did think about what you said, and you can correct me if i’m wrong, but i feel like your father and our ties to him were what made us hate eachother so much. now that he’s gone, maybe we can… i don’t know. tolerate one another.”

you make sure to hide your confusion from him. does he really not see it? sure, the main reason you’ve always despised mingyu was because of his relationship with your father, but you weren’t exactly best friends before that either.

even putting it like that would still make it the understatement of the year.

if he actually pictures the two of you becoming friends, though, he’s lost it.

unsure of what to tell him, you give him a shitty excuse to escape the conversation. “i’m just gonna use the ladies’ room, if you don’t mind.” you let mingyu know, and he nods at you in acknowledgement, caught off guard by you leaving so suddenly.

so you walk off, the voices of the people and the music in the hall fading into the background as you trail off.

now that you’re alone, you can finally go check his room.

it’s harder to navigate the mansion than you thought. hallways that all look similar, god knows how many rooms — you hope you won’t get lost here.

one of your best friends is good friends with mingyu’s sister, and so she knows the place like the back of her hand. when you asked her for the layout of the place, she did think it strange, but you told her she had nothing to worry about.

mingyu’s bedroom and study are supposedly on the third floor of the east wing, and the party takes place in the west wing.

so that’s just fucking great.

your best friend did warn you that he most often keeps his doors locked whenever visitors are present, so to ensure you could get in, you snatched the key from his pocket when he was dancing with you earlier.

it almost makes you chuckle when you think about how easy it was.

when you’ve finally arrived at what seems to be the door to mingyu’s room, you double-check the environment around you to see whether anyone’s following you, and when it appears to be safe, you shove the key into the lock, twisting it.

you exhale when realizing it’s the right key.

entering the room, you quickly shut it behind you, taking in the sight.

it’s raining outside, which you take notice of through the large windows. several paintings adorn the walls — you didn’t know he was a lover of art — as well as some photos of him with his family.

the room is surprisingly tidy, his clothes all neatly folded on the wooden planks in his closet and the drawers underneath. the few books he has sitting on top of the cupboard are gathering dust — you suppose he doesn’t like to read all that much.

of course he doesn’t.

his king-sized bed seems soft and comfortable, and the room smells of the cologne and perfume he always wears.

you blink a few times, realizing you’re dwelling too much on details that are not a priority right now.

which is enough to snap you awake, a rush of adrenaline moving through your veins as you look for anything interesting. files, documents, notebooks — anything.

you find his agenda in a drawer of his desk. with slightly trembling fingers, you move the pages back to the date of your father’s death, as well as the days before that.

as you’re caught up with doing so, you momentarily forget the first rule of breaking into a forbidden space: never turn your back to a door when you should be watching it.

“you know, i’m starting to think you agreeing to be my date came with ulterior motives on your side.” you suddenly hear mingyu’s voice behind you, at which you turn around, looking a bit too guilty for comfort.

your voice almost gets caught up in your throat, but you keep your composure. “if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t plan this.”

“it’s alright.” he responds, closing the door behind him smoothly, as if he doesn’t want you to see it. “you still think i had something to do with your father’s death, don’t you?”

“i’m not sure. i don’t see why you would, now that you’ve given me the inheritance. what other motive could you have?”

all mingyu does is clench his jaw at the rhetorical question. then he snaps out of it, his eyes trailing to the desk you’re currently leaning on. he takes a few steps closer to you, and you raise a brow, waiting in anticipation what he’ll do.

his face is suddenly very close to yours, and you’re almost convinced he’s leaning in to touch you when he reaches for the drawer behind you instead. “well, as a matter of fact, i did have something to show you.”

that surprises you.

“your father always carried a little red notebook with him. it’s the only part of the inheritance i didn’t give you, solely because i wanted to show you myself. there’s a few strange scribblings in it, with locations and numbers, and look at this—” he opens it up in front of you, pointing at the paper with his index finger, “apparently he felt like he was being followed just days before he died. maybe the police is right and he did get murdered.”

“yeah, i already figured he probably pissed off the wrong guy.” when he looks at you hopefully, you shrug. “what?”

“we should check it out, right? find out who killed him.”

you immediately shake your head at his suggestion. “no.”

mingyu’s whole body language changes, genuine confusion overtaking his features. “what do you mean, no?”

“he was caught up in all kinds of shit, things i never wanted to be a part of. that’s no different now that he’s six feet under.”

“are you not the slightest bit curious who killed him?”

“frankly, no, i’m not. i’d say whoever is guilty did me a favor.”

despite your valid point, he persists. “okay, then how about this — what if this person would come after you for whatever reason? don’t you want to know who you’re dealing with?”

you narrow your eyes at him. “why do you care so much, mingyu? i’m sure this is something you could manage on your own.”

the sudden question surprises him, so he shrugs. “maybe i’m not sure why. but i do. and you know i did care for him.”

“why don’t you just let the police handle it?”

“because they don’t know this world — and we have access to places, people they wouldn’t even know where to find or how to deal with. have you talked to the detectives? they’re amateurs.” he answers, pausing before taking a step closer to you. “he’s dead either way, doing a small bit of research might be interesting. who knows what you might find.”

“and you wanna do this with me of all people because...?”

he rolls his eyes at the question. “you were the only other person directly affected by it. c’mon, am i really so bad that you can’t even deal with me for a little while?”

the fact that you just give him a deadpan stare tells him all he needs to know.

it makes you bite your lip. you don’t feel like doing this at all, certainly not with mingyu of all people, but he appears to be ready to do this with or without you.

besides, you do feel up for a little adventure.

“fine, i’ll bite. hypothetically, what if i were interested in finding out who killed him?”

the young man in front of you tilts his head. “then i’d suggest we work together and do some digging.”

pursing your lips, you watch his pleased expression when he notices you’re actually considering it. “why do i feel like i’m gonna regret this?”

“maybe you will. maybe you won’t. we can go right back to hating eachother after this, but for now, we’ll be partners. deal?”

your eyes linger on the hand he’s stretched out to you, and even as you’re hesitant to take it, he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

with a sigh, you shake his hand. “okay. deal.”

v. PARTNERS IN CRIME

“for someone so organized, he sure as hell has a lot of unnecessary shit lying around here.” mingyu mutters, searching through the drawers of the cupboard.

you scoff in agreement. “tell me about it.”

the two of you are rummaging through your father’s study in your home in an attempt to find anything interesting as to what he might’ve been up to the past few years.

so far, you’ve had zero luck with it.

you already figured there’d probably be nothing of interest here, but mingyu insisted, said it would be stupid not to. so here you are.

“you know, i’m pretty sure my dad wouldn’t be as stupid as to just leave traces of his criminal affiliations lying around in his study.”

mingyu shrugs while simultaneously looking into a drawer. “you never know.”

“he was an asshole, but he was a smart one.” you mumble to yourself as you go through the little notebook mingyu just handed you a few minutes ago.

he watches you with curiosity. “can i ask you something?”

without looking up at him, you give him a rather direct response. “i’m sure you’ll ask me regardless of my answer to that question.”

ever so indifferent, he thinks. if anything, one thing about you he is actually fond of is your unfiltered attitude. more people should be like that. “you said you’d never forgive me for what i did to you."

hearing those words makes you look up at him. you’re surprised he’s taking an approach this straightforward with you. “i know what i said.”

“is there nothing i can do to at least make things more civil between us?”

god, you’re sick of him already.

instead of outright telling him you hate him more than anyone else you know, you cross your arms over your chest and fire a question right back at him. “why do you want things to be different between us? don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over it, now.”

mingyu pauses a moment before he answers you. “i thought about the things you said, when you were upset with me, and i realized i’ve made your life harder without having intended to do so. and yeah, i am losing sleep over it.”

while he does appear earnest, you don’t exactly trust him, so all you do is shrug your shoulders.

he wants to say something right when his phone rings. once he picks up, you figure it must be something business-related, judging by the tone of his voice and formal language.

an apology directed at you leaves his mouth as soon as he’s hit the red button on his screen. “i’m sorry. an important business meeting was moved and i promised my mom i’d be there.”

you’ve met mingyu’s mother a few times, at events. she’s the ceo of a very prominent hotel business. many of the highest ranked hotels around the world are under her care, and she clearly knows what she’s doing, since her business has been thriving for many years at this point. you remember it was her who took over as ceo after mingyu’s father passed in a car accident when he was younger.

“then you better get going.” you tell him, your face not pulling a single muscle. you hope he didn’t think you were going to ask him to stay.

he nods at your words, taking the jacket with his initials embroidered in the tag and slinging it over his arm. “yeah. i’ll call you.” he says, going out the doorway, yet your voice makes him halt in his tracks.

“mingyu.” you say his name to him, an unfamiliar feeling on your tongue, and he turns to look back at you.

he awaits your words, catching the subtle warning in your eyes as you refer back to the question of his you had yet to answer.

“we may be working together now — call us associates, or even partners in crime — but once this is over, we’ll go right back to strangers. let’s just keep this… somewhat professional.”

you find he can be surprisingly hard to read from time to time, for a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. after blankly staring at you for a few seconds, processing the words, he just offers you a little smile and a gentle response. “okay.”

and he walks off, only leaving you more intrigued than before.

for two days, it’s complete radio silence from mingyu. all he asked you over text was if you’d been able to find anything in the study, to which you replied with a simple no. he didn’t say anything else.

you sincerely thought this whole investigation of yours wasn’t actually gonna lead to anything, that it was useless — until now.

it’s eleven o’clock, dark outside, the metronome ticking in the background of your living room as your eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop.

you just got a notification from the bank that someone made a significant withdrawal from one of your father’s bank accounts, one that still needs to be signed over to your name.

question is, who the fuck has access to your father’s bank account besides you?

no one. supposedly.

staring at mingyu’s contact in your phone, you twist your lips, unsure of whether to call him about this or not.

going against your gut, you press on his phone number and wait for him to answer the call.

nothing.

for good measure, you call him a second time. same result.

then it hits you. you spoke to wonwoo last night — he mentioned something about him and mingyu going out together this evening.

wonwoo, thankfully, does pick up his phone. “hey. what’s up?”

“hey. are you with mingyu right now?”

“yeah, why?”

“where are you?”

“uh—” he stutters out an address in the middle of the city, clearly confused by the urgency in your voice. “what’s going on? what do you need mingyu for?”

“well, it’s hard to explain. anyway, i’m coming over.”

“he’s kind of—”

you quickly interrupt him by hanging up. taking your wallet and car keys, you head out. the address wonwoo’s given you is located in the club scene downtown, and you make it there in no-time with the navigation on your phone.

parking your car across the block, you get out and check your phone, heading to wherever wonwoo and mingyu currently are. you usually tend to go for the clubs at the other side of the city, as the vibe feels a little different here, but you’ve been around the neighborhood a couple times, so it’s not entirely unfamiliar to you.

when you arrive at the club, you catch the sight of your friend leaning against the stone wall outside.

jeon wonwoo, all handsome in his expensive jacket and sleek shoes, looks surprised when he notices you of all people coming up to him, even though you told him you were coming. his voice is soft when he greets you. “hey. you gonna tell me what exactly you’re doing here?”

shrugging your shoulders, you put your hands in the pockets of your black coat. “you said you were here with mingyu. i gotta talk to him.”

“right now?”

taking note of his baffled reaction, you tilt your head to the side. “yes, right now. i don’t care if he’s occupied.”

wonwoo brings a cigarette to his lips, pushing the pair of dark-rimmed glasses higher up his nose. “what’s going on with you and him, anyway? i thought you hated each other.”

“we still do.”

“well, something’s changed.”

“believe me, wonwoo, i don’t like him any more than he likes me.”

all he does is narrow his dark eyes at you.

just when you want to open the backdoor to the club, wonwoo stops you. “you do know what kind of establishment this place is, right?”

frowning at him, you open the door just the slightest bit to check whatever he’s getting at, and once you catch sight of the pink and red lights, sensual music and metal poles attached to the ceiling, you momentarily close the door again.

right. this must be one of those clubs that are hidden from the prying eyes of non-customers, to give the illusion there’s nothing going on behind these walls, giving the rich clients some privacy in their activities.

you roll your eyes. “when you said you were going to the club, i didn’t think you meant a strip club.”

“i was about to tell you when you hung up on me.”

“so why are you out here and not in there with him?”

“because i wanted to smoke and he felt like heading into a more secluded space. with company, no doubt.”

oh, this is gonna be fun. since kim mingyu pretty much ruined your life, the very least you can do in return is ruin his night. you briefly chuckle to yourself. “alright. well, have fun smoking.”

“you’re still going in?” he calls after you, and all you can do is scoff.

“you think i care whether kim mingyu’s gonna have a good time or not?”

“forget i asked.” he responds, the hint of a smile tugging at his facial features. “i’ll wait here ‘til you get back.”

you shoot him a knowing smirk before stepping into the club. remaining in the background, you scan the area to see if there’s a glimpse of him somewhere.

at the other side of the bar, a man seems to be on watch in front of a separate hallway, so you figure that’s where the jackpot is.

not bothering to look back at the bartender, whose gaze trails after you, you head over to where you need to be, which is where you’re stopped in your path, as expected.

“these are occupied private rooms, ma’am.” a bouncer tells you.

“look, sir, i…” you begin, coming up with some bullshit excuse to get past him, “i’m pretty sure i saw my boyfriend just go in here with a dancer. all i want is a confirmation, i’m not looking to start drama.”

before the man can respond, you wordlessly hold up a small stack of hundred dollar bills between your index and middle finger, waiting for him to take the bribe.

works like a charm wherever you go.

his demeanor changes once he sees the money. “what’s he look like?”

“tall, dark medium-long hair, brown eyes, pretty handsome — though that’s probably subjective.” you shrug, adding a little fake smile to it. you can get far in life with a little charm and money.

the few generic features seem to be enough for the bouncer to know who you’re talking about. he takes the money from your hand, pointing his finger at one of the more secluded rooms in the back.

“go for room number six.” he says, stepping to the side so you can pass him.

thanking him, you head into the back, the heels of your ankle boots clicking against the floor.

the rooms have their matching numbers on neon signs above them. your eyes curiously take in everything they see, but all rooms grant the people in them privacy with the use of frosted glass.

once you’ve made it to the room with the number six on the sign, you take a breath while your hand rests on the handle.

you enter the room soundlessly. the broad space is dimly lit with its soft lights, a mixture of yellow, pink and red almost convincing you that this place is a mere fever dream.

mingyu is seated on the velvet red couch, his legs spread with a girl in skimpy lingerie dancing between them.

yet his eyes are on you.

with his head tilted down, he looks up at you from beneath his lowered brows, peering right past the bare hips of the girl as if she’s not dancing in front of him at all.

you catch a hint of intrigue in his features. he reaches inside his pocket to hand a small stack of money to the dancer in the exact same way you did with the bouncer only a minute before, and the girl leaves you to your privacy.

“hello to you, too.” he says, not bothering to move a single muscle as he remains on the soft couch.

“next time, answer your damn phone.” you scold him, staring him down with the coldest glare you can muster, and mingyu’s not sure why, but he relishes in it. it doesn’t happen often that someone treats him like this.

“i was occupied.” he casually answers, his hand running through his dark locks.

“well, not anymore.” you grin, handing him your phone to show the photo of the bank transcripts. “apparently, my dead father just took fifty grand out of his account.”

mingyu furrows his brows at the screen. “where?”

“all the way at the other side of the city. question is, who else has access to his account, aside from me?”

“we should go and check the footage.” he says, shrugging his shoulders, and he finally gets up, towering over you again. “i know someone who’s with the municipal authorities, i’ll make the call.”

“right now?” you ask, referring to how deep into the night it is, at which he raises his brow.

“yes, right now. this is the best clue we’ve come across so far. don’t you agree?”

“i do. i just thought you cared more about, y’know, being occupied.” you emphasise the last words with a waving hand, gesturing to the girl that was previously dancing on him, and his flirtatious nature comes right back to him as if it never left.

“why? wanna give me a show before we leave?” he smirks, getting closer, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you, to see what’s lurking underneath your closed-off persona.

fine. both of you can play this game, you think to yourself. “what, are the girls here not enough to get you off?”

“is that a yes?”

“why would you want a lap dance from a girl you can’t stand? i may not like you, mingyu, but i didn’t think you’d stoop so low to go after any woman with a pulse.”

“i feel flattered,” he smiles, eyes trailing down to your exposed collarbones, finding it ridiculously hot in here, “and i don’t particularly like you, either, but we both know you’re gorgeous. besides, i’ve seen you dance at chan’s club. you looked good.”

his honesty almost stuns you in your place. you didn’t think he held that kind of physical attraction towards you, yet it makes you feel good — because you think he’s fucking hot, too.

such a shame that he’s an asshole.

but still, there’s no time to dwell on his words. you have a reputation to uphold and a murder to solve, after all.

so you lean in, whispering your decision. “in your dreams.”

jesus, mingyu thinks, do you even remotely know how much sex appeal you have? it makes him beyond impulsive. “did you know studies have shown that sleeping with someone you can’t stand is arguably the best thing ever?”

you sarcastically reply to him with the exact same tone. “did you know you’d be so much more bearable if you just kept your mouth shut?”

“what? it’s part of my charm.” is all he says in return, snickering a little over your response, and you merely roll your eyes.

“we’ve got a different idea of charm, then.”

“okay, fair enough.” he shrugs, still maintaining the minimal distance between your bodies. “so what do you find charming? i’m dying to know, really.”

“i like men who don’t feel the need to pay for a woman’s touch.” the reply comes fast and sharp as a blade. “i hope you pay them generously, since they have to put up with you out of all people.”

“she didn’t touch me, though. it’s a strip club, not a brothel.”

“how noble of you.” you humorlessly chuckle at him, attitude turning more playful.

“mhm.” mingyu nods his head, the rest of his words sounding lower and suave. “tell me more. c’mon, i’m curious. i gotta know my partner’s preferences, right?”

the look you give your current partner is something. you decide to indulge him this once, face inching closer to his, just to keep things interesting. “i want someone who won’t hold me back. someone who will accept me for who i am — uninhibited.”

there’s something you can’t quite place flashing behind his eyes. it’s close to intrigue, but more intense, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen it in anyone else’s eyes before.

“good to know.” he breathes out, as if your words stole his breath, and you come to the realization that maybe, there’s more to kim mingyu than you thought.

now that he seems to be pretty much speechless, you raise your shoulders. “so, are we heading out or should i tell the dancer to come back in?”

he stutters out a reply, and you find it funny how his attitude is constantly going back and forth between a flustered mess and the most confident guy in the room.

once you’ve returned to the backdoor where you got in, you see wonwoo is still outside, his cigarette put out on the ashtray beside him.

“you leaving?” wonwoo asks, waiting for either of you to answer.

“yeah. duty calls.” mingyu replies while putting his jacket on.

for what it’s worth, wonwoo is actually a dear friend of yours, and one of the few people you show physical affection to, so you give him a kiss on the cheek before walking off. “catch you later, okay?”

he nods, catching mingyu curiously watching the exchange, and when you walk off with him, wonwoo notices him put his hand on your lower back, which you proceed to swat away.

a mere twenty minutes later, you and mingyu are seated in your car in an empty parking lot, looking at a screen displaying street security footage of the bank where the withdrawal was made earlier tonight.

mingyu’s friend seungkwan, who works for the authorities, sent you the footage, and as you’re looking it over, he’s on the phone explaining his observations. “he was wearing a mask and a cap, so we couldn’t recognize him. the car he drove has a license plate that doesn’t match, so likely stolen. he drove from a nearby parking garage to the bank, withdrew the cash, got back in the car and then parked it right here, about six blocks further, in the business district.”

the building the car is parked across is one you’d recognize any time of day. it’s where your father’s main office is — or was — one of the places he never allowed you to get into, or anyone for that matter. it was the only place where he got the peace and quiet he wanted.

you turn your head to glance at mingyu, giving him a knowing look. “that’s where my father’s main office is.”

“you think the guy’s gonna try to break in?”

“if he got his hands on the passcodes and proceeds to wait before the building he always worked in, then yeah, i do.”

you nod in agreement, because he makes a fair point. mingyu looks at the worried expression on your face and decides you’ve gathered enough information now.

he thanks seungkwan and tells him bye before hanging up, then turning his focus to you. “whoever that guy is, if he’s planning on breaking in, we gotta beat him to it.”

“you wanna break into an office on the seventh floor located in a building that neither of us are allowed into? they won’t even let us pass the front desk. i know because i’ve tried.”

he shakes his head. “trust me — we’ll find a way in. i’ve got an idea, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

vi. WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

the following days are spent analyzing and memorizing blueprints, tracking the people entering and exiting the building and checking security in the hope of finding some kind of loophole in the system.

trying to get in through the front door is too risky, so you’ve opted for the roof instead, because there’s several buildings so closeby that you can get into either of the buildings next to it and reach it from there. you’ll get in with a classic heist movie tactic you pray works in real life as well.

ventilation shafts.

so now, you’re both in dark and practical clothing to attempt breaking in. because your plan is mediocre at best.

as you watch from the rooftop of a currently unoccupied office building nearby with a binocular, you face-palm yourself the moment you notice the security set-up is different than anticipated with the blueprints, meaning the ventilation shafts are most likely not accessible. “well, fuck.”

“what’s wrong?”

you hand the binocular to mingyu, and he mimics your previous actions, huffing in annoyance when he sees it too. “shit. what do we do now?”

“nothing.”

“what?”

“our plan was already risky enough, but now that we pretty much don’t even have a way in, we’d be stupid to try. we only have a fifteen-minute window before a security guard comes up the roof again.”

“that’s plenty.”

“it would be, for like — a swat team. we’re amateurs. at this, anyway.”

“speak for yourself.”

“oh, i’m sorry, have you done anything remotely on this scale before?”

“well… no.”

pinching the bridge of your nose, you roll your eyes to yourself. “we should’ve brought wonwoo.”

mingyu is quick to respond with a sarcastic comment. “and tell him what, exactly? ‘hey, we need your help breaking into one of the best-guarded buildings in the city so we can snoop around and try to find a clue leading to a killer’?”

“well, i don’t know if you’ve noticed, gyu, but we quite literally have no other options.”

“we could always try the front door. you’re still his daughter, they might let you in.”

“i really hope that wasn’t an actual suggestion, because if it was, it would highly diminish the idea i have of your intelligence.”

“is this your way of telling me you think i’m smart?”

“well, currently, i think you’re being an idiot, so no.” you retort, stealing the binocular out of his hand again. “god, i’m starting to respect criminals. this shit is difficult to navigate around.”

mingyu chuckles as he adjusts the black baseball cap on his head. “there has to be another way. maybe we could—”

“—get in through an open window.” you interrupt, handing the device over to him. “you see the glass window in the roof of his office? it looks like it’s ajar.”

once he sees it too, he tilts his head. “it’s almost too easy. it’d have to open manually, otherwise we’re screwed.”

you can only shrug. “it’s only a modern interior on the inside, the building itself is older, so the odds might be on our side. besides, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“can’t argue with that.” he agrees, checking the other buildings around to figure out the best approach.

you watch him as he’s distracted. he’s fully going for the whole partners-in-crime thing you’ve got going on with him, yet a part of you is still unsure what his motives might be.

but for now, you’ll just focus on the task at hand.

every fifteen minutes, a security guard comes up to the roof, checks everything, stays for a minute or two and leaves again. you’ve been keeping track of it. as soon as the one currently on duty closes the door to the staircase behind him, heading back down, you both start a silent timer on your watches, getting to work.

one thing you discover doing said task is that jumping from roof to roof is really not as easy as they make it seem in the movies. if anything, it’s pretty scary, even if they are relatively close to eachother.

the jump from the last building to the one you need to be on top of has the biggest gap, and mingyu takes a solid leap, landing ever so gracefully.

you shuffle your feet for a moment, making the mistake of looking down. mingyu notices your hesitation and tries to encourage you the best he can. “it looks scary, but it’s a relatively easy jump. i swear. that’s gotta mean something coming from a person with a fear of heights.”

clenching your fists, you try to steady your breathing. “don’t you lie to me, kim.”

there’s something strangely charming about you using his last name whenever you’re scolding him. “c’mon. i’ve always thought you were fearless. you’re not gonna diminish the idea i have of you, right?”

curse him for using your words against you like that.

clenching your fists, you bite your lip, the worst case scenario going through your head over and over.

“just go back a couple steps. steady your breathing, and then you run. okay?”

you don’t respond to his words but do as he says anyways. the jump isn’t even that far, you’re just afraid of tripping.

but you won’t go out embarrassing yourself in front of kim mingyu. your pride is too strong for that.

so you take a deep breath and make a run for it, jumping over the gap and landing on top of the other roof, far away from the edge. mingyu laughs triumphantly. “good job.”

“thanks.” you smile as he helps you up to your feet, and you dust off your jacket, proud of yourself for going through with it.

the two of you walk over to the glass window, and you kneel down, inspecting the lock. thank fuck — it’s so simple that all you have to do is click it open. you’re guessing they probably thought the security walking around was enough.

with your hands covered in gloves, you wiggle them through the gap and crack it open, after which mingyu takes the lead. he lets himself drop into the office silently, looking up at you as a gesture for you to follow him.

you attempt to do the same as him, but you figure he must have strong arm muscles, because you’re barely able to hold yourself up the way he can. he notices your struggle and moves to stand underneath you.

“just let go. i’ll catch you.”

“are you sure?”

he nods, his arms up as if he’s waiting for you to jump right into them. “yeah, yeah. i got you.”

not entirely convinced, you try to drop onto the floor in a way you can still hold yourself up, but mingyu proves himself true to his word when he catches you as easily as drawing his next breath. he looks you in the eye while he has you in his arms, his senses feeling heightened as your clothed skin touches with his.

then you tap on his shoulder, and he lets go of you.

the office is bigger than anticipated. the moonlight from outside is bright enough for you to not need a flashlight, so that’s beneficial.

mingyu is awfully quick on his feet for someone as tall and bulky as him. he’s quiet in every step he takes, which is useful in a situation like this.

while he begins to look through a bunch of drawers, you open cabinet after cabinet, going through some documents that don’t really contain anything interesting.

you turn to look at the desk and the painting on the wall behind it. it’s nothing spectacular — your father never had much of an appreciation for art, so you find it strange he’d even have it up here.

out of sheer curiosity, you try to check if there’s a secret stash behind the painting like in those crime movies.

you have to refrain from laughing when your eyes fall onto the safe in the wall. “hey. gyu.”

he turns around, his entire demeanor changing when he sees what you’ve found. “you’re kidding.”

the safe has a surprisingly easy system. it has four dials, so you need a code with four numbers to get access to whatever’s inside. you change the dials to your birth year for fun, but naturally, it doesn’t work. hell, mingyu’s birth year might have a better shot.

while you try out every combination you can think of, mingyu gets the little notebook out of his pocket — the one that was part of your father’s inheritance. he flips to one of the last pages. “try 9-3-6-8.”

going with his suggestion, you rotate the dials until they have the right numbers, and you hear a click. blinking a few times, you turn the small crank wheel beside the dials and open the safe.

there’s not much inside in terms of quantity, but the things that are in there are no joke.

two gold ingots, a stack of files and a loaded handgun with a silencer attached to it.

“what the fuck was he up to?” mingyu asks rhetorically, inspecting the pistol with care, and you shrug, grabbing the files to put them into the bag you took with you.

“i don’t know, but we should hurry up. we can look at whatever all this is later. clock’s ticking.”

he figures you make a good point, so you hold out your bag, and he puts all of the safe’s contents into it.

you’re both scared to death when you suddenly hear voices coming from the other side of the door. you immediately zip up your bag and close the safe back up, putting the painting right back in front of it.

footsteps come approaching your direction, and you realize you don’t have enough time to get back out of the office without being caught red-handed, so you’ll have to find a place to hide.

just as you’re about to go sit underneath the desk, mingyu doesn’t hesitate to grab you by your hand and pull you against his body, both of you hiding in the small gap between the bookcase and the wall, which is right next to the door.

you almost jump in your place when the door is opened by a security guard, and mingyu puts his hand over your mouth to make sure the guard doesn’t hear you.

thankfully, you’re hidden right behind the door now that it’s opened, but your heart is fucking pounding as your chest is pressed against mingyu’s, and all you can focus on is him.

he’s suffocatingly close to you.

the situation forces you to look at him so closely — like never before. your attention trails down from his dark eyes to the litte mole on the bottom of his nose, the shape of his lips, and the glimpse you catch of the silver chain adorning his collarbones.

it’s the first time you see how big of a man he is. he’s been working out a lot in the past few years, with considerable results — standing this close to him highlights the contrast between his frame and yours.

the footsteps leave the office not long after, and the door closes. you’re finally able to breathe properly when he releases his palm from your mouth, and you inhale and exhale deeply.

“you alright?”

“yeah. that was just — scary.” you respond, cracking a little smile.

he nods, neither of you really moving in your places yet. “you can let go of me, y’know.” mingyu whispers, sounding entirely unconvincing, and you frown before looking to your hand that’s apparently been clutching his jacket this whole time.

“oh, yeah. sorry.”

“it’s okay.” he assures you, pointing to the ceiling. “we should probably head back.”

you agree and sling the bag over your shoulders, on your back. he gets onto the desk first so he can climb out the same window you used to get in, and once he’s gotten up the roof again, he extends his hand to you so he can pull you up.

it doesn’t go smoothly. he’s a little clumsy, but he manages, so you take a breather once you’ve made it out of the office with him. you close the window in the exact position it was before you opened it, and you make it to the safety of the rooftop where you started just twenty minutes ago.

as you quickly go down the stairs of the abandoned building to reach the ground floor, he laughs triumphantly. “holy fucking shit. i can’t believe we actually pulled that off.”

you smile at him with adrenaline still rushing through you, heart still pounding in your chest when you realize what you just did.

and honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever felt that… alive.

a mere fifteen minutes later, you’re seated in a half-empty diner with him. he’s across from you in the booth, elbows on the table as he fiddles with his fingers.

while he looks around the place, you take the files you found in the safe out of your bag so you can look them over.

as your eyes fall onto the first page, you frown.

mingyu notices your gaze. “what’s wrong?”

you switch to the other file folders before scoffing to yourself, realization hitting you. “you gotta be fucking kidding me. they’re tabs he kept on the people around him. the staff at home, his driver... even me. and you. well, looks like he didn’t trust you completely.”

before he can even reply to the subtle dig, you slide the folder with his name on it across the table, and he opens it up, noticing a huge chunk of information on him neatly stashed away in separate documents. there’s even candids there that must’ve been made by a private investigator.

“i knew he was paranoid, but this takes the cake.” you mutter, and you throw the folders back into your bag, and mingyu hands you his so you can take it as well.

“well, this sucks.” he sighs. “those files aren’t of much use, so now we’re back to square one.”

you tilt your head. “that’s not entirely true. we might be able to check where the gun came from, or whose name it’s registered under.”

mingyu hums, lifting the cup to his mouth, whispering a compliment, not really expecting for you to hear it. “smart girl.”

with your bag zipped up and everything off the table again, it’s quiet between you and mingyu for a moment.

“god, i’m starving.” he says as you wait for your food to arrive, and where he’s slightly fidgeting in his place, you sit completely still, looking at him with a frown. once he catches your gaze, he raises a brow at you. “what?”

“do you do this often?”

“eating in a cheap diner?”

“trespassing. breaking in. illegal activities. whatever you wanna call it.”

he shrugs. “occasionally. keeps life interesting, y’know?”

the casualness in his attitude makes you scoff. “sure.”

“you don’t agree?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but then again, you don’t really say much at all.” he says bluntly. he doesn’t mean it as an offensive statement in the slightest, but it would’ve probably sounded better if worded differently.

for a moment, he thinks his impulsivity must’ve upset you, seeing as you remain silent for a moment.

then you laugh at him. the sound is completely new to him, yet strangely soothing to his ears.

“you’re bold, i’ll give you that.” you snicker before taking a sip of your coke. “but i assume you don’t have an issue with people who are on the quieter side, since you’re besties with wonwoo and all.”

mingyu mimics your facial expressions. “yeah, i prefer being around quieter people more. but i didn’t—it came out wrong. i meant, you don’t really, like... show who you are. if that makes sense. even back when we were in high school, you were like a mystery. you still are, to me.”

“is this what this whole partnering-up thing is about? you wanting to unravel the mystery about me? because if it is, i’ll give you credit for the creativity.”

mingyu tilts his head. “well, it’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“if you wanted to get to know me, why didn’t you try years ago?”

“have you met you?”

you roll your eyes. he smirks at you, enjoying your company quite a lot, anticipating whatever it is you’ll say in response.

“you wanna know something, mingyu?”

“yeah.”

“you’re telling me i’m the mysterious one, but i’d say that’s you.”

his playfulness falters a bit, and he shows his confusion instead. “me?”

“mhm. you’re popular, good-looking, charming, all of that — and i think you’ve got layers to yourself that no one even knows about. characteristics no one would ever dare imagine when they think of you.”

his breath hitches in his throat. “why do you think that?”

twisting your lips into a pout, you put your drink back down on the table. “wouldn’t be any fun if i outright told you, would it?”

mingyu narrows his eyes at you. you just shrug, as if to tell him he’ll figure it out, if he’s smart enough.

and he welcomes the challenge.

“okay.” he smiles, biting his lip when he leans back in his seat. “but, hypothetically — what if you’re wrong about me? what if i don’t have those layers you’re talking about?”

you eye him up and down, remaining quiet with your arms crossed over your chest. you’ve always had that attitude. like you know more than everyone else, as if you’re the smartest person in the room. usually, you are. and yet you’re never smug about it, unless someone challenges you to be — you’re always calm, cool, collected. stoic. the fact that wonwoo of all people called you an ice princess years ago says enough.

“i’d be sorely disappointed.”

“so you have high expectations of me?”

“in a way, perhaps. though you’ll have to work a little harder to impress me.”

“tonight wasn’t enough?”

“it was a start. we still loathe eachother, remember?”

“right. i’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

sure, you and kim mingyu hate one another, but he still makes you smile the most anyone has in ages, and you make him feel more alive than anyone else has.

vii. FRIENDS CLOSE, ENEMIES CLOSER

“i’ve got bad news.” you say, tapping your nails on the coffee table in your living room as you have mingyu on speaker.

“okay. do tell.”

“the gun isn’t registered, so we pretty much only have the files as evidence.”

“yeah. i doubt your father put those files together himself, since they seem like the work of a professional. we might be smart to seek out the private investigator who gave him the intel.”

you know he hears you sigh at the other end of the line, and your response hardly sound convincing. “yeah, i guess.”

“what’s wrong?”

it’s quiet for a moment. you speak up with a tension rumbling in your chest. “maybe we should just quit, gyu. i don’t feel like what we’re doing is actually going anywhere. we still don’t have a proper lead.”

then it’s his turn to remain silent, and you swear you can hear his breath shudder. “we’ll get there. it just... takes some time.”

“you sound a little too sure of that.”

“i just think it’d be a waste to not continue after the stunt we pulled last week.”

“what’re we gonna be doing next? breaking into the national bank?”

“something tells me you’d find that exciting.”

well, shit. have you become so transparent that kim mingyu of all people can tell the truth about you?

“maybe i would.” you grumble like a child admitting defeat.

the sound of his laughter echoes through the phone. it subconsciously brings a small smile to your face.

“look, i have a meeting ‘til five. i can come by after to brainstorm about things, pick up some food on the way. are you free tonight?”

“yeah. text me when you’re on the way here.”

“yes, ma’am.” he jests, saying he’s got to go before hanging up. it leaves you to stare at your phone for a minute. a past version of yourself would never believe it if you said mingyu would ever get close to you in the way he has over the past two months. it’s been a strange time. it’s come to the point you’re pretty sure you don’t even hate him as much as you used to.

maybe you don’t even hate him at all anymore. maybe.

but something about admitting that to yourself feels scary, so you put your thoughts elsewhere while secretly looking forward to having him come over again.

it’s a quarter past five when he sends you a message, letting you know he’s picked up the food and on the way to your house, and a mere twenty minutes later, you and him are seated in the lounge on the first floor as he tells you about his day – all while shoving a dumpling into his mouth.

what interrupts you, however, is the noise of your doorbell. mingyu frowns instantly, and you mimic his expression, because you weren’t expecting any more company. “who’s that?”

“no idea.” you shrug, so you get up from your seat, jogging down the stairs with mingyu following you, simultaneously chewing the food in his mouth.

checking the screen beside the door that’s connected to the doorbell, you notice a familiar face standing outside.

“isn’t he the main detective on the investigation?” mingyu asks rhetorically, his body language changing to something more stiff. “what is he doing here?”

“good question. i certainly didn’t invite him, but the guy at the front gate probably told him i was home. fuck — you have to hide.”

“hide? why?”

because the detective thinks you still hate mingyu, so seeing him here would make your story hardly plausible. “because he can’t see you, obviously. get upstairs and stay there. i’ll distract him.” 

“are you sure?”

“yeah, so go!” you push him back with your hands on his chest, and he seems hesitant to leave you by yourself, but he eventually jogs up the stairs again to get out of sight.

the inspector smiles only as a formality. you do the same. you haven’t spoken to him since you indirectly accused him of being an asshole, a while before your father’s funeral.

“good evening. i hope i haven’t come at a bad time. may i come in?”

“i have to take a business call soon, actually, so another time would be—”

“i won’t be long. i assume you’d like to have an update on the investigation?”

well, fuck. he’s got you there, so you’re forced to let him in, but you don’t let him wonder and gesture for him to sit down in the living room, on the couch. you move to take the seat directly across from him to ensure his focus is on you, instead of on the huge staircase behind him.

“am i still at the top of your list?” you ask. when the man tries to find the right words to respond, you scoff, filling in the blanks. of course you still are. “but you have no evidence.” 

“it’s not about evidence — moreso the lack thereof. i’m stuck with two people who each have a solid motive, an alibi that’s far from foolproof, and an important tie to the victim. you cannot deny that.” 

“is this another interrogation? because this is all off-record.”

“not an interrogation. i was just wondering something – back when i spoke to you last, before your father’s funeral, i asked what you could tell me about kim mingyu, your father’s former associate.” hearing him say his name makes you anxious, yet you pull every possible muscle to hide it. “you spoke of him as if he were the devil himself. you clearly hated him, perhaps more than you hated your father.”

“and?”

he pulls something from the inside of his jacket, and you discover they’re a few candids, photos taken of you with mingyu while out in the city. well, that’s just fucking great. you’re gonna have to make use of your top-notch acting skills here.

“i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me asking why you’re suddenly seeing someone you claim to hate as much as you do.”

the blankness of your face dissolves as you adapt a more playful and sassy persona. “you came all the way to my home for this? a few photos?”

“a few photos of my two main suspects together for a reason i cannot think of, yes.”

“you can’t think of a single thing? really? no offense, but i was under the impression you were at least a little clever.”

the man stares at you as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. that can only mean one thing – he’s falling for your act.

what an idiot.

you lean forward in your place, the dry smile remaining on your face. “i fucked him. several times, actually.”

he narrows his eyes at your statement. “i thought you told me you hated him.”

“oh, i do. but a good hate-fuck is the best way to release some frustration. you should try it sometime.” the sound of your voice is monotonous as you utter the words in one go.

“i’ll keep it in mind.” he sarcastically responds with a fake smile, and you copy his body language, pleased to see you’ve made him somewhat uncomfortable.

he clearly wants to change the subject, but you don’t feel like continuing this conversation any longer. “if you’ll excuse me, i really have more pressing matters, so i trust you can see yourself out.”

the inspector huffs a bit, but he knows better than to overstay his welcome. he wordlessly allows you to let you walk him to the door before turning around. “i hope you know who you’re dealing with. not everyone is who they say they are.”

leaving you confused, he looks at you a moment, proceeding to walk out your front door, after which you close it. did he know more than he was willing to let on? what a strange visit.

when you finally decide to turn around, you see mingyu standing in the middle of the stairs, looking a little baffled, at which you roll your eyes.

“why would you tell him that?”

“would you have preferred it if i told him the truth?”

“would that be so bad?”

you scoff, passing him on the staircase. “see, this is what i mean when i say you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

mingyu follows you back up to the lounge. “i’m just saying — maybe it’d make us look less suspicious.”

“it’d do the opposite, gyu. trust me.”

“okay. fine. but out of all the things you could’ve said, why that?”

“well, it made him uncomfortable, making it easier to get him to leave early. and, well… you know what you look like.”

the last sentence really grabs his attention.

“what i look like?” he repeats, knowing damn well what you’re getting at, but he’s eager to hear you spell it out for him.

“well, you’re somewhat good-looking. it’s one of your few strong points, actually.”

“so you think i’m hot?”

“didn’t quite say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“not really. you may be conventionally handsome, gyu, but attraction is a whole different thing.”

“oh, c’mon. admit it. i’m willing to, so…”

“do i need to remind you i said we’d keep things professional? which you agreed to.”

“god, you’re so tough.”

“part of my charm. maybe that’s why you like me so much.”

“i never said i liked you.”

“no, you didn’t have to.” you scoff, laughing at him, and mingyu feels the corners of his lips curling up — because you’re right.

then, as you plop down on the seats in the lounge again, you sigh as you look at the papers scattered across the table.

“you know, it’s been weeks, and we still haven’t got the slightest clue who’s the killer,” you frown, fingers resting on your collarbone, “and if i’m being honest, i doubt we ever will.”

mingyu briefly narrows his eyes at you, proceeding to take his laptop out of his bag. you watch curiously when he silently types away at his keyboard, then turning the device around and clicking on the play button.

suddenly you hear your own voice, and the words — you said those during the interrogations. how the hell did he get his hands on those recordings?

he seems to be able to read your mind. “i’ve got a contact in the force. he sent me the sorted files of everyone who was interrogated. we should probably listen to them, right? after all, we know more about the situation than the detectives.”

blinking a few times, you shrug and nod in agreement, so he increases the volume and presses the button again.

the following two and a half hours are spent listening to the recordings and taking notes of important things. you’re only halfway through them, but doing this the whole time really sucks you dry of energy.

at a certain point, you press the pause button and get up from your seat, moving to the liquor cabinet a few meters away. “you like a good whiskey, right?”

“yeah. how’d you know?”

“i observe and listen. that, and i heard you say it to wonwoo one time.”

he chuckles at your words, watching you take the bottle with two glasses and set it down on the table.

once you’ve poured the liquid into the glass, he takes what you offer him and down it in one go, after which you give him a judgemental stare. “seriously?”

“sorry. had a rough day.”

your gaze softens, and you pour him a second glass as he holds it out. “why?”

“i just… haven’t been feeling great lately. not really sure why.”

well, that’s interesting. “your conscience eating away at you?”

his eyes widen an uncharacteristical amount, and your face is blank for a few moments until you crack a smile. he laughs it off, squeezing his hands together, which you take notice of.

“guess you could say that. no, i don’t know. my sister’s been stressed and she won’t tell me why, which is odd ‘cause she always comes to me — and my mother’s been overworking herself, and i’m worried for her.”

pursing your lips together, you cast your eyes down for a moment.

for some reason, you feel a sense of repulsiveness whenever mingyu speaks of his family like that. as if it’s a reminder of what you didn’t have.

but you don’t show it.

“sounds tough.” you reply, not intending to sound distant — you just find it difficult to know what to say.

what you fail to recognize is that mingyu sees it. he sees your struggle and the emotions you think are so deeply hidden underneath the surface. they actually are, to be honest, but he’s come to know you and with that the way you hold yourself. and he’s suddenly able to read you better.

you’re made of sharp edges only — broken glass on all sides.

he takes another sip of his drink. you down yours in one go.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

mingyu’s eyes curiously follow your every move, the alcohol in his system making him bolder. “how are you holding up?”

“me? ‘m fine. why do you ask?”

“i think mostly ‘cause i’ve asked you a lot of questions, but not that one.”

the words make you silent for a moment, and you let out a knowing sigh when you realize what he’s getting at. “i told you i was glad he died, gyu.”

“i know. but even if you are, you can still find it difficult to deal with.”

you inhale and exhale slowly, leaning back against the wall for a moment, staring into nothing. “i’m not sad that he’s gone. i never will be. but there’s things i wanted to ask him.”

when you don’t continue, he asks you to. “what things?”

“things about my youth, my mother… hell, maybe even about you.” you shrug, chuckling for a brief moment, but the sound is gone as soon as it came. “but i think, mostly, i’d ask if he saw himself in me.”

mingyu is intrigued by your answer. “why would you wanna know that?”

you shrug, your tiredness contributing to you opening up. “because maybe i’d hear the answer i want to hear, and not the one i currently have. my worst nightmare has always been to turn into him.”

“you won’t be like him.” he tries to tell you, but you shake your head.

“i already am. i hated him to the bone, and yet i act like him, sound like him, handle things like him — because he taught me everything i know. at the end of the day, i am my father’s daughter. there’s no changing that.”

“you’re not a bad person. he was.”

“how would you know? he was nice to you. stand-offish, probably, but nice.”

“you don’t think i had an idea of what kind of person he was? i cared for him, but i knew he could be harsh. i caught some bits and pieces when he… yelled at you after our high school graduation.”

you have an almost visceral reaction as he mentions the incident. your father had yelled at you after the graduation, because the best student of your class got a prize on the big podium, and it wasn’t you. and that as a result made your father angry, because being in the top five wasn’t enough — because it should’ve been you.

it was always supposed to be you.

“why did you even want to be around him at all? if you knew how much of an asshole he was all this time.”

mingyu stares at the wall for a few seconds when he thinks about it. “he came into my life when i needed it the most. but looking back, i feel guilty. i shouldn’t have cared for someone like that.”

“like what?”

“someone that cruel. he didn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, not in any way.”

“can only good people be loved?” you ask in return, and he seems positively surprised at your question.

“you’d find love for a bad person?”

“mingyu.” you say his name in a brief chuckle, and it steals his breath away. “do you think you have that much of a choice over who we love? we don’t. that’s what makes it so complicated.”

he seems to grow increasingly stressed with each thing you say, much to your surprise. “but would you want to love someone like that?”

looking away from him for a moment, you think his words over. “if that person was good to me, and had the same values… yeah, i would. trust me, the few people i care about are no saints, and yet i’d go to hell and back for them.”

“am i on that list too?”

you meet his eyes, and his expression is so beautifully genuine, full of raw emotion you’ve never seen him show before. it’s then that it finally hits you — kim mingyu actually cares about you.

the worst thing is that you just might care about him, too.

so you gently smile at him with a light shrug of your shoulders. “maybe.”

he reciprocates it, his brown eyes blown wide as he gazes at you. “i’m glad. you’re on my list too, y’know.”

“am i?” you tease, and he nods cheerfully, happy to have verbalized his appreciation for you. “well, i didn’t really see it coming, that’s for sure.”

your words bring mingyu’s thoughts back to the death of your father, the rift you accused him of causing between the two of you. a wave of guilt comes flooding in once more.

“look, i… i know you may not believe me, but i genuinely feel sorry for what happened. for taking something from you. despite the things i saw and heard, i really was too stupid to see that your dad treated you as badly as he did.”

staring him right in the eye, you don’t fail to catch the earnestness in them. “it’s alright. you’re not half as much to blame as i’ve tried to make myself believe you were.”

the words intrigue him. “how come?”

swallowing the lump in your throat, you press your lips together. “because he didn’t care about me. he never did. maybe he was different before my mother died, maybe he wasn’t. i wouldn’t know.”

mingyu tries to hold his ground as he watches you get emotional. he remains quiet in his spot next to you.

“can i tell you something?” your voice is hesitant and almost inaudible, like a child who’s trying to tell their parent they did something wrong.

when he silently nods, you continue.

“you wanted to know why i hated you, right? well, i...” you pause in an attempt to find the right words, “i felt invisible to my father. like i didn’t matter — i was treated like nothing more than a tool to improve his businesses. but you... he treated you like a son. like a person. and i spent years trying to figure out what i did wrong and you did right, and i just... i didn’t get it. i still don’t. but whatever it was, i was jealous that you had it and i didn’t. and everyone loved you and praised you, be it our friends or their parents. everyone in our social circle. from my point of view, no one had ever uttered a single bad word about you, and then when my father began to take a liking towards you as well... i just hated you. you were my perfect scapegoat.”

the guilt on his face is clear as day. when he parts his lips, you already know he wants to apologize again, but you shake your head, speaking up first.

because you don’t hate him anymore.

“mingyu, there was nothing for you to take away from me to begin with. long before you were even present in his life, he didn’t care for me either.” with the corners of your lips turned down, you continue. “i did everything he asked. perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect social life. but he didn’t care. it’s not often i say people have no heart, but he just… he just didn’t have one. for his job, perhaps, for his business partners — but not for anyone outside of his work. i just didn’t think that would go for his own child, too.”

you reach for your forehead, trying to take his attention away from your face, running your hand through your hair while blinking your tears away. why are you telling him all this?

but it just feels so good to finally get it all out.

“you did the best you could.” he tells you, and you nod with watery eyes.

“i did. and somehow, none of it mattered.”

when the first heavy sob leaves you, you try to hold it back, not wanting him to see you break down.

he doesn’t let you. he moves to sit next to you and takes you into his arms, and for the first time in however long, you let yourself break. the tears are your acknowledgement of the pain it has caused you over the years, the damage that will never quite heal and always follow you wherever you go.

you’re not sure why you’re falling apart this easily. you hardly ever cry anymore, perhaps a few times a year, and you usually feel strong enough to hold it all back when you’re in front of others, but this time — this time, you just can’t.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. it’s okay. you’re alright. he’s gone now.” he whispers into your ear as comfort. “but you’re not alone. not anymore.”

his heart shatters when he internally makes the comparison between the loving family he grew up in and the lonely, broken family you could hardly call home.

“why wasn’t i enough? why didn’t he like me?” you mutter to yourself, having lost control as you cry into mingyu’s neck, clinging onto his body as your chest aches.

“because he couldn’t. he didn’t have it in him to care for anyone. that says more about him than it does about you.” he responds, gently stroking your hair, even pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel… cared for. like you truly matter to someone.

something that feels scary, perhaps even strange, but good.

mingyu’s big arms cage you into his hold, a comforting feeling. to be honest, you wish you could stay with him like this for the whole night. maybe even longer than that.

he rubs your back, feeling the pain in your chest as if it were his own. he’d take all of it if he could. you were damaged in a way that no one deserves, and seeing how much it still affects you and most likely will in the long term, that tears him apart.

the heavy ache in your chest subsides, yet you still cling onto him. you feel the most at ease you’ve ever been with anyone.

“thank you.” you mumble, giving him a tight hug with you wrapping your arms around him ‘till he’s almost suffocating. “i needed that.”

“anytime.”

you eventually finally come down from your breakdown, body slightly twitching as the last tears silently roll down your cheeks.

with your head in his lap, you lay on your side, closing your eyes for a while as the pain in your chest slowly subsides. he’s still rubbing at your clothed skin, and you’re curious if he’s aware it does wonders for calming you down.

“i’m sorry for yelling at you, gyu. after the funeral.” you speak up, voice still raspy. “i was wrong about you.”

mingyu feels his throat tighten up. “it’s okay. i was wrong about you, too. we have more in common than i initially thought we did.”

you wipe your tears away and move to sit upright, finally feeling confident enough to look him in the eye again. “like what?”

both of you are tired. everything that’s happened the past weeks has definitely been causing some sleepless nights for both of you, and with all the alcohol and emotions running high, you’re both feeling a tad drowsy.

he runs a hand through his dark locks. “this part of society — i think it’s exhausting, a lot of the time. full of noise, small talk that’s supposed to hide how cold half these people are, social pressure, all of that. but here, at home, it’s quiet. maybe a little too quiet. the thing is, i have my friends and family that i care about more than anyone else, but i still feel… hollow. like i’m missing something.”

you nod at him. “you can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.”

“yeah.” he sighs. “do you feel it too?”

“well, i may not have a family, but i have my friends. and they mean so much to me, and i can talk to them if i need to, but… yeah. i feel it too.”

he wonders if you feel the same connection that he’s feeling right now. he’s drawn to you like a damn magnet.

mingyu already knows he’s a goner when he gently puts his hand on your cheek. he feels electrified by your presence, your voice, even the way you look at him.

he needs you.

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

his words are enough for your breath to hitch in your throat. you doubt you’ve ever wanted to have someone as much as you do now.

and so you cross a line you never thought you would and press your lips to his, desperately needing his touch.

the kiss is harsh but slow, as if you’re aching to taste eachother. his hand makes its way to the back of your head, the other on your back to pull you closer to him.

his heart might as well be lurching out of his chest. god, he feels that excitement and nervousness as if he were his teenage self sharing a first kiss with his crush — yet whatever feeling is clouding his mind is something darker and deeper, something that transcends what he can describe with words.

he kisses you like his life depends on it. once you’ve both pulled back to get some air, looking the other straight in the eye, it’s like you’re silently admitting that the relationship you share is more than just being partners.

it’s something that comes alarmingly close to love.

the moment is harshly interrupted when his phone rings. he blinks a few times before rolling his eyes at the timing, as he’s still half on top of you.

you can do nothing but wait underneath him as he takes the call, and when he closes his eyes and releases a sigh, you know it’s not positive.

“alright, thank you.” he says before hanging up, turning his focus to you. “the alarm at my apartment in the city was triggered. i gotta check it out, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you mutter out, suddenly unsure of how to talk to him now that you’ve crossed the line that you have.

but mingyu is much more straightforward. his gaze is warm and intense as it finds your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to stay here with you. so he shows you that.

just when your lips are about to touch again, he smirks, gently holding your chin. “i’ll be back for this.”

with those words, he catches his breath and gets up from the couch, after which he jogs down the stairs, and half a minute later, you hear the front doors open and close.

the sound allows you to release the breath you’ve been holding.

what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

READ PART TWO HERE

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[temis-de-leon]

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Lucifer and Mammon (x gn!reader, separately)

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

Main Masterlist

CW: very OOC since they'd never reject you to begin with, but hey, that's why it's a nightmare

A/N: the rest of the brothers, as well as the dateables, will have their own part too, but I'm writing the requests and the fics for the 500 followers event at the same time, so everything will take some time <3

.

Lucifer – You weren’t his first choice

Under the fear and the mistrust, you showed a clear interest in him since the beginning.

He couldn’t blame you; he was handsome, after all, and he knew his attitude was attractive to most.

And while he found you beautiful as well, you meddled too much in his family’s business and your defiance to him only felt irritable.

You were a nuisance. A threat to his Lord’s wishes.

He made sure to keep you at arms’ length except the few times he felt the need to threaten you.

Surprisingly, the more you forced him to know you, the more he couldn’t say no.

Your shared time turned enjoyable and you soon started to hang out in his office late at night or, if you were an early riser like him, in the morning during breakfast.

He should’ve expected your romantic feelings towards him, something he saw before you had the chance to tell him. The way you looked at him or blushed when he paid you attention, how you searched for his presence more and more.

He rejected you before you could even talk to him about it.

It was brutal, in a way, cold and straight to the point. He didn’t bother to pour his heart into his apology.

He had his duties to Lord Diavolo, to his family and the kingdom.

The attraction he felt for you, the love that could’ve been, wasn’t enough for him to stay.

There were two types of pain in his chest when he woke up: the pressure in his sternum caused by the sharp edge of the desk and the sting in his heart from the hurt in your eyes.

He didn’t do that, did he?

He accepted you, he accepted your love with open arms, gave his in return. Lucifer could remember the smile in your first kiss just as much as the sincerity in your voice each time you reminded him the depth of your feelings. He always opened his ribcage like you would with a book to show his reciprocation.

Staring at his paperwork in horror, the pool of saliva slowly drying under his distress, Lucifer searched for memories that could prove the existence of your relationship. Your weight on his lap, your scent in his clothes, the last message you sent him, the last time he treated you on a date.

When was that?

How many days ago?

Weeks? Months??

His fingers trembled when he pushed his hair back and he knew the sting in his eyes wasn’t due to fatigue. Now gasping, eyes wide open in panic, he got up and paced around the room, the false reality of his dreams thankfully fading away and letting him see himself pouring two drinks while you stared at him in adoration, setting you on top of the table to kiss you carelessly or letting you drag him out of the office for a good night sleep.

 “Dear Diavolo” he mustered to himself, taking his coat off and letting it fall to the ground before breathing deeply. “How stupid… Stupid…”

Although not entirely, the embarrassment of suffering such despair for a nightmare washed the panic away, making him thank everything that would listen that none of his brothers were there to witness his fear and desperation.

It was the last thing he needed.

However, still hating the oneiric sight of your heartbreak, Lucifer refused to stay in the office. Reading official documents and signing them with his beautifully practised handwriting seemed like proper torture now and he knew that going back to his work would only give him more suffering dreams.

Would you hug him for the rest of the night if he asked or would you rather have the roles reversed, as it usually was? Oh, what he would do to feel your fingers through his hair and your heartbeat under his cheek. He’d stay awake forever if that meant never letting you go the way he did in his dream.

.

Mammon – He wouldn’t admit the truth

He thought so lowly of you during your first week in the Devildom that once he caught feelings, admitting them was simply mortifying.

The second born, Avatar of Greed, falling in love with a human? It was embarrassing at best and pathetic at worst.

Yet, he followed you every step of the way. Going to classes, to the cafeteria, back to the house once the day was over...

As days went by, he even spent more time in your room than his; watching a movie, taking a nap, studying or just hanging out.

And when he wanted to do something else? Something more… illegal and underground?

Oh, you followed. You followed him just as blindly as he followed you.

It was painful, yet wonderful.

How full his chest felt whenever you smiled or even looked at him, the complicity in your conversations, the comfortable silence you shared.

The quiet sobs that closed his throat each time he insulted you because he accidentally showed too much of himself, the horrifying emptiness of his room that engulfed him when you finally had enough and wouldn’t let him visit you out of the blue anymore.

Your feelings for him were as clear as the ones he had for you, but none of them were spoken about.

Yours came and went, first hopeful and then neglected.

His stayed.

He still followed, you just didn’t look back anymore.

He woke up crying, body hyperventilating and sweating and mind still in the horror that his dream had created.

He recognized the sheets as the ones from his bed, but everything else looked blurry and too dark to pay attention to. However, Mammon could feel the spot next to him still warm and the silhouette of your figure was visible on the mattress. A quick glance at the door and the lights of the bathroom shining through helped set his heart in a steady pace.

You were there with him, unavailable for just a couple of minutes, but soon to return to the comfort of his arms. Your clothes were mixed with his on the sofa, he was charging his DDD with your charger because his was in your room.

Even if it was hard to say out loud, Mammon loved you too much to ever let you go, as did you.

There was no possibility of that nightmare ever being real.

“Did I wake you up?”

There you stood, above him, hair completely dishevelled, eyes half closed, either from grogginess or the temporary blindness from light exposure, and hands reaching out for him. Your fingers intertwined with his as soon as they found each other and your lips slowly came down to clumsily kiss the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” he softly laughed, quickly forgetting about the nightmare.

“Shut up, I can’t even see you”

He could only observe in tenderness and relief as you climbed over him, ignoring your side of the bed in favour of his entire torso, but, just when you were settling in, you licked your lips and stared at him, even if you weren’t entirely able to see.

“Baby, are you crying?”

“No, I’m not” he immediately answered in a defensive stance, blushing in embarrassment.

How could you know being blind as a mole?? Did you taste his tears when you kissed him?

“Mammon”

You tried to look serious, but the exhaustion betrayed you, turning your glare into a pout. He could’ve laughed at you, and he would’ve in any other situation, but the feeling of being too late to freely love you still crushed his heart and the only thing he wanted to do was to keep you close and hope you were still there by morning.

“I’m not crying” he insisted, this time in a softer tone.

That seemed to reach whatever was left of your consciousness, so you finally let your head fall on top of his chest to continue your slumber, talking one last time only to say what he needed to hear the most.

“I love you, Mams”

“I love you too” he sighed.

He’d tell you again once you were awake. And once more after that, just to make sure.

.

.

[sunnie-angel]

week 1 (oct. 4) | voice kink

✮⋆˙ baby (2.3k)

it's been a long, shitty day and all jason wants to do is call his baby back home. they have a great idea of how to make the day end on a high note

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, guided masturbation, phone sex, voice kink, exhibitionism, sub!jason

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason Todd throws himself onto the shitty motel bed and groans with relief. See, normally he wouldn’t collapse into bed right after a shower with his curls still damp but it’s been such a long day that he can’t be assed about flattening them on the cardboard thick pillow. He’s spent enough time since his rebirth to figure out how to make his curling hair look not terrible even after wearing a helmet for hours on end but the 18-metre tall intergalactic monster really killed any desire to make an effort.

Now Jason’s strictly a local guy – a hometown hero, if you will – but Dick had asked with his perfected puppy eyes and sickening earnestness and now here Jason is, all the way on the other side of the country from you and privately wanting a word with Lovecraft over just where he got his inspiration for Cthulu from. Somehow, due to unknown methods of persuasion (Dick’s puppy eyes), Jason had signed himself up to stay behind a second day just to make sure the quasi-scientifical-mostly-magical inter-dimensional crazy glue actually held the fabric of the universe together. So here he is, stuck in the least sleazy motel that had survived the day’s carnage with walls so paper thin he can hear Roy’s terrible singing echoing off the shower tiles. ‘Flawless victory’ or whatever the line is.

Too exhausted to change out of his towel or bother getting up to bang on the wall he shares with Roy, Jason paws at the night stand for his phone. Hopefully it’s had enough time to charge because he’s been itching to call home ever since he left the city boundaries. Listening to the phone ring, he closes his eyes, rests the back of his wrist across his forehead and waits. God he hopes you pick up.

“Hiya baby,” you greet him, voice tinny through the phone’s speakers. “You have fun fighting the creature from the deep? It was all over the news.”

“Remind me never to do Dick a favour ever again,” Jason grumbles. “Give me a crime lord with a hard on for sequins and leather any day. Never again.”

“Good, I don’t have to worry about you suddenly wanting to become a space man,” you snip back. Jason can just picture you nodding along with your words, already mentally discarding a desire that hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“See if I ever leave the state again! I had to spend 30 minutes in the shower trying to get the mysterious space gunk off and I don’t think any amount of washing is going to get my pants back to normal.” Genuinely Jason feels rubbed raw, the cheap bar soap in the bathroom basically doing nothing against the battle wreckage. He’s only glad he wore his second favourite pair of tac pants today. “Shit, I don’t think I even packed any spare underwear.”

“Oh so it’s that kind of phone call, huh?” your voice suddenly drops, low and purring where it was playful earlier.

“Wha– no, I didn’t– I mean,” Jason splutters. The motel room is suddenly boiling, AC probably on the fritz.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure you didn’t, baby,” you humor him. “Calling me up in nothing but a towel and lettin’ me know you don’t even have any underwear on.”  

“I just really need to do laundry!” is what comes out of Jason’s mouth in a mortifying mixture of embarrassment and growing horniness.

“All that talk about leather and showering, and you aren’t teasing me, hmm?” Jason can feel his hesitation crumbling at the sound of your voice, all whiskey and sin. “Left me alone for the whole weekend, aching for your touch. But you’re not teasing, right baby?”

“I wouldn’t wanna–“ Jason swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing, “–wanna leave you hangin’. But I uh, I don’t really know how to do this.” He whispers the last part like a secret, a confession of his innocence just for your ears. 

You laugh with delight, not even the busted speakers able to disguise the richness of it. Jason thinks he’d quite like to bathe in that sound.

“I’ve got you baby, you don’t need to worry about that. You just gotta come along for the ride. Can you do that? Just make yourself feel good with me?”

Jason nods, too lightheaded with how fast this conversation has changed direction to realize you can’t see him.

“Need you to use your words Jay,” you prompt him.

He flushes, embarrassment ripping through him.

“Y-yeah. I can do that. I can be sweet,” voice strangled in his throat. “But gotta– gotta be quiet ‘cause the walls are thin.”

“Okay! We can make quiet work. Baby’s first phone sex,” you say with palpable glee. Jason could swear he hears you rubbing your hands together, scheming. “Are you sitting or standing?”

“M’lying down,” he mumbles. “On the bed.” Jason’s trying to be helpful – he really is! – but the self-consciousness is creeping in, blurring out the edges of his vision. His room seems larger than it was an hour ago, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space that doesn’t have you in it. The terrible singing through the walls echoes.

“Why don’t you prop yourself up on the pillows, get yourself all nice and comfy,” you direct him. There’s a corresponding sound of rustling coming over your end of the phone as Jason adjusts himself. Tucks two pillows under his back and neck until he’s satisfied that this is probably what you want from him. The cheap duvet scratches at his back, fabric bunching up beneath him.

“What about you?” he asks, sinking back into the disappointingly thin pillows.

“Me? I’m lying in our big, empty bed. It’s a little cold without the blankets, you can see my nipples right through my shirt.” Jason has to swallow back a sudden mouthful of saliva at the image. “Oh! And I put a towel down because I don’t want to sleep in the wet spot later and I plan on you making me messy.”

Jason has to fight the audible click of his jaw to keep the phone balanced on the pillow beside him as his muscles tense.

“Yeah? All of that for me?” he manages to get out.

“Why would I ever wanna do this with anyone else?” Something warm and possessive curls through Jason’s gut. “Now, you still in that little towel you were telling me about?” you ask.

“Uh-huh, still damp too.”

“Bet your skin is all lovely and warm. Poor baby rubbed himself raw trying to get clean, bet my baby’s just so sensitive now,” you drawl.

Jason looks down at himself, flushed torso still beaded with water. The towel, loosely wrapped around his waist, does very little to hide his dick chubbing up. It would be embarrassing, how quickly he gets hard for you with just a few coy words, if it wasn’t so hot. A door slams in another room.

“S’cold here. Feels– feels real nice on me.” It’s true. The working AC blasts directly onto his heated skin, gooseflesh rising across his forearms.

“Good. Can you touch yourself baby – only above the waist – like I’m the one touching you. Want you to tell me as you do it.”

Jason swallows. Hard. Slowly drags a hand up across his torso to press his thumb into the divot of his collarbone. Lips part with anticipation.

“Your fingers are on m’clavicle,” he whispers.  Slowly he drags his hand down to cup his chest, nipples tight from cold and arousal. “Now you’re touchin’ my chest. Squeezing. M’skin’s so sensitive, feels real nice.”

“Yeah? You lettin’ me feel up your tits baby?” you whisper and Jason chokes. Feels something hot unfurl in his brain at hearing his chest called something so vulgar.

“They’re not– not– ” he stutters.

“Not what?” you cut him off. “Not tits? ‘Course they are, nice big handfuls too. Want you to cup your tits baby, want you to play with them.”

Jason does, cups each pec in a large hand and squeezes, marvels at how his tits spill out around his fingers even as he feels the blush crawling down his chest. The side of a finger brushes a nipple and he has to bite back a groan at the sensation. Arches his back just to get a better view, imagines your hands are the ones on him. You don’t stop talking the whole time.

“–that be fun? I bet I could make you come just from playing with your tits. But I wanna see that in person so let’s wait on that, hmm?”

If Jason’s brain wasn’t melting out of his ears, he’d be able to tell you exactly how big a fan he is of that idea. As it is, he manages a sort of hrnng in a register he’s never been able to hit without a sharp kick to the balls first. He freezes, but Roy’s awful banging about continues. Jason sighs in relief.

“Oh you would like that. Now, take one of those nice big hands of yours and wrap it around your throat. Don’t squeeze, just hold it there for me baby. Take your time and unwrap yourself for me.”

With his eyes closed, he can almost picture it’s your smaller hand a steadying weight across his collarbones. Idly he trails his other hand down his torso, lets it trace over scars and follows his happy trail down to where it meets the knotted towel.

“Words,  baby,” you prompt him and he has to fight the thick syrup in his veins to put a thought together.

“M’undoin’ the towel,” he whisper slurs.

The cold air finally hitting his damp cock is heady. It springs up, already drooling with pre and Jason knows he’s not gonna last much longer with you purring in his ear. He reaches down and grabs hold of himself, has to bite his lip and close his eyes against how raw it feels.

“Holdin’ the base. Gonna– gonna cum if I don’,” he pants. 

There’s rustling on the end of the line, slick wet sounds as you start to split yourself open on your own fingers. Something like pride throbs in his chest at the sound, that even all the way over here he can still get you desperate for him.

“Good baby, good,” you praise him and he puffs up at that, chest arching out. “Can take your hand off your throat now, want you to play with yourself.”

His other hand slowly trails down to join the first. Jason huffs when it brushes a particularly sensitive patch of skin, gooseflesh raised. He cradles his balls with it, feels how heavy and tight they already are from just some words and a few light touches. Rolls them in his palm and has to wheeze out a breath between clenched teeth at how goddamn good it feels.

“It’s– m’balls are heavy. Needta– needta come,” he grits out. Begging seems like a good idea, why hasn’t he tried begging yet? “Please?”

“Ye-ah baby,” you say. It’s the first time all night that your composure has slipped and Jason is preening at the slight hitch he put in your voice. “Want you to fuck your fist like you’re fucking me and then you come alright?” 

Jason can’t do much more than pant his agreement into the phone, voice stolen by the feeling of that first tentative stroke of his cock. God he wishes it was your hand, or better yet the hot, tight clutch of your body welcoming him home. With his hand slicked in pre and almost painfully tight, he can imagine its you sinking down around him with that cheshire cat grin of yours. Lewd, wet sounds of flesh on flesh fill the motel room as Jason works himself over. Sets a vicious twist of his wrist to the end of each stroke that has him gasping for air, hips bucking up to meet it. His teeth ache with the strength of his desire to come, something hot and heavy gathering low at the base of his spine.

“M’close,” he grunts, wants to give you what you want.

The wet, filthy sounds from your end of the line speed up in their intensity.

“Wanna hear you when you come baby,” you gasp, all pretense dissolved under the building pleasure.

And Jason wants to be good but, but–

“Roy’s– Roy’s gonna hear.”

“Yeah? What’s he gonna hear? You being a good boy for me baby, doing exactly as your told? He gonna hear just how desperate your are to get your dick wet for me?”

Jason goddamn whines, high and wanton and desperate for your approval. The singing from next door abruptly stops. I hope that doesn’t awaken anything in me, Jason thinks hysterically before he stops thinking at all.

He comes babbling your name like a holy catechism, cum spurting all over his fist and belly. Muscles spasming under skin that feels too tight, mouth drier than dirt. Spent and over-sensitive, he lets go of his dick just as he hears your own orgasm take you under. Jelly limbed and feeling better than he has all day, he lolls cum drunk on the bed. Two sharp rapid knocks on the wall startle him but do nothing to cut through the lovely post-orgasmic high. If anyone deserves to be a little out of it in this moment, it’s him.

“Saw you took a pretty bad tumble...” you trail off leadingly, voice lilting upwards.

“Looked a lot worse than it was. Medics gave me a clean bill of health and everything.” It’s odd to be the one doing the soothing, Jason thinks, still fucked out and blinking away stars.

“But you’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?” you press him.

“Course baby, you’d be the first person I call.”

[petermorwood]

Recently I got roped (ha) into an Age of Sail roleplay, and decided I wanted to play the ship's cook. I then realized I don't know too much about provisioning a ship in the Age of Sail! I figured you'd be the sort of fellow to know where I could find resources on that kind of information though?

Well, for a start I recommend sending a similar Ask to @ltwilliammowett (Beat To Quarters) who knows far more about The Age of Sail / Wooden Ships & Iron Men subject than I do.

*****

In the meanwhile here are a couple of books, both of which you may well be able to get through your library, or buy pretty cheaply for your research library. They're also an entertaining read.

The first was recommended to me by Terry Pratchett - "'If you haven't read it, you should!" - when we were at a con together and he was researching "Nation".

It's "Feeding Nelson's Navy" by Janet MacDonald, available here as an ebook and from Amazon as a Kindle Unlimited free read.

The second is "Lobscouse & Spotted Dog" by Anne Chotzinoff Grossman & Lisa Grossman Thomas.

Funny how both books use the same period image - "Shipmates Carousing Below Decks" by William Pyne - as cover art.

"Lobscouse" deals with the same period as "Navy", while also being the author-approved official cookbook of Patrick O'Brian's "Aubrey / Maturin" novels.

Here's a Reddit about making dishes from it, and here's a blog page about making Spotted Dog and why Suet Makes a Difference.

I've already posted about the role correct cooking fats play in making traditional dishes "taste right", and since Atora brand makes both carnivore and vegetarian suets, it's worth tracking down.

Here's a blog page which summarises the Age of Sail diet - think of it as an exam crib to tide you over until you get the books and learn more.

*****

Here's Max Miller of "Tasting History" making lobscouse:

And here are Dylan Hollis and Max making that ubiquitous on-board delicacy and culinary ingredient, ship's biscuit (hardtack / hard-tack / hard tack).

Something very similar was still issued as a ration item at the beginning of the 20th century and into World War One. J.R.R. Tolkien would certainly have encountered Biscuits, Ration, H&P, Army No.4...

...and may well have used them as a basis for the waybread "cram" as mentioned in "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". This description has the ring (hah!) of familiarity about it.

"If you want to know what cram is, I can only say that I don’t know the recipe; but it is biscuitish, keeps good indefinitely, is supposed to be sustaining, and is certainly not entertaining, being in fact very uninteresting except as a chewing exercise." "The Hobbit" ch.13, "Not at Home"

No.4 biscuits were so hard that soldiers could use them as substitutes for wood...

...and Nelson's sailors probably did the same with theirs.

*****

Terry Pratchett took this wooden quality and - with the dial turned up to eleven - transformed it into the rocky quality of Dwarf bread.

Here's a health nut's real-life version of a healthy nut loaf...

...while this is an example of sedimentary conglomerate rock.

With a bit of judicious cropping, the captions could be swapped and a casual glance would never notice.

Of course this post wouldn't be complete without a certain GIF.

So...

*****

To finish, a few links to more video.

One (12 years ago).

Two - 1 year, including some of the ship's biscuit made in that first one (!)

Three - also 1 year, featuring other dishes - pease pudding ("dog's body"), lobscouse and plum duff. Oh, and ship's biscuit ...

Those are from Townsends, another great source for 18th century food and cooking.

This last example is by Dan Snow, in an extract from a longer History Hits documentary, and is a short general overview of period Navy rations - and of course, ship's biscuit... :->

HTH !

[vyzz-undercover]

the voices have made this happen

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(5,900ish words) (OUUGHHHHH)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon

•hints of size kink [obligatory]

•vaginal fingering

•oral [f receiving]

•mild possessive behaviour

•the consequences of ignoring important medical devices

•mentions of (hypothetical) torture

•tumblrs recurringly cancerous formatting

———————————————————————————————————

im back on my bullshit after having to do overnights so as payment to the dark gods of whoring and degeneracy i humbly offer this taglist of sweet darling who've indulged my insanity: @the-raven-lady, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @bispecsual, @lemon-russ, @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @egrets-not-regrets, @moodymisty, @sinistermojo, @justeverythingnothingelse, @pluvio-tea, @thevoidscreams, @beckyninja, @yestheantichrist!!! if you wanna be tagged (or not) in the next let me know!!! also it may take me longer to do a part four to this namely because ive got more wageslaving ahead of me soon but alas i'll definitely have rowboat girlyman catch em. also maybe give cato some top. myehehehehe,,, AND THANK YOU FOR READING AS USUAL ILY ALL!!! :3

———————————————————————————————————

Cato is just about leaving.

After having spent the better part of an hour discussing the predicted destruction pathway of a hive-fleet on the system's rim with his Father; it sends his balls into his throat when you nearly run into him in the chamber's huge archway.

It only takes a fraction of a second to catalogue your presence.

You're wearing the same utilitarian blue robe as you had been last week again.

Last week, when he'd been pounding you insensible on a lounge in the library—Cato promptly quashes the insidious memory, smothering down any sort of reaction. But there is a change in comparison to the dizzying reminder: there's a new addition to the reoccurring outfit.

You've brought a navy, high-collared turtleneck into the mix, layered below your lapels.

So, the efforts of his mouth hadn't gone unheeded, then.

Throne, if he's not smug, he's got no bloody clue what he is.

Cato steps aside and turns to allow you entrance first before his exit.

"Commander Sicarius," you lilt with a soft voice and a small downward tip of your chin, all while holding his gaze.

He's transfixed periodically at the honeyed sort of warmth in your eyes.

Despite himself, he lingers and greets you with a slow, "Lady Ambassador."

The left side of his mouth twitches upward in a half-aborted smirk that he quickly tries to mask as a stern, frown-nod combination.

You break the staring match and Cato's confident he's salvaged his slip-up without detection.

Or not—because oh, fuck—if he doesn't feel the burning focus of a Primarch's eyes boring a hole into the side of his head like a brand.

It only lasts an instant, but the second is an eternity to him.

Of course, you're oblivious to this subtle exchange—and promptly trot past him to his Father's vast desk.

"My Lord Primarch," you say with a curt little bow; and then Guilliman's attention is solely on you, his favourite little pet project. "I read the data-drives you instructed from the preceding article logging. I've arranged them back to the most recent mark counts."

You're looking for an empty spot to lay them on his table, but with all the meticulously arranged stacks, it's none too easy to find one.

"Perfect," the Primarch breaths, "Just on the side there is fine, don't worry."

Obligingly, you lay them atop a small mountain of paperwork.

"Do you need anything else of me, my Lord?" You chirp brightly, the tone of your voice so very painfully sweet—Cato is nearly overwhelmed fighting a pitched battle against the urge to run over, pick you up and shake you around suddenly.

Guilliman chuckles, waving one massive hand about vaguely, "You've done more than enough for me today, why don't we leave it at that for now, hm? Go on."

"Of course; thank you, and have a good evening, my Lord," You say, bow once more, and turn on your heel from the Primarch, and—and smile at Cato as you walk back towards the exit. That's—that's the first time you've smiled at him. His twin hearts lurch, slamming forward against the inside of his fused chest cavity. It's perfect abominable. You rotten temptress, he's—he's going to rectify that audacity later. Or now, if you're... possibly heading the same direction he is. Which is whatever direction you're going, purely by chance.

It's merely coincidence, he swears.

He's certainly not planning on hounding after you like a dog tailing a bitch in heat.

He's certainly not going to drag you into a side room the second he's sure no-one with a credible opinion's around.

He's certainly not going to indulge in anything heretical, like bending you bare over his knee for daring to taunt him.

Cato makes as if to fall in step behind you as you pass the threshold before him, but is quickly halted by his Father's curt, "I do not believe you have been dismissed, Cato."

He's never been subjected to such sinking dread quite so nonchalantly.

"Approach."

Cato complies stuffily, sparing a glance at your figure disappearing down the corridor before acquiescing. He's practically dragging his ceramite boots across the intricate rugs as he nears the Primarch's seated but colossal form.

Guilliman isn't looking at him, having had returned to notating a miscellaneous form.

The scritch-scratch of his gene-sire's preferred, yet archaic method of manually writing on the parchment is like someone grating a plate with a fork to his ears right now.

"You've gotten over your petty grievances regarding the Ambassador at last, I take it?" Guilliman asks, without looking up.

It is not Cato's duty to like or dislike. Nor is it to be biased without reason—his opinions are to be intellectual, not emotional. His duty is to assess, analyse and provide feedback, so that his Primarch can take it into account when making rulings and decisions.

Cato swallows around the proverbial hunk of drywall lodged in his throat and answers, "She has proven herself... useful, yes, sire."

Guilliman finally meets his eyes but says nothing for a short while. There's dark bags under his Primarch's eyes, and the deep, stern crease permanently between his dark blonde brows is a slight bit harsher, but the only thing Cato can parse out of the expression's intent is a vague sense of knowing. Because, insofar, he's thought himself quite adept at reading his Primarch; and rather well versed in deciphering the intricacies of his moods.

And right now, he feels like he's being read like an open manuscript.

The daunting prospect Cato's caught sinks it's teeth in his gullet. It's impossible, he's not left any room for suspicion, he's covered his tracks—there's no logical reason why he should be getting raked with such a look.

His gene-sire isn't a psyker nor omniscient, just impossibly intelligent—and so absurdly good at the mathematics of plotting and planning that it only appears superficially as if he is all-seeing. He can't possibly know what Cato has been doing—or rather, who he's been doing.

"It's about time," his Father hums abruptly, suddenly disinterested. "Now you're dismissed."

Cato nods, turns on his boot heel, and nigh bolts marches out the room. His proverbial tail definitely not between his legs.

The hall outside Guilliman's apartments is a central domed area that functions as a meeting area, where people go to one of six looming hallways. It's the bottom of a series of levels; and above, three echelons encircled by arcades and balustrades, framed on the exterior by engaged columns.

But the structure itself is immense and ancient, even by Imperial standards. One of the few still-original, unaltered parts of the great Gloriana-class warship's innards. It is doused in long swathes of red carpet and great standards of Magcraggian note, alongside glorious, heroic frescoes depicting Legiones Astartes in their thousands, crusading across the heavens with the Emperor their head.

Cato keeps his head down as he passes them, uneasy with guilt. Feeling as if their lenses are following him—intent on venturing into the lower layers to brood.

Several Astartes are hovering about amongst the personnel and serfs. The baselines look up at him in awe, and his Brothers nod in respect, but he pays them all no mind.

The furthest corridor beckons him, and so he goes; down the complex system of broad walks with high, barrel vault ceilings, mazing through the vessel's higher clearance reaches like arteries through a body.

Cato is seething, and self-admittedly itching to take a howler of a swing at the next thing that speaks to him.

He cuts down the southern channel and sees one of his subordinate Victrix Guard lingering in the middle of a groin vault intersection.

The younger Astartes is about to continue straight, yet he pauses.

Brother Marcellus meets Cato's eyes for a second, clearly notes his Commander's absolutely stinking mood from a hundred meters off; nods, swallows, takes a step backward—and changes direction to go left rather than pass him.

Cato's too pissed to even linger on the strangeness of the action.

Still, he doesn't rightly blame him.

Cato strides on, back straight, chin up—the red shawl pinned beneath his pauldrons swirling behind him.

His thoughts are eating at him the whole while.

He's sure his Primarch is just trying to innocently divine his sudden change of mind regarding you. There's no way his Father's aware of why. And yet, guilt is a big black wolf nipping at his ankles, making him hasten; and unease clouds about his heart. He's mortified, for lack of a better word.

The full implications of the situation are too enormous to be faced all at once; so he picks the smallest, most banal facet he can think of.

That being, you.

You, who he'll never see again if his Primarch finds out.

You, who's practically damned him without knowing it.

You, who he's now valiantly trying not to imagine in a hundred different circumstances where he gets away with it all. Each one more heretical than the last—it's like it was before he'd managed a hand on you: his body giving in to suffocating delusions, sleepless in his cot; lapping at whatever scant, lust-soaked morsels his mind offers up.

One of his favourites remains you scantily clad beneath a moonlit night sky, on the parapet of his ancestral fortress on the coastal edge of Perusia.

He likes to fantasise you like it there.

He suspects you would.

He knows just about all there is to know about you on paper, and wonders if you know much of Talassar. Or if you've read about Castra Tanagra. He assumes Guilliman would share the tale of that famed old battle with you as a part of your readings.

Each impossible reverie is a new shiny nail in his coffin, or dreadnaut—it depends where and how he dies, and if there's anything scrape up of him when he eventually goes down in a blaze of glory and duty, and honour.

If his Primarch catches him, there's going to be none of that.

He'll be struck from living record, like Titus had been. Cato would be lucky to get a little plaque in the deepest pits of the Fortress of Hera. Reduced to a whispered memory of his achievements passed solemnly between Captains, followed up with words of disappointment. Of waste. Until his memory dies with them and his deeds fade into obscurity, lost to any new brothers.

The fate that awaits you would somehow be worse. Cato was always going to die in war, as was his right—but you—you were not fashioned for such things. Yes, Guilliman enjoys you, but that fact won't save you. Just like it won't save Cato for all his usefulness. You'd be tried as a heretic, as a source of corruption upon the Legiones, and you'd be made to suffer; because torture ever comes before execution. You're so very soft weak in so very many ways. Your life lived in a gilded cage, without pain nor discomfort that extends further than grating professional grievances—he doesn't want to imagine the sound of you screaming, but he does.

He cannot stand the thought.

The sudden urge to barricade you in his chambers for permanent safe keeping is all-consuming.

It's suddenly all he can think about.

He has to find you.

The amount of serfs passing and parting to allow his passage thin out to nothing.

Even from the sterile confines of one of the many winding hallways, Cato abruptly swears he can hear the echoed rush of sandals—your sandals—reverberating off the floor.

He hadn't notice you following behind immediately because, damn it, he's spiralling thinking.

He chances a confrontation, and rounds about-face.

You stand there in the middle of the empty hallway like you've got a bolter aimed at you, frozen.

"Come here," he says, clipped.

You do not.

"Come here."

Again, no compliance.

"Do you pride yourself on being a idiot?" His voice is scathing now, taking a heavy step into your space and being met by you staying stock stiff, still. "Do you have any idea what that stunt of yours earlier might incur?"

"What?" You blink, finally animating. "I didn't do anything—"

"You know what you did," he hisses, accusatory. "You're hollow between the ears, but you're not blind."

Lips pursing tightly in mental deliberation, you make a fey noise of annoyance as a little frown graces your features, apparently not deigning to offer a comment back.

"Do you not understand that... this," he gesticulates between you both and his voice falls to a whisper. "This... is not common allowance?"

"It's not?"

Are you being intentionally dense at this point, or is it just second nature?

Cato raises a hand to knead the crease between his brows, "No."

"That explains a lot, actually," you say, seemingly without any real comprehension on the gravity of the matter. "I couldn't find any notes or references on it."

He's genuinely stunned, "Is that what you were doing when—"

"When I was rudely interrupted," you cut in, the comment is nigh a spat insult.

Cato isn't sure what to say to that sudden display of spine, and grumbles.

He surmises the optimal action is complete disregard.

Therefore, he has no problem turning on the heel of his sabatons and starting his pace on again.

"So... this isn't normal by Astartes standards?"

He's taken aback at your abrupt want for conversation after all that. Namely because it's atypical. You never attempted small talk with him. You never do anything but scurry off when he's accosted you for you flagrant overstepping—wait.

He feels as if the paradigm between you both has shifted again since the last time for some reason. More than last time, actually. More than you just simply having the audacity to backtalk him.

It's like some symptom of a deeper sickness rising to the surface.

It makes him unreasonably curious suspicious.

He wants to see just how much ground you'll give, so he plays along and answers, "Not as far as I am aware, no."

You hum, and immediately are at it again, posturing, "Surely you have heard of cases of it happening?"

"I have not," Cato says, and you hum in consideration.

You're satisfied at that information for a brief while, but then he remembers you cannot shut your mouth for more than five minutes, and purses his lips. He's already tiring of your incessant questioning.

"But you'd done it before?"

And that's just great.

You've expertly found an exposed nerve.

More kindling on the bonfire of him having an aneurysm before the cycle's end.

Cato can feel the hint of pressure behind his eyes as he begins increasing his walking speed. "I don't think that is a relevant question."

You haste to stay in step, "It definitely is."

"You ought to learn a civil fucking tongue when you're addressing me, woman," he bites out, nose crinkling into a sneer.

Unperturbed by his short-tempered comment, another thoughtful little 'hmm' slips out of you.

"So, to conclude... you where as inexperienced as I was at the start, and all those gloating insults back then were just projection?" You suddenly blurt out at rather impressive speed, like a politician possessed—before finishing with, "Sorry, 'all those gloating insults back then were just projection,' Commander Sicarius."

Cato grits his teeth and feels his eye twitch.

He stops, turns to look over his pauldron, and stares bloody murder.

He can't even imagine the idiocy in your brain that gave you the imprimatur to say that aloud.

But Throne, the sly little glint in your pretty eyes suddenly has his face thudding with heat.

Then you smile at him for the second time ever.

Cato bites back the urge to ogle you dumbly, and actually feels himself thicken in his body-glove in real time, because oh, fuck—his hind brain practically pelts him across the jaw with the mental pict of that sweet mouth lathing up the side of his cock.

Mentally unseated for a moment, his brows furrow; and he quickly turns away, applying himself entirely to the task of trudging down the stagings.

The silence is a breath of fresh air.

Even if he can still hear your laboured breathing a few steps back him from him. You're straining to keep up with his pace, and it's an excellent punishment for you. His heavy sabatons clank-clank-clank on the steel decking, and your little shoes practically pitter-patter in contrast. It's a syncopated rhythm that he's absentmindedly trying to match—and when he lingers for a step he manages to even the beat out.

He hangs a left, and scales the wide stairs to the open intersection platform above two at a time; trying not to snort amusedly at the little groan you let out as you hurry up them behind him, heaving.

Cato realises abruptly that you're actually, really, seriously following him—and pretending you're not.

He makes a right at the top and then waits for you to fall in step.

And, pointedly, he then turns and doubles back around.

You stand there stupefied for a moment, before grumbling softly and continuing down the thoroughfare without him.

If his observation skills hold any weight, he heads straight into the nearest open room and waits for you to follow.

He doesn't activate the locking mechanism on the other side on purpose when he strides in, and lets the sliding door close behind him.

This particular room is forgettable in its ubiquitousness, though unusual. He has no idea of it's actual intended purpose. It's fitted with screens and database terminals as if it's for debriefing purposes, but he has no real way of confirming. What he can catalogue is that there's wraparound surfaces littered with candles. A few strips of harsh lighting and scant furniture—a tallish counter and a few long benches. They're thankfully Astartes sized.

Which means he can sit down and pray for you to walk right into the metaphorical snare he's just laid.

Not a minute later, the door's sliding mechanism triggers and you scurry through—only to promptly go stiff.

You stare at him like a rat he's just found by lifting a crate.

The mechanism shuts automatically behind you and it apparently spooks you enough to jump a little.

"You're disgustingly predictable," he harrumphs, unimpressed.

A flush rises to your face as you scowl, "You're disgustingly predictable," you shoot back, echoing his words.

Of course, that audacity of yours leads to a short stalemate.

He huffs out a sigh as he concedes out of sheer frustration and says, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one."

You blink dumbly at him, "...what?"

"It's my locking code," he growls, and Throne, you must be acting stupid just to grate him; because there's no way your brain is so smooth as to not connect the dots. "It's for the door, moron."

A soft 'ohh' leaves you as you turn and step aside to the key pad fixed into the frame.

"Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," he's agonisingly forced to say once again.

"Three-nine-five-eight-eight-two-seven-one..." you mumble to yourself.

Cato hears an angry beep and suddenly wants to smash his head into a wall repeatedly.

Grinding his molars, he snarls, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," and then adds, "If I have to repeat that one more time, I'm going to throw you out of the nearest airlock."

And it seems the threat of violence works wonders, because you don't bungle the input this time.

Cato sighs, exasperated, and leans back against the lip of the table behind the bench.

He ought to start carrying around a correctional stun rod. Just for whenever you annoy him. If it's good enough for a Neophyte to suffer, it's good enough for you, he supposes.

Or it'll send you into a seizing fit.

He's not to sure of the maximum voltage a baseline can take without their singular, puny little heart giving out.

One disciplinary option scratched out, then.

But he can think of many, many more to make a model Ambassador out of you. The wonders of carefully applied violence are plentiful. A little roughing up never hurts, or at least, not for long. And fuck, do you need some lessons on proper manners. He could have you smacked into shape like a show pony in no time—even if it'd be more like teaching a grox to trot lateral movements. Then again, he also believes if he stuck a frag far enough up a Carnifex's ass, he could probably get it to play Regicide.

And then pointedly, he starts thinking about your ass.

Cato is so utterly lost on the tangent of hypotheticals that he's flabbergasted when a small mouth lands on his own.

He hadn't even been paying attention.

He hadn't even noticed you'd neared.

It feels like the breath has been knocked out him at the sheer unexpectedness of it.

The kiss is hasty, your eyes scrunched shut and cheeks flushed, scowling with focus.

All the while, his mind reels because Throne, the contact of his lips to yours doesn't really feel particularly profound aside from how soft your skin is—but the intention of it is the real reward.

Cato's genuinely infuriated when you pull away.

You blink owlishly at him, giving him a cautious look like you're trying to gauge his reaction.

There are a thousand things he wants to ask, to say, but the foremost among them is but one.

"Again," he huffs, lessening the distance between you just enough to invite you back.

And he thinks that perhaps he’s abusing his station over you, but when you tentatively find a hold on his gorget to steady yourself to give him another kiss—those thoughts are all but erased from his mind. It's a curious weight off his shoulders to have you initiate and to show you want him in return, especially since it's as new to you as it is for him.

Nonetheless, he can't even imagine finding a reason to stop you, so he starts blindly mouthing; trying to coordinate around the fact he's so much larger than you.

The angle is difficult, but he's willing to follow your lead. Your body is even more fragile when he's in full armour. The risk of actually hurting you is realer than ever, but he can't help the desire to wrap an gauntlet around your waist and pull you closer to him. Thankfully, you let him when he urges you to, trembling hands flitting across his chestplate like you're unsure of what, exactly, you should be holding—and he catches the tiny line between your brows smoothing out as you risk a peek. Only for you to yelp, nervously wrenching yourself back in flustered surprise upon meeting his unwavering stare.

It's as if you expected something else.

He senses he's made a mistake of some kind.

Then he remembers from the motion-picts he's not supposed to keep glaring at you when kissing.

Regardless, he studies your face, memorising the lingering want still clearly there like his life depends on it.

He pulls you in and kisses you again, just because he can, this time brief and chaste. And then he goes for a third, fourth—fifth, each time slightly longer, until finally he rears back; and when he does you push up on your toes just a little, trying to chase him, but lose the nerve; although to Cato the reason for your faltering is, frankly, irrelevant. Because just like him, you lack the practical capacity to really know what next step you should take. Still, you look down at his armour, as if there's a latch to pull that magically undoes all his wargear.

He knows he's not going to get himself out of his armour in any reasonable way or amount of time.

There's no way he's getting the satisfaction of having you on him right now—but he still wants to keep you near.

He thinks he hears you ask for something, but he's too distracted to catch it in time.

"What?" Cato scowls, "What do you want now?"

It's clear you've been struck by your own embarrassment, strung up somewhere between shy and wanton, "I.. uh..."

"Spit it out," he rumbles.

You wince, hesitant as you mumble, "You, uh... i-in me."

Cato's brain skids to a halt. And it's the gall of that request alone that has him sweeping you up off the ground and spinning you around to sit in his lap.

It's obvious you're overwhelmed at being held to the formidably larger size of himself in full-plate. But as usual, you're yet to actively complain. Using his vambrace as a leg-bar to scoop under your thighs, he folds you in his grasp—your knees pressed to your chest as you're tucked back against his pauldron and chestplate.

The angle forces the hems of your robe aside, and he can see the underside curve of your ass; along with the plump mound of your vulva under the white of your small-clothes.

Cato's suddenly offended by their existence. You didn't wear any last time, so why now? The irritation of there being one more thing between you and him is enough justification to yank at them, tearing them loose—before throwing them aside.

You grumble sourly, which he chooses to ignore.

The palm of his gauntlet smooths across your hip, and you make a small huff as you shiver, goose-bumps suddenly covering your exposed flesh.

Cato lets the pads graze closer and closer to your sex, content to watch you impatiently glare at his armoured fingers from between the gap of your thighs.

With little preamble, he's stuffing his middle in. You're already so wet it's practically a cake-walk. Your cunt swallows down each articulating segment of his armoured finger down to the knuckle. The fact he's going to have to personally scrub your slick out from between the joints, instead of a lowly serf, is infinitely worth the shrill whine he receives as tribute.

"Would that my wargear had a zipper," he breathes, and fuck, he grins behind the obscurity of his gorget at the mournful mewl that remark earns. "I'd have you on your knees sucking for all the cunted trouble you've caused me."

You're making a warp-awful attempt at keeping yourself together, high-strung as you evidently are. Little more than a minute of him pumping his finger in and out of you has you red-faced and panting. All it takes to get those heavy breaths of yours to change into proper whines is his large thumb-pad adjusting to rest on your clit, applying pressure. You jerk, reflexively trying to buck into every motion. Fighting and failing to withhold the stuffy little moans escaping you—trying to stave off the inevitable by scrambling at the thigh plating of his power armour with one hand and tugging at his couter with the other.

Some part of Cato wants to stop solely out of spite for you being so grating earlier, or some other stupid mercurial justification of his; but instead, he simply continues, letting you squirm on his fingers.

And squirm you do.

It's clear to him the tide of it all is becoming too much for you to resist. Your sandal'd feet kick out where he's got your legs secured, joining in on the struggling as it begins anew when his thumb starts circling. It's a good sign, so he adds his pointer into you to bolster the stretch, curling in; before letting his fingers fan out inside you, stretching rather than stabbing. Your hips try to stutter forward in time with the quick thrusting of his digits, broken whimpers resonating off the room's walls. He promptly stuffs down to the knuckle and curls them again—and you all but bleat his surname as you're dragged into a fast and apparently exhausting orgasm. Just knowing he's you got you beat has his erection ache where it's trapped under the suiting and plating of his navel.

Cato can't feel you clenching through all the layers separating his skin from yours, but he knows from experience that you're seizing in fits internally—tight little cunt trying to milk a load out of an Astartes cock that should've been stuffed in you.

Just to allow himself one last bit of smugness, he scissors his fingers; giving a final swirl for good measure.

The shivered sob is worth every possible future disciplinary action he'll receive.

He pulls his gauntlet away slowly, and the wet shlick of it leaving you is almost amusingly alike pulling a blade from sinew. It's a degenerate comparison, he knows, but it's true.

Nonetheless, he splays out his hand and swallows dryly, eyeing the sticky, clear liquid webbing out and thinning between each ridge of his gauntlet'd digits.

Suddenly focused entirely on the fluid on his fingers, he pulls his vambrace barring under your knees up away. Now limp, and without the support, you slide off his lap and onto the floor in a slow slump.

"Nn-ngh," You groan weakly, face-down, legs still juddering a little.

Seeing as you're preoccupied, Cato doesn't even dignify the concept of hesitation, and promptly jams his fingers in his mouth—lathing the aftermath of your orgasm from them. And Throne, the taste of your hormones make him groan. He's absolutely stunned, unsure of how to act. He's so fucking stupid, why didn't he do this earlier? He's practically drugged by the omophagic aftereffect—getting off on your second hand bliss. Some sort of fey feedback loop in his brain catalysing his next decision solely on instinct.

He clambers to the floor and gets to his knees guards, securing a mitt on your bared thigh to roll you onto your back.

Apparently boneless with afterglow, you're easy to manhandle.

You barely have the strength to do much more than crane your head up at him and whine as he arranges your thighs apart, settling on his front between them with a warp-awful clank; before lifting your legs up to rest onto either lip of his gorget.

You try to scud back on your ass suddenly, but are quickly halted when he holds you fast by the hip.

He raises a confused brow.

"I-Isn't—" you start, still gathering the scraps of your brain together so soon post-orgasm, "Isn't y-your saliva acid?"

Cato suddenly wants to cuff you on the ear, "Who the hell told you that?"

"M-Master Calgar," you mumble.

Oh, of course, the gossiping hen.

He's going to have words with the Lord Defender of Greater Ultramar the next time they meet—words like 'for fuck sakes, stop scaring the woman he's trying to eat out with talk of Betcher's gland, Marneus,' come to mind, but then Cato realises that doesn't sound like he's not fucking you, so he quickly settles on: 'stop dignifying the Ambassador's hundred-and-one insane questions.'

"Not Ultramarines," Cato manages not to snarl, "It's a vestigial organ in most of us."

Your voice is shaky as you parrot, "Most of us?"

"Yes," He grunts, and promptly buries his face in your cunt.

The disproportion in size is painfully apparent when he realises his whole damned tongue is able to drag a stripe up the entire splay of you with minimal effort.

The pitched gasp he wins out of you is pure sin, and he's on the brink of swooning; but then you're running your trap again.

"Please, d-don't tell me you're one that can spit acid—" you manage to warble, seemingly still stuck on the topic.

Cato sighs as he's forced to pull away from your vulva, "I think you're forgetting I had my tongue on your tonsils in the library."

"Th-that's different," you stammer. "That's not as sensitive."

A long, unimpressed deadpan paints itself on his face.

"So," he starts with a bated hiss, "And let me be perfectly clear in this—you believe your vagina is more susceptible to burns than your mouth?"

Your face transforms into a strange mix of embarrassed and angry.

"I didn't say that—"

"Yes, you did," Cato grumbles.

"Did not," you huff.

"You—you just fucking did," he snaps, frustrated enough that he can feel one of the veins at his temple bulge. "The implication is obvious, you insufferable little whore."

You snort, but stay silent.

The argument appears, for all intents and purposes, to be finished.

"Did not," you say abruptly once more, pouting.

Cato's eyes roll back in his skull as he grits his teeth.

"Throne of Terra, if you don't drop the subject, acid in your cunt will be the least of your worries," he all but snarls, and that apparently quietens you enough that he can get back to lapping at you—the flat of his tongue running over your clit and earning a jolt.

He wraps his lips around the pink little nub and sucks. And that's all it apparently takes to make up for his amateur career in the practice.

You siphon down a sharp breath and let out a garbled cry, hips canting forward into his mouth—to which he obligingly stuffs his tongue into your slick entrance.

There's a satisfaction well beyond simple pleasure that swamps him at the way your thighs shake either side of his head. His own breath is hot about him, stuffy and dizzying; and the skin pressed against his cheeks is warm and smooth.

You're panting when he goes back to lapping over your clit, perching yourself up on a bent elbow and reaching out a hand.

Your fingers card through the messed brown hair atop his head. And he stiffens without realising—but he realises something: like this, the touch is ecstasy—pure, golden ecstasy. Every bit of higher thought in his head evaporates when you stroke him again.

A long, rumbling subvocal moan tears from him.

The infrasound vibration makes you buck weakly into his mouth again, teary eyed afore him as he adjusts his grip on you and crawls closer.

He's suddenly acutely aware that in this new, much more prone position, he's able to grind his body armour into his groin guard pressed on the floor. And as soon as the action bears results—namely a scorching burr of pleasure racing up his spine—he's deadset on rutting against the ground like a slavering beast.

He's frotting himself at a pace so rabid it'd be cruel to subject your cunt to. It's brutal, and the harsh scraping sound of plasteel on steel only further proves that. It's just frantic lust—he's desperate.

It's complete insanity how close to finishing he is so quickly.

Not as close as you, though.

He can feel how your legs jump with each pass of his tongue; and then you're unraveling in front of his very eyes.

"I-I can't—I can't, S-Sicarius, I-I—" You ramble, dazed, trying to get away as he works you right through it, sobbing and oversensitive while he's rutting himself closer and closer to his own end.

It all comes to a head when your fingers dig into his hair, tugging—and his brain is overrun with static. A drawn out groan scathes from his maw as any sense of rhythm scatters like light through a prism. For a fraction of a second, the pleasure is serene.

Then it's abject agony, he feels—he feels like Roboute Guilliman himself has just taken a running start and kicked him in the balls.

"F-Fuck–ing—gh—" he chokes, vision swimming, straining against the tide of the torment. His back arches up, and he curls inward on himself; white-hot pain clocking his nervous system into overdrive. Every muscle in his abdomen is doused in acid. He's tolerated being shot, stabbed, burnt without so much as blinking—but this is an entirely new and entirely different sort of wound. It's like he's pissing promethium. It's—it's the catheter, he realises. He'd forgotten about the bloody catheter jammed up his cock.

Through the searing ordeal, he manages to force his armour's facilities to finally abide his impulses and dose him with a pain dampener.

And then everything's fine.

He opens eyes he wasn't aware he'd closed and finds your face has suddenly gotten far closer to his.

"S-Sicarius?" You stammer, and there's an honest panic in your voice. "Sicarius, p-please, please—a-are you okay?"

He realises he's on his back, and you're sitting beside him, half draped on his chestplate, frantically trying to figure out what's wrong with him to no avail.

You've leaned in so close he can feel your rushed breathing.

"I'm fine," Cato groans, and you sputter out a sigh.

"I-I don't know what happened, I-I—" you're still wildly confused and raving, and he inhales deeply; only to be greeted by the sour animal stink of fear practically dripping from you.

Cato rolls his tongue around inside his mouth and cringes knowingly at the foaming side-effect of the chem he'd self-administered, the acrid taste mixed with your slick is certainly not an ideal cocktail.

The sincerity of concern behind your reaction is baffling. He's not made of glass, for fuck sakes—and he's a bit pissy about the fact you'd actually fallen victim to the idea of him suffering some grievous injury so easily. But he supposes where there's a will of baseline overreaction, there's a way.

"You're acting like a child, woman. Pull yourself together," he sighs hoarsely, hoping the comment jars you out of your hysteria—or at the very least scares you off.

It does exactly neither, and you sidle in closer and rest your cheek on his jaw.

It’s an action so overwhelmingly horribly affectionate that it would’ve been a crime to not press into it with a lean of his head. Or, at least, that's the half-assed justification he tells himself.

Because he's loving enduring your attention, not seeking it; and therefore only humouring you when he lifts a hand and settles the wide splay of it on your flank as a comfort.

He shouldn't be, but he is.

[lyraoftheevergreens]

The Realms Enchantress

Chapter 3

NSFW MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader!Niece, Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Female!OC,

Summary: For years Daemon never had a care in the world just, sex, wine and a good battle. With the exception of his favorite niece. His little dragon he called her. He swore to be there for her and he got himself exiled when she needed him the most. Now, he returns from war at the step stones and is determined to get her back. No matter the cost.

Warnings: minor errors in spelling and grammar, Targaryen Inscest, mentions of sex, oral female and male receiving, talk of nudity, mentions of death and blood, mother murdered, dead babies, depression, periods, vulgar language. If your watching hotd than you should already know that stuff written about it will not be clean in the slightest.

Author Note: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, life happened and as we all know it tends to suck at times

Word Count: 4.4k

Previous Chapter

“Come join me! ‘Tis quite warm!”

“No, how can I trust you speak the truth? I am quite content here enjoying the view.”

“Daemon! Please!” You yelled to him. In time he eventually caved and undressed to join you. By all means who was he to deny you what you wanted.

“You lie! It’s fucking cold!” He yelled walking to you.

“I don’t lie, I’ve just been in long enough that it’s quite nice.”

He wrapped his arms around you pulling you into him, stood in the ocean.

“I could live here, till the end of my days.” You whispered, head on his chest.

“On Dragonstone?”

“In your arms.” Just the two of you.

Eventually you both decide to return to your chambers for rest. Walking up with daemon barefoot in his breeches and you barefoot in his tunic. The staff looked at the two of you wide eyed as you both walked through the halls laughing and talking.

“Oh do you remember that time Rhaenyra got drunk?”

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra?” He looked at you in disbelief given she is only 4 and 10 years of age.

“Oh no! You were away! I shall tell you the story than. She was only 10 years of age and I believe it was my father’s name day and he was drinking his wine at a faster pace than usual as well as consuming my mothers because she was with child as always. Nyra saw it fit to help him finish his own glass when he turned to drink mothers. Nobody had noticed what she was doing.”

“Well clearly you noticed if you are relaying the events.”

“No, actually. It was her who stumbled in laughing pissing herself into my bedchambers. When she woke the next morning I questioned her as to what she had gotten her self into the night prior and she told me. Although the fact that she was dancing and telling jest to about any lord or servant that would hear her should have given her away.”

Daemon listened to you as the two of you walked to your bedchamber. A fondness in his eyes. The servants were in shock and some shied away from watching the Rogue Prince appear happy. He smiled with you. None of them had seen him smile.

A warm bath was already prepared when the two of you entered the room. The maids knew not to linger. You laid against his chest as you both laid in the hot water enjoying each other’s presence. It was Daemon who spoke first ruining the silent bliss.

“We must start our journey back to Kings Landing on the morrow.”

“You swore 4 days to me.” You answered him back.

“We’ve stayed 3, our journey together will be the fourth. We won’t arrive till the hour of the wolf.”

“May we return here to Dragonstone as we wish?”

“If your father does not have my head for bringing you here then yes.”

“Daemon.” You whispered.

“Yes?” He answered. You turned between his legs to face him, the water spilling from the sides of the basin.

“I want you to…” you were unable to finish your own sentence from your own nervousness. Your face red unable to express your wishes to him.”

“What is it you want sweet girl. Tell me.”

“I want you to, to. Touch me.” You whispered the last part.

“Touch you how?” He asked feigning naivety.

“Fuck me.” You whispered. He threw his head back and groaned.

“Oh my sweet girl, how I wish I could. We must time such things. If I do so now your father will have my head and he will marry you off to the first lord who will take you.” He tried to reason with you. It was hard to given that he barely got 3 words in before your hand gripped his cock. Once in your soft hand he was rock solid. It took everything with in him not to have you as he truly wished every night here on Dragonstone.

“Wed me. In the tradition of our house, take me as your second wife.” You told him now working your hand up and down his length the water begins to rock due to your hand movements on his length threatening to spill from the tub.

“You are so much more than a second wife zaldrītsos.” He moaned out eyes clenched closed as you continued your movements. He laid there enjoying the feel of your hand working his length. His own hand never being able to bring the same relief yours was bringing him. He knows once he has your cunt wrapped around him, you will have ruined every whore for him, He will solely crave you.

Once the bath was ruined from his release the two of you got out and prepared for bed. Once in bed the two of you drifted off to sleep in each others arms. The next morning Daemon kept his word and the two of you left on Dyrax at sunrise and started your journey to Kingslanding. Once arrived at the hour of the wolf you and Daemon used the secret passageways to your chambers. The two of you held each other one last time. Tasted each other one last time.

When you woke the next morning it was Rhaenyra who had awoken you by jumping into your bed.

“You’ve returned! Oh I thought you would never return from Dragonstone! How was it with Daemon?”

“It was lovely. A much needed rest from court. I must ask. Is father aware?”

“He is unaware to my knowledge.”

“Perfect.”

“Tell me y/n!” She shouted at you, now realizing you would have no choice but to tell her everything. Well, excluding the intimate details. Your day continued on as usual as if you hadn’t been away for 5 days. Daemon returned to his gold cloaks, day time training and nightly patrols.

Otto fucking Hightower. You had returned to court your second day back from Dragonstone. When Otto the cunt of a hand asked you how your time at Dragonstone was, infront of your father.

“You were at Dragonstone? When?” Questioned your father.

“Just 2 days past. I needed to be alone to grieve mother.”

“Did you not arrive at the hour of the wolf with Prince Daemon?”

“Yes I did. It was his idea and it helped. I enjoyed the waters of Dragonstone and I was able to cry and sleep as I pleased. No court, no politics, no murmurs of my mother and brother’s death around the castle. Silence and rest.”

“That sounds lovely my girl. I’m glad you are rested.” Your father responded. One thing Otto didn’t know, is your father would be sure not to upset you after watching him choose a son over his wife. Now he has no heir, no wife and could possibly loose his two daughters.

“Thank you father.” She said smiling to him.

“We must discuss Daemon and the way he is abusing his city watch status. He is acting as judge and executioner, 2 horse pulled carriages were used to rid of the carnage. Many would say it a massacre and abuse of power. His first night back and the people are met with his blade.”

“Has crime not gone down?” You spoke up.

“Excuse me princess?” Answered Otto abruptly.

“He instills fear in criminals, should the people of kings landing remain honest, not steal and not rape than they should have nothing to fear by the gold cloaks nightly patrols.”

“The city watch is not to instill fear.” Otto retorts.

“Maester Fredrick, get me the crime reports please. From the last 3 years.”

“Yes princess.” Said the maester and quickly left.

“Ser Harwin strong was lead commander while your uncle was away. Crime remained down and there were no live slaughters.” Oh how Otto got under her skin.

“While that may remain true how long till the city’s criminals retaliate. If they don’t fear death or loss of limb who is to say that crime won’t raise once again. Daemon has returned, I propose we allow a fortnight to compare results and we will see if the matter requires further discussion with Daemon present. All who agree?” And with that everyone agreed, your father spoke.

“Marvelous idea my dear. We shall allow a fortnight and we will proceed from there. Your king is tired, if there are no further matters that require my attention I shall retire for the evening.” With that he stood, everyone else stood and he left. Once you exited the room you had crossed paths with Maester Fredrick and the records.

“Have them sent to my chambers please.” You asked.

“Of course princess.” He left in search for your handmaid, what you assume. Once you retired to your room’s Rhaenyra came running in.

“I can’t believe the way you put Otto in his place!” Rhaenyra threw herself onto your bed laughing.

“Do you notice the way it absolutely angers him that father allows me a seat on his council.“ you said laying down next to her.

“Yes! I really thought father was going to storm out the council room in search for Daemon after what Otto said.”

“As did I. Truthfully I’m relieved he didn’t further question it. Or that Otto didn’t press into it. You think Otto has spies on Dragonstone?”

“No. I don’t believe so. You?”

“No.” You laid there thinking about if Otto did. Surely he knew something to bring up your leave with Daemon.

Two days later another council meeting was called. You all took your seats and Otto spoke first. “Before we begin your grace, I have a report I feel compelled to share. Last night Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses on the street of silk to entertain officers of the city watch and other friends of his. He toasted Prince Baelon styling him the heir for a day. After he goes on to say how it will be him and his seed who sit the iron throne. “If his heir won’t sit the throne at least mine shall after I fill his daughter with my seed.” I corroborated this report with three separate witnesses. The evening was by all accounts a celebration.”

You sat in shock at Otto’s words. You watched as your father ordered his guards to have Daemon sent to the throne room. You left to your chambers. Rhaenyra followed close behind. Once alone she spoke first.

“I’m not sure what’s more upsetting, our uncles words or your betrayal.” Rhaenyra speaks coldly.

“My betrayal? Pray-tell sister, how do I betray you?”

“You let him take you to Dragonstone like some whore. Was it worth it? Being sullied by him just to have him run into the arms of another whore.”

“You dare call me a whore? You know nothing baby sister, don’t you dare act as if you do. I remain as virtuous as the day I was born. He may have ran into the arms of his whore but he has never had me! I swear it on the memory of our mother, I have not laid with Daemon in the matter of which you accuse me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Rhaenyra began to cry. You embraced her in a hug.

“It is alright. I forgive you. I know, what we heard was upsetting. Father will talk to him and then I. I will get us answers. I swear this to you.”

“Okay.” She whispered holding onto you. You waited a while before leaving to Daemons chambers once Rhaenyra fell asleep in your bed.

You found him being watched by a knight of your father’s kings guard as he packed his belongings.

“Leave us.” You command as you enter.

“I can’t do that princess.” He says.

“You can and you will, your princess commands it. Shall he escape I will ensure you will not face the wrath of the king. Now leave us.” You promise him. With this he takes your word and waits outside the door while you talk to Daemon.

“You heard.”

“Heir for the day?”

“Y/n.”

“No! I can’t believe you Daemon,”fill his daughter with my seed.” What kind of nonsense is that?” You shouted at him, all he could do is reach out to you. You quickly stepped back.

“Do not touch me after you lay with your whores. I truly hope it was worth it because you will never have me not after this. You swore you would be here for me! You don’t even last a fortnight before you get your self exiled! You made a mockery of my dead mother and brother. Of me!”

“Who is to say I want you! I’ve never made such a proclamation!” He shouts back at you. You stare at him in shock, was it all in your head? Did he just see as another one of his whores when you bare with him on Dragonstone, the nights spent in his arms. The kisses and care in his touch. You step back from him.

“Y/n” he reaches for your arm once more. You step back again.

“No. I apologize uncle. I believed something that was not there.”

“Y/n.” He called your name once more.

“I’m sorry I ever believed you to be the man I need.” With that you left him there and made your way back to your chambers. The guard escorted Daemon to the dragon pit. You heard of your father exiling your uncle to the vale with his wife. You stayed in bed. For days on end.

5 months after Daemons exile your father called you and Rhaenyra to the cellars of the red keep.

“What is it farther.”

“My darling girls. It has been sometime.”

“You have not talked to us in 6 months” Rhaenyra states.

“And I apologize. When you see dragons, what do you see.”

“Father what is this?” You question him.

“Just tell me what you see.” He repeats himself.

“I suppose I see us, they say Targaryen’s are closer to gods than men and they say that because our dragons. Without them we are just like everyone else.” Rhaenyra says.

“I’m sorry Y/n, Rhaenyra. I have waisted the years since you were born on wishing for a son. You are the very best of your mother and I believe it and I know she did that you could be a great queen, ruling queen.”

“Father. Daemon is your heir. Y/n your first born.”

“I understand but I believe that it is you that can unite the realm when the time comes. Only a strong ruling king or queen can do that. While you are strong and passionate Y/n is level headed. Y/n you will need to protect your sister, guide her as heir to the throne. It is you who I believe can do that best. You are caring and quick thinking, you have always protected and cared for Rhaenyra, more so now while you both mourn the loss of your mother you have remained strong and reliable through it all.”

“With Rhaenyra on the thrown and you as her council, her hand. The realm will remain strong long after my death.”

With in 3 days time the realm was pledging their loyalty to the crown, to king Viserys and heir to the throne Princess Rhaenyra. And while you would never admit it to your sister, you were hurt that your father named her heir and not you. You knew in your heart it was punishment for your time on Dragonstone with Daemon. Nonetheless you bent the knee pledging your loyalty to your sister.

~time jump~

1 month time has gone passed. Your mother dead 7 months. Your uncle gone for 6 months, squatting on Dragonstone. Apart of you wanted to fly to him be done with the politics, for him to take you as his wife in exile. But you were still hurt by the last words he spoke to you, and you were needed in kings landing. Your father, Rhaenyra. You sit at the small council table while your sister remains cup bearer. Frankly you and Rhaenyra are exhausted of hearing talk of your father needing to remarry. Lord Corlys keeps pushing for father to marry Laena. While you and Rhaenyra understand it was to happen with time, the vultures push to rush.

An emergency small council meeting was called. You and Rhaenyra hurry your way to the council room. Upon entering there is dragon keeper waiting to speak.

Ziry occurred isse se blackness hen bantis, issa lords, during se hour hen massa. Se thief eluded īlva pursuit

(It occurred in the blackness of night, my lords, during the hour of the Bat. The thief eluded our pursuit.)

Skorkydoso iksos ziry possible bona nykeā zaldrīzes’s drōmon istan stolen hen hen hen gōvilagon tolī than tōmēpsa zaldrīzes keepers?

(How is it possible that a dragon’s egg was stolen out of from beneath more than fifty Dragon keepers?)

Ziry istan prince daemon qilōni istan se culprit, aōha dārōñe…

(It was Prince Daemon who was the culprit, your grace…)

“Daemon?” Your father spoke in a questioning tone, questioning himself as to why Daemon would do such a thing.

“The prince left a missive, which I believe might explain.” Spoke Otto.

“It is the pleasure of Daemon Targaryen, the prince of dragonstone and rightful heir to the iron throne, to announce that he is to take a second wife in the tradition of Old Valyria. She is to assume the title of Lady Mysaria of Dragonstone. Her grace is with child and is to have a dragons egg placed in the babe’s cradle in the custom of House Targaryen.” Maester Mellows pauses. “The prince has invited you to his wedding, your grace. It is in two days time.”

“Gods be good” mumbles Tywin Lannister.

“Who is Lady Mysaria-“ Corlys begins to question but is interrupted by Otto.

“Daemons whore. This is nothing less than sedition.”

“I strongly agree, sire.” Agrees Lyonel Strong.

Skore drōmon gōntan daemon gūrogon?

(Which egg did Daemon take?)

Se drōmon istan dreamfyre’s, prince. Keskydoso drōmon bona ao iderēptan syt prince baelon’s cradle.

(The egg was Dreamfyre’s, Princess. The same egg that you chose for Prince Baelon’s cradle.)

That was all it took for your father to finally take action. Seeing the hurt in Rhaenyra face. It was one thing to try to get a rise out of your father but to hurt his daughters was another issue.

“Assemble a detachment, Otto. I will go to dragon stone and drag daemon back to face justice myself.”

“Your grace! My apologies your grace but I cannot allow it. It is to dangerous. Daemon is without limit. Let me go to dragonstone.” With that Otto begins to give orders to Ser Harrold to gather men to prepare the ship to set sail to dragon stone.

Rhaenyra pulls you aside away from your father and the other men. “We are going to Dragonstone.”

“Nyra. No.”

“It’s to prevent blood shed. You know just as well as I do Daemon would love nothing more than to have Otto’s head on a spike.”

“I suppose. I don’t see the harm that though.”

“Y/n. I can retrieve the egg and if Daemon sees you and Dirrax it will force him to keep his temper under control.”

“I’m not his keeper. If Daemon wishes to kill. He will. Nonetheless I shall go. Only for you though.”

I will meet you at the dragon pit at the hour of the bat in 5 days time. The journey will take a long while, especially with Syrax never having done the journey. Prepare him for it. We will arrive when the ships arrive.”

Thankfully she listened to you, and in 5 days you both had changed into your riding leathers and met at the dragon pit. You opted to wear your black cloak over yours and to take the secret passage ways. You followed her closely behind on Dirrax who was double the size of Syrax.

Once at dragon stone Otto’s men had already arrived both sides with their swords in hand. And a woman in white with brown hair stood next to Daemon. Must be his whore you thought to your self. You had heard of her, never seen her. Your heart ached to think that she was carrying his child. While it had been 5 days since you learned of his betrayal, you hadn’t allowed your self time to process it fully. Being to busy with Rhaenyra. You hear Caraxes screech as he crawls the hill behind his rider. He must sense Syrax and Dirrax who begin to screech in response. Rhaenyra and Syrax land first, and you second behind her. It is then that the men “sheath the fucking steel” Otto yells. Rhaenyra dismounts from her dragon while you remain on yours. You have faith in her ability to handle your uncle.

“Issa kepa brōstan issa prince hen zaldrīzesdōron. Bona iksos issa sombāzmion ao issi living isse, kepus.” Rhaenyra spoke first.

(My father named me Princess of Dragonstone. That is my castle you are living in, uncle.)

“Daor ēva ao become hen age. Plus hae iksos aōha mandia” your uncle remarked.

(Not until you become of age. Plus as is your sister)

“Ao emagon angered aōha dārys.”

(You have angered your king.)

“Nyke don’t ūndegon skoro syt. Bisa iksos nykeā tubis hen biarves. Nyke naejot sagon.”

(I don’t see why. This is a day of celebration. I am to be wed.)

“Ao emagon nykeā ābrazȳrys.”

(You already have a wife.)

“Daor mēre hen issa.”

(Not one of my choosing.)

“Se bisa ao naejot laodigon issa lēkias drōmon?”

(And this required you to steal my brother’s egg?)

“Ao se aōha mandia rūsīr nykeā zaldrīzes skori ao istan āzma. Nyke jaelagon keskydoso syt issa riñnykeā.”

(You and your sister shared a cradle with a dragon when the two of you were born. I want the same for my child.)

“Aōha naejot emagon nykeā riñnykeā.”

(Your to have a child?)

He looked back at his whore.” Mēre tubis.” (One day) with those words you scoff as you watch your uncles whore leave.

“I’m right here, uncle… the object of your ire, the reason that you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as heir you’ll need to kill me. So, do it. And be done with all this bother.” With that he looked at the Otto and the other knights, to rhaenyra. To you. And turned to walk away and quickly tossed the egg to Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra placed the egg in pot of fire and mounted Syrax. She left on Syrax thrilled at her accomplishment, she yelled with joy as she flew away on Syrax. While y/n and Dirrax stayed on the wall.

“Sōvēs Dirrax.” Once well in the air y/n let out all her emotions. Crying and screaming

“Dirrax. Dracarys!” With that Dirrax let out a large breath of fire that filled the sky. And they stayed behind Rhaenyra the whole way back kings landing.

A knight alerts your father of yours and Rhaenyra return. You both are then taken to his chambers.

“You fled kings landing without a word. And you acted without the crowns leave. You two are my only heirs. You both could have been killed.”

“May we sit.” Rhaenyra ask.

“You went to dragon stone.” Your father repeats himself.

“And retrieved the egg without bloodshed. A feat I’m not sure Otto could’ve accomplished alone.” Rhaenyra points out.

“Yes, well…” he laughs. “ I sometimes forget how much you both are like your mother. Your mother’s absence is a wound that will never heal. Without her… the red keep has lost a warmth that I dare say it will never recover.”

“It pleases me to hear you say this. To know that y/n and I are not alone in our grief.”

“I wish I had known better what to say to you both in the aftermath. I struggled to realize that both my daughters had so quickly become women grown. But I know she understands what is now expected of me.”

“The king must take a new wife.” Rhaenyra says fighting back her tears.

“I could never replace your mother. No more than I intended to replace you as heir but you both are my only heirs and our line is vulnerable, to easily ended. And by marrying again, I may begin to ensure that we are better defended.”

“Against whom?”

“Whomever may dare to challenge us. I do not dare to make us estranged. The three of us.”

“You are the king and so, your first duty is to the realm. Mother would’ve understood this. Just as I do.”

“And I.” With that you and Rhaenyra leave to your chambers to sleep. And nothing could have prepared the two of you for the council meeting that would be held in the morning.

Your father stands at his chair with a nervous expression on his face. He looks to and Rhaenyra for reassurance. Rhaenyra nods her head and smiles in reassurance to him and he begins to speak.

“I intend to marry…. The lady Alicent Hightower before springs end.”

“This is an absurdity, my house is Valyrian. The greatest power in the realm.” Says Lord Corlys now stood from his seat.

“And I am your king.” With the Corlys leaves. And Rhaenyra fights back her tears in shock and betrayal. She then leaves before anyone else can see her emotions.

“Yes if you were to marry Laena. Not her only friend. This is a betrayal from not only you but Alicent as well. You mislead us both into believing you were to marry Laena.”

“Rhaenyra.” Your father calls out to her. Once she is gone your father looks to you.

“Last night, she said she understood.” He says to you.

“You assumed-“

“No! There was never any mention of Alicent in any of your conversations to wed. You walked with Laena. You questioned your council on whether marrying Laena was the proper thing to do.”

“Y/n.”

“No, now if you will excuse me. I have a mess to clean up that you have created.” With that you left to comfort Rhaenyra

~

Chapter 4

[denaliwrites]

Don't Look Away

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Part 1: Don't Blink Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Summary: You're finally rid of those godforsaken angels.

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp, @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

Warnings: Weeping Angels.

You were so tired.

Between the nightmares and the constant vigilance, there was just... never a moment of rest for you.

Sure, the Doctor whisked you away again, back out into the far reaches of time and the universe, but no matter where you went, you always wondered if the angel was lurking nearby. And when you went back home, you knew that it was.

Out of sight, in this case, did not mean out of mind.

And the Doctor -- oh, the Doctor. He missed the old you. You could see it in his eyes. Every time he looked at you, even if he was smiling, you could see the broken hearts behind those beautiful brown eyes.

You had half a mind to leave him, to spare him the pain of watching you slowly wither away to nothing. And it was happening -- you could feel it, the way your body was getting slower, like it was in the process of shutting down.

Your mind, too, was starting to go. Things that normally would've taken moments to understand took you minutes. The Doctor often found you wandering the TARDIS with little recollection of where you were or how you got there. Your adventures became less frequent, and on the occasions he did take you on one, he was forced to keep a close eye on you so that you didn't trail off and get lost.

And then the adventures stopped.

The Doctor still picked up distress calls and the like -- but he couldn't help people and keep an eye on you at the same time, so you were left in the TARDIS while he went and did his thing.

You didn't mind, though. The rare times you were completely and totally alone gave you the opportunity to cry your heart out.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The Doctor... wasn't a fan of problems he couldn't solve.

Did he accept that there were problems he couldn't solve? Of course -- the universe was vast and mysterious, even to him. Planets that by all accounts shouldn't exist existed. He'd met species that by all accounts shouldn't have been able to evolve, but somehow had.

(He still shuddered at the memory of the creature on Midnight.)

But acceptance was not the same as liking. And he did not like problems he couldn't solve.

In fact, he rather hated them.

You were a problem he couldn't solve. Or, at least, adjacently. More accurately, the Weeping Angel that had psychically latched itself onto you was a problem he couldn't solve -- but it was a problem for you, and he couldn't solve that either.

It killed him.

It killed him, it killed him, it killed him.

He just wanted to see you smile again. Hear your laugh. Feel you radiate joy and wonder and curiosity.

One thing the Doctor also hated?

Running out of time.

How did a Time Lord in possession of a time machine ever run out of time? How could he have let himself run out of time?

You were on the verge of needing actual medical attention -- intervention, really. He could see you deteriorating, noted how the process was getting faster and faster every day.

He was going to take you to New Earth, to those cat nun nurses. If anyone could help you, it was them -- loathe as he was to admit it.

But he thought, one more adventure. One more little trip, before he took you to be healed, and one trip to a doctor that could heal you better than he could before he took you home for the last time.

One more trip, one more doctor's office, before he gave himself to the Weeping Angel.

It was the only solution.

Well, the only solution he could see, at least.

So, he landed the TARDIS someplace low stakes. Calm, peaceful. Normal, far as the universe went. A little market planet by the name of --

"Vipitera!" the Doctor exclaimed as he swept out of the TARDIS with a big grin on his face. You shuffled close behind, a hand clutching at his coat to keep from losing him.

"Vipitera," he repeated as he swung around to face you suddenly, his bright and excited eyes meeting yours -- dull and exhausted. His grin didn't waver.

"Vipitera," he said again, slower, really drawing out the syllables. "Vipitera, Vipitera, Vipiteraaaaa." Each time he repeated the name, it sounded goofier and goofier.

Finally, miraculously, he managed to coax out a smile from you. His grin broadened. "There you are," he said with such amazement and adoration. He pulled you towards him and planted a loving kiss to your forehead. "There you are."

He tucked you tightly against his side and led you away from the TARDIS. He'd landed in some kind of supply closet, so it took some walking and weaving through halls, but eventually the two of you stepped out into the market proper.

He watched as your eyes sparked to life and bounced from stall to stall. He could almost feel the excitement flooding your brain, igniting parts of you that had been dulled and left to flicker out for far too long.

He supposed that was his fault.

"Welcome to the market planet Vipitera," he said with a grin and a broad motion to their surroundings. It effectively chased the thoughts away, as he got to see you smile again.

"Let me just -- hold on --" He pulled away from you to dig in his pockets, pulling something out a minute later. It looked like some kind of computer chip. "There's loads of credits on that thing," he said as he passed it to you with one hand and scratched the back of his head with the other. "Off you pop. Go wild."

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

You didn't like the idea of going off on your own, but you figured -- a planet as public as this, with constant activity and very few places a Weeping Angel could hide -- either someone would've noticed a moving statue disappearing people, or there'd be too many eyes and not a lot of moving, generally.

And the Doctor thought it was safe, and he usually wasn't wrong.

The only problem now was that you had no idea where to start. Holding your credit... chip? close, you carefully started making your way through the nearest stalls, browsing what they had to offer.

Some had food that smelled incredible but looked maybe unfit for human consumption. Some had little knick-knacks and trinkets. A handful had jewelry. One had books.

You stopped to browse the book stall and ended up buying the biography of the first human president of Vipitera.

Why? Well, why not?

You also bought an Agatha Christie novel with a special edition, Vipitera exclusive cover, because you thought the Doctor would get a kick out of it.

And then you were off, looking around and buying things until your arms were full -- and, in your defense, the Doctor had told you to go crazy.

It eventually got to the point where you had to make a trip to the TARDIS to drop your haul off in your room.

As you headed back to the market, you thought you felt someone watching you -- you thought the angel had somehow found you, but the feeling passed just as quickly as it had come. Knowing the angel wouldn't have let you off so easy, you figured it was something else and went back out among the stalls.

The Doctor found you eventually, after you'd bought another armful of things, and led you to a human food stall after dropping all your new things off at the TARDIS (again).

Your eyes lit up and your mouth watered at all the options.

"Pick for me?" you asked the Doctor, looking at him with big, round eyes. "I don't even know where to start."

"Well," he started, motioning at something that looked somewhat like spaghetti, except the noodles (were they noodles, even?) were teal, and the sauce was a deep, foresty green. "Can never go wrong with Yuphorian nishles and pine sauce."

"... Nishles?"

"Fish noodles. Yuphorian fish meat is that color because of the algae they eat."

You blinked down at the curiously colored meal. "It's... good, though...?" you asked, finding it hard to get over the fact it looked like candy.

"Oh, yes. It's delicious."

"I'll try it then."

While he ordered you the nishles and a couple other things, you went to find a place to sit and decided on a nice shaded table in one of the far corners of the dining area.

A cool breeze blew past as you settled into one of the chairs. Barely a moment later, something was draped over your shoulders and you looked back to see the Doctor laying his coat over you.

"What about the food?" you asked, drawing the coat tighter around yourself.

"They're gonna bring it," he replied as he sat next to you.

"Thank you."

"I couldn't leave you shivering--"

"No, not for that -- I mean, yes, thank you for lending me your coat. But... no. Thank you for today."

The look he gave you was so sad. It broke your heart and confused you in equal measure.

"What's wrong, Doctor?"

The smile he shot your way was forced, and the glimmer in his eyes wasn't from joy but from unshed tears. "Oh, nothing," he replied. "Nothing at all."

He obviously wasn't convincing, but you knew pressing the matter wouldn't get you anywhere. Instead, you decided to rest your head while the two of you waited for your food.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The Doctor had forgotten what you looked like when you were sleeping -- he'd forgotten what peace looked like on your face.

You were only taking a light nap while you waited for alien pasta made out of fish oil, but to him, you were the pinnacle of beauty in that moment. Of everything he'd seen in all his nine hundred odd years traveling through time and space, this moment with you was the most remarkable. The most stunning. The most breathtaking.

How he hated that he had to wake you up.

He waited, at least, putting it off until the waitress was gone and then for a little bit longer before he shook you awake.

You grunted, every cell in your body desperate to stay under to the point of protest, but he kept at it until you stirred.

"Time to eat," he told you as your eyes fluttered open. "Come and get it while it's hot."

He saw the heaviness of sleep in your eyes as you looked up at him and oh, how he adored it. How he'd missed it.

"Mmm," you replied, making him chuckle.

"I promise I'll let you rest when you're done eating," he said, pushing the plate of nishles towards you. "C'mon, before it gets cold!"

He could see how begrudging you were to get up, but you did so anyway, and grumpily stabbed at your pasta for effect.

"Oh, come now, what did the poor nishles do to deserve this?" he asked teasingly.

He saw a flicker of a smile on your lips.

Emboldened, he continued. "All that work being processed and cooked to be eaten, just for you to stab it."

That little secret smile grew, just a bit.

"Those poor nishles."

He watched as you broke at the word nishles, dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. They were probably spurred on by delirium, but it had been so long since he'd heard you laugh that he didn't care.

"Oi, why are you laughing?" he whined playfully. "Those fish didn't give their lives just for you to laugh at them!"

Your giggles grew into a full belly laugh, and the Doctor thought that if he were to die in that moment, he'd die happy, because he would've gotten to hear you laugh -- really laugh -- one last time.

Your fit of laughter eventually died down, helped along by you taking a few deep breaths and putting in a concentrated effort to stop.

"So..." you said, biting back another bout of giggles. "Ni--nishles..."

"Nishles," the Doctor agreed, watching you.

He continued to watch as you took the first bite, watched as your face shifted across a vast array of expressions, and watched as it eventually settled on bewilderment.

"What... is that...?" you asked, blinking rapidly at the dish in front of you.

"That'd be the pine sauce, made from the needles of the Yuphorian fir."

"It... but it doesn't taste like pine," you whimpered in confusion, eyeing it.

"Well of course," the Doctor said with a grin. "It's not Earth pine sauce, it's Yuphorian pine sauce. Earth pine sauce would be disgusting -- well, I suppose juniper sauce might not be. Or gin sauce... oh, there's an idea..."

He didn't realize you were staring past him until he paused and took in your suddenly stricken expression.

"What is it?" he asked softly, watching you carefully.

"I-I thought I... I thought I saw..."

Oh, no.

He turned to look behind him, but whatever you'd seen was gone.

If you'd even seen anything.

Not that he didn't believe your experience, but he was in a difficult position; you were deliriously tired and paranoid (rightfully, of course). Both things could lead to hallucinations.

He knew this, and yet he knew without a doubt that he had to take you seriously, for your sake.

"C'mon," he said quietly, moving to a stand. "We can finish lunch in the TARDIS." You nodded your assent and grabbed the food, then stood and tucked yourself into his side.

He led you through the market, through the building you'd materialized in, and to the TARDIS.

He slotted the key into the door, turned to unlock it, then turned back to look at you --

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

You didn't need to see the Doctor's stricken expression to know the Weeping Angel was behind you. You could feel its presence like a breath against your neck.

It felt like every hair on your body was standing to attention. It felt like your whole body stopped. You couldn't hear your heartbeat, but you could swear you heard the Doctor's hearts hammering away.

With a shuddering breath, you whimpered his name. You saw his eyes twitch -- he wanted so badly to look at you, but couldn't take his eyes off the angel.

"Get into the TARDIS," he commanded, "don't worry about me, I've got an eye --"

"Doctor," you interrupted, voice small but surprisingly steady.

You could see tears gathering in his eyes. He was desperate to look at you.

"I can't move."

Understanding dawned on his face, and you watched as his hearts broke right in front of you.

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

"You?" he asked in a tearful growl. "What have you done to be sorry for?"

"I'm sorry we won't have more time together."

He let out a hollow laugh. "No. I'm sorry. I couldn't save Rose, couldn't save Astrid, couldn't save Donna. And I can't save you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. It's not okay! Why you? Why you?"

"Doctor."

You could see him struggling to keep his eyes open, now. He struggled, and soon he'd fail.

"Doctor, let me go."

"I can't lose you, too."

"We don't have a choice."

He struggled. His eyes were twitching more now, desperate for relief, and he still so desperately wanted to be looking at you rather than the angel.

And then finally, the inevitable.

He blinked.

And your world went black.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.

A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.

You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.

You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.

"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."

You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"

Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.

You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."

"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."

"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."

Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?

"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"

"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.

"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."

Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."

You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."

Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."

You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.

"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."

Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the  reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.

"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."

"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."

You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."

Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"

Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."

A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."

"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."

Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.

"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"

"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."

"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[leavemebetosleep]

do you have any good fluttercord fic recs?

OH BOY DO I. In no particular order (except of when I thought of them):

1: Non-Entity by Captain Wuzz: An AU in which, instead of being turned to stone, Discord was shot in the head with a magic arrow that takes away his sentience and magic for a 1,000 years. Fluttershy mistakes him for a wounded animal and brings him home. I loved it so much.

2: Chaotic Neutral by C-Puff: The magic is starting to fade from Equestria, and the Main 6 and Discord go on an adventure to find out why, and reverse it. A bit of AU, in the sense it was written before the show was done, so it diverts in some places because of that. Super sweet, and I love the character development here.

3: Time is Taller than Space is Wide by Dott. Can also be read on Ao3 if you prefer. Soulmate AU (?) fic with a Groundhog Day style twist. I rarely see fics play with the idea of what if Fluttershy and Discord's friendship had started when they first met, so this is fun.

4 & 5: Blank and it's sequel Reconnection by @geekcat. Can also be read on fanfic.net. AU in which, before Discord can choose friendship over ruling Equestria, Twilight remembers a "reformation" spell. He is stripped of his free will, and Fluttershy does her best to bring him back. If you don't like the idea of Twilight being a villain, you might not like this one, but I think her villain arc in this is done in a perfect way for her character. It's super heart wrenching in many places, but in a good way.

6: Our Fair Lady of the Chaos Lord, also by GeekCat Can also be read on fanfic.net. Fairy tale inspired AU in which Fluttershy is a princess who's father is pressuring her to marry noble knight Sir Big Mac. Wanting to be sure he's a good person, she makes a deal with the Chaos Lord, letting herself be "kidnapped" so she can test his character. You can guess who she falls for instead. Honestly I've enjoyed all of GeekCat's fics, so they're getting an extra mention. Check out the rest of their fluttercord fics if you like any of these.

7: The Draconequus with the Dragon Tattoo by A M Shark This is a major case of, strange premise, kick ass results. Basically an AU based off Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson, with Discord as Lisbeth, and Fluttershy as an amalgamation of Mikael and several other characters, but focusing more on the murder mystery aspect of that book, and less on the...everything else. If you're familiar with GwtDT, don't worry, there's no rape scenes. Again, it's more about the murder mystery part. If you're not familiar with GwtDT, then don't worry again, because you don't need to know the original to enjoy it. It's just Discord and Fluttershy playing detective and solving a murder together. It has two sequels, but I haven't read them yet, and it didn't feel right to rec something I haven't read.

8: The Corpse Bride by Bad Horse. Dark fic. No relation to the Burton movie. Fluttershy dies in a tragic accident, and Discord brings her back from the dead as his zombie wife. Her friends (sans Pinkie) are horrified. Has a fantastic twist ending. If you like some of the darker stuff, def worth a read.

Bonus: Comic rec: The Last Adventure by Eveeka. Taking place after the final defeat of Tirek, Cozy, and Chrysalis, Discord gets into a depressive funk after shouldering the hatred from Ponyville citizens for his latest actions, but also because his friends seem to never be available anymore. He starts to think maybe Equestria would be better off without him, as he can't seem to exist with out making everyone miserable, and decides to hide away in the Everfree forest. Fluttershy, worried when he doesn't show up for tea, asks her friends for help, only to discover there's a monster running lose there he and the rest of Equestria might be in danger from. This fic has two endings, so keep reading even when it seems like it's over. You've got one more ending left. This one nearly made me cry.

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 7

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 6, Part 8

I'm so sorry. I completely forgot the warnings! This chapter has more talk about sensitive topics. But it does not show or go into detail about it.

Dreams didn't haunt your sleep this time. You slept peacefully but woke up a little groggy from the ships movements. After readjusting your mask and freshening up, you left to find whatever food the Crux has.

The swaying ship's interior looked different in the daylight. So if you got a little lost while trying to find the stairs, then you can't be blamed. Eventually you did find it and climbed it to the main deck.

Most of the crew members seemed to be here already. The vast ocean surrounded you with no land in sight. You thought back to the players that would make ice bridges from Liyue to Inazuma using Kaeya.

"Oh that's them!" A yell catches your attention as a hand is roughly placed on your shoulder. You look up to see a tall, broad man with dark hair and a beard smiling down at you. He looked very familair and the sun casting a shadow on him helped you remember. This was the exhausted man that you showed the fan to, to board the Alcor.

"Is this the person you saw moving everyone off the floors, last night Sea Drake?" The man with his hand on your shoulder asks another man with a eyepatch and red bandana who nods.

"That's them Juza. I heard the creator's wishing show happening and by the time I was in the hallway I saw them moving ya'll halfdead bodies off the floor."

Oh fuck, did he see you wishing?

"I'm a little confused on what you both are talking about. My name is Y/N, I'm a guest that Lord Ayato paid for. Sea Drake was it? Did you see the creator's wishing?"

"We definitely should've introduced ourselves before talking to ya like this. I'm Sea Drake, the helmsman of this ship. Sadly no, when I came outside it was already finished, I only saw the gold star through the window in my room."

Crisis avoided. Juza releases your shoulder and picks up a bag. The way he cheerfully gives it to you is much different then how he acted when you first met him.

"I'm Juza, you showed me the Kamisato fan when you boarded last night. Man , what a shock it was when I woke up and remembered! Come sit with us and the other crewmates! We all wanted to thank ya for spending the time to move us."

You open the bag to see 4 pieces of grilled unagi meat. Your stomach growls at the sight and Sea Drake pulls you to a pile of crates where the other crewmembers are.

"This is Y/N! They're Kamisato's chosen guest, and also the one who moved us before the crates crushed us."

Two women and a man look at you with varying expressions. It's a girl wearing an eyepatch that introduces herself first.

"I'm Furong, I'm just a sailor in charge of fighting. Since you managed to move me then you must have some strength."

The second woman speaks up with a smile. "And I'm Huixing, the crews navigator. That guy is Suling, don't expect much of an introduction, he only likes weapons."

Suling sends Huxing a glare and huffs, "And you only like marine biology."

"So? At least I can say my name, you barely give anyone who isn't a crewmate or a weapon smith the time of day."

They start to bicker as you start eating the Unagi meat, it tasted so good. Sea Drake hands you crystal shrimp and you accept it with a smile. You only eat half of it when Furong silently hands you a plate of squirrel fish.

Isn't this too much food to give to someone? But you wouldn't say no to food, let alone food that smelled so delicious.

"Thanks Furong." You flash a smile at the stoic woman as you taste the sweet and sour dish. She nods and Huixing see's just how much food was handed to you.

"If you'll are gonna thank Y/N with food then you should have given some crab too." Huixing puts a container next to you that looks very similar to crab roe tofu. How were you supposed to eat everything?

"Don't you see the amount of food is too much? You were better off giving Y/N a drink instead." To your surprise the gruff Suling handed you a rainbow aster. A sip let you know that it was lavender melon flavored.

"I don't mind, I didn't eat last night so I was starving." Being handed this much food may be overwhelming but you would be lying if you said it wasn't exciting.

Making it your goal to finish everything they gave you, you start chowing down. They watch you in vague fascination and slight horror as you eat everything. You only had the last half of the rainbow aster left.

Bringing it to your lips you chug it down without stopping. You're pretty sure someone is chanting "Chug! Chug!" until you finish the drink with a smile.

"Man, that all tasted so good." You wipe your mouth and set the glass down. Juza pats your back roughly with a loud laugh.

"I've never seen someone eat all that food in one sitting! Not super surprising since you are Lord Kamisato's chosen guest."

Furong, Huixing, and even Suling seem shocked at this information.

"You're the chosen guest? Are you super strong or super important? Maybe even know some important information on sea creatures?" Huixing asks in a rush.

"Oh, nothing like that. I'm a oracle for the creator so I guess I would fall on the important scale. Can I know why being Lord Ayato's chosen guest is so important?" You ask casually.

"An oracle? Really? That does seem worthy enough for Lord Kamisato to use his favor." Did Beidou owe Ayato for something?

"You see years ago before the Captain got her vision, she needed a new claymore. Lord Kamisato sent Thoma to board our ship with the goods we were delivering around the same time. We were attacked by Haishan, a leviathan, and Thoma almost died during it. The captain ended up losing her eye to save Thoma's life."

Well shit. It makes sense now that Ayato trusts the Crux so much despite their less than legal activities.

"When we returned, Lord Kamisato had already heard what had happened. As thanks he had a claymore made for her. The Katsuragikiri Nagamasa and it was that claymore that she used to kill Haishan. But it also destroyed the claymore."

The force Beidou used to cut off Haishan's head without a vision must have great but also reckless that it broke it.

"Lord Kamisato got her another one in exchange that she would take care of anyone that boards the ship with his fan. His chosen guest is what he referred to them as. It's been so long we thought there would never be someone."

"That sounds incredible. I would love to have seen that hydra be slain." No, no you do not want to see that. Mostly cause you don't want to accidently die during that battle.

The conversation moves smoothly to different topics of different adventures. You occasionally give in input when needed but you're gradually getting lost in thought. Mainly wondering if creatures of Teyvat would actually recognize you as the creator, would battles like that still happen?

You blink in surprise when you see Beidou and Kazuha talking on the other side of the ship. When did they get there? Kazuha looks over in your direction and locks eyes with you. You smile and wave holding back laughter at how red he gets.

Beidou on the other hand has no reservation and laughs at him. You're too far away to hear it but her body language says it all. Whatever she tells Kazuha is making him even more embarrassed.

He glances at you before moving to the middle of the ship where no one else is. Having a feeling on what he wants to say, you thanked the crewmembers for the food and left.

You walk to the middle where Kazuha is already waiting for you. As soon as you stop in front of him, he bows low with closed eyes.

"Please accept my sincerest apologies. My behavior yesterday was unbecoming of me and incredibly rude. If you feel uncomfortable around me due to what I had almost done yesterday then I swear to make myself scarce around you."

Well damn, was it really that serious? The way he pinned you against the barrel yesterday was child's play compared to what you've gone through and seen back on Earth.

You smile brightly and held his hands. Clasping his hands tightly you speak with a gentle and kind voice.

"Kazuha I really didn't feel uncomfortable or threatened at all by you last night. It was more funny than anything else! Besides the haiku you told me yesterday was very sweet, I wasn't lying when I said that being your muse was very flattering."

Kazuha sighs and smiles in what seems to be relief. He stands back up straight and you release your grip. A frown flashes on his face for a split second before his expression becomes puzzled.

"I remember you telling me that you're an oracle for the creator. The grace you wield must be from them too." His eyes get warm and hazy for second, most likely from thinking about the 'creator'. He continues in that calm, soft voice you've known him for.

"My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, I'm a ronin who's been traveling for quite some time. I occasionally join Beidou on her voyages and as fate would have it, I even got the chance to meet you here too. It's a pleasure to properly meet you Y/N."

"The creator has shown me some of your previous journeys. There's no need to speak formally with me unless you choose to. As we are both close to the creator, I wish for us to get along."

The wind's breeze is softer than last night's but it still ruffles your hair as you smile at him. Under his breath Kazuha whispers and judging by the slight wonder in his eyes, he must no realize he's speaking aloud.

"Clouds part for a clear smile,

Winds whip for the perfect stage,

Soft eyes and a hypnotic style,

Not even maple leaves can upstage."

After those last words Kazuha notices your bashful expression. In turn he only smiles calmly with a slight tint on his cheeks.

"My drunk words last night were not false. My creativity has been very low these past few weeks, and out of everything I've tried. It is your mere presence that cured it."

"Should I be worried that I'll be sending Kazuha off so soon? It seems like he's enamored with you." Beidou comes striding over to you both with a confident smile.

"Hello, you must be Captain Beidou. Has the blackcliff slasher that the creator granted you been serving you well?" Beidou smiles wider at that, you were right to keep your guard up.

"Straight to the heart, I like that kind of directness. Seems like there's some truth to your claim as an oracle. I hope you don't take any offense to that."

"Not at all, blasphemous people exist after all. Even if you don't trust me, I hope you can at least trust Lord Ayato since he was the one who paid for me."

"You've got a silver tongue, that'll serve you well. Now I've got Kazuha's flowery language and your charming words. Do ya mind if I ask you how you came to know the Commissoner?"

"Not a problem. I was looking to find a boat to leave Inazuma and Itto, the leader of the Arrataki Gang, introduced me to Thoma. Thoma learned that I was an oracle and brought me to the Kamisato Estate. I proved that I'm the real deal to Lord Ayato and he gave me the fan."

You speak with a relaxed stance and hands in your pockets. The simpler and less detailed you put it, the less likely you'll be caught in a lie about. Telling Beidou that you had to pass tests is just not a good idea.

"Well even if I can't fully believe it, it won't matter too much anyway. Having the Commissioners fan and Kazuha's wind trusting you is more than enough proof for me." She says that but you don't feel reassured.

It won't matter anyway. The fan is physical proof that she can't objectify. Plus you had her at C3, she must feel some sort of pull towards you. Whatever way she takes it is up to her.

"But I shouldn't get so distracted. I wanted to let you know that we'll be taking a little longer to pick up some things on a island we pass by. Kazuha, since our lookout Xu Liushi couldn't come due to his sickness, I'll need you to go up there and keep a eye out for now."

The map in the game showed that there was no land between Liyue and Inazuma. Was this something added or was it finally revealed now that you were in Teyvat? It reminds you of your debate on whether this cult thing was added or revealed.

"No problem Beidou, Y/N would you like to come along? The view up there is breathtaking." Beidou nudges Kazuha with a smirk while Kazuha pointedly ignores her.

"That sounds great! This is my first time being on a ship like this."

Going to the top of a armed fleet? The thought of being up there that high gives you slight anxiety but it's overpowered by the childish excitement.

"Excuse me for a moment." Kazuha brief warning is acommnenied by his hands lifting you bridal style. "Hang on tight!"

Anemo swirls around his lower body as he crouches before springing into the air. Expertly he uses the anemo as momentum to bounce off the wood of the sails climbing higher and higher.

The air gets colder and harder to breathe at the speed you're going at. Closing your eyes you hide your face in his chest to protect it from the biting wind.

The thump of his shoes hitting the wood alerts you to his steady landing. Your amazed smile is clear to see as he softly sets you down.

Holding the circular railing tightly you look down to see the dizzingly view of the deck below you. It was such a dangerous position but the sight of the seemingly endless ocean was enrapturing.

"I personally perfer sitting on the edge of the boat but the scenery here has a certain charm to it too."

You look behind you to see Kazuha leaning back on the railing with his head angled up. His hair is ruffled by the wind and you admire the handsome man. Little details that you couldn't see on official artwork or game models became clearer.

The callouses on his hands. The wear and tear on his clothes. Even the hint of scars behind his bandages did not go unnoticed by your eyes. Moving to look at his face, you meet his eyes. Were those scarlet eyes always so peaceful yet striking?

"Last night you mentioned how I feel like a sweet dream and that the wind speaks highly of me. Today you spoke of it too. Can you tell me what the wind says of me?"

"I am unable to speak to it with words. It communicates to me with feelings and other abstract ways. I've just been in contact with it for so long that I would describe my communication with it as hearing."

Kazuha has been able to hear nature since he was little so he must have gained a lot of experience in understanding what it's trying to say to him. It's quiet before Kazuha speaks his next words with care.

"The wind has a unique way of speaking when it comes to the creator. That same way is also used when it speaks about you. The only one that has ever gotten as close to it as you, would be the traveler. But you surpass even her. As the creator speaks to you, it makes perfect sense that it speaks about you so similarly to the creator."

So, his own opinion makes him interpret the wind differently. If he saw your bare face and you introduced yourself simply by your name, he might have really believed you to be the creator. All those details plus the wind's reaction would make him entertain the idea.

But how long would it have lasted? All it would take is to see your crimson blood to make him start doubting. Doubts will creep in and eat away at his mind until he twists the wind's feelings into 'the wind is warning me of them pretending to be the creator by mimicking their appearance and scent.'

"It's such an honor to be seen similarly to the creator. I hope it can stay like that forever. I'm not sure if the creator will stay with me forever but I'm thankful that I can at least meet people like you on this journey."

Your words are like sickly saccharine. Sweet to others but sickening to you. The lies rot your teeth like sugar as you clasp your hands together. Smiling shyly you look at Kazuha with a earnest expression.

For a second, Kazuha's breath seems stolen. His cheeks gain a rosy hue and his gaze seems to swallow you whole. Until the expression falls and his eyebrows pinch together slightly.

"Is somethi-"

"Oi Kazuha! I need your help with something for a second!"

Furong is the one calling him. If it wasn't for the anemo providing aid to help you hear better, you would have missed it completely. Kazuha looks down and glances at you with a contemplative expression.

"I'll head down in a second!" Kazuha reluctantly yells back before looking back at you with a soft almost sorrowful smile.

"I'll be heading down to help them, if you don't mind staying up here then please wait for me to come back."

You nod to show your agreement and watch him leave. The glimmer of worry in his eyes doesn't escape yours.

There's no way your front failed, if there's one thing you're confident in, it's your skill in lying. His initial reaction shows that he fully believed it, so what made him strongly doubt it?

The wind, or the anemo element specifically. Your connection to Teyvat as the creator must have let it alert him to your hidden feelings. He must believe that you feel sad rather than you being a liar. After all, lying would have made him mad.

You brainstorm what kind of story you can tell Kazuha as you wait for him to come back. The rolling waves, occasional jumping fish, and cawing birds are good background noise to help. The sight of a small island jolts you out of your head.

The sound of Kazuha's signature skill is perfectly timed as you turn back to see him land smoothly on the wood. Before he can speak and try to address your earlier mood, you speak first.

"That island Beidou mentioned is getting close. Should we alert her now or wait?" You point at the land that the Alcor is steadily getting closer to with an easy smile.

Kazuha frowns a little at the sight of it, it turns into a soft smile as he stretches his hands out to you.

"You're correct, we should tell her now. The landing will be a bit rough so it's best for you to be on the deck rather than up here. If you don't mind, I'll help you back down."

"Not a problem." Your words are accompanied by a beaming smile as your hand is placed in his. Swiftly he picks you up and holds you firmly in his arms.

"Which way would you perfer? The fast drop or a gradual landing?" He stands on the railing without faltering as he smiles at you.

"The fast drop, I trust that you will land as smoothly as you speak." The words you speak have a teasing note as you tighten your grip on him.

"Then I will not disappoint."

Instead of jumping off while facing the ground like you expected, he turns around so his back faces the drop. He starts falling backwards as you gasp in surprise.

Unlike the first time Kazuha held you, you made sure to keep your eyes open. Your stomach lurched as the air rushed past you. All too soon Kazuha righted his body and used his skill to land on the deck.

You're set down gently as he keeps hold of your hands to steady you. Eyes scrunched up in joy an airy giggle leaves you.

"You're the best rollercoaster I've ever been on."

"What's a rollercoaster?"

"I don't know, what is a rollercoaster?"

Your serious and confusing response makes Kazuha blink in confusion before Beidou comes up behind him.

"You both came down a lot sooner than I thought. Has the island been spotted already?"

"Yes, it has. It's around-" You zone off when Kazuha starts telling Beidou all the details on where the island is and how close it is to the ship. You needed to conserve any and all mental energy to keeping yourself alive, information like this would hinder you more than anything.

That's exactly why you only sat on a crate out of everyone's way as they ran around preparing to briefly dock at the island. If you are lucky, Kazuha might even forget whatever he planned to ask you.

The ship stops at the island and the board is put down. You watch in vague confusion as none of the crewmembers move to leave. Weren't they supposed to pick up some things from the island?

The sight of a very familar panda boarding the ship with a large bag makes you sit up straighter. Guoba, the usually silent bear happily put the bag down on the deck before catching sight of you.

He freezes at the sight of you as his eyes go wide. Feeling a bit worried that he might react like Ei, you wave at him trying to keep your heart under control. You have no clue how this secretly ancient god would react to you!

Guoba rushed towards you as he jumped up in down in what seemed like joy. Little hums and trills of happiness escaped him as you relaxed at his positive reaction. It would seem that he recognizes you as the creator. Too bad he can't talk and actually tell everyone.

Smiling you offer your hand to Guoba as he places his paws in it with childlike delight.

"Hello, you must be Guoba. You used to be the stove God right? A pleasure to meet you, I'm Y/N. I'm currently the creator's oracle."

He tilts his head in confusion. It must be weird to him that the creator is referring to themselves as someone other than the creator. Hopefully, his reduced mental capacity will not let him interfere and accidentally rat you out.

"Guoba, there you are! There's still a few bags left, please help me get the last ones."

Xiangling comes onto the ship holding two bags with a worried expression. Guoba looks at you and then at Xiangling with a conflicted expression.

You release Guoba's paws and gesture off the boat with your head, silently telling Guoba to help Xiangling out. With one last "Lalala~" he hopped off the boat.

The cheerful vision holder that has a literal god as a companion, sets the bags down and apologizes with a sheepish smile.

"I'm so sorry for Guoba's action! He usually isn't that physical with people. My name is Xiangling and I'm a chef from Liyue."

"It's not a problem, Gouda was endearing rather than off-putting. I'm glad he's that friendly with me. You can call me Y/N."

Another woman boards the ship holding three bags with Guoba following after her with the last bag. A tall stature, darker skin, many spikes and a large guitar-claymore fusion helps you easily identitfy Xinyan.

She was taller than her game model looked like and her features were sharper too. Her character details said that she was taller than most girls her age so it makes sense that you can see her accurate height.

But it still made no sense that people are so afraid of her. People would move out of lines she joins which was pretty fucking stupid. Maybe it's cause she lives in Liyue and you're from Earth but she looked more badass than scary.

Xinyan must have felt your gaze as she turns to look in your direction with confusion. She sets down all three bags and Xiangling hurriedly opens them. With a friendly smile Xinyan walks over to you.

"Are you a special guest of some sort? I'm Xinyan, the only rock 'n' roll musician in Liyue. Beidou doesn't usually pick people up unless they're something special."

Hopping off the crate you hold your hand out with a grin. Xiangling may be looking into the bag but you can tell she's listening. Both pyro users are extremely friendly and not likely to suspect you of anything bad. It's best to get on their good side which thankfully isn't hard.

"I'm Y/N, an oracle for the creator. As for special guest, it's more like I'm the Kamisato Clan's chosen guest. It's great to meet you Xinyan."

As Xinyan shakes your hand Xiangling's head whips around to face you both at light speed.

"You're an oracle for the creator?!" She says loudly as she comes to you with sparkling eyes. Should you be concerned?

"Does that mean the creator can taste food through you? I've always offered food to the shrines and temples but it's not like I can get any feedback through that method. But if the creator can taste through you then you can tell me what they think of my food!"

Xiangling is steadily growing closer to your face with each word until her expectant eyes are almost all you can see. Xinyan watches the scene affectionately before scrambling to close the bags that has ingredients almost falling out of it.

Said ingredients are stuff that you don't recognize at all. Or they are a completely new variation of regular ingredients like hot pink Jueyun Chili peppers. It makes you a little scared to eat her food.

But at the same time, Xiangling was a famous chef. A true prodigy in culinary arts. She wouldn't want to feed the creator bad or sickening food. Her food is just a little dangerous, like Russian roulette.

In the end, your stomach won as you clap your hands together with glee.

"You're correct, the creator and I are connected in ways that acolytes are not. That includes sharing certain senses. I've heard before that you are one of the best chefs and even won a competition! Both I and the creator have high expectations."

Your words are said with so much enthusiasm that it couldn't have been mistaken for someone trying to subtly put pressure to be served the best food.

Xiangling hops from one foot to the other in elation as Guoba cheers with her. She's already grabbing a bag and a few other worrying substances from the other bags as she speaks.

"I'll be sure to serve up the best food! I'll start with something familiar then move on to the more risky dishes and finally end with my newest creation!"

Oh boy, you were in trouble.

You could only wave briefly to Xiangling before she speeds away to what you believe to be the kitchen. If you get sick then at least you have an excuse to avoid Kazuha and Beidou.

"All of Xiangling's dishes are rock 'n' roll! They might look or smell like something that'll set you ablaze but I promise it's full of nothin' but burning passion!"

Xinyan's accent graces your ears as you look at her with a nervous smile.

"Oh, I'm not doubting her ability. It's my own taste buds that I'm worried about. Inazuma has a lot of mild tasting dishes so the signature spices that Xiangling uses might be a shock for my mouth."

"Even so, you seem mighty open to trying it. That's a good thing of course, prejudice only slows life's roll."

The shifting of the fleet makes you stumble a little and grip the railing. Xinyan who has experience with sailing only leans back on edge of it with a content sigh.

Prejudice. It's the core concept that Xinyan fights against using rock 'n' roll which is viewed as resistance. In a way, you were also in this spot due to prejudice. After all, if everyone didn't have certain expectations of the creator or weren't so guarded against features that resemble the creator. You wouldn't be in this mess.

"Hey Xinyan? Do you mind me asking a question?"

"Not a problem, go ahead."

"What made you love rock 'n' roll? And I don't mean as a music genre but as a concept."

"That's a bit of a long story but I'll try to narrow it down. You'll need some background information first. I suggest you get comfortable."

You're quick to shift into a more relaxed stance beside her. Her story and words will be a very welcome distraction from the thought of dealing with whatever Liyue will throw at you.

"You hear my accent? It's because I grew up in the poorer countryside and growing up I faced a lot of people that weren't accepting of me. My height, face, skills, and even my skin color at times. There was a time where I wanted to give up and just accept that I wasn't what people wanted me to be. That the real me just wouldn't be accepted."

Her lips were set in a line as she spoke. Hands drumming on the railing to a tune you didn't recognize.

"But I absolutely hate losing so I visited Fontaine. I hoped that I could learn some tricks to finally master traditional feminine arts, instead I found something better. I found rock 'n' roll. Just that one concert I went to changed my life, the spirit of resistance spoke to like nothing else!"

You stayed quiet as she started to speak excitedly. A little seed of envy sprouted in your heart but you were quick to stomp on it to death.

"It really helped put everything in perspective. I didn't need to change who I was, things I can't control or my own opinions to make others happy. The creator must surely approve of it too since I got my vision through it too. At this point I've mastered everything people said I wouldn't and I'm far happier than I would have been if I gave up."

Her eyes finally meet yours as she smiles fearlessly. You match her expression with one more tame but just as happy.

If your life wasn't in danger, perhaps you would be taking a route similar to hers. Simply living without apology and doing your best to live every day to the fullest. But that wasn't possible when your life is on the line like this. Still it was nice to dream.

"It's really amazing Xinyan. You should be proud of who you are today because there's a lot more people than you think that are just as proud. So don't burn out until there's nothing left to set aflame, okay?"

Those words aren't just meant for her, it was for you too. 'Don't stop trying to find a life here until every option is exhausted.' Reckless? Yes, but you didn't want to die like cattle in this life. Not after living like a dog back on Earth.

"Oh that's perfect! That's the best inspiration I've gotten through this whole trip. I need to go write this down and tune my guitar before the big show today. I'll see ya later Y/N!"

Xinyan was already rushing off to who knows where before you get a word out. The ship wouldn't get to Liyue till early tomorrow morning. What show was she talking about?

You sat at the table in the kitchen as Xiangling placed dish upon dish on the table till no empty space was left. Some looked normal even recognizable like black-back perch stew, a specialty of hers. Other's looked almost frightening like the strange hot pink stir fry with neon green fish and blueish veggies.

"From left to right is my most confident work to my latest dishes. I hope you enjoy them all."

Xiangling looked so happy and expectant that you didn't have it in you to back out. With a gentle smile you start eating the stew.

Was this heaven? Was it possible to taste heaven?

You gobble down the black-back perch stew like it was your last meal. You swallow the last piece before giving your review.

"The creator is very happy that your most famous original dish is this one. It's truly the best combination of Li and Yue cuisine."

You weren't technically lying, your words are more comparable to speaking in third person.

With more confidence you begin eating the dishes systematically while giving what you hope is valid criticism.

"The flavor of silk flowers is a little too strong in this one."

"This blue violet grass you got is good initially but the aftertaste sucks."

"The shellfish you caught requires more seasoning."

You actually managed to eat all the dishes and not throw up. Was this a testament to Xiangling's cooking skills or your iron stomach from all sorts of crap you ate on Earth?

"Thank you so much Y/N! It's always been my childhood dream to offer my dishes to the creator themself! I've written down everything you said so that I don't forget and can always look back on it."

She pats the notebook with a smug smile at your mostly positive feedback that makes you laugh.

"Thank you too Xiangling. Your dishes were some of the best I've ever tasted. Whenever the creator comes, I'm sure they'll want you as their chef."

She blush at your compliment and turns away in embarrassment. Guoba seems to be sharing her joy judging by the happy "Lalala~" he lets out.

You reach out and pet his head. His eyes close and he stands perfectly still. This had to be the most adorable thing, he was so soft!

The clinking of a plate on the table snaps you and Guoba out of your daze. A bowl of food and meat smelling vaguely of pork catches your attention.

"I didn't forget you Guoba. Thank you for waiting and not stealing Y/N's food. So I made you your favorite!"

You move your hand off his head and he happily starts eating his food. What you thought was pork looks different. Was this another animal you didn't recognize?

"What meat is that? I thought it was pork but the texture looks really different. I've never seen it before."

"Oh, it's human flesh. I did have some leftover internal organs but I put those to freeze for him to eat at dinner."

You barely hold back the urge to throw up.

There were always cannibalism jokes about Xiangling with her "Help! My dinner is attacking me!" line but this was so much more. She actually killed, cooked, and fed Guoba a human being. And so casually said it too!

Did she use that meat in your food too? Did any of your dishes have human remains in them? Your grip on the table tightens a little. She's still watching Guoba as she belatedly continues.

"I only feed animals human meat. I wouldn't want to be a cannibal or make anyone else one either. But it's such a waste to leave meat like that to rot. Might as well feed it to someone right? One of my signature traits is to make dishes out of any ingredients after all."

Should you be relieved or worried? This must be common knowledge or even common practice by how easily she told you. Bile pools in your mouth as you ask her.

"How did you get the meat? Did you just find the body or did you have to kill someone?"

"I'm not fond of killing and I try to avoid it outside of when the creator controls me. But when people speak about the creator like they don't matter or don't exist, it really bothers me. I end up saying something, it becomes an argument and then it gets messy. Under law it's okay to kill someone who disgraces the creator so I don't get in trouble but it would be a waste to just leave them there."

That's a literal law? Was it just in Liyue or was it in every nation? If you were too careless when you spoke to Ayaka that day, she could have killed you and no one would blame her.

You hum and nod, not trusting that your voice could be steady just yet. Guoba finishes his bowl and Xiangling takes it to the sink.

Laying your head on the table, you focus on relaxing your stomach.

That law was probably created for more morally correct situations like someone blatantly badmouthing the creator. And there's a large chance they wouldn't immediately believe the accusations. But Xiangling and Ayaka are both well known and liked acolytes. The court would totally believe them.

Ayaka probably didn't kill you because she wanted Ayato to make the final decision. Plus killing you would reflect badly on her as the Shirasagi Himegimi. With this new knowledge of Xiangling's cooking ingredients you had be more careful around her.

You lift your head a little at the sound of a guitar. Was that singing?

Quietly you excuse yourself from the kitchen and climb the stairs to the main deck. There you saw the crew gathered around what looked like Xinyan in the middle.

She was strumming her guitar on a makeshift stage as she started to sing. Her vision would glow at brief intervals as her movements were accompanied by spurts of fire.

Was it really safe for a destructive fire vision holder to use it on a wooden boat? You were no professional but wasn't this an extreme fire hazard?!

A little more frantic you start scanning the boat looking for Beidou. Surely she would either reassure you with facts or put a stop to it.

At the lack of the captain you climb to the higher deck as the music gets louder and louder. Flames were now constantly swirling around her as the crew cheered along.

You finally spot Beidou watching the ocean as the waves roll harder then they were this morning.

"Captain Beidou! I hope I'm not bothering you but I'm just a little concerned. Is it safe for fire to be so open on the ship? Xinyan's concerts never hurt any of the fans but the stages and area tend to be casualties right?"

She looks back at you with her good eye and smiles knowingly. She hangs her arm around your shoulder and spins you towards the stairs leading to the main deck.

"You shouldn't be so worried about that. As captain, I'll always make sure you're safe. So go on! Have fun! Join the crowd and let go of your worries."

That's only making you more worried.

You feel a bit helpless as she walks down the stairs with you. The sky is almost completely covered with grey clouds. Xinyan's singing rings throughout your ears perfectly in tune with the music.

Xiangling leaves the kitchen and Beidou releases you in favor of talking to the cheerful chef. Looking up you can see the faint form of Kazuha at the lookout. The loud music must be bothering his sensitive hearing.

The air is starting to feel damp and hot as the flames grow bigger and spread farther. Despite your worries, it's almost hypnotic to watch Xinyan perform with such ferocity.

It's the tug of your clothing that snaps you out of your daze. Looking down you see Guoba looking strangely worried. He releases your clothes in favor of holding your hand and brings you closer to the edge of the boat.

With this new view you can see the harsh waves and crashing tides. The ship is swaying and each shift makes you hold onto the railing tighter. A long, huge and dark figure below the ocean makes your breath stop as fear bites your soul.

With uncharacteristic terror and alarm you whip your head around to where you last saw Beidou.

"Somethings coming!-"

Your warning is just a tad too late as a loud roar overpowers your words.

Unable to mask your horror you turn your head back to the ocean as a large shadow overtakes you. A huge sea monster rises from the ocean as the water falls off it with a loud splat.

Four eyes peer down at the ship and seem to lock eyes with you. The twin heads point up at the sky as another booming roar rings through the sky.

This took really long huh? I was just getting super busy plus with family stuff. But that's boring! I also noticed that I write different depending on my location, weird but it makes sense. Isn't it strange how Thoma never visits Mondstadt? Ayato and Ayaka would totally let him have a week off to go visit but he doesn't. I guess you can say that I headcanon that Thoma has a fear of traveling large bodies of water like that. After nearly dying on his way from Monstadt to Inazuma, he can't handle that kind of journey well anymore. Which is why he would need saving.

And I should totally clarify about Xinyan for those who saw her cutscene in the second Golden Apple Archipelago. Starting with setting, it's canon that she has a accent and grew up poor. But in the cutscene, she's in Liyue's city. That can be easily brushed off as visiting. But she also sees a man using an instrument there and gains her love for music. Except she's the first and only rock 'n' roll musician in Liyue so that means she got her love for rock 'n' roll somewhere else. So the backstory I made with her could totally fit the canon. The next chapter has a lot of lore and more action. (that ofc includes lying) Also a lot of people haven't been popping up when I try to tag them but I hope those in the taglist have been getting notifs. I'm gonna edit this whole thing in the morning and post it around then. (maybe) Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37,

[kalims]

I SEE SLOT REQUEST OPEN— IG??

Can i request a fluff with Octa trio(separately) on a date but being disturbed by the first year by questioning “why are you dating with this shady guy mom— you could’ve get better step father for us.” ace said…

AHAHAHAHAHA I JUST WANT CHAOS DURING TTHE DATE BETWEEN THE TRIO THAT WOULD BE FLABBERGASTED OR SHOCKED AND SPEECHLESS BY WHAT ACE SAYING THAT😭

that time where you became a parent | octavinelle

premise. there's a lot of firsts in relationships and getting your date crashed by your partner's self-proclaimed kids for the first time is apparently one as well.

cw. mention of getting tortured once (brief), someone disappears, mention of mafia as a comparison to the octa trio, not proofread

includes. gender neutral reader, fluff

note. hi yes, after ten years /j I've decided to test my flexibility with requests since I plan to take up commisions 😚

also ik that cw is really concerning but it's nothing bad in the writing i swear!! also you sent this ask a few hours ago (4) but I'm already done?? wow

hey also im so sorry I just realized you used a feminine term 'mom' and i only realized after I finished writing 💀 you didn't specify the reader and I didn't notice so I thought it's like gender neutral my bad!

azul ashengrotto | all of the above

"azul you've been frozen for a minute,, are you okay?"

"I'm,,, fine?" he thinks?

ace snorts. "dude you call that fine? you look like you just saw one of ursula's tentacles get cut off,"

shocked? flabbergasted? speechless? azul is just one huge combination of those three even though they're pretty much the same thing. he's just suprised, albeit a little disturbed that your... five grown men friends—‎also your apparent 'children' have now kidnapped you as their parent and is planning to make him a step-father without his consent!

he looks at you with a blink as if to as 'what in the great seven are they talking about' meanwhile you just shrug and take a bite out of the lunch azul had just bought you, thoroughly enjoying it because come on. who wouldn’t enjoy free food? it's your right as his partner to experience getting spoiled but that doesn't mean you don't get to not like it.

judging by the casual, indifferent demeanor you display and even your unbothered face? azul can tell that this happens lots of times and at some point you had accepted it.

also the ursula comment.. he got offended on her behalf, no way the great ursula would even let that happen to her. she's the epitome of greatness! plus... he'll have your bratty child know that octopuses can regrow a limb!

wait a minute.

azul sputtered and frowned defensively. "excuse me? shady?" he'll have them know that he is a perfectly—perfect father for your children! there is no 'better' because he simply is the best.

oh azul... who's gonna tell him that he's obviously showing off whenever your grown 'kids' are around in hopes of getting their approval? no one apparently cause ace thinks it's too funny for it to be stopped and he needs seriously good entertainment that matches up to this level.

god lord if anyone sees him snooping around the library on topics that typically interest teens.. or jade leaking out the fact that he sent the tweels to collect information about the five.. that makes for good blackmail according to them and he's starting to get concerned with how many material they had gotten from him.

ㅤ

jade leech | more amused than suprised

"I believe that I am capable of reaching the standards of your 'children'," a chuckle.

epel quips over from the side casually, toning his pitch up a notch to showcase the knowing voice. "hows your criminal record? clean?"

the chuckling ceases.

okay maybe he can reach their expectations in ways that doesn't involve a clean record. in his defense that person had crossed a line so jade had to... remind them which line to stay behind. it's not like epel knows that the speeding ticket was just a cover up for the more concerning one and as much as jade liked to tell the tale, he supposes he'd get much more disagreement if he told the other story, so he resorted to talking about the less... severe crime.

jack in particular voices his disagreement, more so when jade had commented on craving meat while eyeing jack in a way that the buff man immediately got offended and snitched to you.

safe to say that as much as you love your concerning, tall, red flag boyfreind he's definitely gonna feel the heat from your glare. that day jade learned not to mess with jack cause despite how ironically strong the man is? apparently he's a pretty big snitch cause he always goes to you and tries to 'convince' you that even kalim makes a better lover.

jade did not like that at all. why like the excruciatingly boring sunshine of scarabia? I mean come on, over kalim and jade? who's less boring? he questions you with a particularly coy smile.

for your sake, he supposes. the five troublesome first years had gotten less treatment for him nowadays and he's made it perfectly clear that he has the capability to mess with them once again, be it in a battle of mentality, or strength. but just cause he let them off doesn't mean their off the hook yet! which is great because with the subtly implications he had made meant that jack with the quick mouth wouldn't be so quick to snitch on him.

for a guy who tortur—I mean, gave a perfectly justified punishment to a sinner jade is pretty childish and competitive to prove that he's a pretty damn good boyfriend that no one,,, absolutely no one (not even your kids lol) can mess with.

ㅤ

floyd leech | thinks it's really funny and wants to be the dad

"awww.. shrimpy you didn't tell me you got a whole troupe of baby shrimpies," floyd giggles.

"I mean they didn't tell me that I was their parent too so,"

"hmph! calling the prefect my parent would be disrespecting master lilia!" sebek bemoaned—loudly despite accepting a parental scold about volume from you.

most of the sentence that ace commented about him being... shady? just went in one ear and out the other. I mean yeah, he isn't gonna blow the 'cover' but they're mafia type shit shady and he can't exactly deny what they see. and apparently what ace sees is that you need a better 'husband' and they need a better 'step-father' to which floyd replied a; "there's no one else. you're stuck with me baby shrimpies,"

floyd's grin was very ominous but when was it not? though his specific harder emphasis on 'no one' concerns you a little and you even had a moment of realization because besides that one guy who miraculously disappeared after he flirted witn you quite literally disappeared from thin air... who else approached you after that?

but just like any other MC you shrug it off :) (for the sake of the plot)

for some reason floyd believes the family thing wholly and had now squeezed himself into it—to the dismay and endless complaints from sebek. besides the obvious dislike the angry teen had out for him, floyd seems to think the opposite and even finds sebek amusing! (to the further suffering of sebek floyd had requested for him to call him dad)

sebek refused of course and explained he already had a father and simply could not!

floyd took it the wrong way and asked you if you were seeing another person 😭 I mean there's only one person 'lilia' in the school and from sebek's 'master-lilia' from their conversation it's clear that the boy was referring to whoever lilia is as his father so he tried to get jade up in it (who loved the idea of storming diasomnia but hell, even jade was wary of the nobody floyd never heard of in his life!)

^ coughs that was his jealousy speaking. in the end jade outright talked him out of it and told him that he could always spread some.. things since it always works.

out of jealousy floyd had told you that lilia sounds like a 5 year old name and is lame. jealousy may come in fire but floyd's come in grude. you just feel kinda bad for lilia lol

ㅤ

──  ko-fi

[cinellieroll]

☆ random obey me headcanons part 4!

satan and diavolo ♡

part one (lucifer, mammon and simeon)

part two (asmodeus, levi and barbatos)

part three (beelzebub, belphegor and solomon)

small note: last part is here wooh! i apologize i wasn't able to add the others. i just didn't know what to put for theirs bc im big idiot. i might make some of them soon tho! i'll probably make aot headcanons next but there will be delays bc exams are next week 😔 i'll also plan on putting more characters in one post next time so stay tuned!

☆ satan:

- likes friv.com, y8 games and papa games.

- picked up the habit of meowing out of nowhere when he's bored or enters his room. only does it when he's alone ofcourse because no way he'll let others see him like this. (everyone knows he does it they just don't say anything)

- he really liked enola holmes and other movies where it has detectives. it just riles him up more and more and wishes a hard ass case will just appear in the devildom already so he'll be first in the scene.

- don't get me started on how many times this man has tripped on his pile of books. he never really learned his lesson and just kept the books on the floor because he enjoys watching cats step on each one

- watches mat pat theories with you and levi. that's when he genuinely started gaining interest in games and sometimes fear he'll end up like levi one day.

- before he was able to manage his anger, he used to pull on his hair really hard. he'd have bald spots for years. thankfully he takes care of it now and it's perfectly luscious and soft.

- gets pissed when he sees people leaving pens uncapped like this is a waste of ink

- also gets pissed when his brothers leave the bathroom door open. he'll use his sleeve to cover his hand and close the door like a clean freak (i do the same thing)

- snores really loud when he sleeps on the couch. yes, the couch not his own bed. the couch.

☆ diavolo:

- he finds pleasure in buying a lot of unnecessary stuff. never learns from his lesson and just kept buying little trinkets and giving silly excuses for it.

- "but barbatos! doesn't this pig just look so cute on my office table? look! i even bought 300 packs of those tea leaves you ordered last time! isn't that great :D?"

- "my lord those tea leaves cost 100k grimm each-"

- he loves to spoil people so much it's so insane. you mentioned you like tanghulus? he ordered barbatos to make 20 of them. oh you really liked that furry coat made by a famous designer? he just bought you 5 pairs of it in different colors. your welcome.

- he likes onesies

- takes really long showers as well. he recently caught up to this thing called an "everything shower" and got invested. now he can't go on with his day without using body washes, oils and cleansers. a demon prince always has to be fresh and well maintained.

- he's always very excited to see you so when he rushes for a hug it's required to pick you up. who cares if he gets scolded by barbatos or receives a glare from belphie? you enjoy it and so does he!

- beautiful thick thighs and ass cheeks it makes me go what the fuck papi chulo

- enjoys the idea of cosplaying. doesn't care what he wears as long as gets to go out and dress up as a character. a dinosaur? sure! princess diavolo?! say less!

another note: we just reached 30 fucking followers hello??1!1(1?@? thank you so much !!! (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠)

[nqueso-emergency]

I feel like I gotta be the only one who actually was happy reading that not a lot of time has passed between seasons and Buck and tommy were actually still getting to know each other.

Because one thing about Tim? He sure as fuck loves to skip the development part of the relationships he creates and move it at the speed of the flash.

The first 2 seasons of Lone Star gave Tarlos literally hardly any development and almost everything happened off screen. I remember watching thinking … wow wow when did that happen? How are they moving so quick? I love Tarlos but those first 2 seasons was a strugggllleeeeee! I don’t even remember their first I love yous, or how they first moved in. Luckily they got more in s3/4 but it took a while!

We opened season 2 with bathena dating secretly and ending it with them moving in and getting married. Fine by me cause I love those two but that was quick!

I’m not even going to bother talking about Buck and Eddies relationships with their partners … yikes. I’ll give it to them with Taylor Kelly and Abby (but Abby was played by Connie so duh) but apart from those two it was all very fast. I will never ever forget Buck meeting Natalia and by the end of the fucking episode after knowing her a fucking week telling Eddie “I think she knows me better than I know myself”

…………WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?!? MY GUY!?! YOU PROBABLY DONT EVEN KNOW HER BDAY … oh Jesus Natalia and Buck was something else. 🙄🙄

Marisol and Eddie lord give me strength they met and moved in wtf

I loved what they did with Maddie and Chim; the development took a while for obvious reasons and we learned about their traumas and how they healed together honestly it was handled with such care. But that’s a rarity in the 911 world.

I wanna see it all; I don’t care how slowly it goes. Just show me development!

I agree! I'm really excited to see this relationship develop. We deserve it and Buck deserves it.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH.21 (Giant Frog)

Hello! It's been a while, but tumblr seems to have fixed their ctrl+z deletes-the-entire-post bug so I'm down to attempt this once again.

Let's dive right in and see what I remember!

I'd forgotten how much I love the imagery of this manga. Kui-san, teach me the secret of drawing spiral stairs.

Get you a man that looks at you the way Laios looks at tentacles.

For a second there, he looked like got GOT. What the heck was that?

How dare you come between a guy and his sword that is technically a terrarium for a little monster buddy?!

An absolutely accurate depiction of wizards.

Adventurers and their emotional bonds with their weapons....

We're not gonna talk about those tentacles that looks like fleshlights, huh.

This is absolutely the stupidest fight......... in a good way, I'm not complaining. But that begs the question - why are the frogs trying to their their WEAPONS? If they were hungry I think I'd go for Chilly-billy, as he's the most snack-sized in the group. Are they protecting the tentacles from getting slashed?

"Pokedex, tell me the thing I need to know!"

NOOOO YOU'VE FAILED US, PALADIN OF THE INFO-DUMPING OATH!

I'd love to see the minute and a half it took for him to cut, strip, and TIE THOSE FLESH STRIPS WITH TWINE. The rest of them are just going through it, playing tug of war.....

talk shit, get..... eat....?

D...did being in its mouth not affect him in any way?

Y'all really had time for this on what looks to be a 3-4 foot wide staircase with zero guard rails. An ideal camping spot.

boys will be boys. This is the only version of that statement I will accept.

...........Marcille. Don't. Don't be that easy. Prove to me you're not a pushover.

Going to Disneyland in family tshirts be like.........

(oh lord I didn't even notice Senshi's beard poking through......... and Chillchuck just being in a bag of leftovers................)

.............you can't NOT love these idiots. They really have such huge adventuring party energy.

Y'all are gonna show up to fight the dragon in cutscene DLC clothes, this is the best outcome possible.

oh wow she really went there!!!!! yes!!!!! fucking excellent.

oh.........oh I see.

Listen, I'm sure your girlfriend will love you no matter what Marcille--

Also, as you may have noticed, I'm reading a slightly different translation now. I can't say I totally love the spelling changes. Is this the official transcription of their names? Might be interesting to know if Kui-san had input on them..... Farlyn? I think Falin sounds more accurate but........

[imagine-that-100]

Will We Talk? | Part 4 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 18.2k

A/N: It's finally here oh my lord. Once again so sorry my writing takes so long these days but I'm so excited about this chapter. Thank you for the suggestions I got after I dropped the teaser, really appreciate all the help and it got my mind back into writing mode again. After this there's only one part left, but its going to be fun so don't fret. Really hope you enjoy this part, please let me know what you think. Thank you so so much for reading. Enjoy x

| My Masterlist | 

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

The run up to Christmas was fun. Fucking Alex every other day of the week had been a surprisingly needed stress relief that a month ago you would have never foreseen. Usually the run up to Christmas had you stressed for no reason in particular but this year with your stresses finally being relieved every other night it was so much better than other Christmas breaks you’ve had in a long time. 

Alex had certainly been making the most of your arrangement. It was him texting or calling you asking, “Are you free tonight?” Which may as well be directly translated to ‘Do you want to fuck me tonight?’. Every single time you said yes, not depriving yourself of such simple pleasures and it led to you having a very relaxed holiday season. 

And now Christmas is over and done with, you were excited for tonight’s New Year’s party. So much so that you couldn’t sit at home and just wait to get ready, you ended up texting Katie and asking her if you could help her set up and thankfully she said yes. 

For the past hour you’ve been listening to music and hearing the Cook's Christmas stories of Forest getting all excited when he opened each present. She showed you a couple of videos before Jamie took the little man out for the afternoon while you both got the house ready for tonight. 

Your catch ups are the best and you adore your best friend so much. The gossiping and the giggling never ceases and you’re forever finding new things to talk about, it’s a miracle you’ve not discovered everything there is to know about each other after a decade of being best friends. 

But it turns out there are some things you are yet to discover. Like a certain holiday that was being planned. 

“You’re coming on the impromptu trip away with us, right?” Katie asks, a little out of the blue as if she’s just remembering as she unpeels the Happy New Year banners from each other and handing one to you. 

“Depends, when?” You tell her, knowing the dates of this trip will be the deal breaker if you can go, “I’m back in work on the ninth, remember?”

You’ve joined the Cooks on impromptu trips away before, both with their family and their friends. You’re always invited, which you find thoughtful of Katie and knowing that these trips tend to be very random, you’d started saving money for such events so you didn’t find yourself missing out. The only time you denied yourself was when the trips clashed with work which you hope isn’t the case this time. 

“Oh, we come back on the seventh.” Katie grins, very pleased with what you’ve just said, “You’re coming.” 

“Yeah,” You find yourself giggling at her, knowing she probably wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway. You continue putting up the party decorations as you tell her, “Just let me know how much it is and I’ll scramble it together.”

“Oh no, Alex is paying for us all,” She tells you, as she seems to be having a hard time stretching the balloons out to start blowing them up, “You just need spending money.” 

You immediately frown hearing that, bluetacking the banner on the wall and turning towards your best friend to ask, “What?”

“Alex is paying.” She tells you, “It’s for his birthday. Has he not told you about it yet?”

“No, he’s not mentioned it.” You tell her. 

You figure it’s best to neglect mentioning how the singer only talks to ask how you are before he ends up saying the filthiest things into your ear as he fucks you senseless. Holidays and other things normal friends would talk about are not on the cards. 

He comes over. You fuck. He leaves. Interaction complete. 

“Oh well, he probably expected me to ask you.” Katie shrugs, not thinking much of it, “But yeah don’t worry about the money, he’s paying.”

You’ll see about that, you think as you continue helping your best friend decorate, putting the singer out of your head for the time being. 

~*~*~*~

I need to speak to you 

You text the singer as you’re walking home from Katie’s. You thought about just leaving it but you know if you keep what you're feeling bottled in it will just make you go back into your shell when you’re around him, and that’s the last thing either of you want. 

Thankfully those thoughts don’t have enough time to fester because about 2 minutes later Alex texts you back. 

Christ

Am I in trouble? x

His response makes you roll your eyes as you can practically hear him asking you. You know for a fact he will have snorted when he got the message through and when he typed that one back to you. So you keep him in limbo for a bit. 

You’re not funny 

Phone me when you’re free. 

Thankfully you’re not waiting for ages for the call. Your phone starts ringing as you turn the corner and head down your road. It’s a little embarrassing how excited you are to get back in your house for a bit and just relax until the party later. 

After greeting him, Alex gets straight to the point, “What’s up Y/N?”

“About this holiday,” You start, “Katie told me she wants me to come and I want to know how you feel about that before I start to spiral.”

You can already sense the panic in your chest as you feel like you’re at a bit of a stalemate. You don’t want to let Katie down but you’re also definitely not going to go if Alex wants a break from you. You don’t want to intrude on his holiday. Especially one that’s for his birthday. 

“Don’t spiral.” Alex begs, and you swear he’s also outside as you can almost hear the way he takes a drag of a cigarette before he says, “The last thing we need is you spiralling and questioning everything again.”

You can picture the smile tugging at his lips as he says that. So much so that him finding your panic amusing means that you silently want to scorn him. 

“I’m well aware of that.” You say a little bit too bluntly, so you attempt to soften the blow when you follow up with a rhetorical, “Why do you think I asked you to call me?”

Alex definitely mutes a laugh, covering it by him pretending to clear his throat. To make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble he distracts you by asking, “What’s panicking you now?”

“The holiday.” You take a deep breath before you start to vent your worries, “Apparently it’s for your birthday, I don’t know if you want me there with what’s going on with us. The fact that you’re apparently paying... I don’t want you paying for me if I come.”

“I did tell Katie to invite you if she wanted to.” Alex reveals. 

“That’s not the point. Do you want me there?” You ask him directly, “I don’t want to intrude on a holiday that’s for your birthday.”

Alex takes a second to answer that, not because it’s a difficult answer but mostly because he wants to know, “If we weren’t sleeping together would you come?”

You think about it for a second and realise that you probably would, but not without speaking to him and asking Katie at least 30 times if you were actually welcome. Not to mention trying not to interact with him much when you were out there. And you certainly would not be allowing him to pay for you. 

“I still would have double checked with you first, or got Katie to. But that doesn’t matter, it’s different now,” You start talking about your reality again, “The dynamic has changed.”

“Y/N, we were friends anyway,” Alex sighs and you’re glad he can’t see the way your face contorted in disagreement. “The only thing that’s different this time is that we’ve seen each other naked.” 

You almost scoff. 

You’ve done a lot more than see me naked, sir. 

Feeling flustered at the memories of him fucking you flooding back to your mind, you just get back to the point, “So, do you want me there or not?”

And you listen to his response as you unlock your front door and get into your house. Feeling the absence of the chill from outside makes the singers answer all the more bearable. 

“I just want you to do whatever you want to. You can come and have a holiday. I don’t expect anything from you if that’s what you’re worried about.” Alex says sincerely, before adding, “And I am paying.”

“I don’t want you to pay Alex,” You whine like a child not getting their own way. But you add honestly, “It makes me uncomfortable.”

And it’s not even just because you’re fucking him, although that is your main concern. It’s the fact that you’ve barely known him properly before now (and you still wouldn’t say you were all that close in any way but physically), you can’t in your right mind let him spend thousands on a skiing holiday for you.  

“Y/N, I didn’t invite you to make you feel uncomfortable.” The singer sighs, feeling like you should know this already. 

He’s not ever excluded you from something before and he’s certainly not about to start doing so now. And he’s not letting you pay for yourself when everyone else who is coming is paid for already. Christ, he doesn’t really know why this is even a conversation when everything has already been sorted and paid for in advance. 

You feel like you’re whining when you again admit, “I know that’s not the intention but I still feel it Alex.”  

“Well, it’s up to you.” Alex shrugs, hoping to convey how much he’s unbothered by the fact he’s paying for a holiday, but he doesn’t want to pressure you. “You’re very welcome to come and I’m paying for everyone, not just you.”

“But-“ You start but then stop yourself. 

Alex immediately questions, “But what?”

He would rather know what’s going on in your head rather than be left guessing. He needs to know how best to reassure you otherwise you both will just regress. And he doesn’t think that wanting for your honesty is too much to ask.

You can’t bring yourself to say it. So you just leave him with silence. 

But that silence speaks volumes. 

“You worried that if I pay for you to come I’m expecting you to shag me?” A few beats of silence pass and as you don’t dismiss him entirely, he already knows it to be true. His question is entirely rhetorical, “That’s it, isn’t it?”

You can’t even confirm it for him. It’s embarrassing to admit, but that is a worry of yours. 

“Y/N.” Alex sighs, knowing he’s right because of your silence. “I don’t expect anything from you, you know that right? You can come away with us and we don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s not compulsory, even when we’re home. Y/N/N, you’re Katie’s best friend, you’ve been around for ten years.” He backs up his point some more, “You came on the last holiday we went on, this is going to be no different to that. My birthday just happens to fall on a day whilst we’re there.” 

“You didn’t pay for me last time Al.” You argue in a slight huff, already feeling like you’re fighting a losing battle. 

“Hey, listen to me.” Alex persists, “I’m paying for everyone to come, not just you, and I’m not expecting a huge orgy all week.” 

You can help the laugh that escapes your lips at that. It’s a full giggle that the singer can’t help but grin at as he takes another drag of his cigarette. 

“There’s that laugh.” He hums, enjoying the sound even more purely because it’s him that’s caused it. 

Only after your laughter subsides, do you ask, a lot calmer now, “Are you sure you want me there?” 

“Yes, sweet.” Alex assures you. And just to convince you some more, he adds, “I need someone to entertain Mrs Cook when I pull Jamie away for a pint anyway. Think you fit the brief.” 

“Ah yeah, I think I could do that for you.” You chuckle a little, but then you’re serious in a soft tone, “I still feel bad that you’re paying though Alex. Skiing holidays are a lot of money.”

“I have a lot of money that I’ll never need.” The singer tells you, and you try not to think about the way anxiety in your chest dissipates when he says, “I’d rather treat my friends to a week away.”

You're his friend. Something so simple shouldn’t make your heart swell. Especially when the other night he tongue fucked you until you came, twice. 

“Well I’m buying you food and drinks whilst we’re away then.” You counter, finally readying yourself to admit defeat. 

“We’re going all inclusive but thanks.” You can almost hear Alex’s smirk. 

You sigh, dropping down onto your settee and leaning back to try and get comfy, “Well I’m assuming we won’t be staying in the hotel for your birthday. They’ll be pubs and cafes I’m sure.” 

He counters, “I’ll take a drink at the airport before we go.” 

“Okay deal.” You accept but know you’ll find ways to do more than just that, “Thank you Alex. You really don’t have to do this.”

“Well I want to.” Alex smiles, and his tone is full of amusement as he says, “And I can’t have you spiralling.”

You hum in a silent laugh at that and let your eyes close as you take a deep breath. You’re about to tell him that it’s just how you are but you’re okay now you’ve spoken about it. But he takes your attention again. 

“You know that this goes both ways right, Y/N/N?” You’re about to ask him what he’s on about until he continues, “If I text you asking to come over, you can say no and I’m not going to be offended by it. I understand that it’s not going to happen every time.” 

He’s talking about fucking you. And trying to make you feel more at ease about your situationship. 

Alex finishes off by saying, “I just ask on the off chance that you’re up for it.”

“I am always up for it.” Are the words that slip from your lips, and when you realise what you’ve said, your eyes shoot open. 

Oh my god woman, you sound so needy. Backtrack now. Now!

You sit up as you begin to pathetically backtrack, “Well. I mean, I- when you say you are, I, I- usually am too.”

“Good to know you’re always up for me, sweet,” You can hear Alex's smirk then, but thankfully he doesn’t tease you more for it he just carries on to say, “It seems like I’m texting you all the time asking to come over but you can text me. You’re allowed to get horny too.” 

You try and fail not to flush at hearing him say that. Especially when you can feel the ghost of his touch as you’re sitting on the settee he had you ride him on a week ago. 

“Alex, you’re over twice a week, if not more... It’s not like I’m without relief for long.” To drive the point home you say, “It’s not a ten month wait again.”

In your little meetings you’d discussed when you’d both last been with someone else. Yours was a guy you were seeing at the beginning of the year who turned out to just not do it for you after you dated him for a few months. 

Alex’s last fling was another rebound of his after the French girl he cheated on Taylor with. Turns out Alex hadn’t been with anyone in the last 5 months which did surprise you a little. But who are you to presume he’d just become a slag after his break up? 

“Still. We started this for a reason.” Alex drives the point home, wanting you to fully understand, “You can say no and you can call me whenever you want too.” 

You nod even though he can’t see you, “I know.”

“Maybe this holiday can just be the friends you’re so persistent we’re not.” 

You frown, confused, “What?”

“Your rule, ‘no sex while we’re away’.” Alex smirks, but he’s sincere when he says, “To make you feel more comfortable. 

“I don’t wanna seem like a prude Alex I just don’t…” You fail to continue your sentence, Wanna seem like a prostitute. 

“I think of all people, I’m not the one who’s going to think of you as a prude, sweet.” The singer can't help but tease, finding himself funny. 

You take a deep breath, trying not to let your amusement or embarrassment show, “So where are we going?”

“The Alps.” The singer tells you almost smugly, “Where else?”

You decide that you may as well ask him for the details if he’s sorting everything out, “When do we go?”

“Early morning of the second, we need to be at the airport for like four.” He tells you after a moment of thought. 

You hum, finally letting the excitement for a holiday bubble in your stomach, “Okay.”

Alex is smiling already hearing you finally sound at ease about the holiday, but he can’t help but push his luck a little more, “You free tonight, sweet?”

“No and neither are you,” You almost laugh, the amusement clear in your voice, “We’ve got Katie’s New Year’s party.”

Alex is grinning as he comes back with, “I mean at like three in the morning.”

“You’re a horny fuck.” You can’t help but tell him as you shake your head. 

You’re entirely unable to stop your face from flushing, making you very grateful he can’t see you. All you hope is he’s picturing you with a completely unbothered yet 

“You’re the one that just said you’re always up for me.” Alex counters and you have to bite your tongue. 

Idiot Y/N. 

“See you later Alex.” You immediately dismiss him, not wanting his teasing right now. 

Alex laughs loudly, “See you later sweet.”

~*~*~*~ January 2nd 2019 ~*~*~*~

The Alps are absolutely mesmerising and you could stare at the snow covered mountains for days. The trip was certainly worth every single ounce of effort and you know you’ll be eternally grateful to Alex for him bringing you all here. 

You’re sure when you first got here you looked like a child in a toyshop. The views are absolutely stunning and you know for a fact that your jaw was agape as you took in the breathtaking scenery around you. 

So much so that Alex turned you towards him at one point and pushed your jaw back up and quietly teased, “Don’t let anyone else see those pretty lips parted like that, don’t want people getting ideas.”

Needless to say, you flushed hearing that and Alex wasn’t subtle about the way he let his smirk take over his face. And then he left you hanging, sauntering off to join Miles, Nick, and Jamie walking just in front of you, leaving you to catch up with Katie, Kristen, and Flo who all joined you for the holiday. 

Alex leaving you like this hadn’t been the only time since you’d woken up early today though. He’d been a tease since he picked you up to take you to the airport, asking if you’d recovered from the previous nights activities where he all but folded you into a pretzel and fucked you until you came on his cock. 

That wasn’t the beginning or end of your antics after the party, he’d teased you at Katie’s party, getting you in the mood and ready for him when he pulled you to a quieter bit of the party and pushed you against the wall to kiss you, taking away any sense but him. And he did it every time to leave you wanting more only for him to pull away and leave you to your own devices for a while. 

So you were desperate when it got to 3am and he was practically pulling you down the road so you could get back to your house. And he certainly did show you a good time until you practically passed out from the exhaustion. 

You woke up late the next morning to a glass of water and some painkillers on your bedside table along with a note that read, Hope you’re not too sore sweet x

It wasn’t hard to guess he probably felt a hint of guilt how far you’d both gone the night before. In the heat of the moment he said somethings about him wanting you to remember him, the feel of him inside you, over the week that you were both away. 

He kept making you regret the no sex on holiday rule. Alex kept saying how you'd be begging him to take you when you got back home, how you’d not be able to walk properly by the time he’d finished with you after a week of not touching him the way he knows your filthy mind craves him.

You're ashamed to admit that your thoughts about him are sometimes so dirty they belong down the gutter. He’d certainly made a good job of having you long for him. 

You try not to admit to yourself that you crave him. That when he decided that he was the one that was going to be sitting next to you on the plane and not Flo, you were happy. Not because you had any issue with Flo, no she was such an amazing friend to you, but because it was Alex. And he wanted to sit beside you. 

The little shit that he was though teased you the whole journey. You were still tired so when you sighed and closed your eyes once you’d relaxed after the take off, Alex whispered into your ear, “Did I work you too hard sweet?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You say as you feel yourself flush knowing he was to do with your fatigue. 

You slept in a little on New Year’s Day after you’d taken the painkillers he’d left out for you, but then your day was spent packing for this trip, figuring out what you’d need and calling Katie to double checking on if you’d need going out clothes and doing a checklist of the skiing things you actually own. 

By the time you went to bed it was 11pm and that was far later than you should have been going to sleep because you had to be up at 3am to get ready. So it was do to Alex fucking you hard and long enough on New Years and the fact you had so little sleep last night that you were tired on the plane. 

Next, he’s disturbing your attempt at sleep by him putting his hand on your thigh and leisurely trailing his hand up and down, mixed with him occasionally squeezing. He keeps an eye on your reaction to him, you going stiff for a few seconds and him taking great pleasure in saying, “I’ve done worse than putting my hand on your thigh, sweet.”

“Not in public or daylight.” You huff and try to get yourself comfy enough to get sleepy. 

Looking out of the window just has you mesmerised so after a few minutes you just end up looking around the plane. It's just you and Alex sitting beside each other and for some reason you’re not all that close to your friends. 

Katie, Kirsten, and Flo are all on one row, about 4 seats ahead of you, and Miles, Jamie, and Nick are on the row behind them. You’ve got no idea why you’re so far away from them with the gap of strangers in front of you, but you guess things could be worse. You could be sitting alone or worse, you could be at home feeling like you’re missing out. 

There’s a stranger beside Alex so you’re glad you took the window seat and the views of sun rising through the clouds were amazing. You genuinely wish you weren’t as tired as you were so you could appreciate them fully. 

Instead you’re feeling uncomfortable and whichever way you lean your head isn’t helping you relax. If it's against the wall of the plane you can feel the vibrations, just leaning back does nothing to help and if you do fall asleep like that you’re not risking possibly snoring because your jaw is hanging open, and if you let your head fall forward that’s not good for your posture, not to mention painful. 

Maybe it’s you wriggling in your seat that gives you away, considering his hand is still on your thigh, but Alex seems to pick up on your discomfort easily. 

“You can lean on me to go to sleep, you know?” Alex tells you with a smile, nodding down to his shoulder just beside you. 

“What,” You hold back your sigh but let him know that you’re not all that impressed with his offer after his previous antics, “So you can just try to wake me up even more?” 

“Come on sweet.” Alex chuckles, rubbing your thigh again before squeezing it. “Not my fault you’re not finding it relaxing.”

Pretending that him gripping your thigh didn’t give you flashbacks to the other night, you keep your voice quiet as you raise your eyebrows accusingly, “Because you’re trying to be a tease.”

“And it’s working.” Alex smirks, clearly knowing whatever your tells are by now, he gestures to the back of the plane, “Wanna go to the bathroom?” 

Its a mixture of shock and being entirely unimpressed that has you asking, “Are you kidding?”

“Absolutely not.” Alex grins, holding his chuckle as he asks, “We’re not on holiday yet, technically. We could go again if you're not feeling satisfied enough before we land?” 

You don’t dignify him with an answer, you just shake your head and look away from the tease. While the thought of him fucking you and you having to be quiet because others are around seems like quite the thrill, the mere thought of doing so in a public aeroplane has you wanting gag. 

“What?” Alex fakes his hurt, nonchalantly following up with, “I know you can get horny just after you’ve woken up.”

Your head whips back to him, narrowing your eyes as you scold, “You’re being loud.” 

He wasn’t. His voice was just above a whisper. But the mere fact you were on a plane with the possibility of anyone around you eavesdropping has you getting all embarrassed and flustered in an instant.

“Sorry,” Alex barely holds back his grin. “I’ll be subtle about it when I take you in the bathroom.”

Instead of scowling, you lean your head back on the seat, close your eyes, and take a deep breath so you don’t end up smacking him. Taking a few seconds to calm your anxiousness down and try not to let his joking get you too embarrassed when you know he isn’t trying to be malicious, you just stay like that silently. 

But Alex disturbs your peace, “You don’t have to think about it so intently Y/N/N, we can just do it.”

“No.” You look at him again, and say even quietly to try and further your point, “Not to mention everyone would see.”

Alex can’t help but take that though as you just don’t want to right now. In such a public setting. That’s not you saying that you’d never be ready to join the mile high club.

“Oh okay, remind me to take you on a private jet.” Alex squeezes your thigh again, before winking, “They mind their business on those.” 

You’re lost for words for a brief moment. Taking in exactly what that means, and you end up half frowning. 

“Way to persuade me.” You scoff, “Telling me you’re already in the mile high club.” 

Sarcasm is thick in your voice as you say, “Such a turn on.”

The singer can’t help but smirk though, “Don’t be jealous now, sweet.” 

After that, Alex seems to give you a break from his endless torment. He takes his hand from your thigh as he reaches down to his bag by his feet and takes out the word search book he bought himself in WHSmiths at the airport. Finally you feel like you can relax and sleep for the remainder of the 2 hour flight. 

Or you hoped so anyway, but it seems the vibrations of the plane's wall just wanted you conscious. So it was with a huff you leant back against the headrest once more. 

“Just,” Alex sighs and he picks his hand up to cup the side of your face to gently push your head on his shoulder. 

Instant comfort was an understatement compared to the wall and the seat. But you still felt weird about it. 

You tell him with a sigh, “I don’t want to annoy you.”

“You don’t annoy me at all, Y/N/N.” He dismisses immediately, paying you no more attention after saying, “Go to sleep.”

And so you did. You got a good hour’s sleep and you think it was only when the plane started to make a steady descent that your body woke you up as a result of the decrease in altitude. But you woke up gently and slowly, and you realised you were still on Alex’s shoulder long before you opened your eyes. 

You found yourself not wanting to move. The woody scent of his aftershave leaves you in a little trance all the time and you never want to bring yourself out of it. So you just blinked your eyes open slowly and told your body not to even twitch to give away that you were awake. 

And Alex didn’t notice because you now see he’s entirely too engrossed in his book. Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre.

A true classic, you can’t help but tiredly smile as you see he’s about to get to one of your favourite bits of the book. You following pretty easily for a few pages because he’s holding the book open practically as far as it can go (you’re so tired you can find it in yourself to shudder at the fact the book will definitely have a cracked spine) in one hand, and you only noticed when he turned the pages that his other had gone back to gently resting on your thigh.

Everything is good for about 5 minutes, but then the singer started reading too fast for you at one of your favourite bits, so you end up having to say a quiet, “Go back,” 

“What?” You feel Alex turn his head towards you a little, his jaw gently nudging your head but you don’t make a single effort to move.

“Hadn’t finished the page,” You tell him and Alex can’t help but smile as he turns the page back for you.  

His only indication that you’re ready to move on is the slight nod of your head and Alex even angles the book towards your direction a little more so you can both read. He smiles at the way you haven’t attempted to move from his shoulder at all, seemingly quite comfy. 

You both continue reading together for the next few pages until the same thing happens again where Alex turns the page too soon. This time you whine a little as you whisper, “Too fast.”

“Not had you complain about my speed before.” Alex can’t help but tease when the opportunity is right there for the taking, but all it earns him is a poke in his side which makes him jump and he just about peers down at you seeing you smiling victoriously.

After this you fall into a rhythm of you nodding slightly when you're ready for him to turn the page. It doesn’t bother Alex at all, no it's the opposite, he finds you endearing that you’re both enjoying his book and reading it at the same time. 

The both of you become entirely engrossed in Jane Eyre’s world that you barely even acknowledge that the plane is just about ready to land. It’s only when the air hostess’ voice fills the plane as they announce over the tannoy that you’d be landing shortly, does Alex close the book. 

At the same time you reluctantly pick your head up from his shoulder, Alex offers as he taps the book, “Can borrow it after me if you want?” 

“I’ve already read it, I just love that part you’re on.” You hum, smiling at him in earnest, “Thank you though.”

And both of you know you’re not just saying thank you for that offer, but thank you for allowing you to fall asleep on him. 

The transfer to the resort even had you in awe. But when you got to the hotel and you entered your room, you were blown away by your view. 

The white mountains are stunning and you were so glad you brought your camera. This was something you definitely didn’t want to ever forget. 

The air felt like ice on your skin as you took your pictures, the bitter cold making you want to jump into the private hot tub you have on your balcony. 

You restrain yourself, saving that for later, you opt for a hot shower to settle you after that flight and you end up falling asleep in the warmest queen sized bed. 

You all meet downstairs a few hours later where you get some food and decide that you’re going to all get ready to hit the slopes, you all opting for the red runs for today. They were so much fun and with you skiing, you just find yourself in awe of Flo on her snowboard flying past you all. 

It’s a fun few hours, with you all stopping half way down the slope at one of the cafes on the mountain where you all have a hot coffee, and the lads follow it up with a beer. The lads head off before the rest of you, wanting to be speed demons and race down the rest of the way which you’re all fine with. 

You know Flo will inevitably end up beating them down anyway. Which she of course did. 

Before you set off though, you girls decide that after dinner you’re all going to have a little hot tub party. So that’s how you’re now sinking in the hot tub on your balcony, Katie already in after beating you to being the first. 

You just laugh at her rushing in there to beat you, as you take off your hotel dressing gown to reveal your dark green bikini. Katie says she loves the colour of yours as you glance back around at her and tell her you adore her maroon one. 

But it’s when you step into the tub that Katie gasps, loud enough for you to pause as you stand in the pool of bubbling water. 

“What are they?” Katie points to your thighs with wide eyes. 

Your bruised beyond belief thighs. Dark, almost purple bruises that litter the tops of your thighs which were left by the mouth of the singer next door. 

“Y/N!” Katie yells, her jaw dropped as she looks at the assault on your skin, “What the fuck?” 

“Katie, stop looking at me.” You get all flustered and embarrassed so you're about to sit down, but your best friend grabs your hips to stop you so she can look at the dark marks for longer. 

“Oh my fucking god.” She shakes her head, too shocked by the sheer amount of them. “It’s hard not to when you have those on your thighs Y/N!”

“Please stop, can we just pretend you didn’t see them.” You pry yourself out of her grip and finally immerse yourself into the hot water, loving the chill dissipating from your body. 

“No, I want the gossip.” Katie grabs her glass of prosecco you’d poured her and left on the side of the tub along with yours and the other girls that were meant to be coming shortly. “How’s it been going between you two?” 

“Fine.” You nod with a coy smile as you reach for your glass. 

Your best friend shakes her head, “I’m not settling with fine.” 

“It’s good.” You take a long sip of your drink, knowing you’ll need it if you’re having this conversation, “I guess he keeps me on my toes.”

“In what way?” She prys. 

You think about how to word your feelings for a second. The sound of the jets humming in the cold air fills the brief silence until you end on, “I’m still not used to having a booty call or being one. I still get a text off him and it throws me... He still makes me nervous.”

“That’s good though.” Katie hums and nods, “He’d be boring if he didn’t make you nervous.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You nod in agreement. 

But your best friend enquires, “He’s not making you nervous in general now, right? Just when he comes on to you?”

“No, it's a lot better.” You explain honestly, sinking into the water a little more. “But I’m still not at ease if that makes any sense. I still find him difficult to read.”

“That just comes with time.” Katie nods, understanding you entirely, “When you start spending more time with him, you’ll figure it out.”

“Well that doesn’t really happen,” You mumble a little but seeing as she heard you and noting that sparkle in her eye for the gossip, you explain, “He sort of just shows up and we fuck and then he leaves.”

Katie frowns a little at that though, “Thought he took you out?”

“That was just until I felt more comfortable around him. We’ve not carried that on.” You almost cringe when you say, “We’re just shagging now.”

“And how’s that going?” Your best friend smirks, “The bruises seem like a good sign.”

You sigh, “Yeahhh.” taking another sip of your drink. 

“What was that sigh for?” She calls you out. 

You try to pass it off immediately, “Nothing.”

But she’s not having any of it, “S’not nothing, come on.”

“He was just a tease on the plane but he’s doing it on purpose.” Your cheeks heat up a bit as you tell her. 

“Getting you ready for later.” She grins and gives you some teasing suggestive eyes herself. 

You gently shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh?” Katie raises her eyebrows, “What does that mean?”

Oh fuck. 

“Don’t make me explain Katie.” You pout. 

She pushes you, “Come onnnn.”

You just sigh in defeat and say, “We’re not doing that right now.”

“Excuse me?” Your best friend is now even more confused. 

“You heard me Kate.” You sigh, closing your eyes not wanting to explain yet another of your stupid thoughts to her. 

For clarity’s sake she has to ask, “Weren’t you with him twice last week?”

“We shagged on Boxing Day and then the 28th and New Years.” You tell her. 

And it occurs to you that you’ve probably not been this active on a regular basis since you were in your late teens. Either you or Alex clearly has the sex drive of a teenager and with the state of your thighs, you think it’s more likely Alex. 

Glancing at the bruises again you can almost feel the ghost of his mouth there. You fall into the daze of remembering the way his lips attacked the tops of your thighs as he fingered you to edge you, not letting you finish until you were begging to have his tongue instead.  

He toyed with you, saying his mouth was already on you, sucking your thighs that bit more before biting them making you whine. But you were desperate to have him eat you out. Have his tongue tease and flick your clit in the way he knows makes you lose your mind. 

And he wouldn’t give in. Not until you were on the edge for the third time, right on the verge of getting bratty with him and making the right decision he compensated by eating you out until you came twice on his tongue. And the way he fucked you afterwards, god, you wish-

“And he’s not touched you since?” Katie’s question shocks you back to reality. 

You blink a few times, and shake your head, “No.” 

She smirks, almost trying to hide it behind her glass, “I bet you’re losing your mind.”

“I feel like it.” You hum, nodding. 

Katie asks, fully ready to big you up to go and knock on his door after your girls prosecco party, “Don’t you want him to touch you?”

“I want nothing more at the minute.” You tell her honestly, “But we’re not doing it until after the holiday.”

She frowns, completely confused, “Why?”

Surely on holiday is on of the best places to fuck? Why wouldn’t you be doing that? Katie can’t help but think. 

“Because he knew I felt uncomfortable about him paying for me to come and I was worried he’d expect something from me.”

“Y/N.” Her face falls and then she gently scorns you, “He’s not like that.”

“I know he isn’t Katie. But you know how my mind works. It worries me.” You shrug, not really being able to help it. 

“Well I thi-“ Katie starts but is interrupted by Florence appearing at the door of your balcony. 

“Hey,” You grin, very thankful for the conversation being cut short. 

Hopefully never to be brought up again. 

“Flo,” Katie smiles and waves her over, “Come in.”

The gorgeous woman walks out and hangs her dressing gown up before running to the tub to escape the chilly air. After commenting on how much both you and Katie like her black, glittery bikini, the artist asks you both, “What were we talking about?”

You try to think of something quickly to change the subject entirely but your best friend gets in there first and grins, “Just how Y/N/N is sleeping with Alex now and she’s seeing if she can go the holiday without.”

You might drown yourself in this hot tub. Can you get any more embarrassed today? 

Flo’s smile is huge as her head whips around to you in shock. You can tell she’s happy for you, presumably for Alex too, but she shocks you when she tells you, “Don’t deny yourself the pleasure.”

You’re so beyond confused by that statement until Katie’s eyes go wide as she gasps, “Fuck, I always forget about you two.”

You blink a few times as you hear her tell Katie that it’s understandable she’d forget because it was before her and Jamie got together. But you’re still in shock, you have to get the clarification, “You and Alex?”

You hope it doesn't sound like you’re annoyed because you’re not, no one even Alex has to tell you anything about this and clearly Flo just found out about yours and her ex’s rendezvous. You’re just confused, clearly Katie forgot but you’ve not even heard any jokes about it or any mention of it before now. 

“Yeah, a long time ago.” Flo nods and is quick to explain as she grabs her glass of prosecco. “Lost our virginities to each other back in college, but started seeing him years later.”

She continues to explain with a roll of her eyes, “But the idiot was seeing me at the same time as Alexa back on their Favourite Worst Nightmare tour so I held my tongue for about a week until I blew up and called him out in front of all the lads…” She adds quickly, “It got ugly.”

It makes your chest go tight. He did that to one of his best friends years ago, and he did to his girlfriend of three years last year. 

You're sincere when you say, “I’m so sorry.”

You feel almost embarrassed to be sleeping with him now. Especially when you’d consider Flo a friend of yours, even before this trip, when you spoke to her about her artwork that she creates at various parties you’ve both attended. She’d always been lovely to you and made you feel entirely at ease. 

And now you’re sleeping with her ex. You need the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

“Don’t be, it worked out well in the end.” It seems that the artist can’t keep the smile off her face as she finishes her story, “I went to Manchester and Matty and my cousin, Adam, got me through it. And when the time was right and I was healed, Matty asked me out and now we’ve been together for a decade.” Her grin is huge as she proudly tells you, “Married for three and a half years.”

It’s impossible to not be happy for her, her love for her husband shining through so brightly. But you can’t help but ask her, “Why are you still friends with him? Alex, I mean.” 

You can’t imagine anyone betraying your trust that much and being close friends with them years later. 

“Oh, it took a long while and a lot of grovelling on his part. But after two years of barely speaking to him, and with how happy I was with Matty, I forgave Al and now we get on like nothing ever happened.” Flo explains, “I see the other lads too often to let it continue for a lifetime of awkwardness.”

She’s a better person than you. You could never. 

You think out loud. “The lads didn’t know he was two timing you?” 

“No,” She shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink before saying, “They were as shocked as me when Alexa showed up. Only Miles knew, and covered for him.” 

You shake your head, seeing Miles in a completely different light now. But you guess if you’re judging Alex by how he’s only been with you, you have to do the same with Miles. 

“You’re too good. I would never forgive either of them for that.” Katie gives her two cents on the situation. 

“I’ve been told that a lot. By Alex himself too... But despite last year's shit show, he has changed.” Flo assures you, but then smirks, “So enjoy him, queen.”

You sink into the water a bit more, entirely awkward about the way both women are smirking at you. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. He’s good.” Flo giggles, “God only knows that if I didn’t call him out to everyone I would have a hard time choosing between him and Matty.” 

You’re glad she’s such a lovely person and she eases you entirely. 

“Good job you’re married then.” You joke, which makes Katie also spit out her drink laughing and Flo giggles before clinking her prosecco glass with yours. 

“You should see her thighs.” Your best friend laughs. 

You shoot her the dirtiest look, “Katie!”

~*~*~*~ 

Thankfully by the time Kristen arrived the subject of you and Alex had long since been dropped. 

Flo saw your thighs and she told you about how she thinks the man will never truly grow up because he left lots of love bites on her boobs when they lost their virginities, and mercifully after that, the subject moved away and the four of you are now just chilling and listening to your a playlist that’s blaring through your phone. 

You were all giggling at nothing in particular when you got startled by two men at the balcony door. Alex and Jamie come outside in their trunks and Jamie is the one to scoff, “You all thought you could have a party without us.”

Jamie practically jumps in and sits himself down between Flo and Katie, but your attention is drawn to Alex who sinks in beside you and you half find yourself wanting to scurry over to Katie. 

He looks too good. Last time you’d seen him shirtless you were drunk and your memory hazy, but he looks so fucking good and his toned abdomen and his trunks low enough for you to clearly see that V line down to- Stop. 

Stop. 

Thankfully Alex doesn’t seem to notice the way you get a little bit more tense with him beside you. Instead he immediately asks Flo, “How’s Matty, angel?” 

“Yeah he’s good, thanks Shakespeare.” Flo smiles, and despite not understanding her nickname for him, you happily listen in to distract yourself. 

Maybe it’s to do with the Macbeth reference in If You Were There, Beware? You can’t help but wonder. Maybe you’ll ask her later. 

The singer can’t help but ask curiously, “Why didn’t he join us again?” 

“Tour rehearsals.” The artist informs him, “His UK tour starts on the ninth.”

“Fair enough,” Alex nods, clearly completely understanding the situation Flo’s husband finds himself in. “I’m glad we aren’t back on the road till late Feb now.” 

“Bet you are.” Flo smiles at him but when he tunes into Jamie’s conversation, her eyes flick to you and she smirks. 

You sink even further into the water. 

Despite Alex now being beside you, you try not to let your nervous energy take over.  No, instead you carry on as normal and have some of the funniest conversations with the people around you. You’re only thrown off when you realise that an old Arctic Monkeys song comes on through your phone and your eyes go wide when Jamie sighs, “I haven’t heard this song in so long.” 

Immediately, you tense hearing the guitar and drums at the start of Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts. Fuck, this is why you don’t normally have your music on around Katie, so you don’t have this awkward interaction.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was in this playlist.” You say, immediately turning to reach for your phone.

Liar. You feel Alex’s eyes screaming at you, as he looks amused at the fact you like his music, as if he already didn’t know. 

“Keep it on.” Jamie tells you, and you hesitate for a split second feeling Alex’s eyes on you until his friend continues to say, “Complete nostalgia of playing it at yours Al.” 

“Yeah, it’s a gooden.” Alex smiles.

“Who was this one even about Al?” Flo asks, entirely amused, thankfully stealing the singer's attention away from you so he doesn’t see you starting to fidget, really not wanting the song to stay on.

Your knee is twitching, your foot tapping on the floor of the jacuzzi like you can’t sit still at all. Thankfully the water and the bubbles will be enough to stop you from being noticed though.

“Just that girl I fancied back in Year 11.” Alex explains, “She was in your English lessons, I think she was called-“

If you were to tell the story again, you wouldn’t have been able to name the girl at all. Just that Alex really liked her in school and never got the courage to ask her out and then some guy who was in the year above them in school ended up going out with her. 

The conversation moved on and easily past that and your awkwardness about the man you’re sleeping with catching you having his song on your playlist eases off. But then, about 10 minutes later, it happens again. 

“Fuck my life,” You whisper immediately reaching to grab your phone this time. 

Because this is so much worse. 

It’s not just that Piledriver Waltz has started to play. It’s even more embarrassing that it's the Submarine soundtrack version of the song, it’s just Alex. Not even Arctic Monkeys.  

“Didn’t know you enjoyed my music this much, sweet.” Alex can’t help but once again tease you. Finding your reactions too entertaining not to. 

The panic in your eyes when the first Monkey's song came on, but the way you swore under your breath at this one just made him want to burst out laughing. You look absolutely mortified, and clearly not wanting to get any extra teasing from himself or your friends which you were likely expecting.

But Alex isn’t one to disappoint. So of course he teased you. 

You can’t help but narrow your eyes at him, “In the nicest possible way, fuck off.” Before you quickly look for a playlist that is safe and doesn’t have any of his songs on there. 

“It’s all good Y/N.” Alex smirks, “It’s good to know I’m doing something right.”

His hand comes to rest on your thigh to stop your leg from tapping. You swallow, stopping your movements and taking a deep breath to not let it get to you that the others could see his hand on your thigh. Although you’d rather them see his hand there than the bruises he’s left. 

Thankfully the bubbles disguise it from everyone else and no one comments, but just as you ask, “What album do you want to listen to?” Miles and Nick turn up at your door with more alcohol in their hands and everyone beckons them in. 

Which is an issue for you because the hot tub is probably only meant to have 4 people in it at the most and now there’s 8 of you. So you’re unsure why it’s you and Kirsten that have drawn the short straws, but you’ve both been pulled into the laps of who you’re sleeping with. But one second you were seated closely beside Alex, and now you’re sitting on his lap, your arm having to go over his shoulder so you don't slip off as you lean into him a little. 

Kirsten and Nick, you understand, they are married. Flo not sitting in Miles’ lap, you again understand because they aren’t together. What you don’t understand is why Katie isn’t on her husband's lap when they are married and have a child. But you, who has been sleeping with this man for less than a month, has been pulled onto his lap to make more room for everyone. 

All of a sudden you feel like you’re holding your breath and can’t relax. After being submerged in the warm water for so long, most of your top half being exposed to the crisp air makes you chilly and your thighs feel far too close to the surface of the water so you feel your hands in your lap to try and disguise the bruises. 

Thankfully one of Alex’s arms comes to rest across your thighs too and he holds your thighs again. And you can’t help slipping back into that little daydream of yours. 

Of the way he pried your thighs open, as if you weren’t already willing and dripping for him. As if you weren’t begging him to eat you out anyway. And when he finally gave into your demands his fingers only dug into your skin more, holding you open entirely at his mercy. 

And when he worked you up and up until he had your back arching and his name caught in your throat as you pulled harshly on his hair. He kept going, eating up everything you had to give him until you were writhing beneath him entirely overstimulated. 

After he blissfully tortured you like that, he kissed his way up your body until you could taste yourself on his tongue. And that only lead to him fucking you till you could barely move. His cock made you see stars when he hooked his arms under your legs and moved them closer to your chest. 

The pleasure he drove into you over and over was blinding, you saw white when you came. The only thing you can remember is the way Alex groaned into your ear when you clenched around him and the way he moaned when you tugged on his sweaty hair. And the way he bit your shoulder when he got his release not a minute later. 

Not to mention the way he flipped you over when you both caught your breaths and he fu-

“I can feel you.” Alex's whisper startles you out of your memory and your eyes snap to the man you were daydreaming about. 

You all but jump off his lap, your heart racing ten to the dozen feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. But you keep calm, not letting your cheeks heat up to give you away. 

“Feel what?” You ask him, the shock slowly disappearing from your face. 

“Your pulse,” Alex tells you in a low voice, his grip on you tightening, “On my thigh.”

And it dawns on you what he means. You’re fucking throbbing, completely aching at the thought of him. And he can fucking feel you. 

Fuck offfffffff. Men can actually feel that?!

No. No. No. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play dumb, having to because you don’t think you’ll be able to look at him again if not. 

Not that you can right now, you just look at Flo and start listening to her, Miles, and Kirsten’s conversation. Meanwhile praying to every god that there is that you calm the fuck down and you stop being horny immediately. 

“Course you don’t, sweet.” Alex kisses your shoulder and his lips linger on your skin as he smirks, “Just like you can’t feel me.”

You’re about to ask him what he means until he shifts you against him more and you can feel his erection pressed against your thigh. He’s hard. Really hard. You have to hold in the sound you want to make. 

Why the fuck did you want this ‘no fucking’ shit. You can’t stop thinking about him. The way you want to kiss him. The way you want him in your mouth. The way you want him to fill you up and fuck you like it’s the last time you’re ever going to be able to. 

You don’t even realise what you’re doing until Alex grunts in your ear, “I’d stop wriggling unless you want me to fuck you in front of these lot.”

Your thighs press against each other and you pray Alex didn’t feel that too. Despite him definitely noticing, Alex didn’t say anything, didn’t tease you any more and you just about managed to have a conversation with Flo about how she’s joining her husband on his tour and how she’s going to stay in Sheffield for a while after to see her best friend. 

But it’s not long after that, the alcohol runs dry and everyone notices the time. Nick and Kirsten are the first to leave, followed by Katie and Jamie, and when you don’t move from Alex’s lap (because he won’t let you, his hands clutching you tightly after you tried to move when the first couple left. Clearly doesn’t think the bubbles will  hide his hard on) Flo and Miles are the last to get out. 

Miles gives you both a cheeky smile and he helps the artist out of the tub and hands her the dressing gown. Both of them say bye to you and Alex but Florence gives you a teasing look as she leaves, seeming to scream at the both of you, have funnn. 

Your jaw locks and you very subtly shake your head at her, trying your absolute best to keep the smile off your face and show your strength. And you’d say you do well, you shout an unbothered bye to the direction they went and only when you hear your bedroom door thud shut does Alex’s hold on you go slack. 

And finally you release the breath you were holding and grab the side of the tub to stand up, needing off this man's lap before you do something you’ll regret. Abandoning your empty prosecco glass you just get yourself stood up when the singer stops you. 

“Where are you going?” Alex gently grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him, the water sloshing as you fall back towards him. 

“Alex,” You sigh as he moves you so you’re straddling him, but before you can even protest his mouth finds yours. 

His kiss takes your breath away, and he doesn’t give you time to think. He just wants you to feel. 

Alex attacks you with long kisses, three of them that have you forgetting that you were even trying to get away. It’s as if something ignites in you both, the mere connection of your lips has your skin erupting in goosebumps, and they aren’t from the contrast with the hot water and the cold air. 

But you seem to get some perspective and much to Alex’s disappointment, you pull back from the kiss. But he doesn’t let you go far at all, his hand on the back of your neck keeps you close enough your foreheads are resting against each others. 

“It’s just a kiss.” Whispers the man who’s got your heart racing, his hand pulling your neck that bit closer hoping you’ll kiss him again. 

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” You breathlessly reply, gently shaking your head, your nose rubbing against his. 

When he pulls you back for another kiss you can’t deny yourself the simple pleasure. Because it is never just a kiss. 

And it isn’t, because you’re not sure what this one is laced with, but you’re addicted. You don’t want to stop for a single second, especially not when he grabs your hips with both hands and pulls you against him properly. 

Your back arches, your chest against his now and he can feel your peaked nipples through your bikini top. He can’t help but groan, he’s been wanting to feel them against him in some capacity since he saw them through your bikini top when he lifted you onto his lap and you got cold and his head filled with filth about you. 

About how he wanted to pinch them between his fingers so you’d make that noise he loves. About how he couldn’t stop thinking about his head being back between your thighs when he spotted the bruises he’d left there. About how he wanted nothing more than to tease you in front of his friends, to see how far he could push you out of your comfort zone. And after he could feel you throbbing on his thigh he wanted nothing more than to make you cum over and over again. 

This kiss turns hard and hungry and it takes you enough by surprise that if you were standing you’d have stumbled back with the force of it. As you’re on his lap though, you can’t escape and you don’t for a second want to. Alex’s hands move your hips so you start grinding on him and both of you moan at the friction. 

You hope that the rumble of the jets hides them from anyone other than the two of you, and you pray to every god that Katie and Jamie haven’t decided to go into their hot tub as they are the room beside yours. Despite the wooden panelling hiding the balconies completely from potential neighbours, you need to keep quiet. But it’s so difficult when he’s making you feel so good. 

The more you grind against him, the more you can feel your stomach tighten with need. The way Alex is dragging you against his cock just makes you worse, your clit finally getting the friction it’s been aching for.  

Minutes pass of your whining, gasping, and mewling as he encourages you, taking handfuls of your arse to pull you towards him as he bucks his hips up into yours. His moans motivate you more, your hips now erratic in search for relief as he kisses you. 

Alex licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough of the way you taste. His groans spur you on, and his hand moving up to the middle of your waist has you arching into his chest again, and he can’t help but move his hips in time with yours, loving the little whines that escape your pretty lips. 

But he needs to hear more, so when you tug on his hair, and he bucks up into you, he bites your bottom lip when you moan so he can muffle it with his own lips. He smirks when he pulls away and he grabs your face, his thumb and index finger pressing your cheeks together as he grinds you against him again, his fingers digging into your hip ensuring it. 

The moan you let out for him then, you can’t suppress, and by the way Alex’s eyes seem to sparkle with delight shows you just how satisfied the sound makes him. Like it was intent all along to have you be loud for him.

“Do I feel good, sweet?” His voice a low whisper that has your throat bobbing.  

The singer kisses his way up your jaw before biting your earlobe, and he clearly wants an answer, “Well?” His hand falling from your cheeks to your neck and the slightest pressure has your head in pieces. 

“Mmm.” You hum in agreement pulling back enough to grab his jaw and bring his lips back up to yours. 

You refuse to let him mark your neck up again, no matter how good his lips feel on your throat. And at this point you know he’d do it just to get the both of you caught to see if you could withstand your friends teasing. 

This between you carries on for longer than it should. But that pull, that spark, between you, now ignited neither of you can get enough. 

“You like knowing you get me this hard, just from seeing the bruises I left on your thighs?” Alex rasps, as he kisses slowly down your neck. 

At this point, you think you’d do just about anything to have his lips on you or on your skin somehow. It’s addicting. So much so that you don’t remember the silly rule that you agreed upon, especially when Alex moves his hand  

“From seeing these,” Alex hums against your neck as his thumbs circling both your nipples through your bikini. “I can still feel them on my chest from the other night.”

His lips trail down your neck and the top of your chest and he kisses over your skin and his hands grab at you that bit tighter as he says, “I want my mouth all over you, sweet.”

His thumbs hook into your bikini top and he pulls both cups to the side, leaving you bare for him. His lips are on your breast in a second and the other he kneads in his calloused hand. 

Your head falls back, a moan falling freely from your lips as you grind yourself onto his cock as he sucks your nipple. Needing as much friction as you can get because you could easily finish like this if he carried on. But god, you want him inside you instead. 

Picking your head up, your fingers tug in his hair encouraging him as his right hand now grabs your arse again making you move on him. Fuck, you could cum just from this, easily if he carries on. 

He swaps to your other tit, lapping at it and savouring the sweetness of your skin and he can’t help but moan when you rut against him again. God, he just wants to have you like this forever, just free of inhibitions and completely giving into your desire. 

“Well, sweet? You like knowing what you do to me?” He teases, but he takes it a step further and he reaches between you and he presses circles onto your clit through your clothes, “That I like feeling this greedy thing throbbing on my lap for me?”

The sound you let out is guttural and completely obscene. To mute it you harshly pull his hair so you can press your lips against his to quieten yourself. But fuck knows if he even helps. 

His sweet torture continues and you feel the tension forming in your lower stomach, flames scorching your limbs, all caused by the man who’s name falls from your lips in desparate pleas, “Alex.”

His kiss is hot and heavy like a man starved, like he could never get enough of you. His hands claiming you is something promise you’ll never deny yourself the pleasure of again, those magic fucking fingers have you seeing stars. Each swipe of them against your clothed clit pushes you closer towards that delightful edge. 

“I- Al, oh.” Fuck. You’re going to finish, this is it and it’s going to shatter you entirely. 

His warm hands on you, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your own, his body heat making your nipples perk from the stimulation. And his fucking cock that you’re aching to have inside you, he’s so hard all you can think about is reaching down and moving your costume to the side so you can line him up and fill you to the br-

So consumed with your thoughts and your erratic hips chasing the orgasm you're on the verge of having you miss the singer mumble against your lips, “Okay, that’s enough.”  

You only register when Alex’s hand now holds your hip to stop you from moving and you hear him say, “Stop, sweet.”

“No,” You helplessly whine, entirely cockdrunk at this point, wanting him too badly and you kiss him deeply again. 

But Alex only entertains the kiss for another second, before he pulls away and to stop your lips from following his again, he holds your jaw, “If you keep kissing me, we’re not going to make it another minute.”

You’re so breathless you barely understand what he means. But as you take a minute to get some oxygen back into your system you realise what you’ve done and god you want to lock yourself up and throw away the key. 

“I’m sorry.” You swallow, looking away from his gaze. 

“Don’t apologise.” Alex shakes his head, and you note he’s just as out of breath as you. And he gently readjusts your bikini so it’s covering your modesty again as he says, “We agreed on your rule, sweet, don’t wanna break it on day one now, do we?”

It’s his smirk that he gives you as he says the end of that which makes you say, “You’re a bully.”

Because he’s got you all hot and bothered, only to completely edge you and use ‘your rule’ as an excuse to leave you right on the brink. God you could absolutely throttle him. But knowing Alex, he’d enjoy it, so you keep your hands to yourself. 

The singer just laughs, “You love it.” And he taps your arse under the water to prompt you to stand up so he can too. 

Jesus Christ it’s only now that you realise how perishing the cold is, you practically jump out of the tub and run for your dressing gown before heading to the door. And you’re kind enough to hold the door open for Alex as he wraps his towel around his shoulders. 

It’s only now that you gulp seeing just how little the swim shorts disguise his erection. Standing at attention is an understatement, and there’s a little spark of pride that scorches your blood knowing you’ve caused that. 

You don’t let your eyes linger, but you know from the smug smirk on his face as he walks through the door that he’s caught you looking. And the prick opens his mouth, probably to bully you once more but you beat him to it as you close and lock the balcony door. 

“You don’t care about the rule, why’d you stop when I was clearly enjoying myself?” You ask as you follow him to the door to your room. 

“Because you were dead set about not wanting to before we came.” Alex tells you sincerely, and you can’t help your heart from warming that little bit as he looks you in the eye and says, “I don’t want you regretting anything between us.” 

Swallowing down the smile you want to plaster all over your face, you tell him, “I don’t regret what just happened, for the record.”

“Good.” Alex smiles, walking the last few steps to your door. And the singer is about to open it before he pauses, turns back and tells you, “Oh, and don’t get yourself off.” 

Immediately you frown a little. It’s a miracle your words don’t come out as a scoff, “Don’t think you have that authority.” 

The smirk that comes to those pretty swollen lips and the way his eyes darken is something that needs capturing in a museum. Fucking hell it’s definitely banked away in a certain area of your mind. 

“I could just fuck you now if you’re going to do that.” Alex raises his eyebrows, and you can tell he’so putting the offer out there. 

But after him saying it’s only day one, you’re definitely not giving in now. A week without fucking him. You can do it. You just can’t fucking slip up again. How embarrassing of you to have given in to your temptations only mere hours after your holiday began. 

Alex seems to understand your thoughts entirely so he quickly saves himself from a scolding,  “Think of it as being edged instead, don’t touch yourself. It’ll make next week more fun.”

Your still fucking throbbing for him, aching isn’t even the right word for the need for relief you’re feeling. It looks like your bullet won’t be being used while you’re away after all. But if you’re showing restraint, you certainly won’t be the only one. 

You nod, the corner of your lips tugging up a little seeing Alex smile down at you and as he reaches from the door handle to let himself out, you surprise him by saying, “Don’t touch yourself either then.” 

He looks at you again, his eyes entirely full of surprise that you’ve given him an order. But he’ll do it for you. He won’t be a double standard, so he agrees.  

Although when he opens the door and takes a step out, and you tell him, “Go get a cold shower.” He loves your brattiness.  

“Could share one of those?” Alex offers as he takes a step back towards you, his eyes bright and full of mischief as he smirks down at you. 

All you can think is, And end up having a repeat of the first time you were in the shower with him? No chance. 

“See you tomorrow, Alex.” You smile, placing a hand on his bare chest and pushing him towards the door perpendicular to yours. 

Alex chuckles, blowing you a teasing kiss, “Goodnight, sweet.”

~*~*~*~ January 4th 2019 ~*~*~*~

To say that the next couple of days were positively torturous would be a massive understatement. The cold shower you had after Alex left your room that first night didn’t do much to calm you down, the ache between your thighs didn’t disappear until well into the night of you tossing and turning in bed. 

At one point you were ready to march into his room and tell him how unfair it is to leave you on edge like that, and that it was unfair because you’d be so pent up that you’d have a miserable holiday. But then you’d realise you’d see the singer's smug smirk and he’d say something along the lines of, ‘You’re so greedy that you come begging me to get you off, is that it? You can’t go even a few hours without me, can you not? You poor sweet thing.’ 

So you chose to stay warm in bed, following his direction of not getting yourself off and you eventually fall asleep. You swear though that if he got himself off and didn’t stick through this with you, you’d be absolutely fuming. 

And you can’t help but be pleased when Alex eventually joins you all for breakfast the next morning, and he made a thunderstorm look appealing. ‘In a mood’ would be an understatement. The singer looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, he hadn't even bothered with his hair, it was still dishevelled, and his glum, tired face had a smile tugging on your lips.

Good. You like knowing you’re not the only one who felt absolutely tortured.    

You had to hide your smirk by taking a drink of your orange juice, sipping it through the straw as your eyes linger on the singer who looks like he could commit a murder if his breakfast was served wrong. Clearly though, you’re not being as slick as you thought you were hiding your amusement by taking a drink because when Alex’s eyes lock with yours he sees the knowing in them. 

Instead of shying away from him though, you stare straight into his eyes and let your smirk show when you pull your drink out. You even raise your eyebrows at him entirely enthralled that he looks so much worse than you this morning. Looks like it’ll be cold showers for him for the foreseeable future.  

Alex couldn’t help but find you equally as amusing that morning at breakfast. The smile stayed on your face for the entirety of your meal and he could tell that seeing him so affected by the lack of your company had somehow boosted your confidence. So, pent up he may be, but he’d suffer in silence for as long as he needed to see that smug look on your face once more.  

Alex made sure his teasing continued throughout that day and the next. His flirting and lingering looks had you more on edge than usual thanks to the fact you felt entirely touch-starved, but you couldn’t deny that he had your heart racing. 

On the slopes he would sometimes wait for you if he wasn’t racing the boys or Flo down the mountain, to make sure you got down alright and there would be flirting when you’d stopped at the cafe’s that were half way down the slope. And he had you buy him the promised drinks that made you come on this holiday in the first place so you were happy keeping your end of that bargain. 

He really made you smile today when you had a bit of a fall on the slope. He watched you fall but he stopped right beside you and made sure you were okay before getting you back to your feet and he went down the slope as by your side as he could get. And when you both reached the bottom, he played into checking you over, being cheeky and saying he’d have to get the layers off you to make a complete and thorough check. Something which of course you rolled your eyes at but you couldn’t keep the smile from your face. 

When you walked out of your room each night dressed to go for dinner he told you how gorgeous you looked in your dress when he saw you, whether that be him stepping out of his room at the same time coincidentally or when you walked down with Katie and he was waiting for you with the other lads. Tonight was the latter and the way he looked you up and down made you feel all tingly inside.

And this evening at dinner he sat beside you and when you were waiting between courses, Alex rested his hand on your thigh, and it wasn’t at all to try and rile you, he seemed to just want to be affectionate. And Flo is right, why would you deny yourself that pleasure. 

You know you’re nowhere near a relationship, or possibly even heading into that direction. But this fun you’re having with him, it doesn’t mean you can’t take comfort from the small meaningful gestures that you’ve found that you’ve missed since your last relationship. 

So yes, you’ve adored the flirting, and matched his energy entirely by giving him back as much as good as you’ve got which grants you access to that cheeky smirk you’re starting to love being the cause of. You pretend like your heart doesn’t do something stupid when he’s affectionate and you’ll continue to act like you aren’t dying for him to touch you and kiss you and fuck you until you’re back home. 

And all of this is the reason why right now, you’re absolutely seething at yourself. Why you’re now at this bar, side-eyeing the man who’s had you at whit's end for the past few days wanting god to do you a favour and stop what you’re seeing. 

You hate it, you absolutely hate it. Seeing Alex’s hand on her hip, the way he smiles at her as she’s talking, and the way he’s making this random girl laugh. 

It’s been at least 15 minutes now since he went up to the bar to get himself another drink and left your group at the few standing tables in the corner which you’d all claimed. And when you looked over after 5 minutes of him disappearing, you saw him at the bar talking away with possibly the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen. 

Intimidated isn’t even the word you could use to compare yourself to the stunning woman. She’s just everything you’re not. Clearly she's confident to speak to a stranger normally and not at 100 miles per hour because she’s nervous. She’s absolutely gorgeous with the complete opposite hair colour and style to yours, and her dress accentuates all of her features perfectly, leaving little to everyone’s imagination but she’s so gorgeous and fearlessly self assured, there’s no way you could possibly compete with a woman like her. 

Your chest sinks because it’s so easy for you to realise just how jealous of this woman you are. Not just because she holds Alex’s attention and you want that back for yourself, you’re just hit with that intimidatingly jealous feeling you’ve not experienced for such a long time. And it’s such a dirty feeling, you really judge yourself for it. 

Because you’re well aware you’re not in a relationship with the singer. Yes you’re fucking each other but he could easily call that off at any point, especially on holiday when you’ve established you’re not sleeping with each other and that will make your self esteem plummet and not to be dramatic but you’ll more than likely never put yourself out there again, and you think that is valid enough if that’s how this night ended.   

To make it worse, the ladies you’re with, your close friends can clearly see that you’re slipping into a foul mood. A few times you’ve been asked what’s wrong, and you’d have to tune back into conversations and plaster a fake smile on your face because you’ve got so stupidly in your head about all of this. 

It was only when Katie followed your gaze to the bar did she realise what was making you slip into a bad mood. On the down low, when Kirsten and Flo were having their own conversation, Katie said, “Y/N/N?” 

“Hmm?” You hum, tearing your eyes away from a laughing Alex and the stunning woman.  

You look at your best friend as she seriously asks, “What are you waiting for?” 

Immediately, you’re confused, “What?” 

Katie can’t help but laugh to herself a little as you’re being so blatantly obvious to her. And she can’t lie, she secretly loves seeing you jealous, because she’s never witnessed it before. And the mere fact you’re being silently possessive over Alex is all the more amusing to her. 

“Just go and get him.” She encourages you, seeing that you’re holding your glass of wine that little bit too tight.  

She understands that you’re probably that bit more jealous too because you are bordering on being a little bit drunk. Your tolerance is slightly better than hers and she knows that you’ve drank near enough the same amount so she’s very aware how your thoughts are probably being manipulated by the alcohol. 

“No, if he wants to play he can,” You tell her and put on a brave face, turning away from him now in an attempt to not shoot daggers at him with your eyes, “He just won’t be getting me again afterwards.”

And you mean it. You won’t get caught up in that STD mess waiting to happen. Condoms or not. It’s a no from you. 

You drink with the girls a bit more then, the other lads make you laugh too but after a few minutes you become all too aware again that there’s a missing piece. And it’s like a wound to the chest when you see he’s still there talking to that woman and they seem to be standing that little bit closer, smiles still on both of their faces. 

Something about it hurts, and not due to the fact he’s being flirted with. It mostly gets to you because he’s being so kind to someone he’s just met and you only got that side of him after a ten years and only when you called him out for his behaviour. It makes your heart sink a little, you just don’t know why he wasn’t ever this friendly toward you when you were first introduced, yet he can be so kind, smiley, and flirty to a complete stranger. 

Up until 6 months ago, Alex would barely hold a conversation with you and something about that always hurt. The effort you’d make only for it to go unreciprocated when he probably knew how much it took for you to not be socially awkward around him. It’s a blow to your chest and to your ego. 

And to make it worst, he’s flirting with this girl as if you haven’t been fucking each other for a month and he didn’t almost fuck you in the hot tub the other night. As if the bruises he left on your thighs aren’t still very prominent and he didn’t edge you, leaving you craving every little bit of him for the last two days. And now he’s flirting with someone that isn’t you. 

And you can’t even blame the woman for flirting with him. He looks impeccable this evening. He’s in a black suit with a black shirt and he looks incredible. Like you’d do just about anything for him to pull you aside in this darkened bar and for him to whisper filthy promises in your ear before his lips find yours and he takes your breath away all over again. 

But you’re not so lucky. And your mood worsens when you see the bartender come back with two drinks in his hands and he places them in front of the pair. But it’s when Alex gets his card out and seemingly pays for both does your heart drop. 

Has he just fucking bought her a drink?

You blink a few times and force yourself to look away. The feeling that’s settled in your stomach not being one that you want to ever be feeling. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion and you wish it wasn’t running through your veins right now so you try and breath through it, letting the thoughts pass you by as quickly as they come.  

The people that know you best though, can see you’ve sort of checked out from the conversations surrounding you, and you’re staring out of the window at the snow that’s beginning to gently fall. Your best friend knows it’s not the same zoned out as you were awestruck when you first arrived on this holiday though, it’s due to you being in your head because of the man at the bar. 

And it seems Katie isn’t the only one, because Flo asks Mrs Cook quietly, “Should I go tell him?”

Katie notes that she nods over towards the bar, but your best friend immediately shakes her head.  

“No,” She tells her, “Let him dig his own grave.”

Because after everything last year, she wants Alex to prove himself worthy of having her best friend. She knows you deserve something good, and despite being 99% sure that Alex is just being polite to a fan at the bar, she wants him to prove that he wouldn’t ruin this good thing that you both have going for the sake of another woman who could pass as a model.  

So Katie distracts you, getting another glass of wine down you is easy to do and she has you giggling with her and Flo again. 

While you adore your friends for their distraction tactics, Alex and the stunning woman linger in your mind, and you feel like you need a second to quieten those intrusive thoughts. So you head to the toilet in hopes to clear your head but when you hold the sink and look at your reflection the clarity that hits you is that you’re drunk and probably (most definitely) overreacting, and you just find yourself wanting to close your eyes. 

So that’s why when you make your way back to your friends, who Alex is still not with, you decide your night is done. 

“Guys, I’m going to head back.” You tell all of them, “The wine has gone to my head and I’m so tired after today.”

Each and every one of their faces fall and they all start a little bit of a commotion, shaking their heads and shout over each other drunkenly pleading with you not to go. But it’s a singer who is the one that complains the loudest. 

“Noooo come on, Y/N/N.” Miles throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as he says, “Party with us.”

You smile at him but there’s no way you’ll be giving in. You need your bed. And to get away from Alex and the stunning woman taking all of his attention at the bar. 

“Miles, you saw the fall I had earlier today,” You almost wince at the memory, “I’m knackered and just wanna get in bed so I’m good again tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you back.” Jamie offers but immediately you shake your head, having none of it. 

“No, you’re having a great time, stay out. Have fun.” You smile, giving him a look to say ‘do not put on your coat’ as you put on your own. 

You’ll be perfectly fine getting back by yourself, everywhere is lit well enough to make the 5 minute walk back feel safe. And you could certainly use the time to clear your head. 

So you just smirk, wrapping your coat around you and downing the last of your white wine. And you grin, “I'll see you all hungover for breakfast in the morning.”

They all laugh at your little joke, knowing it’ll more than likely come to fruition, before they pull you into hugs goodbye. Flo, you realise, gives the best hugs out in the group, and she holds you tightly as she whispers in your ear, “Are you sure?”

You don’t hesitate to nod, “Positive.” 

She pouts a little as you pull away from the hug but you give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her to have another drink for you which makes her giggle and she promises she will. And then the only person left over here you have to hug is your very drunk best friend, and Katie all but smothers you with her bear hug. 

God you adore your best friend so much. Or you do until she easily reads between the lines and questions your actions. 

“This isn’t to do with Alex, is it?” She asks, pouting like she’s both angry and upset, “Because you can’t let him spoil your fun.”

You hate that she knows you so well, but wanting to go back to your hotel room is only marginally to do with Alex at this point. You know if you drank anymore tonight you’d be worse for wear tomorrow and you don’t want to ruin this precious holiday by staying in your room wanting to throw up. 

“No, I'm just tired.” You lie, trying not to even think about the fact that Alex not really giving you any attention and flirting with another girl was what triggered your bad mood in the first place. You tell her, “I just wanna get some sleep.”

“Okay queen.” Katie nods before she pulls back and she looks into your eyes to seriously tell you, “Text me as soon as you get back to the hotel, okay?”

“I will.” You promise her and after she gives you another hug, you turn to leave. 

You avoid looking anywhere near the bar even though you have to pass it to leave, but you’re quick and you leave out of the side doors and make it down the stairs fairly quickly. The automatic doors expose you to the cold air quickly and you’re so thankful you chose your long, navy dress this evening, even if you were regretting the slit in it that comes up to just above your knee when the wind hits you.  

Thankfully, your ‘going out coat’ is a long one, coming down to just past your knees, and would retain most of your body heat, so as you walk towards the doors you start to slowly button it up. But your buttons aren’t cooperating, they won't go through the bloody buttonhole. Clearly nothing wants to go right for you this evening.

And you end up not paying attention to where you’re going as you walk out of the bar, you don’t realise that the smoking areas out front has gotten busier so you end up turning to head back to your hotel and you bump into someone at quite a little bit of force. Immediately, you end up almost slipping too, not realising that the ground has become slippy too thanks to the fresh snow landing and melting. But before you fall arse over tit, you're saved by your own victim. The poor man you bumped into.  

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You say as you grab onto his tattooed arm that stabled you. 

And it’s only when you’re sure you’re steady on your feet do you look at the exquisite man. A gasp almost leaves your mouth at just how attractive he is. The strong jawline, the short black hair, the sun kissed skin, and possibly the most stunning eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They are such a gorgeous shade of blue they almost look purple, and God, you half wish you could stare into them all night.  

“No worries,” The man holding your arm says, and once he’s satisfied you can stand properly again, his eyes drop to take you in. 

It makes you feel like your heart is in your throat for the two seconds he checks you out, but under the stare of those gorgeous eyes, it feels like it lasts an age. You can’t help watching as a small smirk forms on his lips, clearly pleased with what he sees and when his eyes meet yours again, you feel like your knees could fall from under you again if he wasn’t still holding you up. He’s dream worthy.

His fingers move down your wrist and he gently comes to squeeze your hand as he smirks but endearingly says, “Careful darling.” 

Immediately, the pet name makes you flush, and under his gaze you feel like you’re vibrating somehow, and you realise just how badly you need to get yourself back to your hotel. So to not make a fool out of yourself again, you cut the situation short.

“Thank you.” You give him a gracious smile and a small nod of your head before turning towards your hotel and safely begin to rush off. 

In your peripherals, you see the two other men that the stunning man was accompanied by and you’re glad you didn’t interact with them too, because they look just as attractive as their friend. You’d surely crumble under their gazes and start awkwardly chatting their ears off so you’re pleased to get away from both them and that bar. 

At least this gives your drunk mind a quick distraction from wondering what Alex and that girl are currently up to. You try not to think about how cosy they might have got or if either of them have made a move. No, you’d rather think about your embarrassing encounter with a model worthy guy who then checked you out and you said thank you to him. 

Thank you? God, you’re so fucking stupid for saying thank you Y/N/N, that doesn’t even make sense. Thank you for me bumping into you and being so kind about it? What was the thank you for? Silly bitch. 

God you really need to get to sleep. Your brain is absolutely spinning. 

Instead you find yourself focussing on the crunch of snow under your boots, how you can see your breath in front of you. And the gentle light coming from the lampposts illuminates the snow that’s slowly falling from the sky and you can’t help but think that it’s so beautiful despite it being so cold. 

Finally you manage to do up the buttons of your coat and your hands are stuffed in your pockets as you carry on walking. But it’s only a few seconds later, you hear your name being shouted behind you. You think you’re hearing things so you don’t stop walking, but then you hear someone running behind you and a gentle call of, “Sweet.” As he begins to slow down. 

Alex is out of breath by the time he’s beside you, and a gentle hand on your arm stops you from walking. A mixture of emotions runs through you in that moment, happy that he’s not with that girl anymore is certainly one of them, but annoyance at him for him even flirting with someone else hits you all over again. 

And it just makes your mood worse, because you absolutely despise being jealous. You hate it. You hate the tightness in your chest and you hate the way you start to second guess everything. And you don’t think you should be second guessing if you’re good enough.  

But you keep all of that to yourself, not wanting to annoy Alex or appear jealous or be overbearing. You’re just drunk and you need to get over yourself. 

“Sweet.” Alex says a little out of breath, “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing.” You say more flatly than you meant to and turn to carry on walking to the hotel. 

You’d scorn yourself for it, but you’re glad Alex doesn’t pick up on your tone. He just follows after you, falling into step as he asks, “Why are you leaving so early?”

“It’s almost one Alex,” You tell him, “I’m tired.”

You’re certainly not telling him that he’s a part of the reason you’re leaving. Even if he has finally given someone else the time of day for a brief minute tonight.  

Trying not to focus on the mixed emotions cursing through you, you end up telling the singer, “You don’t have to walk me back, go back to the bar.”

“And let you walk back on your own at one in the morning?” Alex frowns down at you,  “I don’t think so.”

You shake your head slightly at that, knowing he’s just doing that because of the story you told him about how you don’t like to walk alone at night. But you don’t want him here solely because of that. “I don’t need your pity.”

“There’s no pity, I’m just not a dickhead, sweet.” Alex’s smile then turns into a smirk as he throws his arm around your shoulders and he pulls you against him, “Now let me keep you warm.”

Your chest feels lighter somehow at his actions, and it makes you feel all gooey and smiley inside. But your brain is telling you to keep a hard exterior after what you witnessed tonight, so you try and brush him off, “Al, I’m fine.”

But the singer is having none of it. He just holds you tighter teases, “You’re moody.” 

“I’m tired.” You correct him, even though you’re lying through your teeth. 

“With your little rule, I thought you would have been reserving more energy.” Alex smirks, not being able to pass on the opportunity to torture you that little bit more. 

You don’t mute your scoff at that, and decide that silence is what he deserves after that comment and him flirting with someone else all evening. And it hits you all over again how up until a few months ago you’d only get silence and sneers from him, but that woman at the bar instantly got smiles and flirting. It makes you want to push his arm off your shoulder and you fall silent again. 

It’s confusing. Wanting to scold him but then also lean into him and accept the joy the simple pleasure of him hugging you brings you. And you’re feeling it all at once. You don’t understand it and don’t really know how to process it. 

Sleep. You need sleep. 

With his free hand, Alex digs into his coat pocket and pulls out his gloves, noticing you’re shivering, “Here take these.” 

“Thank you.” You accept them quietly and graciously and don’t waste much time putting them on, even if they are too big for you. 

Alex smiles once you have them on, and he squeezes your shoulder that bit tighter as he grins, “They suit you.” 

“Bit big, but I'll take it.” You shrug a little, and give him a bit of a smile so you don’t look like a colossal bitch. It was a kind gesture after all. 

Alex grins back down, his eyes bright as he says with a knowing look, “Well, you know what they say about big hands, sweet.”

Holding your own smile back, you fake a roll of your eyes and look away from him, “You’re not funny.”

“What?” Alex asks, faking innocence but smirking, “Just big gloves, nothing untoward.” 

You share an amused look then, both looking into each other's eyes and knowing for certain that was not what he was meaning. In those few seconds though, you can’t help but notice how gorgeous he looks, with the snow falling down around him, a few flakes having found home in his hair and he just looks so pretty and happy. 

You always want to look at him and see that cheeky smile looking back down at you. It makes you feel all warm inside.  

But then that crude sense of humour has to go and ruin the moment. 

“Anyway,” He smirks, “You already know how big I am. I don't think I need to remind you just yet.”

The way your cheeks heat up immediately is almost as embarrassing as the way your gaze snaps away from his. You just try to act nonchalant about it, shaking your head, “Way to lower the tone.”

“I think it was your dirty mind that lowered the tone, sweet.” Alex laughs and he has you giggling along with him. 

It doesn’t take long to get back to the hotel, and you walk in a comfortable silence with your head finally not filled with everything to do with the bar. You just enjoy having his attention back, and that he keeps pulling you back into him, and rubbing the top of your arm in an effort to keep you warm. 

You expect the singer to walk you into the lobby and bid you goodnight there before he heads back out to your other friends. But he surprises you, stepping into the lift with you and even when you’re going up to your floor he keeps his arm around you like he doesn’t want to let you go.  

“Thank you for walking me back, you really didn’t have to.” You tell him after he walks you to your door and you get your keycard out of your pocket. 

Only when you look at him again does he tell you, “Stop thanking me for being a decent human being.”

You smile at him for a second there, and it is a truly grateful one. Despite everything tonight, you really are thankful he came back with you. If not for your safety, but then at least for your peace of mind about what he was up to when you left. Your chest fills with the hatred of the jealousy you’re feeling once more. 

But it’s like the man looking at you can somehow read your emotions. Because he once again flips them on their head when he takes you in again and sees how gorgeous you look in that navy dress and the way it hugs you. 

He seems a little breathless as he says, “You really do look incredible tonight by the way.” 

You look down at yourself, really not thinking you looked anything more than presentable tonight. But two men have checked you out this evening and seemed pleased with what they saw, and you know Alex well enough now to know that he doesn’t just say these things, he actually means them. 

“I- Thank you.” You stumble for a second, but gladly take the compliment. 

As you turn to open your door, Alex takes a step towards his, which makes you frown. He’s going to bed?

“You can go back out, you know?” You say before he even takes another step. 

You don’t really understand why he’d be going to his room when he could go back out and have a good time with either your friends or the stunning woman he was chatting to. Surely he didn’t just leave because you did?

Alex shrugs, and takes a step back towards you, “Don’t want to.”

“Why?” You can’t help but question, “Looked like you were having a good time.”

“Not that good, I wasn’t spending it with you.” Alex shamelessly flirts as he comes to stand right beside you again, hoping to see you get all flustered. 

He adores being the cause of it, and he even likes when you run your mouth back at him and flirt with him too. It makes him happier than he should admit to himself at this point in your little arrangement. But you shock him completely and don’t do either of those things.

No, instead Alex watches as you tense slightly and you become ridged. The smile falling from your face entirely. 

“You knew where I was.” You shrug, not knowing what more you could have done. It’s not like you could go up to him and demand his attention, or steal him away and he figures out why and he teases you for it.  

You just turn back towards your door and mumble under your breath as you put the card in, “Besides, it seems that you found her quite interesting.” 

This has Alex smirking, possibly the biggest he ever has. Not that you can see that smirk as you’re still fumbling about with your keycard and putting it in the door the wrong way. So it gives him a little time to compose himself enough that you won’t hate him when he gets you to look at him again. 

You’re jealous. Hence the mood, short replies, and the pout that was just seeping onto your face… It all makes perfect sense now. 

Alex tones his smirk down into a slight grin before he get your attention again, “Sweet?” 

“What?” You ask, just about managing to open your door before you turn back to him. 

And it’s only when you do, you see the way he’s looking at you. His amusement is clear to see, but he doesn’t say anything. He just takes a step close to you, and before you really know it his lips are on yours and he gently eases you backwards until your back is against the heavy door you’ve not opened more than an inch. 

It’s a sweet kiss, full of longing and care and words you’ve both yet to say. And the way he gently holds your waist, pulling you against him now, his arm running inside your coat and around your back so he can press you fully against him as his lips move in sync with yours. His hand on your jaw moves that bit higher, so his thumb can caress your cheek and you think this might be the sweetest kiss you’ve ever shared.

It’s gentle and full of emotion, even when his tongue finds home with yours. It makes the both of you hot despite both of your lips softly moving together. Something about it runs deeper, like he’s trying to tell you something without explicitly coming out with it. 

His hold on your waist gets that bit tighter which has you melting into him. Unable to stop yourself, you also let out a tiny hum of bliss against his lips and you hold his coat in your fist that bit tighter. This is what you’ve been after all night. This is what you’ve been craving. Him and every last bit of him. 

Even when the kiss comes to its natural end, you wish it wasn’t finished. And you’re glad that it doesn’t seem to be. But the man who makes your heart skip a beat says something you really aren’t expecting. 

“I’m only interested in sleeping with you.” Alex tells you, before he leaves you with one last breathless kiss. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: What did you think?!?!? NRIACC bestiesssss!! How was it seeing Wheels again?! She's my multiverse I had to hahaha! But how bloody cute are Sweet and Alex, god I adore them so so much. Until next time besties x

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Goonion's Ghoul (Part 4)

Bruce does a little digging. This one's a little more serious, but dont worry, the shenanigains resume next chapter <3

Part 1 & 2 Part 3

The pool hall was fairly quiet tonight. It was a dim place who's customers were the only thing shadier than its corners. The smell of smoke lingered in the whole building, but the usual cloud that held over the room seemed to be gone.

The "No Smoking" sign on the door was new, and it seems like people were listening. Bruce fiddled with the stick match between his fingers - he wondered if it was going to be a problem.

"8 Ball, side pocket" Clack!

"Tch. Good game, whatever."

As the men and small crowd around them get their bet earnings, Bruce approached with a predatory grin. "Hey fellas, mind if I get in on a game?"

Most of the men seemed to be sizing him up, but one in particular (the one who won the last match) inhaled sharply. "Matches fuckin' Malone, I haven't seen you 'round here in a while! You sonofabitch, where ya been?"

'Matches Malone' pulls his titular match out from his teeth, and puts on an annoyed face. "Bah, deal went south, had to lay low for a while." Someone handed him a pool stick, prompting Bruce to nod and grab some pool chalk.

"I getcha. We can go a round, Matches. Loser buys a round at the bar for everyone."

"Jeez, I said I was just layin' low and thems are the stakes?" Matches' grin comes back, a gleam rolling along his aviator shades. "Guess I could use a free drink, so why not?"

The other guy rolls his eyes. "Well, aren't you confident. Promise that'll changes once the game starts."

The game gets set up quickly, and they let Malone break. He lines up his stick, but isn't too concerned about exactly how to hit this shot.

"Say," Bruce asks, "I heard there's a new way of gettin' some help around here. Any'a you know about it?" The cue ball slams into the triangle of other balls.

"Oh, you're askin' about the Goonion? You don't gotta beat around da bush. Even if you weren't in good company, there ain't no need to be hush about it." The 7 ball rolls into a corner pocket, a solid color sunk.

Its an easy shot to the 5, side pocket. "Wouldn't expect that from a big band 'a criminals," Bruce says, casually lining up the hit, "but I guess that's Gotham for ya. So, how do I get in contact?" *Clack!*

"There's a big place on 29th street, down by Proctor Ave." The 5 cleanly rolls into the next pocket. "They put up a big sign just yesterday, you cant miss it."

The next shot is a bit more tricky, trying to get the 3 without hitting the 10 in. "No shit? A big ol' sign that says 'Hey, a buncha lackeys here!' right out in the open?"

The other guy snorts. "I mean, the cops don't give a damn, and the criminals are already in on it. That just leaves the bats, but between you and me? I hear the robins are in on it."

Not only does Bruce miss the 3, he knocks the 10 in, closely followed by the cue itself. A scratch. "Well, now I know you're just fuckin' with me."

His opponent grabs the cue ball with a chuckle, and puts it just by the 12 for a clean corner pocket hit. "Like how you were with that last shot? Yeah, yeah, I'm messin' with you... kinda. There's a runnin' joke that the robins should be considered one of us."

Second stripe down, Bruce's eye twitches, hidden by his large sunglasses. "I don't see whats so funny about it, considering how many times we've had our ass handed to us on a black-n-blue platter by 'em."

Its a more difficult shot to hit the 9 in the side pocket, but the opponent aims anyway. "Yeah, Danny's got this big ol' thing about how Vigilantism's a crime and Batman's a crime lord. Ya kinda have to hear him say it, but damn if it isn't funny." He makes the shot, but the cue ball slides in the pocket with the 9, as Bruce bites back a grumble.

Its his chance to get back in the game, and clean it up. Bruce puts the ball on the table, and lines up a shot that should also get him in position for the next few. "Danny, eh? Whats his deal anyway? Everyone seems all buddy buddy with the guy, but I can't find out a thing about him. He some kinda "

The normal sound of a pool stick hitting the cue is clean, crisp, and short. A satisfying ricochet right to where it was aimed, sealing a calculated move into victory.

That is not the noise that echoes through the hall.

Instead, the stick bounces off of the cue strangely, shaking awkwardly as a much harsher CLACK! attacks everyone's ears, as the ball rolls slowly in the wrong direction, and hits nothing.

His opponent, and everyone with and without money on the game, look right at him. Some are giving dirty looks, some seem angry, others just discontent. A few look ready for a fight to break out, as the sudden tension ensnares him. He gets the feeling its not the bum shot they're upset about. "Uh... any chance I can try that hit again?" He asks sheepishly, analyzing exits, preparing for the brawl that might happen, and a cover story for how Matches got out of being attacked by this many people.

Bruce winces as his opponent places their hand on his shoulder, but doesn't strike back just yet. His opponent still seems tense, but not rearing back an attack. "Matches, you'se a good guy, so I'm gonna let you off easy on this one. But for 'da future, dont go askin' around about Danny. He doesn't like people poking into his business.”

The crowd seems to calm down a bit, but there's still a few bad looks being sent towards Bruce. He puts some hint of worry in his voice, dusting off his suit to sell the idea that that shook him up. “I.. I see. Caposh.”

His opponent goes back to the table, picking the cue off the table after Matches' bad hit. “...He's just a kid, Matches. Smart, kind,” he lines up his next shot on the 11, “I'd call him naive if he didn't prove he knew what he was doing.” A clean shot, into the side pocket.

“If you're goin' to the Goonion, you'll meet him and see.” Another easy shot, 13 into the corner. “He does good work. The Hood may have started the union, but Danny stoked the flames, kept us together when we wanted to fall apart.” A hard hit, the cue ball stopping dead as it strikes its target, knocked straight into the pocket. “He fought for us, went up against some of the most dangerous people in Gotham and told them to kneel.” Someone in the crowd murmurs, “Stronger together,” which has him roll his eyes. “Yeah yeah, we all did it, sure. But someone needed to face 'em down, and not only did he bite the bullet,” 14 ball, corner pocket, “he spat it right back out at 'em.”

“He got us dental!” Someone cheers, and most of the crew cheers with him, clinking beer bottles together.

“Point is, he's a good guy who does a good job, and the least we can do is stick our noses out of his business.” 15 ball, opposite corner. “We don't need him getting hurt because we couldn't do that.”

Something flickers in Bruce's eyes at that last comment, noting the slightly somber tone. “...he didn't ask you to stay away, did he?”

“He didn't need to. I told ya, you'll get it when you meet him.” He points out his last shot, “8-ball, corner,” and hangs over the table to aim his cue. “People like him don't usually stick around Gotham, and not by their own choice. If someone finds out you're the one who made him leave, whether you meant it or not...”

The 8 ball rolls cleanly into the pocket, a promise fulfilled. “You'll be lucky if you're found with a bullet to the head.”

An open secret. One that puts him in harms way if the details get out. Details people are purposefully avoiding, out of gratitude. Makes things difficult for him.

“...Well, a deal's a deal. A round on me, everyone!”

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