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[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 5 - The Deep Dive

Chapter Summary - Y/N discusses the terms of the contract with the owners of ATZ Corp, where Hongjoong surprises her.

warnings: slight hints at sex work - poor descriptions of a house and room

Series Masterlist

The upper-class part of town was full of colorful people. You have the rich side, where the fashionistas and businessmen collide to indulge in brunches and auctions. And then there was the side involved in more illegal activities to keep their power and status.

It didn't seem far-fetched that ATZ Corp was involved in such activities. My own father was too, as it was common in old-money families.

The car ride was silent, not even the radio was on. I felt a sense of unease settle in my belly as we neared the restaurant, I knew this area, my dad's company building was close by maybe 2 blocks away. I stared out the window at the people walking up and down the street in their expensive suits and designer clothes.

A part of me missed that life. Being able to have everything I could ever want in the palm of my hand. I remembered my parents' house, my room was bigger than my apartment now, with the plush mattress and walk-in wardrobe. If I agreed to the contract, would I get that back?

The other half was happy with the life I had created, and the independence I'd gained. Though the progress was slow, I was making a name for myself.

"Miss?" The driver called out, I hadn't even realized he was holding the back seat door open for me.

"Sorry... Thank you." I say quickly collecting myself before stepping onto the pavement in front of the restaurant. I was met by another man, dressed in all black with sunglasses and a mask covering his face. He gestured for me to follow him, and surprisingly I did.

The man led me through the restaurant, a few heads turning as we walked. I tried to keep my breath steady, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise on my cheeks. He led me down a hallway and towards a sliding door that was firmly shut. He bowed to me before knocking twice.

A muffled voice answers and the man slides the door open. I stand there in the doorway for a moment. The only people in there were 8 men. I recognized Seonghwa close to the head of the table, and Mingi who sat closest to the door. Mingi gave me a saddened look, did I disappoint him by showing up?

"You're here." The man at the head of the table said. That must be Hongjoong.

I nod before stepping inside, thanking my escort before going to sit at the empty seat next to Mingi and in front of another, rather broad-shouldered, man.

"Are you hungry?" Seonghwa asks, his eyes staring into mine. I shift slightly under his gaze.

"Not really," I answered dismissively. Seonghwa grins, amused, before nodding to the man by the door, who then leaves.

I glance around at all of them, taking in their appearances. They were handsome, I'd give them that. Maybe I was lucky to have caught Seonghwa's attention.

"Y/N." Hongjoong says. "Let's discuss the terms of the contract, yes?" He says the smirk on his face made my blood still for just a moment.

"Well," I start "I don't like the implication that I'm to be used as an outlet for your sexual frustrations." I send a glare his way for good measure.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow and sips his drink. "Do you now?" Hongjoong chuckles, and I glare at him again. Was he seriously laughing right now? Maybe coming here was a bad idea, the only one who I might have a chance at taking me seriously is Mingi, and honestly, I wasn't so sure of his defensive abilities aside from physical.

"If you're going to laugh, then maybe I shouldn't have come," I say, moving to stand up, biting back a grin as Hongjoong's expression falters for a moment. If they're going to play games, I'll play too.

"There's no need for that." Another man says quickly. I glance at him for a moment, his eyes cat-like as he watched, no, studied me. I slowly sit back down, glancing up at Mingi who was giving me that same boba-eyed expression from last night. I guess it was kinda cute.

"If you didn't want something from us, you wouldn't have come," Seonghwa states. "So what is it that you want, Doll?"

I think for a moment. What did I want? I wasn't in this for money, I couldn't care less about that no matter how much I missed luxury. I'd never been eager to be involved in a polyamorous relationship before either. Why was I even here?

Maybe it was the security aspect? Knowing that I'd have people to fall back on if my career went sideways? A place to live where I'd actually be able to lock the door at night. 8 men to protect me didn't sound so bad either, I suppose.

Knowing that there was someone aside from Mia who supported and loved my art enough to come to every show. Knowing that someone liked me enough to warn me despite probably being told not to about the dangerous side of their lives.

My mind drifted back to the girl Mingi briefly mentioned. I had so many questions about her, what was her name? What happened to her?

"Y/N?" The man with the broad shoulders calls out from across the table. "Are you alright?"

I nod. "I want to be involved in the making of this contract. It doesn't seem fair that I'm expected to blindly sign it without having my own input." I say, looking at Hongjoong. His smile had fallen, his eyes watching me carefully.

"I want this to be more than what you wrote on that paper. I'm happy you're letting me continue my time at the society, but I can't control how long I'm practicing for. So you'll just have to suck it up." I state. The man with the cat eyes lets out a snort of amusement, covering it up with a cough.

"Go on." Hongjoong urges, leaning forward on his elbows.

"I want to take this slow. This whole thing is new to me and I don't want to overwhelm myself, especially when I'm in the middle of shows."

Hongjoong tilts his head and nods in understanding.

"How about we forget about the contract," Hongjjong says, leaning back in his seat. "It seems pointless and outdated if you ask me."

I blink in surprise, even the others look at him with bewildered looks.

"I'm sure you already know of what we do, thanks to big mouth over there," Hongjoong says, sending a look to Mingi who lowers his head. "So there's no point in keeping you out of the loop, and the contract does state that you don't ask questions."

"So, no contract?" I question.

"No contract, sweetheart." Hongjoong chuckles. "However I will need you to make a decision tonight. If word gets out that you're involved with one of us, and it will, we'll need to have you somewhere safer than your apartment." He says, right as the door opens again. Waiters enter with various trays of food, setting them down gracefully in the center of the table before leaving without a word.

I furrow my eyebrows as the boys begin to start eating immediately, chatting like I wasn't there. Mingi places a plate in front of me with a slight smile before continuing on with his conversation. I listened to their conversations, learning their names bit by bit. The man across from me, San, offered countless times to retrieve food for me so I didn't have to reach for anything.

I felt a pang in my stomach. Seonghwas love letters, Mingi holding doors open for me, and now San offering to retrieve food. Were they all such gentlemen?

"I accept." I blurt out before I can even stop myself. They all paused their conversations, and the sound of cutlery screeching to a halt caused my lips to quirk up slightly in amusement. Their heads slowly turn to me, genuinely surprised by my answer.

"You're serious?" Wooyoung, the man with the cat eyes, says with a mouth full of food. These were supposed to be ruthless businessmen/gang leaders, yet at that moment I saw the opposite. I saw young men who were so open to showing me, a stranger, so much vulnerability I almost couldn't handle it.

"I'm serious," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. At that, the boys all snap their heads at Hongjoong, who is smiling once again.

"Excellent." He says, before taking a bite of his food. I glance at Mingi, noticing the conflicting emotions on his face. I had to stop myself from reaching out, a part of me wanted to apologize to him for my answer, knowing how much he hadn't wanted me to accept.

I stopped myself, however, turning back to my food. I'd gambled with my life with my answer. Was it really going to be hard if I wanted to leave? What if I ended up not liking these boys as much as I'd assumed I would?

I started to regret my decision, however my pride stopped me from retracting it. I sat in silence as the boys continued to talk amongst themselves, about work and other things.

When the time came to go, I was the last to stand. My legs felt shaky and my throat dry. Mingi stood behind my chair and waited for me to stand, pulling it back as I did so I had space to move away from the table.

"No need to return to your apartment tonight. We have a room for you already." Hongjoong tells me, resting a hand on my back which made my body jolt in surprise.

"Already?" I ask as he starts to lead me out of the room. Instead of heading towards the main restaurant, he leads us through to a back door.

"We had it set up in case you said yes." He explains, nodding to the men waiting outside. I blinked in surprise at the number of them. Were they standing out here the whole time? Hongjoong leads me to a car that Yunho had climbed into just a moment prior.

I climb in also, followed by Hongjoong before the door is shut. I'm sandwiched between them, looking up at Yunho who is staring straight ahead with a cold expression. I purse my lips and look away, clearly he wasn't interested in small talk.

The car began to move, the vehicle weaving into traffic and speeding off. I kept my knees tucked close together to stop myself from nudging against the two men on either side. Hongjoong was on his phone, a serious expression on his brows as he aggressively typed a message out. Yunho had a blank expression as he stared out the window. His left hand resting on his thigh, the fingers spread and slightly gripping the fabric of his pants.

I noticed the scars on his knuckles, light pink against his pale skin. I glance up at his face and flinch as my eyes meet his. I quickly turn to the front, hearing him let out a huff of amusement before returning to the window.

Hongjoong had sat his phone down now, relaxing in the car seat.

"Seonghwa tells me you're a talented ballerina," Hongjoong says, finally breaking the silence. "I should come watch a show of yours."

I give him a small smile. "I'm not that good, I've been dancing for years so it's all experience."

"Humble are we?" He chuckles, turning his head to face me.

"It's better than being cocky," I say. "Though you wouldn't know about that would you?"

He lets out a cackle, Yunho doesn't even flinch beside me.

"I see why Seonghwa was so eager to have you." He says, his voice laced with amusement.

"Is he always like that?" I ask, finding a strange comfort now that Hongjoong and I were actually talking one-on-one, despite the looming presence on my right. "Like romantic, heaps of gifts."

"Yes. You'll get used to it after a while, might even come to appreciate it." Hongjoong says. "He's always been a giver, I may be the leader but he runs the house as far as I'm concerned." He smiles fondly while talking about his friends.

"How long have you known each other?" I ask.

"Since we were teens, some longer than others. I met Yunho first." He gestures to the other man. "Met the others not long after." He states.

I turn to the front and realize we are no longer in the city, but instead on a long road, the only light coming from the headlights and the full moon overhead.

"I hope you like blue, I had our housekeeper decorate your room for you," Hongjoong says, sitting up a little straighter as we turn into a driveway. "And don't be intimidated by the size of the house, I'll have someone give you a tour tomorrow."

"How big-?" I cut myself off as the house came into view. I feel my jaw drop slightly at the size of it. I saw the fountain first, the statue in the center carved carefully from stone. The house itself was magnificent, maybe twice the size of the one I grew up in.

"24 bedrooms," Hongjoong says, his smile wide as he looks at me. The car slowly comes to a stop at the front of the house, the tires crunching on the basalt.

Hongjoong got out first, holding the door open as I followed behind him. I strained my neck to look at the house, noticing all the artistic details littered through the brick.

"Impressed is she?" I hear Wooyoung shout from down the driveway.

"Seems like it," Hongjoong says, offering his arm. I hesitate for a moment before taking it.

A man by the door opens the door for us, my heels clicking on the marble. The foyer was brighter than I expected, a chandelier hung low from the ceiling with a grand staircase curving up the wall. My eyes scanned the room, the marble floor a pristine white with black and gold patterns throughout, two plush armchairs positioned neatly underneath one of the stair railings.

Hongjoong started walking towards the staircase on the right, helping me so that my heels didn't catch on my dress. I glance down at the others as the stairs curve to the side. Some had dispersed into the house, others lingered by the door to maintain conversation. loosening their ties to provide some comfort.

Upstairs was a little darker, instead of a marble floor it was a dark polished wood. Hongjoong led me down the hall until he stopped at the fourth door towards the back of the house. He opened the door for me and stepped back, allowing me to enter without being followed.

A luxurious bedroom unfolds, centered around a grand canopy bed. The bed features carved posts of polished wood, supporting a cascading canopy of sheer, light blue fabric with subtle golden embroidery. The bedding mirrors the room’s opulence, with plush pillows and a comforter in light blue satin trimmed with gold.

A cozy seating area in one corner features a pair of tufted armchairs upholstered in blue velvet, accompanied by a small, round marble table with gold legs. The floors are polished wood, softened by a plush, cream-colored rug that complements the room's serene yet regal palette. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room. Tall windows line the back of the room, and light blue curtains are drawn to give some privacy.

"Do you like it?" Hongjoong says from the doorway.

"I love it," I say softly, turning to look at him. He had a soft expression on his face before he spoke.

"There's clothes in the wardrobe for you. I'll have someone go to your apartment sometime this week and collect some of your things." He says, going to shut the door and leave me be.

"Can I ask you something?" I say quickly, making him stop. "Why did you all agree to this? I mean, you don't even know me."

He examines me for a moment before answering, "Same reason as you, sweetheart." Before shutting the door. I hear his footsteps retreat back towards the staircase as I stand there, scared to touch anything and ruin the warm feeling of the room.

I slowly find my feet walking towards the walk-in wardrobe, a wide smile on my face as I notice that it's full. Someone really went out of their way to buy clothes from expensive clothing lines that somehow were exactly my size. I notice folded-up pajamas on the vanity towards the back of the room, my fingers touching the silky fabric before bundling them up in my arms. I walk out of the wardrobe, opening the next door to find a fully decked-out bathroom, equipped with everything I could need.

I got changed and wiped off my makeup before trudging back out into the main room. My eyes felt heavy, and I realized my social battery had gone down to almost empty since the day began. So much had happened, in just 3 hours and I couldn't help but feel completely exhausted.

I flopped onto the bed, the plush mattress beneath me a welcome feeling as I settled beneath the covers. I closed my eyes, somehow feeling at ease despite being in a strange environment. Something about the effort they put in, even if it was just a nice room, made me feel welcomed despite the silence I'd received from a few of them.

Jongho, Yeosang, and Yunho seemed to be a bit more standoffish than the rest. Maybe they weren't as eager as the others about a new person being invited into their home, no questions asked, and for that, I couldn't blame them.

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[bosbas]

Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!

June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.

Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you. 

Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently. 

But the truce didn’t last. 

Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.

You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.

Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room. 

Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.

And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone. 

Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.

That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight. 

“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”

“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.

“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties. 

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will be in attendance.”

Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”

“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”

 Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”

Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”

“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”

Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room. 

Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.

Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.

---

Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady. 

After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink. 

“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).

“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke). 

“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him. 

Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.

But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.

Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).

Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately. 

Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window. 

As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you. 

Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision. 

“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.

“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway. 

“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say. 

It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say. 

“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you. 

“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”

Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger. 

“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you. 

“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you. 

You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings. 

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated. 

Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”

Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.

“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest. 

You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose. 

“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose. 

Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”

He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you. 

“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.

He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand. 

“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”

“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Colin-”

“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”

You shot him a confused look. “Colin?” 

Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?

“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Again? Colin, why-”

“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”

“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”

You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him. 

“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously. 

And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do. 

“Colin.”

“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words. 

You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.” 

“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter. 

But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball. 

Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him. 

“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him. 

“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”

You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him. 

But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier. 

You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize. 

Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained. 

A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle. 

“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”

Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”

“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.

“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you. 

“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”

Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”

You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”

“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue. 

All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you. 

The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.

What a complete mess. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned. 

You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”

“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again. 

But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.

“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face. 

Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways. 

“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip. 

If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.

You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”   

Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things. 

“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you. 

Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point. 

But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter. 

Oh heavens, he really did love you.

—

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[simplyraeblue]

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning, fem reader

chapter warnings/tags: mild angst, swearing, filthy raunchy smut, oral (reader receiving), squirting, p in v, creampie, i was diabolic writing this, choso's an oral god, use of "angel" A/N: oh my god I can't believe we've come to the end... how? how how how? it feels like just yesterday I started this hot mess of a fanfic and now it's complete. if you hated it; sucks for you. if you loved it; thank you so much. THANK YOU to all who have commented, reblogged, and showed continous support for this mini series! ദ്ദി(ó﹏ò｡) i love you all so much muah muah MUAH! I've got a little treat in store at the end of this for you, so stay tuned!

index part fourteen | the end no more sorry

master list

part fifteen word count : 5,764 (+ 635 in bonus content)

two months later

school was in full swing again, and the weather was shifting; sandals were swapped for boots, and ball caps into beanies. students flooded the campus in heavy coats, clutching their textbooks, but not everyone could adapt to the change.

your breath formed a fog in front of you as you hurried through campus, realizing you were late. oh so fucking late. Yuji was already waiting for you at the library, ready to scold you for neglecting your studies – though really it would be Megumi doing the actual scolding.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, and as you pulled it out to check the message, you let out a frustrated sigh. of course, Nobara was skipping the study session. she always preferred wild Thursday nights to hitting the books. honestly, you kind of wished you had done the same. 

after rushing (silently) through the library, you finally spotted Yuji and Megumi in a study room. you pushed through the door and immediately felt Megumi’s disapproving gaze. “you’re late.” he said with a tut.

Yuji groaned, sliding him a small bill, and your jaw dropped. “you bet on whether I’d be late?” you asked, setting your things down a bit harder than necessary.

“not if you’d be late, but how late.” Yuji clarified as you took a seat. you quickly flipped open your textbook, trying to catch up to where they were while both of them just stared at you. 

you glared at them, eyebrows furrowed. “what? you’re looking at me like I committed a crime by being late.” 

“we were just wondering…” Yuji started.

“…if you wanted to skip studying and join Nobara.” Megumi finished.

you gasped. “Megumi Fushiguro, you want to party instead of study? what has gotten into you?”

Megumi rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “don’t act so surprised. you know how important studying is to me, but even we need a break sometimes.”

you crossed your arms, pretending to be annoyed. “sure, but you’re the last person I expected to suggest ditching our study session. what’s next, are you going to start dancing at parties?” 

Yuji chuckled, nudging Megumi playfully. “hey, maybe we could both use some fun. besides, Nobara always knows how to make things exciting. it could be a nice change of pace.”

you hesitated, glancing back at your textbook, then at their eager faces. “but what about grades?” pfft yeah right.

“they’ll still be there when we get back.” Megumi said, his tone surprisingly persuasive. “just one night won’t hurt.”

you took a deep breath, weighing your options. part of you wanted to dive into your studies, but the thought of a spontaneous night out with friends was tempting. finally, you sighed, a smile creeping onto your face. “alright, but only for a little while! we’ll come back and study after.”

“no we won’t!” Yuji joked as he patted Megumi’s back and stood from his chair. 

so now, here you were, three shots deep into a bar with your friends. “I can’t believe you convinced Megumi to come out!” Nobara shouted over the music, arm slung around your shoulder. 

“actually, it was his idea!” you responded with a grin. everyone was surprised, truly, but you weren’t complaining. 

the last two months had been nothing short of dreary, and you didn’t mean the weather. 

moving out of Yuji’s house had been the right choice. it felt like you could finally breathe again, even though each breath still carried a twinge of pain in your heart. while you were relieved to escape the heavy tension between Sukuna and Choso, you missed the latter with every fiber of your being. 

it wasn’t for lack of effort on his side. for the first month, Choso had begged Yuji for your address, but found that his brother was under strict orders not to share it. he called and texted constantly, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to any of it.

you were determined to stick to the belief that he would find someone better without you. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, had been much more persistent. by the third week of living in your new apartment, he showed up on your doorstep. despite your protests, he somehow ended up on your couch, enduring nearly an hour of your yelling. 

in the end, he accepted defeat. you vividly remember the relief you felt when Sukuna asked, “can we just be friends?” 

friends. yes, you could manage that. any feelings you had for Sukuna had faded away during your relationship with Choso, and while you hadn’t fully realized it at the time, you were sure of it now. 

now here you were, being nagged by both Yuji and Sukuna, urging you to reach out to Choso. how had you gone from hating the eldest brother to listening to him go on about how you’d made the biggest mistake?

“do you realize how this has affected him?” Sukuna asked one night over a pint of beer at a pub. “while I could drown out my heartbreak-“

“oh, sure.” you rolled your eyes.

“-excuse me. get over my bruised ego, then.” Sukuna smirked at your reaction, though he meant what he said. he understood now wasn’t the right moment to delve deeper. “I could go out, pick up a woman at the bar, and bring her home. Choso, though? he hasn’t done any of that. I haven’t seen him talk to a woman once.”

“yeah, right. Choso could walk down the street and charm any girl.” you joked, but the thought made your stomach churn.

Sukuna chuckled. “doesn’t matter. he’s barely left his room.”

“oh.” was all you could manage.

since that day, the calls and texts from Choso had stopped. whether he had given up or found happiness elsewhere, you chose not to think about it.

instead, you decided to spend tonight drowning your feelings with Nobara, Megumi and Yuji. no thinking of Choso, no thinking of Choso, you repeated the mantra over and over just as you’d done over the past two months.

Nobara spent half the night shoving you gently in the direction of other men, trying to get you to flirt and have fun. no matter how many times you tried to dissuade her, she kept telling you that it was time to move on. but even when a guy would be trying to sweet talk you, you kept having to shake away images of those twin black buns and tattoo striped across the nose. how could anyone compare?

Yuji and Megumi tried to lift your spirits as well by forcing you to dance with them. but eventually, their sweet romantics would make you feel even worse, to no fault of their own. you were just remembering the night Choso saved you from that creepy guy in a bar. 

“Yuji…” you whined, leaning heavily against the bar with your head in your hands. the music blared around you as Nobara tried to slide another drink your way, but you waved it off, no longer in the mood. “did I really fuck up? just be honest with me.”

Yuji offered a sympathetic pat on your head, a gesture that only irritated you more. he’d taken to doing it since your breakup; it made you feel like a helpless child, vulnerable and lost. “I think you did what was best for you.” he said softly, but the words felt hollow and you could see past the fake bullshit he was spewing. 

“but… I don’t know anymore.” you really didn’t. the weight of uncertainty settled in your chest. moving out had felt like the right choice, but breaking things off with Choso? that was a different story. “I just really miss him.

“then why haven’t you talked to him?” Megumi interjected, his expression neutral as if he were presenting the most logical solution in the world.

“I can’t. he’s better off without a brother-fucking girlfriend.” 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Yuji grimaced, shaking his head at your remark. the thought of you being… intimate with either of his brothers still made him a little queasy. after a moment, he leaned in closer. “he’s not better off without you. trust me, I know my brother. he might act like he’s fine, but he’s a complete mess without you. his music’s gotten louder – like he’s trying to drown out the silence – and he spends all his time in the dark in his room. I haven’t heard him touch his xbox in weeks. he’s just… an empty shell now. honestly, he’s even more emo than before, if that’s even possible.”

maybe Yuji was right. maybe you hadn’t necessarily made the wrong choice at the time, but the long-term effects felt crushing. you wanted Choso to be happy, that was why you left. if you were happy, great. if Choso was happy, even better. as you often reminded yourself, it was with or without you. but the idea of him suffering made your heart ache. 

“I just keep thinking about the good times.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I remember how he used to smile when I’d surprise him with his favorite snacks, or how he’d get lost in his music for hours. it’s like I can still hear him playing those songs in my head.”

Yuji watched you closely, his expression softening. “but it’s not just about you and him any more, it’s about what you both need. sometimes love means taking a step back, even if it hurts.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” you said, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. “but now it just feels… empty. I thought I’d feel better, but I don’t.”

Nobara returned with yet another full drink, her eyes flickering between you and Yuji. she placed it in front of you, but you just stared at it, not ready to take another sip but not pushing it away either. “you can’t keep punishing yourself for wanting what’s best for both of you.” she said, her tone more supportive than judgmental. “I don’t see why you can’t just talk to him.”

“but what if he doesn’t want to talk to me? what if I end up just making things worse?” the anxiety twisted in your stomach, each possibility feeling heavier than the last.

Yuji suddenly placed both hands on your face, squeezing slightly to get you to turn and focus on him. “listen, you are my best friend in the world – sorry Nobara – and you deserve to be happy. I won’t sit here and listen to you agonize over whether you made the right choice. obviously, if it still bothers you, then you didn’t. I can say with certainty that Choso would want to talk to you, he’d probably cry if he got the chance for one minute to see you. so, get off your ass and talk to him.”

Nobara and Megumi’s jaws dropped, and you could only nod in shock. “I’ve never seen Yuji be so firm.” Nobara muttered to Megumi.

“I know, it’s hot.” Megumi felt the sharp jab of Nobara’s elbow in his side, causing him to chuckle.

finally, after your little pep talk from Yuji, you were stumbling back to your apartment alone, and all you wanted was to think about Choso. what was he doing right about now? was he blaring music through the speakers in his room? maybe he was playing video games or watching a movie. Yuji had said he wasn’t doing any of that, but you could only hope for the best.

you grew nauseous at the thought of him with anyone else tonight.

as you dug for your keys in your purse, you tripped over something right outside your door. fuck, had someone’s food delivery got sent to the wrong address again? “oi, what the hell?” you grumbled as you looked up from your purse, only to stop breathing.

Choso shot up from the ground, buns tousled and eyes puffy. he opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find even a simple “hello” only to give up and shut his lips tightly.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice trembling as your palms grew clammy at the sight of him. your heart raced in your chest, aching for him.

“I had to… I needed to…” Choso stammered, caught off guard that you were speaking to him. he hadn’t expected to run into you; he thought he’d just swing by and maybe catch of a glimpse of you if luck was on his side. “I don’t know what to say now that you’re right here.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, unfazed by his awkwardness. “do you want to come in?” you slid your key into the door, and Choso nodded firmly. 

maybe it was the alcohol, or just the shock of seeing him after two months apart, but your resolve was slipping.

he followed you inside, mentally letting out a sigh of relief at just being able to speak with you. Choso had begged Yuji every day for even the smallest hint of your new address. to his surprise, it was Sukuna who finally let it slip.

you moved to the kitchen, trying to give Choso a moment to gather himself. “can I get you something to drink?” you asked, glancing back at him.

he shook his head, still looking a bit shell-shocked. “I just… I didn’t think I’d actually see you.”

you turned to face him full, leaning against the counter. “why did you come, then?”

Choso took a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I can’t stop. I can’t stop thinking about you, about everything that happened between us. I can’t move on from you.

“Choso…” you whispered, your heart sinking at his words.

he stepped closer, his hand reaching out but hesitating halfway, as if unsure of how to bridge the gap between you. “I can’t move on from us.” he continued, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ll never be able to move on from you.” his hand slowly moved until it rested just above yours on the counter. “I think…” he took a breath, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart race. “I think I’ll love you forever.”

your resolve crumbled, scattered like leaves in the wind, as the warmth of his presence enveloped you. “I think… I’ll love you forever too.” you confessed, the words spilling out before you could hold them back.

Choso’s expression shifted, a longing flickering across his face as he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to hold onto you tightly and never let go, but he held back, willing to let you lead the way. if you wanted him to leave, he would do it, even if it meant breaking his heart all over again.

but standing so close, you felt that pull to him that was impossible to ignore. you didn’t know if you’d regret it, but your body was responding to his proximity, urging you to bridge the gap. “are you going to kiss me now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Choso’s breath caught at your question, his eyes widening with surprise and a flicker of hope. “is that what you want?” he asked, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. 

you nodded, a nervous excitement fluttering in your stomach. “yes.”

that seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. in an instant, he closed the gap, cupping your face gently with his hand as he leaned in. his lips brushed against yours softly at first, as if testing the waters. the kiss was tentative, filled with months of longing, but it quickly deepened, igniting a warmth that spread through you both.

you melted into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. it felt like coming home after a long trip – a familiar warmth that wrapped around your heart.

Choso broke apart from you, breathless, as he rested his forehead against yours. his eyes searched yours, looking for something within them. “this can’t… I can’t handle it if this is just a one-night stand.” he murmured, breath warm on your face. 

you shook your head against him, a small smile forming across your face. “I don’t think I can let you go again.” as you whispered the reassurance, Choso groaned out in relief before pressing his lips to yours again.

where the first kiss had been cautious, patient, his lips now moved against yours with a fervent need to feel every inch of you. Choso’s tongue dipped past your lips to tenderly caress yours as he pulled you closer into him, heaving chests flush together as your hands fisted the back of his shirt. 

“angel…” he moaned lowly, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as you panted into his mouth. you felt like you were on fire, his hands leaving trails of flame on your body while they roamed and grabbed at whatever he could get his hands on. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” you whimpered as his lips found purchase between your neck and jaw. he peppered kisses along your skin before you felt his teeth bite into you before sucking a mark. “missed you s’ much.”

the two of you became a tangle of limbs as he tugged you toward your bed, so conveniently close in your studio, until your legs hit the bed and you both tumbled backward onto the mattress. Choso landed on top of you with a thud, causing you to let out a laugh with the extra weight. 

“somethin’ funny?” Choso asked with a grin as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I missed that laugh. thought I’d never hear it again.”

looking up at him, your heart raced, urging you to speak before thinking. he was so beautiful, watching you with a love-filled gaze, that you couldn’t help but melt under him. “I love you, Choso.” the words slipped out softly from your lips but you had no regrets – you did love him, with your whole heart.

Choso’s eyes went wide, shining so bright that you were blinded by the emotion pouring out from his expression. he was shattered when you’d left. you’d taken the sunshine with you, leaving him to hole up in the darkness of his broken heart. but with those three words, you’d started to piece him back together. 

his lips crashed into yours, teeth clattering together with the force of it, as his eyelids fluttered close with furrowed brows. “I….” he started between your lips “… love…” a nip at your tongue “… you.” 

nothing was holding him back anymore from pulling his shirt over his head with one fluid motion, before latching his lips onto your neck and dragging out the sweet little moans he loved from your mouth as he marked you with his teeth. he’d heard them in his dreams, through his blaring music, every day he heard your voice, and now he wanted to make sure he’d hear it until he went deaf.

Choso trailed kisses down to your collarbone before pulling your shirt off and then unclasping the back of your bra. needy lips found your perked nipples, latching on roughly as he sucked one into his mouth. he made sure to leave bruising red marks on the plushest part of your tits as well – just in case the one on your neck hadn’t taken. this skin was softer, easier to brutally bite and suck, dragging the most incredible noises he’d ever heard from you. with every scratch of his teeth against your skin, you moaned out in a mix of pain-pleasure, and your pulse raced under his touch, shivers running through your bones as he continued his path down to the hem of your pants. 

it felt like the first time all over again; the need and desire taking over both of you. he was relentless with his hands dragging over your body, scratching and gripping everywhere they paused. but his hands would only pause for a moment, before moving on to somewhere else, desperately aching to touch you, feel you, taste you. 

“wan’ t’… need t’ taste you, angel.” he murmured against your skin as his fingers worked apart the button, then the zipper, ultimately forcing the pants down your legs and ripping them from your ankles to toss them somewhere on the floor. he had a one-track mind right now – tasting your sweet cunt on his tongue. “miss the taste of you, been goin’ through withdrawals.”

your face flushed at the filthy words babbling from his lips as he kissed your inner things, making sure to leave bite marks there too. “Choso, that’s so gross baby.” you whined in embarrassment and tried to shut your thighs, only to have them forced open by his hands pushing your knees apart.  “it’s not that great, I’m sure.”

Choso looked up from where his chin was nestled between you, eyes half-lidded as if he was drunk off you already. “it is that great, it’s perfect. could do this all day if you’d let me.” and with that, he licked a stripe up your already slick folds and let out an animalistic groan at the taste. “s’ good, tastes s’ good angel. can’t get enough.”

as he began to eat you like a man starved, spit and arousal coating his mouth and chin, glistening over his face tattoo you loved so much, you fisted his dark hair in your hand at the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. it had been so long – too long – and you were overly sensitive to every nudge of his nose against your clit as he pressed his face deep into your core.

“Cho, s’ too much.” you whimpered when he plunged a single-digit knuckle deep into your warm walls and curled it into your g-spot. your hips instinctively bucked against his mouth, and he let out a pleased hum at your reaction. 

he pulled his mouth away from your clit with a plop! and smirked up at you through his lashes. “feelin’ good, angel?” he asked, but he could feel the answer on his fingers as he stuffed another one deep into you. your gushy walls were as tight as his pants were around his constrained throbbing cock, no doubt already leaking with pre-cum at the sight of you coming undone from his tongue. “wan’ you t’ cum on me, need t’ taste it before I get inside you.”

“please – hah – please wanna cum s’ bad!” your moans were pornographic at this point as the hot knot in your abdomen tightened into a coil ready to be snapped. as you practically rode his tongue to chase your release, Choso’s eyes rolled to the back of his head at the addictive taste of your cunt, deciding that if he died with his head between your legs and your cum on his tongue, it would be the perfect end to his life. 

“that’s it, cum f’ me ‘kay?” Choso urged before his tongue caressed your clit in circular motions while his fingers curled against your g-spot just right. your orgasm came crashing through you, two months’ worth of pent-up need for him and only him coursing through your bones as you came on his face with wild thrashes of your hips. 

he had to wrap his arm over your hips, forcing them to be still as he didn’t give up his pursuit of the most spectacular orgasm he could give you. even though your body felt like it was on fire, he was unyielding in his torment on your sensitive clit. you were still coming, screaming his name as you tried to scramble away from him in a desperate attempt to escape the overstimulation, but he kept you pinned in place with his bicep, growling into your dripping heat every time you tried to move.

“s-stop, ‘s too much!” you yelped as he continued scissoring his fingers inside of you, forcing open the tightness of your walls as he slurped your clit into his mouth and sucked repetitively. you were going to explode, maybe even die with every wave of release that just kept crashing, the warmth tingling through your body traveling down down down until you felt like a dam had burst, and you heard the squelches of your cunt squirting all over him.

Choso was ecstatic, and absolutely feral to feel your pussy juices spray onto his face and coating his tongue. you tasted heavenly, his cock twitching at the sight of you writhing at his touch – he wanted to lap up every bit of you, but even then, he knew his need wouldn’t be fulfilled.

just as you were coming down, body still twitching with overstimulation, Choso stood up and shoved his pants down to reveal his leaking dick, red and irritated from the confines of his pants, ready to feel you wrap around him. “please, need you to fuck me, Choso.” you begged as you reached for him, wanting him inside of you this instant or else you’d implode. 

“don’t worry, gonna make you feel real good again, baby.” Choso pumped his cock with the same hand that was coated in your release before lining up his tip with your cunt. he kissed your lips, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. of course, he’d never wipe his face of your delicious juices. “missed this s’ much, been dreaming ‘bout it every day.”

with one deep, steady thrust, Choso bullied his dick through your wet walls and bottomed out, balls deep within you and letting out the loudest groan you’d ever heard come from his lips. you gasped at the fullness, somehow forgetting just how large he was when he was pressed against your cervix and filling you so deliciously. he took no time in rolling his hips into yours without pause, ready to feel every inch of you coating his cock. 

“fuck, Choso it’s been too long.” you gasped as his tip continuously kissed your cervix, loud and wet squelches coming from your cunt with every thrust he drove into you. your hips bucked to meet him, need, desperate for him to keep going keep going keep going. without a doubt, you’d be sore and achy tomorrow, but you couldn’t give two shits as long as he was fucking you this good. 

your name was a panted-out prayer on his lips as his hands cupped your face to look at you while he fucked into you, primal instinct taking over and urging him to fill you with his cum over and over. every ignored ache of his cock from the past two months had built up to this, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. no, he’d pull more orgasms from your pretty cunt, and fill you up over and over until you could never forget the feeling of him.

 “shit – hmph – missed feeling your cunt wrapped around me. look at you, so pretty underneath me, like my own personal angel.” Choso murmured through his pants as his thrust became sloppier. to compensate for his lack of control and quickly oncoming orgasm, he slid his hand down, fingers pressing against your clit in slow, deliberate circles to get you to cum on his cock. 

as the knot began to tighten in your stomach again, your eyes snapped open to look at Choso above you – black hair already sticking to his forehead, twin buns coming loose, pupils blown out from pleasure, and mouth agape as he watched you move underneath him. “I love you.” you whined, turning your head and softly kissing his hand that was against your cheek. “holy shit, I love you!”

at your confession, Choso’s pace on your clit picked up and brought you over the edge, your second release racking your body as you trembled beneath him through it. he could not only feel it, but he could hear it too. your warm walls clenched around him like a vice, lewd wet squelches echoing with every thrust of his cock, and your slutty moans of his name had him crumbling. god, you were perfect to him, so soft and pretty and you felt. so. fucking. good. 

he felt like an animal, rutting into you with all of his strength to get himself off, desperate to release himself inside of you. his orgasm found him as you were halfway through yours, and he groaned out, “I love you!” before smashing his lips into yours as his hips stilled to be as deep as he could inside of you, spirts of his hot cum coating your walls as he shuddered on top of you. “I love you I love you I love you!”

he fucked you through both of your orgasms before crashing down on top of you, head buried in the crook of your neck as you both struggled to catch your breath and come down from the high. “I love you, Choso.” you whispered now, brushing his bangs from his sweaty forehead and kissing him. 

“I love you, angel. forever.” Choso murmured back in response, a soft smile taking over his wet lips as he nuzzled closer to you, breathing in deeply through his nose against your skin. “never gonna stop loving you.”

“that’s okay with me.” 

-

it was Christmas time now, fresh white snow coating the ground as you hurried down the sidewalk. you were late, oh so late, again. you could already picture Megumi’s disapproving glare, and you almost lost your footing on a particularly slick patch of ice at the thought.

when you finally burst through Yuji’s front door, panting and flushed from the cold, Megumi gave you the expected side-eye. but then Yuji bounded over, a huge grin on his face. “you made it! thank goodness. if I had to deal with mr. grinch for one more minute, I might’ve pulled my hair out. and I like my hair – everyone likes my hair!” he rambled on, tugging you in the living room and practically forcing you to sit on the couch beside Megumi.

“who’s the grinch this year? Megumi?” you asked playfully, a teasing grin spreading across your face as you glanced at the raven-haired boy. you then turned your attention to the other side of the room. “or is it Sukuna?”

Sukuna, lounging comfortably in an accent chair with a mug that you guessed was filled with heavily spiked eggnog, shook his head and let out a low chuckle. “take another wild guess.”

you raised an eyebrow, confused, until Choso rounded the corner wearing the most hideous Christmas sweater you’d ever laid eyes on. the sight nearly made you gasp. “oh my god.” you breathed, struggling to stifle your laughter.

“don’t. say. a fucking. word.” Choso grumbled, shooting a pointed glare at Yuji who was wearing a matching outrageous sweater.

“you look so cute!” you exclaimed, unable to contain yourself. you jumped off the couch and rushed over to him, planting a fat kiss on his lips. “I’ve never seen you wear so many colors!”

Choso’s face turned pink as his gaze dropped to the enormous, puffy reindeer on the front of the sweater. “you like it?” he asked quietly, a hint of shyness creeping into his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I love it.” you replied sincerely, and when he looked back up at you, a radiant smile broke across his face. “and I love the man wearing it even more.”

“of course, when his girlfriend shows up, he’s no longer a grouch.” Yuji huffed, arms crossed and feigning annoyance as he watched the exchange between his brother and you.

“you know you love it.” Megumi teased, wrapping his arms around Yuji’s shoulders and planting a soft kiss on his temple, a playful smirk on his face.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Sukuna declared, pinching the bridge of his nose in exaggerated annoyance before taking a long gulp from his mug.

you settled back onto the couch, still riding the high of Choso’s blush, when he reached into the pile of gifts stacked beneath the tree. his eyes sparkled with excitement as he pulled out a small, wrapped box with a red bow on top.

“for you.” he said, a shy smile spreading across his face as he handed it to you. “Nobara helped me pick it out, so I can’t take all the credit. she also threatened me to make sure I told you that.”

you snorted out a laugh and took the box from him. you carefully peeled off the wrapping to see a small velvety box hidden underneath, and your breath caught in your throat as you opened it. inside lay a delicate, silver necklace featuring a mountain with two stars atop it. 

“Choso, it’s beautiful!” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes as your fingers brushed over it.

he smiled and gently took the necklace from the box. “while it’s not wall climbing, I thought it would remind you of our first date… and, well, us being the two stars. since… y’know, we went climbing, even though we didn’t do it on a mountain and -”

you looked up, meeting his gaze and causing him to pause his rambles at your expression, and felt hot tears freely sliding down your cheeks at the sweetness of it all. “it’s perfect. I love it.” Choso softly smiled before leaning closer and carefully helping you clasp the necklace around your neck. the pendant settled just above where your heart raced beneath your skin.

Yuji and Megumi exchanged knowing glances, and Yuji elbowed Megumi playfully. “look at you two, all sweet and mushy… makes me sick.” Megumi teased with a tiny smirk.

“I’m sick of all of you.” Sukuna grumbled from his spot, but beneath the mug pressed to his lips, you could see his mouth curving up into a small smile.

Choso’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. “I just wanted to give you something special.” he said quietly, the sincerity in his voice making you melt. “I love you so much, angel.”

you sniffled slightly, reaching up to touch the necklace that you knew would never be taken off. “I love you too, Choso.” you replied before placing a soft kiss to his lips. 

in that moment, everything felt perfect. you were in love, surrounded by some of the people that you cared about the most on the holidays. and for now, you knew that everything would be okay – more than okay.

-

-

-

-

Sukuna’s POV

months later

he’d never say it to anyone else, but Sukuna’s therapist knows damn well to take the secret to their grave. sure, he’d been in love with you, or some semblance of love at least. so forgive him for being a tad heartbroken that he wasn’t the one chosen after everything.

his therapist had told him not to ruminate over it, that he had sought forgiveness and worked towards being a better person. but had he truly? he’d spent the better part of the cold season getting over it, and while he ultimately had, he was still nagged by the dread of never finding someone to look at him that way again. 

he was happy that everyone else was happy. he’d royally fucked up, he knew that, and he deserved to not be the one chosen in the end. all he could do now was move forward and continue trying. 

try try try. 

it was the mantra he’d carried into the new year, seared in his brain every second of every day. it’s all he ever did nowadays.

well, that and drink himself into a drunken stupor whenever he got the chance. and tonight was no exception – having ditched Yuji’s little party at the house to escape the suffocating romance between everyone but him, he found himself at a quiet bar two pints in, desperately hoping for a mild buzz at least.

he felt like a pitiful fool, drinking away his feelings. this wasn’t like him, or it used to not be. he wasn’t so sure anymore. he still felt the same – angry at the world, annoyed by those lesser than him, but in a way, he was more mature. mindful of the people around him and how he affected their lives. he guessed that was what growth did to a person.

but he couldn’t let his old attitude consume him. he’d try and try and try to be better for everyone else around him.

that was until he met her.

“oi, get your fucking hands off me!” he’d heard a voice shout from just outside the bar. it sounded distressed yet confident at the same time. he wasn’t sure what was going on until he heard two other deep voices, chuckling and hurling derogatory insults in the air as if it didn’t matter.

today, it would matter to him.

Sukuna abruptly stood from his stool, causing it to fall to the ground with a loud crash as he stormed out the door of the bar. underneath the streetlights, he saw her – small and fragile, surrounded by two drunken men reaching their hands out for her. and yet, despite her predicament, Sukuna couldn’t help but smirk at her, rearing back a fist, ready to knock someone out. 

she hadn’t even heard the crash from the bar, focused solely on the annoying assholes bothering her. all she'd been doing was walking home, alone, like an idiot of course. but a little recklessness never stopped her. she doubted her punch would do much damage, but it was worth a shot anyway. 

“I said leave me the hell alone, twatbags!” she shouted, fist shaking but staying firm in a pulled-back position. if they made one more move, she'd muster up the courage and hit one of them. she hated guys like these, her office was filled with them and now she couldn’t even get a reprieve walking down the street.

suddenly, both men went wide-eyed in front of her. hah, so her scare tactics worked, she thought. she'd have to pat yourself on the back later for this achievement. “aw, little ole me got you boys scared? looks like you’re about to wet your pants.” she smirked, crossing her arms in triumph. 

until their eyes traveled from hers, to over her head. 

“these guys bothering you?” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @nighttwingg @sweetsformysoul @casualpoetrytaco @lvingd3adg0rl @haikomaiko @csolya @deathlypink @sad-darksoul @elisedylandy @jinxiewritings @aldebrana @ravester @futuristiccurlyhair @san-it-is-i-guess @marie-is-in-the-dark @llovergirlll @iseeyouuu @makingtimemine @spicykimchii @shxhari @ratcoone @mollyrocks420 @willybillyletsgetsilly @distinguishedpenguinbread @ren-ni @sugar504 @runfrme @sukuna-for-life @theclassbookworm @avidreadee123 @tibibibi123 bro. just... BRO. we're at the end ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ i can't believe it!!!! I really really hope I did the end of the story justice, and that everyone is happy with the ending! if not, at least I'm happy about it. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO'S FOLLOWED, LIKED, REBLOGGED, AND COMMENTED through this whole short story!!!!! and to everyone who's requested to be tagged you have my WHOLE heart. ugh, I'm getting emotional again... but it doesn't make me too sad considering... Sukuna spin off coming soon! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ obviously her will turn into you in the next writing, was that obvious enough? no? damn. anyways, hope to see you all later! ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[224bbaker]

So, hypothetically speaking, if someone had never been interested in Sherlock Holmes before but wanted to get into it because of Fawx & Stallion... Where should they start?

Oh my GOD, anon, so upset we didn't see this until now because what a great question and also, our show inspiring someone to go check out Sherlock Holmes?? Deeply upsetting for our characters but SO exciting for us!

Hopefully since you sent this you've just dived in to the stories--because, honestly, that's how both of our writers got into them as kids, and also because despite what roughly 40 contradicting scholars will try to tell you, the timeline is nonsense and Watson's continuity doesn't make sense (we have made our own peace with this and addressed it in-universe because we didn't want to go on deep-dives to decide what puns we were allowed to use for the place we're at in the timeline it's fine, we're fine).

However, just a quick sidebar before we jump into The Stories--if you would rather start with an adaptation than the original ACD stories themselves, there are two options we'd recommend as starting points that are pretty true to canon while remaining engaging in and of themselves:

The Granada TV series with Jeremy Brett and David Burke/Edward Hardwicke: It rules, and most of it's on YouTube! Highly recommend their Solitary Cyclist, Speckled Band, Scandal in Bohemia, and Blue Carbuncle (we may be biased towards the early, David-Burke-Watson entries). These actors and sets are what we picture when we read Holmes.

For an audio adaptation, the 1989 Bert Coules radio adaptation, which you can get for a single credit on Audible in full and has basically the whole canon! Incredible dramatization work that preserves the stories and really deepens the character work in a way that we're obsessed with. Big fans!

If you're liking the vibe of these, you'll probably like the stories themselves! In which case, there are also awesome online book clubs like Letters from Watson that have great communities here on Tumblr (just peruse the tag, it's super fun!), and also over on Discord.

SO. If you're still here and looking for our direction on the stories:

If you just want to start with what is/will be relevant to Fawx & Stallion, we recommend:

Our goal is that our audience doesn't NEED to have read any Sherlock Holmes to understand anything in F&S. We'll hopefully lay things out or give context clues. However, we do have little jokes for the fans, and in season 2, some subtext may be a bit clearer, or have a bit more weight, if you've read some of the stories.

A Study In Scarlet: I know, I know I know I know, Holmes fans, the Utah Mormon stuff, I get it, BUT. Holmes and Watson meet in this one, and it's incredible. The first few chapters of them meeting, starting to live together, going from roommates with a mutual fascination to, through Watson's unintentional insult of Holmes's writing and a fateful invitation to a crime scene, actual friends, are electric. It's a crime (pun intended) that we have so few dramatizations of this in the canon era (we're trying to fix that), we love it so so much. Sacrilege, but, wikipedia the stuff in the middle, enjoy the fantastic meet cute that bookends the thing.

Hound of the Baskervilles: Happening during the events of Fawx & Stallion season 1. I don't need to tell you this one is a banger, we all know this. Less Holmes content than you expect, but a GREAT setting, mood, and roster of suspects, and a thrilling, well-paced mystery with some great Watson.

The Final Problem: Occurs right before the events of season 2, and though you again don't need to have read it, some stuff might hit better if you have, particularly in the back half of the season. High recommend. On the same note, The Beryl Coronet is also mentioned a few times, which is the case right before this one.

Ok, with that out of the way, we highly recommend:

The "Jump Around To Whatever Short Story or Novel Sounds Cool" Approach

This is the move, in my opinion. As I've said before, the timelines are nonsense, you CAN try to get into the weeds of continuity as we have and there is delightful madness to that, but would I recommend it as an intro? No. They're short stories! They're serialized! Treat it like a TBS rerun series at 1 AM and just pick one that is on/sounds cool!

Now, if you want our PREFERENCE? There are different genres of Holmes mysteries, different types of mysteries for different preferences, but we're going to recommend one particular sub-genre of Holmes mysteries that we find particularly fun/unique: The "It's Not Necessarily A Crime Yet But the Vibes Are There" Mystery.

We love these. They're the best. Not depressing or gruesome off the bat, usually starting with some whimsy at Baker Street, these stories usually begin with a client coming to Holmes and the following interaction happens

CLIENT: Um, hi. Honestly it's pretty silly that i'm even here. It's probably just a Weird Thing, you probably don't-- HOLMES: No no no please tell me I love Weird Things. CLIENT: Ok. Well. My boss/guardian/brother/[insert-person-who-has-power-over-them] has been doing this Thing where he [insert extremely weird thing that again, is not a Crime, but the vibes are there]. It's kinda weird. HOLMES: Yeah, super fucking weird. CLIENT: I know! But it's not a crime, so I don't know, you're probably not interested, I'm just a [not rich not male not high class not privileged identity] so there's really no point in checking that out-- HOLMES: No girl (gn), we are DEFINITELY checking that shit out there's a crime in there somewhere and we're gonna find it!

And we're off! If this sounds interesting to you (and it SHOULD), check out: The Solitary Cyclist, The Red Headed League, The Copper Beeches, The Greek Interpreter, The Speckled Band, The Stockbroker's Clerk, The Musgrave Ritual, The Resident Patient, and honestly probably some others we're missing because it's REALLY common.

Other fun Holmes bangers:

Holmes overworks himself and Watson takes him to the country to rest, only to solve ANOTHER FUCKING MYSTERY: The Reigate Squires

The Christmas One!: The Blue Carbuncle

The Dancing Men: I don't have a fun little thing for this one it's just a banger and the Granada Adaptation rules!

The One Where Sherlock Holmes does NOT fall in love with Irene Adler but does get completely owned because 1) he thinks women don't get up early, and 2) he wanted to have a sleepover with Watson: A Scandal in Bohemia

There are a ton, and hopefully you'll find one that you like and just jump in!

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Chapter 1

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Discussion of murder and physical abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Prologue --Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Jake made sure to put on a suit he knew was "nice enough" for the meeting. Clay would be going with him, helping him secure the deal he needed to keep Sarah and Jadah, his real family, safe, never to be messed with again. The rest of the Losers were keeping an eye on them to make sure his parents didn't try anything while negotiating. Aisha and Cougar were some of the best fighters he knew and Pooch could easily drive his family to a secure area.

"So why did you think you needed to get your sister out of the marriage," Clay asked. "I get your parents are pieces of shit, but wouldn't a marriage get her away from them?"

"Nope," Jake shook his head as he drove. "Not only would it further embed them into her life, the guy she was engaged to was a monster. I did a deep dive on him when the engagement was announced. He had a bunch of arrests for domestic disturbance, but his parents, his lawyers, got him out and always settled out of court. Apparently his parents figured marriage would help him calm down. I tried to call bullshit, got shut down, and took action."

Clay nodded, silently filing away the information, before continuing. "And you're now going to marry his sister?"

"Yup."

"What do you know about her?"

"Very little," Jake confesses. "Graduated with a Master's in Ecology with a focus on Conservation Studies. Doesn't seemed to have used it so either her family refuses to let her do anything or she just wanted to waste her parents' money, or something else."

"Going for a Master's doesn't indicate an interest in wasting money," Clay pointed out.

"Agreed, but I've got so little information on her I'm inclined to just go ahead and think the worst."

"Are you expecting to meet her when we get there?"

"Negotiations with the parents first," Jake tells him. "If that goes well, then...yeah, it'll probably be a family dinner or something."

"Alright, lets get to it, then."

"Jacob!" Cordelia, Jake's mother, was using her fake happy tone as she held out her arms for a hug. He purposefully avoids the hug and goes for a handshake instead.

"Don't be rude, son," William chides. Jake holds back from glaring at his father and focuses on maintaining his composure.

"Let's just get to business," Clay offers while taking a seat at William's desk.

"And who are you?" William raises an eyebrow at Clay.

"For all intents and purposes, I'm your son's advocate here to make sure he gets what he wants outta this deal. And that it gets put into writing and notarized."

"And what is it that you want, Jacob?" Cordelia's tone was now icy. "We're setting you up with a wife from a good, rich family. You should be grateful to us for that after nearly destroying our future."

"I want a written, notarized guarantee that, so long as I am married to this woman, Sarah and her family will be left alone. You will not look for them. You will not include them in your machinations. They will never have to worry about you or your people bothering them ever again."

"I'm sure we can work something out," William nods. "Good thing I've already got my lawyer here to go over the marriage documents."

The next several hours are spent with Clay and the family lawyer going back and forth over the wording of the official document. Jake is increasingly grateful that he brought in Clay for this part. He's a quick thinker but Clay is a tactician. He can see the loopholes, the workarounds that Jake can't. His parents attempt to engage him in conversation but Clay had advised Jake to keep quiet during the negotiations so he did. Occasionally texting the team with updates.

Finally, Clay and the lawyer shook hands. The deal is typed up and printed. Jake, his parents, Clay and the lawyer all sign. The notary had arrived an hour before, called by William. They looked everything over and added their stamp to the documents.

Jake took the contract, put it in an envelope and gave it to Clay before turning to his parents. "Okay, let's go meet my future wife."

Prologue -- Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness;@ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[lxvebun]

I'll wait forever if I have to

synopsis:you're worried Satoru's teasing has gone a bit too far. There's nothing wrong with saving your first kiss for someone special, right?

content: Suguru Geto x gender neutral reader. Fluff! Comes off a lil angsty in the beginning but its fluffy and sickeningly sweet. Around 1k words. Written with hidden inventory arc in mind so you'd be in the same grade together, but read it however you want♡.We are all a little lovesick for Suguru and he's a lil lovesick for you♡ eng is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡ enjoy!!

Based on Satoru's version of the fic♡

"Does it bother you that Satoru teases you so much?" The question breaks the comfortable silence you had as he walked you home. Sky fading from pink and orange cotton candy clouds to a clear and deep navy gradient canvas clustered with stars and moonlight.

Suguru is Gojo's bestfriend. You're sure he's used to his antics. Still, Satoru can take it a little far sometimes. Being oblivious to or ignoring the line completely. Crossing over it with a skip in his step and a smirk on his face.

"There's nothing wrong with waiting for the right person, you know." You reassure. Perhaps a little to yourself too. You'd wait forever for him, not that he knows.

(You kinda wish he did.)

You keep your voice soft, and soothing even with the unintentional undertone of worry. But Soothing enough to dulcify if Satoru's teasing did leave some cracks in his heart.

He lets out a low amused hum in agreement. Smooth as warm honey. Its drum startling the butterflies between your ribs awake. Not that he has to do much anyway to awaken them. It seems like they are always fluttering around when he's near. A bit smothering at times. Making your head fog over with images of liquid golden eyes and sickeningly sweet smiles.

You reach the traffic light before he speaks again. Filling the silence of waiting until the red light turns green.

"You don't have to worry about that, y/n. It's not hurting my feelings. I'm more than content to wait for my person" he answers sincerely. Not an ounce of impatience dripped from his voice. He means every word.

My person. his words weigh a little heavy on your heart. My person. Does that mean he already has his eyes set on someone? You're pretty sure a few of the butterflies have lost it's wings. Wings Shriveled and shattered at the thought. Broken bodies wriggling uncomfortably in your gut. Anxious and mourning as you think over who it could be. Would it be different if you'd just confessed already? Did you miss your chance or was there never any to begin with?

(The thought of him making someone else's heart race the way he does yours makes you a little sick)

You don't look at him. He's always been good at reading you, so in tune with your well being. You're an open book to him and usually, you're more than happy to let his fingers glide over the pages. Break you open to study you up close. Hoping that one of the words, one of the chapters in there is enough to lure him in, like a sirens song. Enough to steal his heart ...damn, how dare he fall for someone else.

"Sounds like you already have someone in mind, then". It comes out forced as you swallow down what you really want to say. Unable to decide between cursing him out or confessing to him on the spot.

You keep your gaze at the light ahead as if the force of it can will it into turning from this horrible shade of red to green, so this conversation can be over. So you can continue to walk in silence, so he can drop you off at the front door, wait until he hears the lock click from inside as he always does and you can dive into the comfort of your bed, dream of what could have been and try your best to move on

(You don't think you can if you're honest)

But again, you're an open book to him. He almost looks proud as he glances you over. Standing up a little straighter, failing to suppress a smile. A horribly beautiful smile that does not at all fit the turmoil inside your head. As if you're reaction solidified something in him.

God, how long does it take for a light to switch?

Your gaze doesn't falter as he steps closer to you. His warmth, his cologne enveloping your senses, wrapping around you like a spiderweb. Fitting as you feel like your heart is going to be torn out at any moment. Waiting for the words that will fracture your hopes. you think of just booking it through the red right at this point and leave him to choke on his rejection.

"Will you look at me, please"

He's replicating the soothing tone you used on him. Only he's so much better at it. Smooth like warm butter and sweet as syrup. How could you possibly deny him when he sounds this heavenly.

He's a patient man, he is. But he doesn't want to hurt you. Doesn't want you to shatter your own heart even more by thinking he could ever love someone the way that he loves you. As if he could ever want anyone else when it's always going to be you that captured his heart.

His fingers slide under your jaw, grip delicate as can be as he turns your head to meet his eyes. You're a little embarrassed at the lack of resistance on your part.

His face is kind. And despite your hesitance, his eyes are easy to hold. Feeling like sunsets on a warm summer evening.

"I'm just waiting for you to be ready too. However long it takes."

A timer goes off. The light has finally turned green. you both stay unmoving.

You feel like you've been staring into his eyes for hours when really it's only been a few seconds of silence after his words. Then you half-heartedly push him off. A laugh bubbles up your throat, relief evident in the melodic tone.

"you're awful, you know that?" not a sliver of actual malice in your words. He knows that too. continuing to stare at you fondly, eyes soft and a little love-sick. Smiling brightly at your words as if you complimented him.

"And you're beautiful"  the timer of the traffic light is sounding quicker now, similar to the beating of your heart. Indicating that it will soon turn red again.

You have a moment of bravery. confidence, as you intertwine your fingers with his and pull him across the street before the light turns red. His grip is nice and firm, tracing heart shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb. Doodling silent I love you's into your skin.

you continue to walk to your home together. Hands now interlaced. Hearts intertwined. Crisp evening air kissing your skin and calming the heat blooming in your body.

"I don't want to have my first kiss at a traffic light. You deserve something more romantic than that too," you begin. swaying your hands back and forth. Focusing on the street infront of you. You see your front door coming into view.

"But if you feel the urge to kiss me as you drop me off at my doorstep," you see him begin to grin in the corner of your eye. It tugs at the corners of your lips too

"I'll let you"

thank you for reading, angels!! I'm havinf such Suguru brainrot atm😩🩷 he's so cute.

Also I thought his eyes were brownish/ gold because I always just imagine him with that but they are purple....🔪 YOU🫵 ARE GOING TO IGNORE THAT FOR NOW AND IMAGINE THEY ARE GOLD AS WELL. Thank you🩷

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— so i pay the price of what i lost ; yes it is right that you can handle anything, but you can’t handle everything all at once

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language, long written chapter

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

Winter break felt like a blur of constant assignments, stress, and messages from your mother. You found yourself buried in work, avoiding the outside world—especially your phone, which you knew was filled only with your mom’s relentless reminders to study harder, do better, and aim higher. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s contacts had been pushed to the bottom of your recent conversations, untouched since that day in the gym.

You haven’t seen Yamaguchi or Tsukishima since that winter class you skipped to watch their game. That day feels like it happened in a different life—before the semester started to suffocate you, before your every waking moment was consumed by endless biochemistry coursework. You don’t have time to think about anything else anymore, not when every day feels like a battle to keep up with the expectations of your professors and the relentless academic pace.

Classes in the second semester are intense, perhaps even more than you expected. One of your courses, Organic Chemistry II, is particularly demanding. The subject matter dives deep into reaction mechanisms, synthesis pathways, and the stereochemistry of complex molecules. There’s also Molecular Biology, where you’re expected to learn and apply the intricate processes of DNA replication, transcription, and translation. Your third major course, Biophysical Chemistry, focuses on the thermodynamics of biological systems—another subject that stretches your mind to its limit.

It’s only the second week of your new semester in biochemistry, but it feels like you’ve been dragging yourself through months. Everything seems heavier this time—every lecture, every lab session, every assignment. The moment you open your textbooks and class notes, you can feel your brain protesting. There’s an exhaustion that hangs in the air, a feeling like you’re constantly one step behind even when you manage to complete your work on time.

Now, standing outside the lecture hall for Organic Chemistry II, you realized nothing much had changed. The same heavy textbooks, the same tight deadlines, the same competition between your classmates as they all tried to one-up each other. The new semester had brought a new intensity. You were still trying to keep up with your classmates—some of them seemed almost unnaturally gifted, answering the professors’ most complex questions with ease, while you constantly second-guessed yourself, even when you knew the answer.

Professor Saito, a man with a greying beard and an air of calm authority, strode into the room with his usual collected demeanor. His reputation preceded him—tough, no-nonsense, and known for pushing his students to think critically. Today was no different. He picked up a piece of chalk and began scribbling a chemical equation across the board.

Without glancing back, he posed his first question to the room. “Can anyone explain the significance of this reaction in the context of anaerobic respiration in yeast?”

The classroom, filled with second-year students, was eerily silent. Your eyes traced the chemical formula on the board—glucose breaking down into ethanol and carbon dioxide. The answer floated on the surface of your mind, but your heart pounded in your chest as self-doubt crept in. You scanned the room, hoping that one of the top students would break the silence and offer the answer instead. But they remained still, unfazed, as if this question was beneath them.

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the quiet hanging over you. It was a simple question, one you knew the answer to, but something held you back. You hated this feeling—knowing, yet hesitating, paralyzed by the fear of saying something wrong. The silence stretched on, and finally, despite the knots of anxiety in your stomach, you slowly raised your hand.

Professor Saito turned to face you, his gaze resting on you with a slight lift of his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Your voice wavered as you spoke. “It’s… the fermentation of glucose into ethanol and carbon dioxide,” you said quietly, swallowing back the stammer in your throat. “Yeast uses this anaerobic process to generate energy in the form of ATP when oxygen isn’t available.”

Professor Saito nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. “Correct. And why is this process significant in industrial applications?”

You took a deep breath. “It’s used in brewing to produce alcohol and in baking for the carbon dioxide that helps dough rise.”

He considered your answer for a moment before nodding again. “Yes. Good. Remember, however, that the ATP yield here is significantly lower than in aerobic respiration. That’s the key difference.”

Relief washed over you, and you allowed yourself to relax—just a little. But before you could even savor that small victory, another voice broke the quiet.

“Professor, could you explain the exact mechanism for the stereoselective alkylation of an enolate in asymmetric synthesis?” The voice belonged to Renji, one of the top students in the class. His question was sharp and cutting, a deliberate challenge. “And maybe elaborate on the difference between kinetic and thermodynamic control in that context?”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, punctuated by a few suppressed giggles. You stiffened in your seat. The question was far beyond the scope of what you’d covered in class, meant to impress—or worse, embarrass—the professor. Renji’s tone dripped with arrogance, and the way he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, told you he already knew the answer.

Professor Saito regarded him for a moment, his gaze steady. He began to respond calmly, “In asymmetric synthesis, the stereoselectivity of the alkylation depends on—”

Before he could finish, another voice interrupted. “What about stereoelectronic effects when using Evans' oxazolidinone in highly hindered substrates?” Yumi, another top-tier student, chimed in with a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She leaned forward slightly, her question laden with the same smug intent—to derail the lesson, to show off her own knowledge.

The air in the room became stifling. You could feel it—the discomfort rippling through the other students, the growing tension as Renji and Yumi sought to outwit the professor rather than learn from him. They weren’t asking to deepen their understanding. No, they were playing a different game, one of one-upmanship and arrogance.

Your stomach twisted with unease as you watched the scene unfold. Professor Saito, usually unflappable, seemed to falter for just a moment. You caught a glimpse of weariness in his eyes as he straightened up, preparing to answer yet another convoluted question. He had always been patient with his students, no matter how difficult the questions, but there was something in the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly that made your heart ache for him.

You glanced around the room. Some students were fidgeting uncomfortably, others quietly whispering to their neighbors. The whole room had been hijacked by these few who cared more about showing off than learning, and the rest of you were left feeling small, inconsequential. You clenched your fists under the desk, wishing you could say something, do something to stop it, but the words stayed lodged in your throat. What could you say? What could you do?

Professor Saito began explaining the stereoelectronic effects, his voice steady, but you could sense his weariness growing. The air felt oppressive, like the weight of these students’ arrogance had smothered any genuine learning atmosphere. You shifted in your seat, feeling anxiety gnawing at your insides, hating the smug smiles that played on Renji and Yumi’s lips.

Before you could think further, you raised your hand signaling to interrupt the class. Professor Saito caught your motion and stop his explanation. “I’m sorry, Professor, may i speak?” Your voice came out a little shaky but louder than you expected, you can’t stop yourself right now. Every eyes are on you when the professor nodded. You land your gaze to Yumi—her smug faltered as she turned toward your seat. “I don’t see any stereoselective alkylation of enolates in asymmetric synthesis in our syllabus for this entire semester. So, if you’re going to interrupt the class with questions, at least stick to the topic we’re actually supposed to be learning.”

And now you turned to Renji’s seat, his face hardening as the room went deathly quiet. You could feel the eyes of the other students on you, and though your heart pounded in your ears, you pressed on. “And if you’re feeling that generously smart, maybe you should come up there and be the professor yourself. But what do you actually get from trying to make others—let alone the professor—feel small by throwing out questions just to outsmart them?”

Yumi’s smirk vanished, replaced by a look of shock. Renji shifted in his seat, his face hardening, but he remained silent. You could feel the tension swirling in the room, but it wasn’t directed at you anymore—it was directed at the arrogance that had poisoned the air.

Professor Saito stood there for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He cleared his throat, and the room snapped back to attention.

The room goes quiet, tension crackling in the air. You don’t usually speak up like this, but something about the arrogance in the room pushed you past your breaking point. The student sneers at you, but you don’t flinch. You’ve had enough of people trying to make others feel small just to inflate their own egos.

Professor Saito gives you a small nod of appreciation before continuing his lecture, the class quiet now except for the sound of his chalk against the board.

That evening, you’re back at your desk, struggling to finish another assignment. The words blur together on the screen, and despite your best efforts, you keep having to re-read the same paragraph over and over. You’re exhausted. There’s no other word for it. Even though you’ve tried to catch up on sleep, it never feels like enough. And there’s always another deadline looming, another mountain of work to climb.

Your phone buzzes next to you, but you don’t pick it up. It’s probably your mom again, asking why you haven’t called or berating you for not keeping up with her expectations. You’ve been avoiding her texts and calls lately because you can’t deal with the added pressure. She doesn’t understand how hard this is, how much you’re trying to juggle. Or maybe she does, and just doesn’t care. Either way, you don’t have the energy to explain yourself to her right now.

By the time you finish the assignment and hit submit, it’s nearly 2 AM. You slump back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. Every muscle in your body aches, and there’s a tightness in your chest that hasn’t gone away for days. You feel like you’re sinking deeper into a hole you can’t climb out of.

The thought of opening your phone again fills you with dread, but you do it anyway, more out of habit than anything else. When you do, you see an email from Professor Saito.

Subject: Checking In

I hope this message finds you well. I noticed that you submitted your most recent assignment late last night. While I am aware of the pressures you and many other students are under, I wanted to reach out personally.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed how diligently you’ve participated in my class. I’ve seen how you’ve quietly answered questions, even when you seemed uncertain of yourself. I also noticed how you stepped in during that difficult class discussion the other day and helped refocus the conversation. You have a sharp mind, and I hope you know that.

That said, I am concerned about you. I can tell that you’re pushing yourself hard, and while I appreciate your effort, I also want to remind you that your well-being comes first. I know what it’s like to feel the weight of academic pressure, and I want to encourage you to take care of yourself, too.

If you ever feel overwhelmed or need to talk, please know that my office door is always open to you. You are a valued member of my class, and I believe in your potential.

Take care of yourself, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.

Warm regards, Professor Saito

As you read the email, you feel a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear those words until now. For so long, you’ve felt like you were just going through the motions, never sure if you were really doing anything right. But here, someone was telling you that you mattered—that your efforts weren’t invisible.

You close the email and stare at the screen for a long moment. Then, without thinking, you bury your face in your hands. The tears come quickly, a mix of exhaustion, relief, and gratitude. You hadn’t expected this—this kindness, this small bit of recognition in a sea of doubt.

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr

sorry for posting this late, i’ve been super busy with karate practice all weekend—i’ve got a belt test coming up soon, so the training’s been extra intense. i’m exhausted, and my legs hurt so bad i can barely walk, but gotta stay strong and push through! 😣

[wileys-russo]

little blurb about supportive arsenal gf finding out lessi is starting 🥹

two posts in one day, spoiling y'all

debut II a.russo

"lessi did you grab my training top by accident with yours?" you called out as you rummaged through your closet with a frown. "babe?" you called out again a little louder when your girlfriend didn't answer.

"no! are you sure you didn't already pack it?" the blonde called back from down the hall where she was sat in the spare room on the bed, laptop balancing on her knees as she worked on an assignment. your own shared bed was covered with your clothes as you of course had left it to the last minute to pack, your girlfriends own case already down by the front door ready for lotte to pick you both up tomorrow.

"oh. yeah i did, thank you!" you smiled in relief as you searched through your suitcase seeing your training kit folded neatly in the bottom, the taller girl in the other room rolling her eyes with a small smile.

the two of you headed to sweden tomorrow for your first match of the season and the qualifier of the champions league, you were over the moon to finally be playing alongside alessia than against her.

and it finally meant no more hours of travelling on the tube or cross city roadtrips just to spend a day or two together and then weeks apart until the cycle repeated. the distance wasn't easy but with time and communication you made it work, and you had never pressured one another about switching clubs.

but seeing how poorly alessia was treated by her former club, a team she'd supported since her childhood, was hard to bare when you loved her dearly. but you were there by her side through it all, the same way she was when you tore your hamstring early last year.

"i'm packed." you announced with a relieved sigh finally joining the striker on the spare bed, collapsing beside her on your back and resting your head against her hip, scrolling through your phone.

"thank god i was worried we might miss the flight." the taller girl teased, not looking away from her laptop as her fingers flew against the keyboard and you playfully pinched her leg for the comment.

the two you sat together in a comfortable silence, you swapping your social media deep dive for a book as your girlfriend tangled a hand in your hair, nails scratching at your scalp as she read through her study material.

"i'm gonna go start dinner baby." you finished your chapter, marking your page and sitting up. "hey!" you laughed as your girlfriend poked at the slit of skin which appeared as your arms up with a stretch. "what's for dinner?" the blonde asked with a curious smile.

"whatever i can make with as many items as possible, the last thing i'd like to come home to is a fridge full of expired, soggy or mouldy food." you winced in disgust, scrunching your nose at the thought. "do you want a hand?" the striker offered, moving her laptop off her knees and tugging you to lay on top of her.

"hi. "hello beautiful."

you blushed at her words as the blonde kissed your nose with a soft smile.

"no it's okay you said you need to study so you can focus when we're in sweden, i'll come get you once it's done baby." you answered her previous question with a smile, kissing her softly in thanks.

"now hit the books!" you ordered playfully, rolling off of her and standing to your feet as the blonde gave you a salute and picked her laptop back off the bed.

~

"smells almost as divine as you." you smiled as hoodie clad arms wrapped round you, the taller girl pressing her front into your back as her chin rested on your shoulder, kissing your cheek affectionately.

"charmer." you grinned, a slight blush coating your cheeks as you relaxed into her hold. "so, i have news." alessia broke the silence, unwrapping herself from you and taking a step back as you turned round and raised a curious eyebrow.

"jonas called." your girlfriend started, fiddling nervously with the sleeves of her hoodie as you tilted your head, unsure where this was going. "i'm starting on wednesday." she finally revealed, watching as your mouth dropped open, her own curling into a shit eating grin.

"baby! you're getting your debut!" you squealed happily, launching yourself at her as the blonde stumbled backwards but caught you, your legs wrapping around her waist.

"i am so proud of you less. i told you he was impressed at training!" you beamed, kissing happily all over her face as the tall blonde let out a giggle making your heart soar.

"i did smoke you at the wind sprints." "hey your legs are like half the size of my whole body you have an unfair advantage."

"but i can't believe we'll finally be on the pitch together for the same team and in the right red." you teased lightly as alessia spun you around before taking a few steps forward and placing you down to sit on the counter top.

"so long as i'm with you i couldn't care what color i'm wearing."

[nomercymaster11]

Silent Longings (Chapter 3)

@GOKUJOUNOMAGURO

WC: 3,381 / Law x afab!reader / continuation of Two-way dilemma (Chapter 2)

A/N: Apologies for the delayed update! I had to discard the original idea for this chapter as I aim to avoid extending the series excessively.

DAY 0

The scene unfolds within the cramped confines of the Polar Tang. The air is thick with a mixture of anticipation and tension as the crew gathers for a crucial meeting. The dim lighting casts long shadows across the metal walls, accentuating the seriousness of their situation.

Law sits at the head of a makeshift table, his expression stoic and unwavering. His voice cuts through the silence with authority as he addresses Bepo, his first mate, with a stern tone.

"How long before we could reach the next island?" he demands, his eyes fixed on the map spread out before them.

Bepo studies the map intently before offering his assessment. "I could say, less than a week," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Penguin steps forward, laying out the blueprint of the Polar Tang with a sense of urgency. He points to the damaged section of the submarine, where the sea monster had struck them just the other day. His words are measured, each one emphasizing the gravity of their predicament.

"Emergency repairs were implemented," Penguin explains, his tone grave. “However, because of the impact, we are unable to dive deep into the ocean for the time being.”

Shachi adds to the mounting list of concerns, reporting on their dwindling supplies with a sense of grim inevitability.

"Our supplies are running low as well," he interjects, his voice tinged with worry. "I estimate they could last right before we could reach the next island."

Law listens intently, his mind already racing with plans and contingencies calculating their next move. He brushes his chin thoughtfully with his right hand, a gesture that belies the weight of his responsibilities as captain. Nodding in understanding, he acknowledges the reports with a silent resolve.

"Anything else to address?" he asks the crew, his gaze sweeping over each member in turn. After a tense moment of silence, Law takes charge, rolling out different duties to each crewmate with a sense of purpose. With the meeting adjourned, the crew disperses, each member focused on their assigned tasks as they prepare to face the challenges that lie ahead.

Law's sigh reverberated in the quiet room; a heavy exhale laden with the weight of their precarious situation. As he sat at the edge of the table, the coin in his hand danced with the flicker of his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, the silence thickening with every passing moment.

“I hope we won't find ourselves on the Navy's radar.” He mused quietly to himself. His mind already preoccupied with the myriad dangers that lurk on the horizon.

Lost in his thoughts, Law was startled when you entered the room. Your presence was unexpected, a break in the solitude he had grown accustomed to. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met his, a silent exchange of acknowledgment before you looked away.

"I'm on cleaning duty today," you announced, your voice cutting through the silence like a lifeline. Law's gaze lingered on you; his scrutiny almost recognizable.

"You're not taking additional duties from anyone, are you?" he asked, his tone laced with a knowing edge that sent a chill down your spine. How did he know? The question hung in the air, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"No, I won't do that again," you replied, the admission weighing heavily on your conscience. There was no point in hiding the truth from him, not when he already knew. You busied yourself with tidying the scattered maps and blueprints, a feeble attempt to distract yourself from his penetrating gaze.

"How are you now?" Law's question caught you off guard, his concern genuine and unexpected. Your heart fluttered in response, uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

"I feel better now. Thank you for the other day," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Law moves closer, his steps measured and deliberate, prompting a flicker of apprehension within you. You brace yourself, expecting the unexpected, only to be caught off guard as his hand touches your forehead and gently tugging the skin below your eye with his thumb assessing your well-being with clinical precision.

Meeting his gaze, you find yourself caught in the intensity of his scrutiny. His actions, though gentle, carry a weight of concern that resonates deep within you, prompting a surge of conflicting emotions.

"Let me take those." Law's offer is accompanied by a subtle brush of his hand against yours, a fleeting touch that make your heart flutter.

"You're also relieved of your duties for today." His statement is firm, yet beneath the surface lies a genuine desire to ensure your well-being.

"Captain! I told you I'm fine!" You protest, your voice tinged with frustration and defiance, yet it's clear that your resolve is beginning to waver.

"You look pale. Are you going to disobey the doctor's orders too?" Law's question cuts through your protests like a surgeon's scalpel, leaving you momentarily speechless. In his words, there's a blend of concern and authority, a reminder of his role not just as your captain but also as the doctor of the ship.

Faced with his unwavering gaze, you feel a sense of resignation wash over you, the weight of his concern impossible to ignore. In that moment, you realize that resistance is futile, and with a resigned sigh, you reluctantly concede defeat.

With the room finally tidied, Law motioned for you to follow him, his demeanor calm and composed. Unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness as you trailed behind him, the weight of his sudden kindness lingering like a shadow.

Stopping at his quarters, Law disappeared momentarily before returning with a handful of medicines. He explained their purpose and dosage with the precision of a seasoned doctor.

As he handed you the medicines, a flicker of hope ignited within you, only to be extinguished by the harsh reality of his rejection. He was your captain, your mentor, and nothing more. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to your fate. Despite his kindness, you reminded yourself not to read too much into his actions, knowing all too well the boundaries that had been set between you.

Leaving his quarters, the weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air, leaving you to grapple with the conflicting feelings stirred by Law's unexpected care and your own guarded heart. You understood that his kindness was merely a duty, not a sign of affection.

DAY 2

Feeling rejuvenated by the restorative effects of the medicine Law had provided, you greet the day with newfound energy.

Do I still look sick? You stand before the mirror; you notice a lingering hint of paleness in your complexion. With a deft hand, you apply a touch of blush and lipstick, hoping to mask the telltale signs of your weakened state.

Glancing out the window, you're greeted by the sight of a school of fish gracefully swimming past, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the muted tones of the submarine's interior. The muffled voices and footsteps outside your door pull you from your reverie, prompting you to hastily tie your hair back before stepping into the hallway.

There, you find Penguin and Shachi, each carrying buckets and fishing rods, their faces alight with anticipation.

"Hi, <y/n>!" Shachi calls out, waving enthusiastically as you approach.

"Wanna join us?" Penguin chimes in, his smile warm and inviting.

You nod eagerly, grateful for the chance to spend time with your crewmates and catch some fresh food for the journey ahead. United in camaraderie, you stride alongside them, anticipation of adventure gleaming in your eyes as you set sail for another day on the boundless ocean.

Stepping onto the submarine's deck, you're greeted by the soothing embrace of the ocean breeze, the salty air filling your lungs and rejuvenating your spirit. As you approach Bepo, you can't help but marvel at the sight of him effortlessly reeling in yet another fish, the creature flipping and flopping on the fishing rod in a desperate bid for freedom.

"The cooler is almost full, Bepo!" you exclaim, genuinely impressed by the bounty he's managed to capture.

"Someone's having a feast tonight!" Shachi interjects with a mischievous grin, his playful jab aimed at Bepo's undeniable love for fish. A chorus of laughter fills the air as you join in the lighthearted banter, the camaraderie of the moment washing away any lingering traces of worry or doubt.

Penguin extends the fishing rod towards you, his expression eager as he offers to teach you the art of angling.

"Do you know how to use it?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"I'm afraid not," you admit with a nervous smile, feeling a pang of embarrassment at your lack of expertise.

Without hesitation, Penguin steps forward to demonstrate, guiding you through the process with patience and encouragement. You watch intently as he explains each step, nodding along in understanding as you prepare to cast your line into the depths below.

"Here goes nothing!" you declare with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, casting the reel with a flick of your wrist. Your heart races as you wait with bated breath, the anticipation building with each passing moment.

Before long, you feel a gentle tug on the line, signaling that you've hooked your first catch. With a surge of adrenaline, you begin to reel in your prize, a triumphant grin spreading across your face as you hold up the fish for Penguin to see.

"Look, Penguin!" you exclaim, your voice filled with pride as you display your achievement.

Penguin's reaction is a mix of surprise and delight, his gaze lingering on you with a warmth that sends a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.

"Penguin?" you inquire, noticing the slight flush that colors his cheeks.

"You're doing great!" he assures you with a smile, his attempt to conceal his emotions only serving to endear him to you even more.

“Let me know if you need help.” Penguin offered to give you some space on the other side of the ship. You nod eagerly, feeling a newfound sense of confidence lifting your spirits as you resume fishing with renewed determination. With each cast of your line, you feel a deep connection to the expansive and enigmatic world beneath the surface, grateful for the chance to explore its wonders alongside your crewmates.

You cast your bait once more, anticipation tingles through your veins, mingling with the thrill of the hunt. However, this time, the wait seems to stretch on longer than before, prompting a furrow of confusion to crease your brow. Sensing something amiss, you glance down into the depths of the ocean, your eyes scanning the shimmering expanse for any sign of movement.

Suddenly, a gentle tug on your rod jolts you back to attention, followed by a powerful, relentless pull that sends the reel into a frenzy. With a gasp of surprise, you struggle to maintain your grip as the unseen behemoth beneath the waves puts up a fierce fight, its strength evident in the strain it exerts on the line.

"This is a big one!" you exclaim, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you brace yourself for the battle ahead. With each tug of the rod, you can feel the fish's raw power, its determination matched only by your own resolve to emerge victorious in this exhilarating duel of strength and willpower.

With every ounce of strength you possess, you grapple with the fishing rod, your muscles straining against the relentless pull of the unseen adversary below. Frustration simmers beneath the surface as you struggle to gain the upper hand, your determination matched only by the stubborn resilience of the creature on the other end of the line.

"Why. Can't. You. Just. Give. UP!!!" you grit out through clenched teeth, your frustration boiling over into a fierce battle cry as you pour every ounce of your being into the struggle.

Your foot finds purchase on the rail, anchoring you in place as you muster all your strength for one final pull. But despite your best efforts, the fish proves to be a formidable opponent, its strength far surpassing your own.

With a forceful tug, you lose your balance, teetering dangerously on the edge of the deck as gravity threatens to claim you. But before you can plummet into the churning waters below, a strong arm wraps around your torso, pulling you back from the brink with a jolt.

Your back collides with the solid warmth of Law's chest, his presence a stabilizing force amid chaos. You feel a rush of relief flood through you as his touch grounds you, his left arm seamlessly intertwining with yours as he takes charge of the rod.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice laced with concern as he releases his hold on you, his attention focused solely on the immediate job helping out with catching the elusive fish.

You draw in a ragged breath, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins.

"Yes," you manage to gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper as you watch in awe as Law assumes control, his expertise evident in the confident ease.

As you stand side by side, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful for the unwavering support of the man who stands beside you. You can't help but feel the surge of admiration for him.

                                                       ////////

As Penguin rushes to your aid, his heart pounding in his chest, he finds himself frozen in place at the sight of you enveloped in Law's embrace. A knot forms in his stomach, a mixture of concern and uncertainty swirling within him as he watches from a distance, waiting for the opportune moment to intervene.

As Law releases you, Penguin steps forward, his expression a mask of concern as he moves to stand beside you. Shachi and Bepo follow suit, their eyes wide with astonishment at the spectacle unfolding before them.

"What happened?" Penguin inquires, his voice laced with worry as he surveys the scene before him.

With each passing moment, the tension mounts as Law continues to battle against the powerful sea creature, his movements precise and calculated as he strives to overcome the obstacle in front of him. And as the struggle reaches its climax, you find yourself holding your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait with bated breath for the moment of victory.

The surface of the water erupts in a tumultuous display of raw power, the massive fish that had eluded you moments before breaching the surface with a deafening roar. Gasps of awe escape the lips of the onlookers as they bear witness to the sheer size and strength of the creature, their senses overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of its presence.

But the awe is short-lived as an even larger sea creature emerges from the depths, its colossal form eclipsing everything in its wake. With a mighty crash, it engulfs the elusive fish whole, sending shockwaves rippling through the water, making the submarine rock precariously.

"Shit!" Shachi curses under his breath, his eyes wide with fear as he watches the colossal creature disappear back into the depths from whence it came.

With a sense of urgency, you and your companions waste no time in making your way to the safety of the ship's main entrance, the adrenaline-fueled rush of fear propelling you forward as you seek refuge from the unpredictable chaos of the ocean.

"Keep watch and be ready to act at a moment's notice." Law steps forward, his voice steady and commanding. His hand already on the hilt of his sword. The crew nods in agreement, their resolve strengthened by Law's unwavering leadership.

As the moments tick by intense anticipation, the crew holds their breath, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the colossal sea creature that had sent shockwaves through their midst. With each passing second, the tension mounts, the air thick with uncertainty as they brace themselves for whatever may come.

But as the minutes stretch into eternity, the ocean remains eerily calm, its surface undisturbed by the presence of the elusive behemoth. A collective sigh of relief escapes from the lips of the crew, the tension slowly dissipating as they realize that the danger has passed, at least for now.

The silence is broken by the sound of your laughter, the unexpected release of tension sparking a wave of amusement that washes over you and your companions alike. Your laughter rings out across the deck, a melodic symphony of relief and nervous energy that fills the air with warmth and camaraderie.

Law's gaze softens as he turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. In that moment, the weight of the world seems to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of lightheartedness and joy at the sight of your infectious laughter.

"I'm sorry! I just can't!" you gasp between fits of laughter, wiping the tears from your eyes as you struggle to regain your composure.

A smile spreads across Penguin's face as he watches you, his own amusement mirroring yours.

"You sure had fun!" he remarks, his voice warm with affection as he joins in the chorus of laughter that echoes across the deck.

                                                      /////////

As you and the rest of the crew gather around the coolers filled with the day's bounty, Bepo's eyes sparkle with delight at the sight of the freshly caught fish, his enthusiasm infectious as he eagerly examines each specimen with childlike wonder.

"It's a shame we weren't able to catch the big fish earlier," you remark with a hint of disappointment, a wistful sigh escaping your lips as you glance at the smaller catches nestled within the cool confines of the containers.

"Haha! At least we don't have to deal with that sea creature. You hooked its prey!" Penguin chimes in with a laugh, his playful tone easing the tension and drawing a chuckle from the rest of the crew. Absentmindedly, he places his left arm around your shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze that sends a warm flutter through your chest.

"It's not my fault though!" you protest with a playful bump of your elbow, the camaraderie of the moment dispelling any lingering traces of unease.

Unbeknownst to you, Law watches from a distance, his expression unreadable as he observes the interaction between you and Penguin. A flicker of something crosses his features, too fleeting to decipher. He grips his sword tightly, a silent sentinel standing watch over the scene before him.

For a moment, he considers intervening, of asserting his presence and reclaiming your attention. But the weight of his responsibilities as captain holds him back, anchoring him in place like an invisible tether.

In the end, he knows that now is not the time nor the place for such confrontations. With a sigh of resignation, Law turns away, his footsteps silent against the metal deck as he retreats back inside the submarine, unnoticed by the crew.

Still on the deck, you contemplate the portions to be set aside for future consumption and plan out the evening's dinner menu, various fish recipes dance through your mind, each one more tantalizing than the last.

"Let's cook grilled fish!" Bepo exclaims, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "It's the captain's favorite too," he adds, a note of excitement in his tone.

"Ok! then that's settled!" you reply with a smile, your enthusiasm matching his own as you eagerly agree to his suggestion. You turn around to share the news with the rest of the crew, your smile faltering slightly as you realize that Law is nowhere to be found.

For a moment, a pang of disappointment washes over you, the absence of Law's familiar presence casting a shadow over the excitement of the evening.

Why am I even looking for him? you wonder to yourself, shaking off the fleeting sense of longing as you focus on your task. With a renewed sense of purpose, you join the rest of the crew in preparing for the evening's festivities, determined to make the most of the time you have together, even in Law's absence.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3.5

[jinx-xxed]

Beautiful Thing Caged

Chapter 2; You’re wrong but you’re right

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; We made it to part 2 guys let’s go!! Next chapter will be more fun I hope T_T definitely struggled a bit with this one

⇦ Part 1

Part 3 ⇨

Summary; You dive headfirst into trying to learn more about this beast-man you’ve been assigned to. You didn’t expect for things to run so deep.

Content; Werewolf AU, modern AU, werewolf Kylo Ren, human reader, scientist reader, soulmates, lots of research and sciencey things, blood testing, Kylo acts like a smartass, reader’s over him already

[Each chapter will have specific content warnings.]

Wc; 4.1k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Your head slips from where it’d been resting on a closed fist. You barely catch yourself in time before you slam face first into the table beneath you. You’d been dozing off again, something you find yourself doing more and more as sleep escapes you night after night. You straighten your posture, groaning as you stretch your limbs out to try and wake them back up. Your laptop sits open and on in front of you, fifteen tabs open at the top—each one more incomprehensible than the last. Wolf-man hybrids, wolf shifter, wolf man, man wolf, what do I do when a weird guy is locked up against his will by a secret government agency??, wolf man illegal topic, guy with wolf ears and tail… That last one gave you some less than desirable results that you’d rather forget.

When you aren’t at the Agency, you find yourself in the town’s local library. It’s a rather large building for the size of your town, which you’re grateful for, so it’s been very easy for you to seclude yourself in your research in the past two weeks. It’s the same every day; the receptionist greets you as you walk in, you beeline for the back of the first floor, and you take the first empty table you see. Then you grab whatever books might be helpful and scatter them all around yourself and your laptop, which you’ve done now.

You grab a new handful every time, seeing if anything can help you at all. So far you’ve come up empty. You started with the basics, reading books about wolves and their behavior just to refresh and learn more about them, then a simple human biology textbook, then you tried myths and legends and folklore books, flipping through them and studying any diagrams you were provided with. You saw more than a few that were under the umbrella of beast-men, things that stood on two legs and were covered in grisly fur and muscle. When you compared those images to the man that’s been occupying your head, they just didn’t match. He’s more man than beast, a fact that’s been haunting you.

You wish he would talk to you. You’d spent the last two weeks sitting in that white observation room, watching him and what he does in silence that was only broken by the clicking of your keyboard and occasionally talking to yourself. Hell, you still didn’t even know if he actually could speak or not. He didn’t give you much of a chance to figure it out, and you didn’t have a partner or anybody to bounce ideas off of. Hux had threatened you enough about telling anyone else about your studies.

You sigh harshly and dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, making yourself see stars. Focus. You lean in a little more against the table, bringing your laptop closer so you can type something in. Your research had led you to a small, online forum consisting of people that seemed to be looking into the same things you are—real life human-beast hybrids, not just the myths. When you’d discovered it a day ago, it’d seemed like your saving grace. The people in it didn’t seem very active anymore, but you’d sent a message, a hopeful shot in the dark. You’re delighted to see a notification in your inbox from the forum. You honestly hadn’t expected a response, your hopes having been dashed so many times you didn’t dare get them up again.

Your original message had been simple, just an introduction under a fake name and a vague question about if anybody knew something about wolf-man beasts. Somebody by the user of JHunter12 responded.

You: Hello, I’m new here! I’ve been working on a research project for school and got stumped. I was wondering if you guys could help? It’s about wolf-man hybrids, like a man having actual wolf ears and a tail and all that. I just can’t seem to find very much on them.

JHunter12: Yeah I know plenty about them. The term you’re looking for is lycanthrope. People don’t talk about them much anymore after they went basically extinct.

Your heart leaps into your throat at this new information. You suddenly feel wide awake. That simple message gave you more information than you’d gotten in the past two weeks of your research. You open a sixteenth tab and copy the term the user had said and sure enough, a whole page popped up. You couldn’t help yourself from grinning, looking at the wolf hybrids you saw on your screen. None of them exactly matched your subject, but this is by far the closest you’ve gotten. Scrolling down, you see a couple articles from years ago about the mutation, or what they call a “disease”. You switch tabs back to the forum, your mind stuck on the last word they’d said.

You: Extinct?

You’re shocked at how quickly they respond.

JHunter12: Yup. Happened like 100 years ago or something. Lycans used to live with normal people no problem until governments decided it actually was a problem once they started mixing too much and a bunch of hybrid babies were popping up. People started going on man hunts like crazy and the government just let it happen, sometimes ordered it themselves. Took their numbers down to basically zero. Wolf populations struggled cuz of it too, everybody thought every normal wolf was a Lycan even though there’s obvious differences. It was a massacre. Awful stuff.

JHunter12: The government tries to cover it up by making it really hard to search for and not letting anybody talk about it. Only reason I ever found out is cuz my great grandpa was one of those hunters. He killed multiple of them. Now I spend most of my time researching them and finding out whatever I can. I’m glad someone else is also interested.

You sit there staring at your screen for a minute, rereading the messages a good few times. You had no idea that there’d been an extinction campaign against the very thing that sat about a forty-five minute drive away in an underground cell. It made you feel sick. It also explained why you’d struggled so much to find any information until now. Even working at a government agency, you knew nothing about this. You wonder if any of your superiors knew, or if they were in the dark like you were. It’s all very strange.

You: Wow I did not expect that at all. Thank you so much for all of your insight, you have no idea how much this has helped me.

Jhunter12: Of course. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask.

You shut your laptop quickly, irrationally fearful that you’ve learned a lot of things you shouldn’t have and you don’t want anyone else seeing. You look out the window near you, the sun having begun to set. The library will be closing soon, which means it’s time for you to pack up. You quickly put away all the books you had scattered about, shove everything into your backpack, and make your way out with a muttered goodbye to the receptionist.

Walking out of that library, even though you have so much new information to research, you can feel that sleep is finally going to come easily to you tonight.

» ☆ «

You researched as much as you could when you’d gotten home, fascinated by how much you were finding now compared to the barren wasteland you had before. The person on the forum had been correct, there was almost nothing you could find about the eradication of lycanthropes; the few articles you did manage to dig up were buried deep within Google’s results, clearly not wanting to be found easily. None of them were very specific, but when they were put together, they created a fuller picture. When you put in the right keywords and followed enough secondary links, you even managed to find a few small studies from years and years ago.

Lycans lived like any other person, they had the same diets, human habits, same intelligence, they just had a genetic mutation. Nobody seems to be sure where it originated from or what exactly caused it—there’s plenty of religious theories—but blood samples showed a mixture of wolf and human intricately tied together. Autopsies revealed other strange mutations within the body that allowed them to shift between a human form and a quadrupedal wolf form. When in the wolf form, they were unable to talk but could still convey communication through retained human intelligence. It was all so interesting.

Reading through stories of the Lycan Massacre on the other hand, was devastating. There was so much hatred thrown at these people who had no say in how they were born, who had families and whole lives ahead of them. Hunted down and killed just because of misunderstandings and misplaced fear—farmers thinking Lycans killed their livestock, townspeople seeing things in the woods, general irrationality and hysteria. All of the Lycans were taken out and it’s assumed that any who managed to escape live out their days in total secrecy or as wild animals. If they’re discovered, well… you have proof of what happens to them.

Walking in to work the next day, you have a bit of a spring in your step. You finally managed to sleep, and you have a document that’s about twelve pages long and full of your research sitting on your laptop. You feel like you’re finally getting somewhere, like you’ll finally have something worthwhile to submit to Hux instead of hourly play by plays of how many times your subject moved his legs.

You walk down the halls, you give a courtesy nod to whoever you pass, you get into the elevator. You go down, down, down, all the way to the twentieth floor where you walk through more sterile, white hallways. There’s been a few additions to this floor, a few new experiments. They aren’t your concern though, you don’t have clearance to look at them, just like no one else has clearance to look at yours. Speaking of which, your badge gives you that lovely beep and then you’re through the door.

The beast-man immediately snaps to attention once you enter. It’s the same routine every day, where you’ll come in and he’ll study you, those undeniably pretty brown eyes always finding yours and communicating something you can’t quite understand. It always feels like there’s something on the edge of your mind when you look at him, but you can’t get a hold of it despite your efforts.

His chains rattle as he moves from where he’d been lying on his cot, which has now been upgraded to a bigger size thanks to your persistence. You went to Hux and asked him to put in a request for more enrichment and comforts within your subject’s cell on the basis that “it would improve research results”. A lie at the time, but you have noticed he seems more engaged and at ease with the extra blankets, pillows, and padding on the floor. You also met with the nutritionist so that he isn’t just eating raw meat day after day.

You notice his held tilt as you walk in. He sees the change in your demeanor, wonders what it could be for. His tail twitches behind him. “Good morning.” You say out of habit, even though you know he won’t say anything back. You often end up talking to yourself when you’re with him, filling the empty space with whatever’s on your mind just to get it out. He seems to listen rather intently and oddly enough, your voice also seems to calm him. It encourages you to keep going.

You set a few of your things on the ground. “I’ll be back in an hour or two. I have a few tests to run.” He watches you intensely as you head towards a door to your right, his body leaning forward to follow you. You shiver as goosebumps rise along your skin.

There’s blood samples waiting for you in the lab. They’d been taken in the dead of the morning and were prepped for processing, one of your coworkers on this project having let you know via email. They also let you know that those samples were not easy to get and required more than a few rounds of sedatives. Apparently, your subject had been able to smell the sedatives in his food and refused to eat so they had to do it the hard way. You can only imagine how much of a struggle that must’ve been.

You sigh and pull out one of the rolling chairs, using it to wheel around the lab room to get everything ready. Turning on the microscope, preparing the blood vials and testing strips, the glass slides, your notes. You start with a blood smear, the smear just a little wonky because you’ve never been able to get it perfect. You shake it to dry it—your least favorite part—and then slip it under the microscope. You take a minute to adjust it correctly, to get the image to come clearly through the lens. When you finally get it, you see all the little red blood cells come into focus. You move the slide around with the knobs of the microscope, inspecting carefully. You scribble things down on a notepad you have next to you that you’ll put in to your laptop later. Everything seems perfectly normal; no malformed cells, regular cell counts, and just all around healthy blood. That’s good to see.

Now to test something you’re far more curious about. You prepare all the reagents and machinery you’ll need for obtaining a DNA sample through blood, and then get to work on separating it from the rest of the blood sample. With the high tech of the First Order Agency, it’s able to cut down the wait time on a DNA blood test significantly from a few days to only a little over an hour. While working, you think about how much easier this would’ve been if you could’ve just gotten a swab of the inside of his mouth. Having seen those fangs though, you were not keen on trying to get one.

You wait for the final step of the testing to be finished, deciding to put in all your notes in the meantime. Hux will probably groan as soon as he sees your long, long document in his inbox. Once the test is done, you eagerly roll your chair over and start transferring the results. They come to you in the forms of graphs and charts, detailing the intricacies of his DNA and general ancestry that you aren’t really concerned about—he does have a good amount of German in him though. You’re more interested in what makes up his DNA and sure enough, you find it. On the second page, there’s a sector for anomalies noted within the coding. The one that takes up the most space is labeled under the Canis lupus family, making up about 51%. The other 49% is Homo sapien, as expected. So those studies online were correct, the DNA of Lycans is an almost perfect mix of wolf and human.

“Fascinating,” you mutter to yourself, feeling like you’re on cloud nine with all the new information you’ve been able to gather just in the last twenty-four hours. You’re finally getting somewhere.

You transfer the charts to your laptop and attach them to your document before beginning to clean up. You put in what needs to go in the autoclave, you toss the glass slides, and you make sure to sterilize everything. Before you leave the lab, you can’t help but hesitate. Your eyes slide to your right, where there’s another door. You know that door will lead to a hallway that’ll bring you to his cell. Bring you inside. The thought lasts for about a second before you dismiss it as you being insane.

The beast-man perks up again as you finally enter back into the observation room. You settle yourself in your usual spot on the floor, a comfortable distance away from him. “Sorry that took a little longer than expected. I was just testing your blood. Everything looked great.” You tell him. He doesn’t seem all that bothered either way. It amuses you.

You study him for a while, just like you always do. You watch how he moves, how he looks at you, how he inspects his dinner so carefully—definitely paranoid after the other workers tried to put sedatives in there. You’re glad to see his meal is a mixture of both raw and cooked meats, along with vegetables and fruits. You’d written to the nutritionalists to tell them what kind of meat he didn’t like based on your studies as well, so they no longer included those. He seems much more eager to eat with the new variety and it makes you happy.

He settles again afterwards, lounging around and staring at you. You work on your observation logs, inputting information, organizing it… it’s all a very familiar pattern. One you’ve grown accustomed to throughout the entirety of your-

“Kylo.”

You jolt, nearly jumping out of your own skin. Your head shoots up, brows deeply furrowed in confusion. Who…? You look towards the beast-man, whose intense eyes meet yours not a second later. Surely not?

But you watch as he speaks with a voice deep and rich. “My name is Kylo. Kylo Ren.”

You stand up so abruptly that your laptop falls to the ground with a clank and you stumble over your feet. “You can talk?!”

He squints at you. “Yes, of course I can. Are you stupid?”

You’re excitement deflates a little, an annoyed frown settling on your mouth. So his first words he says to you are mean, great. You push past that. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” You think about how much you’ve talked to yourself around him while he understood every word and just chose not to speak. You feel embarrassment sizzle under your skin.

He sniffs. “I didn’t like you.”

“If you’re just going to be rude then feel free to go back to not speaking.” You say through gritted teeth.

“I feel that you can’t get on me for being rude when I’m the one locked in a cell.” He points out, shifting his body to sit facing you with his legs crossed. “I only speak now because it seems you’re trustworthy. I believe you don’t want to do this either.”

You falter at his words, at the way he’s able to see through you so easily. It’s like all those hours he’s spent staring at you was really just him reading you, gathering information of his own. You try to make some excuse. “Well I… it’s just a job.”

He hums. “I can see that you care too much, though. It eats through you. That’s why I decided to trust you.”

You don’t know what to think of his analysis, of him basically taking your thoughts from your head and laying them out before you. You sigh through your nose and sit back down on the ground. “Okay… well… would I be able to ask you some questions, Kylo?”

He seems delighted by you saying his name, his ears perking atop his head and his tail giving the smallest twitch. His head tilts to the left. “Go ahead. I’ll answer what I want to.”

“I figured.” You mutter. You pull your laptop back to you, opening a voice note to record. You press start. “Alright… let’s start with the basics. How old are you?”

“I think 29.”

You cock a brow at that but continue on. “What are you?”

“You’ve done enough research to know that.”

You sigh again, heavier this time. “Please just answer.”

“A werewolf.”

That’s a new term you haven’t really heard before. You saw it once or twice while researching; it seems to be a modern word to describe what Kylo is. Older reports preferred to use the more common, scientific term of Lycan. “Okay, and where are you from?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

You lift your head, confusion on your face. “What?”

“I don’t know where I’m from.” Kylo says. “I was taken from my home as a child, because of what I am. The man that took me wanted me for my strength and potential to bring him money.” You can see how his eyes glisten with pain from the memory. Perhaps that’s what all his scars are from.

“Who is he?” You ask.

“It doesn’t matter. I killed him.” He says it so bluntly, as if there’s nothing to it. Like he didn’t just admit to a heinous crime that would no doubt get him killed in no time. “Although, he did exactly what you all do. He studied me, ran his tests. Kept me in a cage.”

You shrink under the accusatory tone even though you know none of this is your fault. You clear your throat. “What happened after you… killed him?”

“I had nowhere to go. I stayed as a wolf, it was easier. It’s been years.” He says, right ear twitching against his hair. You catch on to his words, on to anything he gives you that’ll improve your research. So he can turn into a wolf… that must’ve been what that first report you got of him had been based on. “I wanted to go back home, but that man affected my memory. He took me halfway across the continent. But it’s coming back now, I can feel it. I know where I need to go.”

“You do? Could you explain that?” You ask, a little too eager.

“It’s not something to explain.” He snaps. “It’s just… something leading me in the right direction. I was close before I got caught here.” He’s angry about that, you can see it in the way his brows furrow and his fists clench. You understand him, if you’d been within reach of your goal after years of work and then it got ruined, you’d be pissed.

Then he looks to you. “That’s why I need your help.”

“Wh- me?” You splutter. “How would I help you?”

“You’re smarter than that.” Kylo taunts. He’s right, you know exactly what he means, but you don’t like it. “Get me out of here. Help me get home. You know you don’t want to see me in here.”

“Quit assuming you know me. I’m here to do a job, that’s all this is. I can’t give up my entire livelihood just to break you out.” You say roughly.

He leans towards you, big black tail swishing against the floor behind him. “But you feel it, don’t you? Something deeper.”

For a moment, you don’t know what he means. But then something inside you seems to click, and you recall that first day you saw him. When you’d met his eyes, and you’d felt that tug. A tug that came from some higher plane, a thing you had no control over. It made you feel right when you were near him but then felt wrong when you weren’t, like when you’d gone home and a new type of loneliness you’d never experienced before had consumed you. You’d chalked it up to just stress from the new assignment, and that’s exactly what you’ll do now. You have no idea what it could mean and despite your job, you don’t have an interest in finding out. Kylo smirks at you knowingly and you realize you haven’t dealt with someone this aggravating for a while.

You press stop on the voice note. “I think that’s about it for today.” You shove all your things in your bag, being less than gentle. You stand as the lights begin to dim for the evening, turning towards the door.

“Wait.”

You stop, even though it’s probably against your best interest. You twist your head to look back at Kylo.

“Don’t send them that recording.” He says. He doesn’t explain himself, he feels like he doesn’t have to. He knows you’ll understand. You hate that he’s right. You hesitate for a second, debating on whether to give him a response. You can’t promise you’ll do anything—this project would benefit heavily from it being known that he can speak and communicate but… it’ll probably only bring him harm. You want to slam your head into something. If you knew this damn assignment would cause so many conflicting ideas and emotions, you wouldn’t have accepted it. You rip open the door without saying a word to him.

When you get home that night, in the dimness of your living room with only the light of your laptop, you delete the voice note.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Tags (comment if you’d like to be tagged next time!); @bullet-clubs-bitch @hazydespair

⇦ Part 1

Part 3 ⇨

[selfhelpforstudents]

How to Stay Motivated and Productive While Studying with a Broken Heart

Dealing with a broken heart is tough. It’s like carrying a heavy weight around while trying to keep up with everything else—especially studying. When your mind is clouded with sadness, and your energy is drained, staying motivated and productive can feel nearly impossible. But here’s the good news: you can get through this. With a little extra care and some strategic planning, you can still hit those study goals, even when your heart’s hurting. Here’s how.

1. Allow Yourself to Feel

First things first: don’t try to bottle up your emotions. Ignoring your feelings will only make them harder to deal with in the long run. Take time to acknowledge and process what you’re going through. If you need to cry, vent, or just sit with your emotions for a bit, that’s okay. Giving yourself space to feel can help you clear your mind and refocus when it’s time to hit the books.

2. Set Small, Achievable Goals

When you’re heartbroken, even the simplest tasks can feel overwhelming. Instead of pressuring yourself to conquer huge study sessions, start with small, manageable goals. Maybe it’s reading one chapter, reviewing one section of notes, or solving a few practice problems. These bite-sized tasks are easier to tackle and give you a sense of accomplishment that can help rebuild your confidence.

3. Create a Comforting Study Space

Your environment can have a big impact on your mood and productivity. Set up a study space that feels comforting and safe—somewhere you can focus without distractions. Add things that make you feel better, like a cozy blanket, your favorite snacks, or a calming playlist. A little extra comfort can go a long way in helping you stay on track.

4. Use the Pomodoro Technique with a Twist

When your heart is heavy, concentrating for long periods can be tough. The Pomodoro Technique is great for this, but with a twist: after each 25-minute study session, give yourself a longer, more nurturing break. Use that time to do something kind for yourself—whether it’s going for a walk, listening to a soothing song, or indulging in a guilty pleasure show. Balancing work with self-care is key.

5. Lean on Your Support System

You don’t have to go through this alone. Reach out to friends, family, or even online communities for support. Talking things out can be incredibly therapeutic and can help lift some of the emotional weight off your shoulders. Plus, having someone to check in with can keep you accountable and motivated to keep going, even when you don’t feel like it.

6. Focus on What You Can Control

Heartbreak often comes with a lot of uncertainty and things you can’t control. Shift your focus to what you can control—like your study habits, your schedule, and your self-care routine. Taking charge of these areas can give you a sense of empowerment and help you regain some stability in your life.

7. Turn to Your Studies as a Distraction

Sometimes, diving into your studies can be a welcome escape from the pain. Let your academic goals serve as a temporary distraction—a way to shift your focus from what you’ve lost to what you can still achieve. Channeling your energy into learning something new or mastering a tough subject can be incredibly rewarding and might even help speed up the healing process.

8. Practice Mindfulness and Meditation

When emotions are running high, it can be hard to focus on anything else. Mindfulness and meditation are great tools for calming your mind and bringing your attention back to the present moment. Even just a few minutes of deep breathing or guided meditation can help you feel more centered and ready to tackle your studies.

9. Be Gentle with Yourself

It’s important to recognize that you’re going through a difficult time, and it’s okay if you’re not at 100% right now. Be kind to yourself, and don’t beat yourself up if you’re not as productive as you’d like to be. Progress is progress, no matter how small, and taking things one step at a time is completely okay.

10. Reward Yourself for Effort, Not Just Results

When you’re studying with a broken heart, the effort you put in matters just as much as the results. Reward yourself for showing up and trying, even if you don’t hit every goal perfectly. Celebrate the small victories, like completing a study session or understanding a tough concept, and give yourself credit for pushing through despite everything.

11. Visualize Your Future

It might be hard to see right now, but this pain will pass, and your future is still full of possibilities. Take a moment to visualize where you want to be after the heartbreak fades. Picture yourself succeeding in your studies, achieving your goals, and feeling proud of how far you’ve come. This future-focused mindset can help pull you through the tough moments.

12. Seek Professional Help if Needed

If your heartbreak feels too heavy to bear alone, it’s okay to seek help from a counselor or therapist. They can provide you with tools and strategies to cope with your emotions while still staying on track with your academic goals. There’s no shame in asking for help when you need it.

Final Thoughts

Studying while dealing with a broken heart is no easy feat, but it’s absolutely possible. By setting small goals, creating a comforting study environment, and balancing your work with self-care, you can stay motivated and productive, even during tough times. Remember, it’s okay to take things slow and be kind to yourself along the way. Healing takes time, but with patience and perseverance, you’ll get through this—and come out stronger on the other side. 💖

[rustingcat]

Chapter 2 romance

"You were part of the science guild?" Lena asked, astonished.

They were in Zor-El's lab in the floating city of Argo. After showing them the plans, he insisted on giving them a tour of his new lab in the guild's grounds.

"Yeah," Kara simply mumbled in response.

"Not only that," Zor-El continued. "But she was the top of her class! She was going to be the youngest member in all of Krypton's history."

"Father, you're exaggerating."

"Not at all. She has been my personal assistant in my lab since she was five years old, helping me finish that kellex update that was driving me crazy."

"I never knew." Lena studied Kara's familiar figure. She still found so many ways to surprise her, Lena wondered what else she was hiding under that sheepish smile.

"That I was a nerd?"

"No, that I knew, I have seen your watch history on netflix. But I never knew you were into science, you always seemed baffled when I talked about it."

"Yeah, well, earth has different terminology you see, also a slight difference in gravity, which makes things different, not to mention the periodic table and all of that… But I also just wanted to dive into something different after I came to earth." Kara studied the table closely, testing the edge of it with her fingernails. Her smile, while still very present on her face, never really reached her eyes.

"And why is that, Inah? You could've advanced earth's understanding by lightyears," Zor-El proclaimed.

"It's just–" she stopped for a moment, "didn't seem right at the time." She finished instead, flashing her father a bigger grin. Kara's eyes were always smiling, but Lena could see how forced the smile really was, as if there was something else simmering underneath.

"Kara,I could really use some fresh air. Why don't you join me?" Lena quickly suggested it before Zor-El could respond.

"Yeah."

The air in Argo felt different. She wasn't sure if it was for the lack of pollution, or simply the fact that it was an alien territory.

"Do you want to go back? We got what we came for. I know you said you wanted to spend some time with your parents, but you seem so uncomfortable Kara, we can just go back."

"No," Kara trailed away with uncertainty. She was quiet for a while. Lena decided to wait  for her to continue as they walked side by side through the alien city Kara once called home.

"I should want to spend time with them right? They are my parents. Wouldn't you want to spend more time with your mother if you had the chance?" Kara asked, almost pleading for something in her voice.

"I… yes?" Lena wasn't sure what to say. "I would like to say yes, but I don't know… I found so many things out about her when I visited her hometown. I suppose I don't really know what she was really like, if we would even get along." That trip to Ireland really shook the image of her mother she had conjured in her mind, she was quite honestly afraid to learn more. 

"We never really know our parents do we?" Kara chuckled bitterly. She paused for a moment before she continued. "I wanted them so badly when I first came to earth. I saw them everywhere, from the supermarket, to my school teachers to my dreams, always coming to rescue me back home. I looked up to them, I always wanted to impress my mum, and I wanted to be just like my dad when I grew up." Kara stopped next to some railing at the end of the town, securing the cliff from falling to the refugee encampment below. She rested her arms on the top of the cool metal and looked at the sky, her eyes drifting miles away.

"Then why didn't you pursue science on earth?" Lena asked gently.

"Kal and the Danvers were always going on about how I should hide my identity, anything that might make me alien. It's not just my powers, it was the cultural differences, mannerism, accent, pop culture, everything. You know I learned calculus when I was four, so I feared showing any of that in school would raise suspicion." She took a deep breath and turned to face Lena, leaning her back against the railing. "Also, I suppose, after a while, thinking about that stuff just started to hurt. It always reminded me of home, and it just hurt to think about it."

"I'm sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable in any way." Lena took a step closer, but feared reaching out. She held herself out of habit, fearing she might have hurt her best friend for years without realising it.

"No, Lena you didn't hurt me, quite the opposite actually. After years I managed to avoid thinking about it, I focused on other activities and studies and just tried to keep myself from sticking out. After becoming Supergirl I learned some new information about my parents, realised that everything I thought about them was wrong. I held both them and Krypton on such a high pedestal, without even knowing them at all, not really anyway. When I met you, you reminded me of why I fell in love with science, engineering and innovating. You always talk with so much love and enthusiasm about each project, always trying to make the world a better place. You made it everything I thought it was, everything it should be."

Lena felt her cheeks flash as a smile spread on her face. "Maybe we can try to work on it together. If you're interested of course." She walked next to the railing, putting both hands to stabilize herself as she looked at the valley below.

"Yes. I'd love that." Kara smiled, turning back towards the valley only shifting closer to Lena so they stood almost shoulder to shoulder.

"Good. Then we can maybe even finish it in time for their wedding, it would be the perfect timing for them to know that they can feel secure about their future and know they can raise a family in whatever way they choose."

Kara let out a small laugh, almost a giggle as the smile finally returned to her face.

"What?" Lena inquired with a matching smile on her lips.

"It's just, everything on earth is always so romantic."

"Romantic?" 

"Yeah. It was always so cold and calculated on Krypton. Everything has a very clear purpose and the drive for creation was always efficiency. But on earth there's always a story, a connection. Everything feels like art, you lot romanticise everything. It's one of my favourite things about earth."

Lena's smile grew wider. Despite everything she went through, Kara still had this wonderful optimistic and hopeful outlook on everything that radiated positivity wherever she went. Lena let herself bask in it whenever she could, feeling lucky to simply be granted the opportunity. She wasn't sure what possessed her to ask her next question.

"Do you want kids?" Her body flushed red hot when she realised what she just asked.

"Yes, I always wanted kids." Kara answered simply, as if she didn't find the sudden question strange. "How about you? Do you want kids?"

Lena took a moment, taking a deep breath before she answered. "I… Well, I grew up with the Luthors and they are not the kind of family you want to bring a child to." She said with a forced smile.

"But, do you want to?"

"Maybe? Yes. I suppose with the right person. I fear I might be a terrible mum."

"What? No! Lena, you would be an amazing mother. I just know it." Kara's smile almost made her believe it. "You'd have two amazing super smart kids-"

"Two?" Lena asked, amused with a raised brow.

"At least two," Kara nodded to herself. "And they would be the smartest kids in school and win every award in whatever sport they choose to participate in."

"Oh, are they athletes, too?"

"Of course, sport is very important Lena." Kara answered seriously.

Lena laughed in response. She loved how ridiculous Kara could be.

"And I would spoil them rotten of course. Giving them the best snacks and telling them the funniest jokes."

"You would, wouldn't you." It was said as a statement. Damn Kara and her descriptions, she could almost see it in her mind.

"Yes! I would be the coolest aunt! Their favourite aunt Kara." She finished with a satisfied grin.

"Aunt Kara." Lena's words felt bitter in her mouth, yet she tried to force her best genuine smile.

"And you would get to be cool aunt Lena as well, of course. Oh, we should definitely try to have our kids at the same time so they could grow up to be best friends." Kara added excitedly.

"Yeah," Lena feared her smile might come off as a bit manic. "We certainly should."

"We'll make sure they know they have no expectations they need to fulfill, so they can grow up free to be who they are." Kara continued in a lower voice, saying it almost to herself, turning her head to watch the sky.

"You'd make a great mum too, Kara." Lena said with all the honesty she could master, probably carrying slightly more emotions then she intended.

Kara smiled, shifting a bit closer, to lean some of her weight on Lena's shoulder as they continued to watch the starry night above them.

Read here on ao3

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 12

You 

You heard the explosions first, then the gunfire and shouting outside your door—it was time to go. Now. Where the hell is Merle?

Your wrists are still bound tight behind your back, the ropes cutting into your skin, but you’ve worked the knots loose, just enough to give you an inch of hope. The skin is raw from the constant tugging, slick with sweat, but the burning sting is the least of your concerns. You grit your teeth, pulling and prying, every inch of slack bringing you closer to freedom. Outside, the sounds of chaos are rising—shouting, frantic footsteps, and that unmistakable crackle of panic in the air. Something has gone wrong out there. Very wrong.

And here you are. Helpless. Fucking useless. Tied up in the dark with no way to fight back. Your heart races, a sickening churn twisting in your gut as you shake your hands again, desperately trying to get free.

Then, the door creaks open.

You freeze, every muscle tensing as your gaze snaps to the figure in the doorway. It’s him. The Governor. He’s got something around his head–a white, thick gauze holding a bloody bandage over his eye. You wonder briefly what happened to him…if any of your people did that. The sick, twisted grin from earlier is gone, replaced by a scowl that carves deep lines into his face. The charm he’d used to toy with you is nowhere to be found, his one eye looks at you cold and cruel. He pauses, looking you up and down, studying your cuts, the bruises starting to form, and your bloody mouth. Then he scoffs, and his boots echo against the floor as he approaches, each step deliberate, his presence suffocating the room.

You don’t even have time to react before his hand is on you, fingers digging into your arm as he yanks you from the chair. Your knees buckle from the sudden force, the ropes cutting deeper into your wrists as you stumble.

“Show’s over, darlin’,” he growls, voice low and venomous. The way he says it, like you’re some pawn in his game, makes your blood boil. But you swallow the rage, knowing it won’t help you here. Not yet.

He shoves you forward, forcing you out the door. The hallway is barely lit, shadows dancing across the walls, and your mind races. You don’t know what’s waiting for you out there—more of his men? Walkers? Worse? But the one thing you do know is that you can’t stay in his grip for long.

You focus on the knots behind your back, your fingers raw, and pray that you’ve got enough time.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Daryl

Gunshots crack through the smoke as they make their way into the center square. The air is thick, almost suffocating, filled with the panicked screams of people running for cover. Daryl can barely see through the haze, his heart pounding in rhythm with the gunfire. His senses are on high alert—every shadow, every flash of movement feels like a threat.

They duck into an alley, the cold brick walls pressing in around them. Maggie turns, firing blindly behind her into the chaos of the street.

“You guys go, I’m gonna lay down some cover fire,” Daryl growls, his voice rough, the urgency building in his chest.

“No, we gotta stay together,” Maggie argues, her eyes wide and frantic. She’s scared, they all are, but there’s no time to talk sense into her.

“‘S too hairy,” Daryl shakes his head, already making his decision. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulls the last flashbang from his belt, the metal cold and solid in his hand. He yanks the pin and throws it out into the street, the explosion reverberating through the alley like a punch to the gut, smoke billowing from it in plumes. The force rattles him, but it does the trick—screams echo louder, the enemy scattering.

Daryl moves fast, breaking from the alley and diving into the open. His guns are already blazing, bullets ripping through the smoke. He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t think. His mind is sharp as he tries hard to focus on one thing—keeping them safe.

The world around him is a blur of fire and blood, people scrambling in all directions. His aim is deadly, taking down anyone who gets too close. But just as he turns to fire again, the click of his empty gun stops him cold. Shit. Out of ammo.

He ducks behind a nearby cart, slamming another clip into place as fast as his hands can move. His fingers tremble, but he forces the panic down, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his focus sharp.

“Go!” he yells over the chaos, his voice hoarse. He hears their voices calling for him, but he doesn’t stop. Not yet.

With a steady breath, Daryl steps back into the fray, his gun raised once more. The noise is deafening, his ears ringing as he fires again, pushing forward. His whole body hums with adrenaline, every muscle tight and ready, the world narrowing to the sound of gunfire and the desperate need to survive.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

You

As The Governor brings you outside, you can see the fire light dancing along the walls, people chattering. There’s a panic in the air about them, their voices loud. But once you start getting a look at everything, a bag is placed over your head, blinding you. The fibers of the rope around your wrists still digs into you, no progress able to be made while he has you in his grip. Your breath hitches with your one sense gone, and your hearing takes over. He doesn’t move you forward, just keeps you nice and snug to him.

“Think I wouldn’t know, huh?” you feel his hot breath along your ear. You shiver as he digs his fingers into your side, “Think I didn’t realize you and Merle had somethin’ when I came in and saw ya?” his voice is low and menacing, and your pulse skyrockets.

“He ain’t my right hand man cause he’s smart, darlin’,” he chuckles, and after a moment, he says into your ear, “Any man who loved a girl wouldn’t go for their best features. I knew his brother was the only thing he cared about, but after I saw how he handled you—and then heard you knew the other two—it didn’t take much to piece it all together.” 

Your spine jolts like lightning at his words. You’d been careless. Merle must have told him you knew Glenn and Maggie. Maybe he spilled the entire plan. Panic wells in your chest, but before it takes hold, all you can do is pray they’re okay. Footsteps approach, and unfamiliar hands seize your wrists, yanking them roughly. You squirm, trying to kick free, but a fist crashes into your face, and you double over, gasping in pain.

"Now stay put," the Governor sneers. "I need to announce your grand entrance."

You lean forward, tasting blood as it spills from your mouth, your breath ragged and sharp. The hands on your arms are sweaty and strong, pinning your wrists so tight you can’t move an inch. You're left standing there, utterly helpless. The Governor’s footsteps retreat, and the murmur of voices ahead falls eerily silent. 

Suddenly, the Governor’s voice booms across the crowd. “What can I say? Hasn’t been a night like this since the walls were completed.” He sounds defeated as he continues, “And I thought we were past it. Past the days when we all sat, huddled and scared, in front of the TV during the early days of the outbreak. The fear we all felt then—we felt it again tonight.” His voice drops, barely audible from where you stand across the open dirt courtyard. “I failed you... I promised to keep you safe. Hell, look at me.”

You can picture his face, the white bandage across his head, the patch over his eye.

“You know, I—I should tell you that we’ll be okay, that we’re safe,” he continues, his voice weighed down with regret, with defeat. “Tomorrow we’ll bury our dead and endure. But I won’t. I can’t. Because I’m afraid. That’s right. I’m afraid of terrorists who want what we have—who want to destroy us.” There’s a long pause, and then, more gravely, “And worse... one of those terrorists is one of our own.”

Your breath hitches, panic sparking behind your eyes.

“Merle,” the Governor bellows, “the man I counted on. The man I trusted. He led ‘em here. He let ‘em in. It was you!” His voice rises to a furious roar. “You lied, betrayed us all!”

Your heart slams in your chest. They had Merle cornered. They knew you were trying to escape with him. The crowd gasps, their anger building.

Suddenly, more footsteps approach. You hear people passing, uneasy breathing mixed in. For a second, your senses sharpen—you think you recognize the ragged breaths, the heavy footfalls of being led blindly. But it couldn’t be. No, it can’t.

“This is one of the terrorists!” The Governor’s voice rings out again, louder, more menacing. “Merle’s own brother!”

Your heart plummets. No.

Panic flares, hot and fast, racing up your spine. No, not Daryl. He can’t be here. You can feel the ground sway beneath you, your breath coming in shallow gasps. For a split second, everything else disappears—the crowd’s bloodthirsty cries, the weight of the Governor’s grip—everything except the horrifying realization that they have the one person you can’t bear to lose. You flail in the man's arms that holds you, but its no use, he's got you pinned to the spot, his heavy hands latched onto you.

“What should we do with them?” the Governor asks the crowd, and the response is instant—loud, bloodthirsty. “Kill ‘em! Kill them!” they chant.

The man holding you shoves you forward. Rough hands grab you, jerking you violently as you’re handed off again. You recognize the firm grip on your upper arm—the Governor himself, dragging you closer to the seething, furious mob.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Daryl

Daryl’s heart pounded in his chest, every beat a thunderous reminder of the madness surrounding him. The crowd in Woodbury roared, a twisted blend of excitement and bloodlust. While Merle’s hands are unbound, Daryl stands with his wrists tied behind his back, breathing heavily.  But Daryl’s focus wasn’t on the walkers or Merle. Not anymore. Not since the Governor’s smirk had widened into something darker, something crueler. 

“You know, boys, I thought you’d need a little extra motivation,” the Governor sneered, his voice carrying over the crowd. Daryl’s stomach twisted, his pulse quickening. “Bring her in.”

Daryl froze. Her.

From the corner of the ring, one of the Governor’s cronies shoved a blindfolded figure forward. His breath caught in his throat as the familiar shape stumbled into the light. He didn’t need to see her face to know. Y/N.

She was bound and blindfolded, her arms twisted painfully behind her back. Her body language was rigid with fear, her movements hesitant. There was blood on her clothes. Daryl’s heart pounded against his ribs, his vision narrowing, the blood rushing in his ears.

The Governor laughed, the sound low and menacing. “Let’s make this interesting, boys,” he said, as he approached Y/N, drawing his gun. The crowd grew silent, the tension palpable. 

He can hear Andrea fighting with some of the men by the crowd. He didn’t care anymore that she was here, in the grips of this place. All he cared was the two fucking people he ever cared about were right in front of him, and death was calling all their names. Someone comes up behind Daryl to untie his hands, and his arms fall loosely to the side.

“Brother against brother, loser goes free… Fight,” the Governor said, his voice dripping with malice. “Or she dies.”

Merle scoffs, rolling his shoulders as if to brush it off. “Her? She’s just some girl you had me set straight back in the office, boss,” he growls, keeping his tone dismissive, cold. But when Daryl looks over, he can see the flicker of hesitation in his brother’s eyes, the crack in his tough facade.

The Governor chuckles darkly, his gaze lingering on her bound form. “Is that so?” His eyes flick between Merle and Daryl, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “Funny, ‘cause based on the look in your brother’s eyes right now, it’s clear she means a hell of a lot more than that. You think I don’t know when someone’s important to you, Merle?”

He pulls her in closer, almost like she's a good friend, under his arm, speaking loudly enough for both brothers to hear. She quirks under his touch, the bag over her head loose but jerking with her movements. Daryl's blood boils higher and higher to the surface.

“I already told her. Think I wouldn’t figure it out?” His voice drops into that low, menacing tone again. “You might be rough around the edges, Merle, but you ain’t stupid enough to leave marks where it really hurts. A man who doesn’t give a damn wouldn’t bother with that. Nose, lips, eyes—none of it touched.” He turns to Daryl, smirking. “I knew right then. Your brother didn’t just care about you—he cared about her too. And when Merle opened his mouth, told me she knew them other two terrorists, well…” He trails off with a cruel laugh. “Didn’t take much to figure the rest out.”

Just as Daryl’s fists tighten at his sides, the Governor let out another chuckle and yanked the bag off Y/N’s head. She had marks all over her— clearly beaten before he brought her in here. Her cheek had a nasty abrasion, jaw swelling, blood down her chin. Daryl’s breath hitched as her wide, terrified eyes blinked against the sudden light, searching—until they landed on him.

Her gaze locked onto his, her eyes filled with an apology so deep it nearly tore him apart. He could see the fear there, the guilt, the silent plea. She didn’t have to say anything. It was all there, written in her expression: I’m sorry.

His heart sank lower. His fingers twitched at his side. 

The man nods toward the corner of the makeshift arena, and the ominous sound of rattling chains fills the air. Daryl’s heart pounds louder in his ears, drowning out everything else as the walkers are led into the circle. Men on either side struggle with poles, keeping the snarling creatures at bay, their dead hands reaching and snapping. Each step they take brings the walkers closer, tightening the already suffocating space.

But the Governor wasn’t done yet. With a sickening grin, he removed the gun from Y/N’s head and gave her a hard shove forward. She stumbled toward one of the walkers, its gnashing teeth inches from her face, its dead hands reaching for her. Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, and he lurched forward to get her before someone behind him yanked him back by the shirt.

She stopped just shy of the walker’s grasp, but the Governor was on her again, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her back with a vicious tug. She cried out, and the sound made Daryl see red, anger boiling beneath the surface of his skin, mixing with the panic that had already consumed him.

Daryl’s pulse quickens, panic rising in his chest. The only thing he can hear now is the relentless thud of his heartbeat, drowning out the growing noise of the crowd, the clinking chains, and the walkers' ravenous groans.

The Governor smirked, his hand still gripping her hair as she struggled to stand. He held her there, dangling her just out of reach of the walker’s jaws, toying with her, toying with them. Daryl’s heart hammered so hard he thought it might burst from his chest.

“Don’t make me ask again,” the Governor said, his voice cold and calculating. “Fight. Or I let her go.”

And with one last look at Y/N, at her wide, terrified eyes, Daryl knew—he would do anything to keep her alive.

[ashes-cinder]

The Demon's Crimson Heir

!!! DON'T STEAL !!!

I finished rewriting the first chapter of "The Demon's Crimson Heir" yesterday and posted the work on Archive of Our Own. It's created in a new series, since "Obsidian Empire" doesn't align with the story anymore. That reason will be shown soon in one of the works that I'll add soon. This alternative universe/timeline is where Tim is raised in the League of Assassins and never becomes the Robin and Red Robin as we know him today. I did a deep dive on how and why Ra's would be interested in Tim pre-Robin, and adding a few headcanons in the future soon. But if you want to know, this is how I see how and why Ra's would recruit Tim as his new targetted heir.

How Ra’s Could Notice Tim:

Tim Sticks Out in Gotham:

Tim’s habit of tailing Batman and the Bat-family catches Ra’s attention. It’s not every day a kid in Gotham manages to follow the world’s greatest detective without getting caught. That kind of resourcefulness isn’t something Ra’s would overlook.

He Stumbles Into League Business:

While following Batman, Tim might accidentally uncover one of the League of Assassins’ operations. Ra’s would definitely notice a sharp kid like Tim poking around where he shouldn’t.

Tim’s Smarts Shine Through:

Tim solves a big mystery, figuring out something about Batman, Ra’s would be intrigued (and yes, Ra's knows at this point). He respects brains, and Tim’s got plenty of that, even before becoming Robin.

Why Ra’s Would Be Interested:

Tim Reminds Him of Bruce:

Ra’s has a thing for people who are smart, determined, and capable—basically, people like Batman. Tim reminds him of Bruce in many ways, much more than his intellect, Ra’s would take an interest, no question.

Potential Future Asset:

Ra’s thinks, “Hey, this kid could be useful someday.” Whether as an ally, a pawn, or even a successor, Tim’s skills and connection to Batman make him worth keeping an eye on.

Tim’s Ambition Stands Out:

Ra’s respects people who rise above the ordinary, and Tim taking the initiative to follow and study Batman, all on his own, is exactly the kind of thing Ra’s admires.

What Ra’s Might Do About It:

Quietly Watches Tim:

Ra’s is the kind of guy who plays the long game. He observes Tim from the shadows, just to see how much potential he has.

Tests Him a Bit:

This is a spoiler, morely on how it goes down, so I'm not going into detail.

Basically, Ra’s would see Tim as a young version of Bruce—smart, determined, and full of potential. Even before Tim officially becomes Robin, Ra’s would probably keep tabs on him, thinking he might be important someday.

█▒▒▒▒▒█ ◈ 【☆】≛•★•≛【☆】 ◈ █▒▒▒▒▒█

Anyways, here are the tags of the fics.

Yes. We have baby Damian. Bamian. Also, I wanna write a Talon Dick Gray Son fic. Lemme know if you want to see how it'll go down.