#timepiece mind

[calypsosystem]

I keep forgetting to post things here

Traditional doodles of heart, mind and soul but with my own designs

[dlstmxkakwldrlarchive]

230303 Onew The First Concert O-New-Note Day I

— Ballad Medley

[the0mind0electric]

THE MIND ELECTRIC

" I'm sure it seems from his point of view That I'm a simple, cynical machine "

I. IMPORTANT - Mind // Apollo // The Sun - He/Him // They/Them // It/Its - Mind Fictkin [This is NOT an RP Blog] II. OTHER INFORMATION - I do not have a set DNI list, though please beware that I will freely block anyone I need to. - Feel free to interact. I made this blog for a reason. - If I don't answer your ask, it is either for a good reason or because I am too tired at that moment to do so. III. TAGS - #The timepiece; it's tock - General Posts - #"Mr. Mind?" - Responding to Asks - #And continue this revolving hell - Reblogs IV. ANON SIGN-OFFS - None - Come back later

[majormeilani]

i literally don't talk about it much but i do often think about the cut ahit character, tim the time ceo. he had a rather silly (yet somewhat relatable) backstory and concept for his character but it would have been neat if we could see more characters from where hat kid comes from.

also i really liked his design:

he seemed like such a lovely character

[2kiran]

❛ 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄 ❜ ➖ ch1.

series masterlist | ghostface x reader | nsfw

syno. ◜˚꩜.ᐟ —— IN WHICH HALLOWEEN is in a few hours, the day that gathers mischievous children and adults alike. They’re all stupidly uncaring of the terrors that await them outside. Maybe it’s a good thing you weren’t invited to the equally stupid party; the bitterness is slipping from your mind—until the phone rings.

content: male!ghostface, male reader, stalking, he touches himself over his clothes, use of he and they pronouns for ghostface, 800+ words, canon timeline genre: dark | v.ao3

October 30th, 11:42 P.M.

Viridescent chlorophyll pigmented leaves rustle aimlessly from the zephyr, manifesting solace amidst the looming witching hour. The perpetual snicking of the timepiece compensated for the lack of engaging noise of your residence, one that is adjudged to be prone to jeopardy. You presumed you’d be drinking away your misfortunes along with your ‘friends’ by now, fulfilling the engraved void of your body with a sense of halcyon.

Alas, you neither inherited the glory of bosom friends nor a staunch invitation. You’re compelled to isolation, idly switching from channel to channel on the television. Majority of programs transmitted great terrors and deaths occurring around your town, doubtlessly emitting dread from your neighbors. One snatches your surveillance in particular, the news anchor no other than Gale Weathers.

“Woodsboro, California was devastated last night when two young teenagers were found brutally murdered. Authorities have yet to issue a statement but our sources tell us—”

Your telephone begins to ring.

Short-sightedly, a twinge of assumption that your friends are calling to address their regret engulfs you in a disposition of sprint. You hasten to answer, stumbling over items scattered across the ground. With palpitating hands, you manage to grab the cordless communicator.

“Hello?”

A saccharine yet mechanical voice lacerated the echoes of silence. “Hello?”

You detect a billow of unfamiliarity, the silk-smooth tone unregistered. You lay your weight against the counter behind you, planting your free hand on the top. “Who’s this?” You interrogate without close scrutiny, tasting displeasure on your tongue from the thought of the other one on the line being a childish prankster.

“What number is this?” The stranger questions in return, downright shrugging off yours. There’s a subtle ascent in timbre, as though they were exhilarated by the odd conversation. Sounding virtually like they were arranging a scheme with you as the heart-rending target. However, you knew better than to generate bland speculations, didn’t you?

This did not mean you possessed the generosity of extending your patience for a mere individual whom you’ll most-likely never meet. Your brows crease, lips twisting downwards into a sullen frown. Glancing towards the clock, it currently read 12:26. You’ve already misused your valuable time. Great, your week’s ending with several scowls. With an aggravated sigh, you decide on a conclusion which is probably the smartest one—or rather the stupidest, but you don’t know that just yet—you’ve made for the past few days. “You have the wrong number.”

You return the handset to the device. You’re able to take only a couple of steps before it rings again.

This day is truly testing your patience. You snatch it, still having the decency to attempt upholding the tender exterior. “Hello?” You repeat, your jaw twitching with intelligible strain.

“I’m sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number.”

You scoff lightly, not daring to feign anything else besides mild amusement. Frustration began to simmer beneath your skin, fluttering a stream through your veins. “Why’d you dial it again, then?”

“To apologize.”

That one promptly eased the seethe waiting to plunge straight out of your chest. At least this person sustained a quarter of a functioning brain, unlike those you’re unfortunately acquainted with. “You’re forgiv—” You begin, subconsciously lowering the object once more, but they abruptly interject while they’re still within earshot. “Wait, wait. Don’t hang up.” The words were exhaled through a tight breath. They were shamelessly pleading.

“Why?”

“I wanna talk to you for a second.”

You husk out a laugh, dropping your head as your shoulders tremble upwards. Oh good deity above, you’re awfully oblivious to how attractive your appearance is. Ghostface squeezes his thighs shut together, rocking forward to soothe the irritating ache. He’s ridiculously camouflaging behind an ancestral, greening tree. His eyes steadfastly rake over the valleys and dips of your body, your clothes endowed with the ampleness of tease to let his imagination maunder. Finally, he hears your sweet, sweet melody.

“You’ve got a hundred of numbers for that.”

So he’s been well-informed. “Oh, I know,” His gloved palm mindlessly cascade down to his groin, gently rutting to pursue the chase for friction he’s been pining for all these dull, prolong hours. “But I want you.”

They’re flirting with you. Out of every-color-draining people. It’s surreal; the sensation of heat skulking to your face, the pinkish, vibrant hue dusting your cheeks, and the bare bite of adrenaline caused interest to emerge and sweep you right off your rationality. “Right...” you find it skeptical, rightfully so, and yet you’re incapacitated of hanging up this time. “Uh, I’m going to watch a video.” Your nose scrunches from how you spoke the sentence, and in return he hums a low, distorted tune.

“Really? What?” You really weren’t.

“A... just some scary movie.”

“Do you like scary movies?” It must be sleep-deprivation but you cross your soul he sounds sinister. Uncanny and phantom-like but concomitantly mortal.

“Sure.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

2knote. unfortunately, I’ve been terribly busy so I didn’t have the chance to completely write this chapter out. 1.1 (continuation) will be posted in a few days.

[delirious-donna]

His Hands [Nanami Kento]

an: it's been a hot minute since I wrote for him, but with the latest developments and the insane amount of Kento content on my dash, I couldn't help myself. This is a love letter to his hands...

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: hair pulling, manhandling, light choking, mark marking, daddy kink, dirty talk, mating press, doggy (all implied), some comfort and fluff because he deserves it

Masterlist

Nanami Kento is not a white knight.

He is not a righteous man, nor is he morally virtuous. Nanami makes no qualms about expressing what matters most to him – his time, his students and most importantly, you. If that means he has to stray into the murky grey areas of ethics then so be it. If that means there is collateral damage in ensuring the safety of his precious priorities, it matters not. However, Nanami Kento is a good man.

Fatigue has been his constant companion these past few weeks. His eyes are weary and less focused than usual, his jaw tight with seemingly endless worry and his hair tousled as if he had run fingers through it time and again. You didn’t know the exact cause of his current demeanour, all you did know was that it was your job to relieve it, at least temporarily.

Hazel eyes met yours. A tight smile faint on his lips whilst you moved from being tucked into his side to straddling his lap. Kento’s head fell back against the couch, his gaze bouncing between your eyes, simply content to observe whatever it was you were up to. Your fingers delicately wrapped around his wrist, brushing against the heavy weight of his timepiece and lifting it to your chest. His hands were rough, callouses built up along the edges of his fingertips and palm through extended training and workouts that would see him dripping in sweat.

“Y’know… I’ve always loved these hands.” An exploratory finger ran over his knuckles, the skin shiny and new from where they had not long been split open. It wasn’t an exaggeration–you did love his hands and what they could do.

An amused huff was his reply, fingers flexing in and out of a loose fist whilst you continued your journey over the wide expanse that was his hand—traversing the depths of his life line only to circle down and stroke over the pad of his thumb. How many times had you helped to patch him up after being injured in the line of duty? Too many. Bloody rags filled the bathroom sink and the smell of antiseptic stung your nose, but you’d rather do it yourself than let him tend to himself. There was no point in telling him you worried, he knew that, instead you filled the silence with the mundane moments of your day to distract him from the stark contrast of his horror-filled one.

“They’re strong and they keep me safe,” you muse almost to yourself. Unbeknownst to you, Kento’s eyebrows lift. His eyes sharpen, throwing off the dregs of tiredness to watch more fixedly at you touching him with a reverence he didn’t believe he deserved. Would you still love them if you knew what he had done with them? Of the violence they had been a part of, the injuries and deaths he had inflicted with them. As if you didn’t already know…

“Sweetheart–” The argument he had readied fell away when you lifted his hand higher, towards your throat. His thick fingers could feel the steady beat of your pulse, no jump in fear of danger, only complete trust. He swallowed; the bob of his Adam’s apple near painful.

Your breathing sped up, knees shuffling forward to bracket his lean hips and pressing your delicate skin further into his careful grasp. Memories rose to the surface of your mind like stones skimming across a peaceful lake, rippling outward until the phantom sensations of days gone by washed over you.

The searing burn of Kento’s large palm swatting at your soft ass; whether in encouragement when your thighs tired of riding him to completion or in admonishment for some very deliberate attempts at stealing away his attention in the midst of his paperwork.

The gentle grip of your ankles when he folded your thighs flush against your chest to be able to plunge deeper into your sopping cunt. His tender hold was the perfect counterbalance to how savagely he was splitting you open. Lazy circles of his thumbs against your delicate ankle bones all whilst you ringed his cock with thick cream and his pelvis smacked wetly against you.

The prickle of your scalp at the sudden yank at the roots of your hair. That deliciously big, thick hand that you adored wrapping your hair so tightly into a makeshift ponytail that you had no choice but to rear back. Warm breath fanning your cheek and neck, the deep rasp of Kento’s words caressing your ear despite how depraved his words were. “Fuck… that’s it, baby… Taking Daddy’s cock like a champ… Let me see that arch… Look at this pretty pussy sucking me back in…”

Nanami had a way of handling you exactly as you needed at any given moment. He wasn’t afraid you’d break like some fragile doll, knowing that you more than enjoyed his manhandling. He could sense how turned on it made you when he would scoop you up like you weighed nothing. Taking your weight into his arms when he fucked you against the hallway wall in those moments he simply couldn’t wait to reach the bedroom. You were his pliant little cocksleeve. His perfect pussy.

With the rough came the smooth. How tenderly his fingers would coast down the length of your spine in the warmth of the morning, stopping to admire the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips and the ripple of your backside when he squeezed it lightly. 

The soft touches against the bruises he had left the night before on your waist and hips. Each one a mark of his possession that he would never fail to become aroused by. The marks of his fingertips, the indent of his teeth on the swell of your sensitive inner thigh. If he were an animal he would scent mark you like the dog he sometimes felt like, rub himself all over you until you were bathed in his musk.

Interlocked fingers and tickles on the palm of your hands. The reassurance that you were by his side when you strolled the sidewalk together, Kento always nearest the traffic and the ability to tug you close with the flick of his wrist.

“I don’t care what these hands might have done to those that deserved whatever fate they befell. All I know is that I love them, and there isn’t anyone I would trust more to hold my heart.”

He nodded, and you knew that would be the best you would get in the form of agreement to your words. The coiled muscles in his forearm tightened, tendons contracting and his fingers squeezing a fraction tighter atop your carotid arteries. You hummed in contentment, eyelids growing heavy and his hand slipped free of your loose hold to rest over your heart whilst the other pressed between your shoulder blades to bring you to his lips.

So, no, Nanami isn’t a white knight but he is the best man you’ve ever been fortunate enough to meet. You would help him face whatever demons were lurking nearby, and with your support and unconditional love, maybe–just maybe–he’d make it back to you in one piece. 

Heaven knows he deserved some time off.

[prettyobsessed]

⋆·˚ ༘ *🎀Perfumed Reverie🩰* ༘✧˚⋆·

🌊 / pairings: Rafayel / fem!reader *. ⋆ / genre: Story plot with smut [nsfw 18+, mdni] 𓇼 / tags: nsfw, romantic smut, lyrical writing, slight action smut, smut with plot, mutual attraction, slight jealousy, perfume obsession, kisses, body appreciation, hand job, clit fingering, nipple kink, nipple licking, slight sub/dom play, tying kink, ribbon kink, cock teasing, kissing, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, perfume kink, cum in mouth, savouring cum, mature sexual content, romantic, romantic smut 🐚 / word count: 6.6k

 ₊⊹summary₊˚⊹

In "Perfumed Reverie," the narrator prepares for Rafayel's celebration with meticulous detail, anticipating the evening ahead. Rafayel's thoughtful gift adds to the excitement. At the party, amidst the vibrant atmosphere, the narrator finds herself drawn to Rafayel's magnetic presence. Their connection deepens as Rafayel's curiosity about the narrator’s perfume sparks a moment of intimacy. Amidst the chaos, their bond strengthens, leaving both eager for more.

𓍢ִ໋🐇₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝𓆝🧸⋆

The sun cast a warm glow over the bustling city streets as I set out to find the perfect gift for Rafayel, my heart brimming with anticipation. As I navigated the crowded sidewalks, lost in thought, I was interrupted by the unexpected voice of Nero, my teammate from UNICORNS.

"Hey, fancy meeting with you. Mind if I join you for lunch? I've been dying to hear more about that eye you keep mentioning the other day,” Nero said with a grin that seemed a tad too eager. A memory flashed in my mind, the image of what lay behind the mysterious curtain stirring a sense of unease within me. Ignoring the knot of unease tightening in my stomach, I forced a polite smile and replied with a hesitant nod, "Sure, why not. I could use the company... and perhaps your opinion on something."

We settled into a nearby café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the chatter of patrons. Nero leaned in eagerly, his eyes alight with curiosity. “So, tell me more about the eye. Could you describe it in detail? I'm fascinated by it," he urged, his enthusiasm bordering on obsession.

As I recounted the details of the memory, Nero hung on my every word, his fascination evident in the way he leaned closer, his breathless anticipation palpable. "Wow," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. Then, with a slight cough, he added, "Um, do you think you could draw it again for me?" There was a hint of demand in his tone, as if he couldn't bear the thought of waiting any longer to see the image.

Unease prickled at the back of my mind, a sense of distrust creeping in as Nero's fixation on the eye grew more pronounced. “It's just for research purposes," Nero added, his voice taking on a low and dark tone that set off alarm bells in my mind.Reluctantly, I hastily sketched the image for him, feeling a sense of discomfort lingering in the air. Sensing my discomfort, I shifted the conversation, suggesting we divert our attention to finding a gift for my friend, Rafayel. Nero readily agreed, and we set off on a leisurely stroll through the city streets, our laughter blending with the hum of conversation. As we strolled along, an unsettling feeling nagged at the back of my mind, refusing to dissipate. 

Yet, for the moment, I pushed aside my suspicions and focused on the task at hand.

Amidst the charming boutiques and shops, my gaze was drawn to a stunning opal watch, its iridescent hues casting a spellbinding shimmer in the sunlight. Each facet of the opal seemed to dance with a kaleidoscope of colours, evoking an ethereal beauty that captured the essence of elegance and sophistication. The sleek design of the watch, adorned with intricate detailing and polished to perfection, spoke volumes of craftsmanship and quality. As I admired its captivating allure, I couldn't help but be reminded of Rafayel's discerning taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Nero glanced over my shoulder at the opulent timepiece, his curiosity piqued. "A gift?" he inquired, his brow raised in intrigue. I turned to face him, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. "Yes, what do you think?" I asked, eager for his opinion. "It's nice," Nero replied with a nod, his tone neutral.

Taking Nero's brief assessment into account, I made the decision to purchase the watch for Rafayel. Just as I was admiring the opal watch, the salesperson approached with a warm smile. "Would you like to add a personal message to accompany the gift?" she asked kindly. "Yes, please," I replied, grateful for the opportunity to personalise the present for Rafayel. Quickly, I penned down my heartfelt message: “To Rafayel, Congrats on the collaboration! I’m super proud of you. This gift is a token of my support and belief in your talents. Hope you like it ♡ With love, Y/N x”.

With a sense of satisfaction, I passed the note back to the salesperson, who carefully tucked it into the gift bag alongside the opulent timepiece.

I continued my journey through the lively streets alongside Nero. The vibrant energy of the city enveloped me, infusing every step with a sense of anticipation. Before we could part ways, a familiar voice called out my name—it was Rafayel. My heart skipped a beat as I quickly hid the gift behind my back, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over me. I stole a glance at Nero, wondering how he would react to Rafayel's unexpected appearance. 

As Rafayel approached, a nervous flutter danced in my chest, my anticipation mingling with apprehension. "Well, well, well, look who's out here on a date," Rafayel remarked with a hint of jealousy in his tone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in our proximity.

Rafayel's gaze shifted to Nero, his expression clouded with doubt and suspicion. The tension between them was palpable, casting a shadow over the otherwise pleasant encounter. I exchanged a subtle glance with Rafayel, silently urging him to keep calm and not let his insecurities get the best of him. I mouthed the word ‘Stop it’ to Rafayel, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Rafayel, this is Nero,” I introduced, my voice steady despite the underlying tension. “He's my colleague. Nero, meet Rafayel. He's... well, let's just say he's always looking out for me,” I added with a hint of playfulness, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Hey, nice to meet you. Congrats on the collab!” Nero greeted, his voice laced with genuine warmth as he attempted to break the ice and alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. In response, Rafayel’s demeanour remained guarded, his arms crossed defensively as he replied in a monotone voice, “Thanks.”

Sensing the strained atmosphere, Nero decided to make his exit. "Umm, I better get going. See you at work next Monday?" he said, his departure a relief in the tense moment. I nodded in agreement, bidding him farewell silently appreciating his timing. As Nero walked away, Rafayel's eyes narrowed, his distrust evident in the furrow of his brow.

"Why are you being so rude to him?" I questioned, my tone tinged with suspicion, as I searched Rafayel's face for any signs of jealousy or insecurity. Rafayel's response was edged with sarcasm. "Oh yeah, why are you being so nice to him? You like him, that nerd?" His distrust of Nero was palpable.

I mirrored his tone, matching his sarcasm. “So what if I like him?” I retorted, feigning nonchalance. “There's nothing you can do about it.” Rafayel leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “Nah, I know you don't like him,” he remarked, his words carrying a hint of certainty. With a mischievous smirk, he added, “Besides, why waste your time thinking about anyone else when you could be thinking about me?” His playful remark caught me off guard, a flush of frustration rising to my cheeks as I struggled to maintain composure.

Reiterating once more that Nero was merely a colleague, I hoped to ease Rafayel's concerns.

“Pfft. Anyways, this is for you. Wear it to the party later?” Rafayel said, his tone softening as he handed me a small, elegantly wrapped package. “Ooh, what is it? Can I open it now?” I asked eagerly, excitement bubbling within me. Rafayel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Not now. Open it later when you get home,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Since Rafayel had already given me a gift, I pulled out the carefully wrapped present I had purchased for him. “I got you a gift too. Open it later and let me know if you like it. Or not. Whatever,” I said nonchalantly, though inwardly hoping that Rafayel would appreciate the gesture.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As the clock chimed 6, signalling the beginning of the evening's arrival, I immersed myself in the preparations for Rafayel's celebration. My fingertips danced over the intricate jacquard fabric of my dress that I selected just for the party, marvelling at its luxurious texture and the way it cascaded elegantly around me. The crystal trim adorning the bodice caught the light, casting a mesmerising array of patterns across the room and infusing the ensemble with an irresistible allure. With its back lace-up closure, the dress whispered promises of sophistication and glamour, setting the stage for an unforgettable night. And to complete the look, I selected a white satin ribbon to adorn my hair, adding a touch of understated glamour to the ensemble.

Amidst the whirlwind of anticipation, my gaze fell upon the elegantly wrapped package Rafayel had presented earlier. With a gentle tug, the ribbon unfurled, revealing the treasure concealed within. Nestled within the folds of tissue paper lay a bottle of exquisite high-end perfume, encased in a pearlescent shell that shimmered like moonlight on water. As I lifted the fragrance to my nose, its enchanting blend of plum and freesia enveloped me in a delicate embrace, transporting me to a realm of opulence and elegance. Each inhale awakened my senses, stirring a symphony of emotions within me.

Accompanying the perfume was a handwritten note from Rafayel, his words infused with warmth and affection. "A gift for the beautiful Y/N," it read, his endearing nickname bringing a smile to my lips. "When I stumbled upon this packaging and scent, it instantly reminded me of you. Your vibrant spirit and unwavering kindness deserve only the finest. See you later, my silly goose."

The tender sentiment warmed my heart with a sweetness that only Rafayel could evoke, a testament to his thoughtfulness and consideration. Amidst the heartfelt sentiment, there was a playful touch that spoke of his penchant for light-hearted jests. 

With a smile on my lips, a flutter of excitement coursed through me at the thought of wearing the enchanting scent to the party. With Rafayel's thoughtful gesture nestled close to my heart, I eagerly anticipated the evening party.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As I made my grand entrance into Rafayel's house party, the room seemed to buzz with anticipation, a kaleidoscope of colours and sounds swirling around me. The air was alive with the tinkling of glasses, the rhythmic beat of music, and the low hum of conversation. Dressed in an ensemble that exuded elegance and sophistication, I felt a surge of confidence as I navigated through the crowd, drawing admiring glances from all who crossed my path.

Amidst the throng of guests, my gaze was irresistibly drawn to Rafayel, who stood amidst a cluster of people, his magnetic presence undeniable. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of us in our own private universe. His smile was like a beacon in the dimly lit room, warming my heart and igniting a spark of excitement within me.

Before I could make my way over to him, however, Thomas intercepted Rafayel, guiding him towards a group of potential clients. I watched with a mixture of disappointment and understanding as Rafayel was swept away, his attention momentarily diverted from me.

As I mingled with the guests, my thoughts kept drifting back to Rafayel, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his charismatic charm. Despite the gravity of my duty to protect him, my attention was unwaveringly fixed on him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame. Yet, amidst the distractions of the party, I remained vigilant, my focus unwavering as I monitored the surrounding and every movement. Ready to intervene at a moment's notice, I kept a watchful eye on him, ensuring his safety was paramount above all else.

Suddenly, a soft vibration in my pocket broke through my reverie, signalling an incoming message on my phone. With a quick glance, I saw that it was from Rafayel. "You looked stunning tonight. Can you rescue me from this crowd, pretty please?" His words brought a smile to my lips, a warmth spreading through me at the thought of him reaching out to me.

I quickly tapped out a reply, my fingers dancing across the screen. "You're doing great! Just a few more hours to go! Hang in there." As I hit send, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest, knowing that even amidst the chaos of the party, Rafayel and I shared a special connection that transcended the confines of the room. With renewed determination, I plunged back into the festivities, my heart filled with anticipation for what the night might bring.

Discreetly, I checked the holster of my concealed weapon, its comforting weight serving as a reassuring reminder of my preparedness for any unforeseen threats that might arise during the festivities. As I moved through the throng of guests, my attention was momentarily diverted by a mirror reflecting the scene before me. In its glassy surface, I caught a glimpse of a looming figure, cloaked in darkness and watching me intently. 

A chill swept through me as I turned to confront the mysterious presence, but it vanished into thin air before my eyes. The image lingered in my mind—a spectre of unease that left me unsettled. I could have sworn I saw the glint of a pair of spectacles, reminiscent of Nero's distinctive style. Intrigued and wary, I resolved to investigate further. With each step, my senses sharpened, my hand instinctively gravitating towards the reassuring weight of my concealed weapon. Suddenly, a subtle vibration against my wrist alerted me to an urgent message on my Hunter's Watch—a Wanderer had been detected in close proximity, its threat level ranging from moderate to potentially dangerous.

Utilising my honed training and quick-thinking abilities, I sprang into action with a swift and decisive motion. With a determined focus, I swiftly herded the unsuspecting guests to safety, ensuring their protection before confronting the looming threat of the Wanderer. As the Wanderer crashed through the balcony roof like an uninvited intruder, its menacing tail resembling that of a scorpion's, I surveyed the room with a keen eye, ensuring that no one remained in harm's way. With a steady hand and unwavering resolve, I drew my weapon—a formidable tool enhanced by Protocore Energy—and took aim at the looming menace.

Rafayel stood at my side as the Wanderer's monstrous form bore down on us, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos. With a nod of silent understanding, we synchronised our movements, our synergy honed through countless battles fought together. Fuelled by deadly intent, the Wanderer lunged forward, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air. In response, I unleashed a barrage of shots from my enhanced weapon, each blast powered by the pulsating energy of Protocore. 

The projectiles streaked through the air with deadly precision, finding their mark on the creature's armoured hide, but it remained undeterred, its ferocity undiminished. In the midst of the fray, Rafayel stepped forward, his eyes ablaze with determination. 

With a fluid motion, he unleashed his signature move, the Four Scourges—a devastating flurry of strikes that unleashed a torrent of energy upon the Wanderer, shaking its monstrous form to its core.

But the creature was relentless, its primal fury driving it forward with unyielding determination. With a roar that reverberated through the room, it launched itself at us once more, its jaws gaping wide in a feral snarl. Drawing upon our shared bond and unspoken camaraderie, Rafayel and I unleashed our ultimate technique: Abyssal Beacon and Abyssal Shadow—a dazzling display of power and precision that unleashed a torrent of energy, engulfing the Wanderer in a blinding vortex of light and force.As the echoes of our combined assault faded, the room fell silent, save for the gentle crackle of dissipating energy. The Wanderer lay defeated, its once-mighty form reduced to naught but a lifeless husk.

With a shared nod of triumph, Rafayel and I stood victorious, our bond stronger than ever in the face of adversity. 

Approaching the fallen Wanderer, I scanned the room for any lingering threats, my senses heightened by the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. With cautious steps, I retrieved its Protocore, ensuring no remnants of its malevolent energy lingered behind. As I claimed the precious artefact, the body of the Wanderer began to dissipate into sparkling dust, a testament to our hard-won victory.

With the room now safe, I gestured for the guests to return to the ballroom, their applause a symphony of gratitude for our valiant efforts. The sound echoed off the walls, filling the air with a sense of relief and triumph. Thomas stepped forward to address them. "Thank you all for your understanding and cooperation," he announced, his voice carrying across the room with sincerity. "For the safety of everyone present, we must end the event early. Please make your way home safely."

With heartfelt thanks and apologies, Thomas bid the guests farewell, his words imbued with genuine warmth and gratitude. Meanwhile, Rafayel remained by my side, his concern evident in the gentle scrutiny of his gaze. “Ms Bodyguard, are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft with worry as he inspected my injuries.

Turning to Rafayel, I felt a surge of gratitude for his unwavering support. "I'm fine," I assured him, offering a reassuring smile. "Just a few scratches." Rafayel's expression softened, his touch warm and comforting as he gently took my hands in his. "I'm glad you're safe,“ he murmured, his voice filled with genuine relief.

Amidst the few lingering guests in the background, helpers scurried about, diligently tidying the aftermath of the Wanderer's unwelcome intrusion into the party, as glints of glass shards shimmered in the dim light. Rafayel then led me to another room—a sanctuary within his embrace—his bedroom. The windows were open, allowing the gentle sea breeze to sway the curtains in a graceful dance. The scent of the ocean wafted in, mingling with the subtle aroma of Rafayel's presence, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility. His room exuded a sense of majesty, adorned with elegant furnishings and offering a breathtaking view of the ocean beyond.

The soft glow of moonlight cast ethereal patterns across the room, illuminating the space with a magical aura. The walls exuded elegance, adorned with intricate tapestries and ornate moldings that enhanced the room's sense of refinement and sophistication. Plush carpets adorned the floor, inviting us to sink our feet into their luxurious embrace.

As Rafayel rummaged for the ointment to tend to my injuries, I couldn't help but admire the way the moonlight played upon his features, casting a halo of light around him. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, his movements graceful and deliberate as he searched for the right supplies. It was moments like these that made me acutely aware of the magnetic pull he had on me, drawing me closer with each passing second.

“I almost couldn’t concentrate fighting the Wanderer. What is that scent you’re wearing?” Rafayel's curiosity sparked as he rummaged for ointment to tend to my injuries. "Is that the perfume I gave you?" he inquired, his interest piqued by the lingering fragrance in the air.

I nodded in affirmation, a small smile gracing my lips. I watched as his gaze lingered on me, his curiosity evident as he took in the lingering fragrance of my perfume. The air between us seemed to crackle with anticipation, charged with an unspoken tension that left me breathless with excitement. As he leaned in to take another whiff of the scent, I couldn't help but feel nervously attracted to him.

Rafayel exuded an irresistible allure tonight, his hair tousled in a way that accentuated his rugged charm. There was a disoriented yet undeniably magnetic quality about him, as if my perfume had ensnared his senses and left him spellbound. He moved with a sense of urgency, flitting back and forth between attending to my injuries and searching for the ointment, his actions driven by an unspoken desire to be near me. Clad in a white collared shirt adorned with delicate pearly buttons, Rafayel's attire only added to his allure. The fabric clung to his frame, hinting at the contours of his muscular physique, while his slightly exposed chest sent a flurry of anticipation coursing through me, my heart quickening with every beat.

"Show me the scratches," Rafayel requested, his voice laced with concern. Despite the worry etched on his face, there was an underlying warmth that drew me closer to him. Feeling a surge of confidence enveloping me in his presence, I decided to indulge in a playful moment, relishing the anticipation building between us. With a coy grin, I allowed my fingers to glide along the fabric of my dress, slowly revealing the scratch nestled provocatively above my upper thigh.

"Right here," I said in a low, teasing voice, relishing the subtle flush that crept up his ears and the intensity of his gaze fixed on my exposed skin.

Rafayel's gaze intensified, his eyes locked on the exposed skin, his breath growing heavy. With a sense of urgency, he retrieved the ointment from his drawer, his movements deliberate as he applied it to my skin. His touch lingered, evoking a tingling sensation that stirred a rush of anticipation within me. “And here,” I continued, pointing to the scratch on my chest, just above my décolletage, revelling in the closeness between us. Rafayel stood before me, his proximity closer than ever, his eyes glazed over with delight as he leaned in to inhale the intoxicating scent once more on my chest to my neck. His breath hitched, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against my skin, a silent testament to the effect I had on him.

My heart raced with excitement as his touch lingered, each caress invoking a cascade of tingling sensations that danced across my skin like a symphony of desire. The air between us hummed with a potent energy, thick with desire and longing.

“Are you okay?” I asked, a surge of concern washing over me as Rafayel seemed to falter. Supporting him to a bench nestled at the foot of his bed, I sat beside him and searched his eyes for any signs of distress. “I don’t know,” Rafayel confessed, his voice tinged with wonder. “I was fine before the party started. But as soon as you came, I got caught up with your scent. And the more I catch the scent of your perfume, the more it seems to bewitch me. It's like...” He trailed off, struggling to articulate the intensity of his feelings.

Rafayel's confession left me breathless, his words painting a picture of vulnerability and desire. "It's like your scent has woven its way into my very being," he murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and fascination, his breath hitching with each word. The intensity in his gaze held me captive, drawing me closer to him as if we were bound by an invisible thread of longing. As Rafayel admitted his vulnerability, a surge of tenderness washed over me, mingling with the raw passion that surged between us.

He took my hand, bringing it close to his face to revel in the scent, almost as if he were savouring a rare delicacy. His touch was electric, sparking a rush of warmth that enveloped me, each caress leaving me breathless and yearning for more.

It’s like he’s being taken over by my perfume. He’s caressing my hand with his face, indulging in the scent that’s making him high. While he’s being obsessed with my scent, I couldn't help but notice the opal watch adorning his wrist, the one I had gifted him. With a soft smile, I traced the lines of his face with gentle reverence, feeling the weight of his words in the air between us. “You’re watching the watch. It suits you well,” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rafayel's response was a whisper of his own, filled with promise and longing. "It's a reminder that I'm bound to you forever." Taking his hand in mine, I brought it close to my face, allowing him to revel in the scent that seemed to draw us closer with each passing moment. His gaze locked with mine, a silent plea lingering in his eyes.

"Kiss me, please?” he breathed, his voice a soft plea that stirred something deep within me.

Lost in the moment, I couldn't resist the allure of his disheveled appearance, his tousled hair adding to his irresistible charm. Without hesitation, I leaned in and kissed him, savouring the taste of his lips against mine. As the kiss deepened, I felt Rafayel's hands pull me closer, his touch sparked a symphony of sensations, each note playing a melody of longing that reverberated through every fiber of my being.

Rafayel's grip tightened around my waist, drawing me impossibly closer as our ardor surged to intoxicating heights. Feeling emboldened by his touch, I reciprocated his desire, my hands trailing down his neck to the exposed skin of his chest, then further down to the defined contours of his abs. With each touch, he reacted, his body jolting responding to my caress with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

Still nestled in his embrace, I rested my left arm against his back, feeling the reassuring warmth of his skin beneath my touch. With my right fingers, I traced delicate patterns along his abdomen, following the enticing path of his happy trail as it disappeared below his belly button. Each stroke elicited a shiver of pleasure from Rafayel, his body responding to my touch with a mix of anticipation and desire.

With a daring glint in his eye, Rafayel teased, "Don't take your hands off me. Go further down, I dare you." His voice carried a seductive challenge, a playful invitation to delve deeper into the depths of our shared desire without inhibition.

His words hung in the air like a potent aphrodisiac, sending a rush of anticipation coursing through me, urging me to delve deeper into the realms of carnal delight. With a mischievous grin, I accepted his challenge, allowing my fingertips to continue their descent, tracing a tantalising path along the contours of his body. My fingers trailed from his abs to his pants, tiptoeing and caressing his growing erection with just my finger. Rafayel's hand reached out, a silent plea for restraint, yet his eyes betrayed the true depth of his desire. 

“If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to leave,” Rafayel murmured, his gaze locked with mine—a silent invitation to indulge in the passion that simmered between us. The essence of Rafayel's words permeated the air, lingering like an intoxicating fragrance that enveloped us both. His gaze, locked with mine, spoke volumes, silently beckoning me to embrace the intoxicating passion that simmered between us.

"Good," I purred, my voice laced with a hint of mischief. "Because I don't plan on stopping." Rafayel's reaction was immediate, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips at my words. With a boldness that matched his own, I brushed his hand aside, allowing my fingers to continue their languid exploration of his hardened length. Each stroke elicited a soft gasp from him, his body responding eagerly to my touch.

His breath hitched in his throat, a symphony of desire escaping his lips in soft moans that filled the air. 

My fingers traced patterns of arousal along his length, teasing and tempting him with every caress. Leaning in closer, I whispered words of longing against his skin, my breath hot against his ear. With each passing moment, the anticipation grew thicker, the hunger in his eyes mirroring my own. I revelled in the delicious torture of the moment, savouring the intoxicating dance of desire that enveloped us both.

With a daring glint in my eye, I continued to tease him, drawing circles on his throbbing arousal, each touch sending a surge of pleasure coursing through him. My fingers lingered on his clothed erection before deftly unbuttoning his pants, granting me access to his hard erection. With each button undone, my anticipation swelled, eager to explore the depths of his desire and fulfil our mutual craving for ecstasy.

Once I unbuttoned Rafayel’s pants, I liberated his shaft from its fabric confines. Unveiling his arousal, I found myself entranced by the mesmerising sight. Long, girthy and slightly curved. I couldn’t imagine the sensations it would evoke and how it would feel like being filled by him. I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his skin as I whispered words of longing. 

His hardened length stood tall and commanding, pulsating with an undeniable vigor that spoke volumes. Without hesitation, I leaned in, my lips parting as I released a small stream of saliva onto his throbbing member. The slickness of my saliva enhanced the sensation as I slowly wrapped my hand around his hardness, feeling the heat and hardness beneath my touch. Our eyes locked in a heated exchange, a silent understanding passing between us as I continued to stroke him with deliberate slowness.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air as Rafayel, emboldened by desire, reached for the top of my dress, pulling it down to reveal my pert nipple. His touch was gentle yet firm as he traced the contours of my breast, his warm breath igniting a tempest of sensations within me. I gasped as his lips closed around my nipple, his tongue dancing and swirling, setting my nerve endings ablaze with ecstasy. The intensity of his ministrations sent bolts of raw pleasure shooting through my body, kindling an insatiable desire that surged from the depths of my being.

"It's hard not to bite what's already near my mouth," Rafayel chuckled softly, his voice a velvety whisper tinged with desire. The playful edge in his tone heightened the already intoxicating arousal that surrounded us like a tangible heat. With each stroke of my hand and flick of his tongue, he seemed to embrace his primal instincts and his movements growing increasingly feral.

Sensing my eagerness, Rafayel lifted me effortlessly, guiding me to straddle him as we made our way to his satin bed awaiting us. His touch was electrifying, his hands roaming over my body with a possessive urgency that set my skin ablaze with desire. "May I?" Rafayel's voice was a husky whisper, his eyes dark with longing as he gestured towards the dress that adorned my form.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as I surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

With practiced ease, Rafayel deftly stripped me of my dress, leaving me clad only in delicate lace and the weapon concealed within. As the dress pooled at my feet, I discreetly removed the gun, tucking it away in a safe place, ensuring our passion remained undisturbed by external threats. In turn, Rafayel shed his top, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest, each muscle defined and sculpted beneath the surface. Despite undressing, he kept the watch on. As he tenderly guided me onto the plush satin sheets, his gaze locked with mine, his lips leaving a trail of delicate kisses along my skin, each touch igniting a wildfire of sensation. With each caress, he worshipped every inch of my being, his hands tracing the contours of my body with reverence, as if I were a precious work of art to be cherished.

Descending with purpose, his lips trailed a path of anticipation down to my stomach, then further still, until he reached the apex of my desire. With skilful hands, he parted my folds, eagerly savouring my taste as his tongue explored every inch of my quivering flesh. Lost in the throes of passion, he ravished me with fervent kisses and expert strokes, driving me to the brink of ecstasy.

With a gentle gesture, he offered his fingers to my eager mouth, coaxing me to coat them with my saliva. Without hesitation, I complied, relishing the taste of our shared desire. As he slowly inserted his finger into my dripping core, a wave of pleasure surged through me, intensifying with each rhythmic circle he traced.

The sensation was overwhelming, my body trembling with need as he skilfully brought me to the brink of release. And in a moment of pure ecstasy, I surrendered to the pleasure, succumbing to the powerful climax he had orchestrated with his masterful touch.

As waves of pleasure continued to ripple through my body, I basked in the afterglow of my climax, feeling every nerve ending alight with bliss. I luxuriated in the lingering sensation, relishing the intoxicating rush that coursed through me.

But even amidst the haze of ecstasy, my desire for Rafayel burned brighter than ever, urging me to reciprocate the pleasure he had so generously bestowed upon me. With a languid grace, I shifted my focus, my gaze locking with his as I conveyed my silent gratitude.

“I wanna try something,” I murmured, a mischievous glint in my eye as I reached for the white ribbon that adorned my hair. Removing it with a practiced twist, I used the ribbon to bind Rafayel's hands, securing them above his head as I took my rightful place atop him. With a playful smirk, I teased his senses, trailing kisses and caresses along his body.

The satin ribbon felt smooth against my fingertips as I expertly tied his wrists, the fabric contrasting with the heat radiating from his skin. With each knot, I could sense his anticipation building, his breath quickening in anticipation of what was to come. “Is this like… a new kink of yours?” Rafayel teased, a playful grin dancing on his lips as he observed me with curious amusement. His eyes sparkled with intrigue, betraying the hint of excitement stirring within him. 

I responded with a coy grin, my lips curling into a mischievous smile as I nodded in affirmation.

As I leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips, I could feel the tension in his muscles, his body straining against the restraints in a delicious mix of desire and surrender.

With his hands bound above his head, Rafayel lay helpless beneath me, his eyes dark with desire as I explored every inch of his body with kisses and feather-light touches. The air was thick with anticipation as I trailed my lips along his jawline, down his neck, and across his chest. With each caress, I could feel the intensity of his arousal building, his skin flushing with heat as he surrendered to the pleasure of my touch.

Rafayel's breath hitched in his throat as I continued my sensual assault, his moans filling the room with a symphony of pleasure. The faint scent of arousal hung in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of our desire as I teased him relentlessly. “Fuck…Y/N, stop teasing me,” His voice was a husky whisper, each word laced with desperation and longing. His hands strained against the ribbon, a silent plea for more, as I revelled in the power I held over him.

I leaned in closer, my lips hovering just out of reach as I whispered, "You know you love it when I tease you." The heat of his skin beneath my fingertips was intoxicating, driving me to push him further, to see how far I could take him before he begged for release.

With a wicked grin, I allowed him to untie himself, his hands immediately finding their way to my body, pulling me closer in a desperate embrace. His hands roam freely as he pulled me closer, our bodies intertwining in a passionate embrace. Guiding his throbbing member to my dripping core, I lowered myself onto him, savouring the exquisite feeling of fullness as he filled me completely.

I stroke Rafayel's cock with my clit, relishing the sensation of his hardness against my sensitive flesh. Releasing his cock from my core momentarily, I coat his pulsating member with my saliva, reveling in the intimacy of the act. The look of desire in his eyes fuels my own arousal, and I love every moment of tempting and teasing him.

Inching deeper, I circle my hips slowly, ensuring every movement brings him exquisite pleasure. His moans of ecstasy spur me on, driving me to explore every inch of his length with my tight, wet pussy. With each deliberate motion, I feel him responding to my touch, his cock throbbing with need beneath me.

"So fucking pretty, my princess," Rafayel moans, his words stirring a carnal hunger deep within me, every syllable like a siren's call, beckoning me further into the abyss of ecstasy. The endearing nickname he gives me only heightens my arousal, causing my pussy to tighten around him involuntarily. His eyes widen in surprise and delight, realising the effect his words have on me. With each fervent thrust, I surrender to the pleasure, riding him with an insatiable hunger that knows no bounds.

"I'm gonna—,” Rafayel groaned, his voice strained with desire as he neared the brink of release. 

With a wicked grin, I withdrew from his pulsating member, the taste of his arousal lingering on my tongue. "Cum in here," I purred, my lips parting in invitation as I offered myself to him once more. Rafayel's eyes widened in anticipation, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him.

In a moment of pure ecstasy, Rafayel released his cum into my waiting mouth, his essence a delicious elixir that I eagerly savoured. Being the insatiable vixen that I am, I devoured his cock for the last time, each movement of my tongue prolonging his orgasm and intensifying his pleasure. His moans grew deeper, more desperate, as he held onto me tightly, not wanting to let go. With a teasing swivel of my tongue on the tip of his cock, his whole body jerked in response, his desire reaching new heights.

As he throbbed with the aftershocks of pleasure, I met his gaze with a sultry smile, his heartfelt admission of love resounding in the air like a whispered promise. "I adore you, every inch of you," he confessed—his voice a seductive melody that danced on the edge of desire.

"Please… never leave me again," he murmured, his hands cradling my face with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his longing. The sincerity in his gaze, the yearning in his touch, echoed the depths of his desire to hold onto our love, to never let it slip away again.

Savouring the moment, I met his gaze with a sultry smile, my own confession of love hanging between us like a delicate promise waiting to be fulfilled. “I promise. Among all the fishies in the sea, you're the one who caught my eye. Unless you’re begging to be released again,” I teased, my voice tinged with affection as I gazed into Rafayel's mesmerising eyes, feeling the weight of my love for him in every word.

Rafayel and I found ourselves entangled in a playful banter afterwards.

“Says the one who doesn't know how to row the boat!” Rafayel teased, casting a knowing glance at me. The memory of our ill-fated boating excursion flashed through my mind, a moment of levity amidst the tension. "Says the one who ended up tossing his lunch overboard.... and well, couldn't resist taking the bait,” I playfully retorted, a mischievous glint in my eyes as I teased Rafayel. He mockingly gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, the audacity! Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you're just here for the catch and release." I leaned in closer, my lips curling into a smirk. "Well, you must admit, Rafayel, I do have quite the knack for reeling you in."

He chuckled, his laughter filling the air as he leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear. Touché indeed." Just then, Rafayel leaned in, his lips brushing against my neck as he inhaled the lingering scent of plum and freesia. "I need you to spray more perfume on here, Ms. Bodyguard," he murmured with a playful tone, his breath warm against my skin. I playfully swatted his arm, laughing at the ticklish sensation. His playful request to apply the perfume only added to the intimacy between us, as I surrendered to the warmth of his embrace. Allowing myself to bask in the warmth of Rafayel's presence, I closed my eyes. In his arms, I found solace, a sanctuary where love and laughter intertwined to form an unbreakable bond.

—by prettyobsessed🎀⋆⁺₊⋆ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Editor’s note: this is for the Rafayel girlies out there! i intended to write something sweeter for Rafayel's smut, but the direction changed. hmm, we'll see. i might tweak around a bit more. also, doesn't Nero seem a little suspicious? i recently replayed the chapters again and started noticing his peculiar behaviour. but either way, hope you enjoyed this one! ᵔᴗᵔ

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (1/?)

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat. Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.” Or the one where you fall in love with the widow of an ex-lover you never knew was married.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6k+ | Warnings: None for now | A/N: I wrote about 30k words of the Succession Wanda but hit a wall in terms of plot progression. So that's on hold. Allow me to apologize with this two-shot. P.S. I've always wanted to write for Leigh, and this idea came out of nowhere. Loosely based on canon.

Masterlist | Next Part

-

Leigh wakes up in a bed that’s not hers for the first time in months, and the unfamiliar scent of freshly cut grass and cedarwood almost immediately overwhelms her senses, suffocating her with its cloying sweetness.

“Jules?” she croaks out, her mind clawing its way through the fog. When it lifts a few seconds later, Leigh realizes where she is and what she’s done.

And how she’s very, very naked underneath the sheets. 

The person lying next to her in the bed starts to move. Right away, she knows it's not her sister, unless she's somehow caught up in a prank she doesn't find amusing at all. And so, she braces herself for her dead husband’s brother's voice to shatter the silence.

But it never comes. Instead, an arm drapes itself across her stomach, pulling her towards warmth. Leigh gets the sudden urge to vomit, except she skipped dinner and there isn’t anything to bring up. Last night, in a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Matt's absence, she had reached out to someone she shouldn't have. Someone Leigh didn’t even like to begin with. A knot tightens further in her stomach as she considers what her husband’s ghost would think. 

Would he approve? Would he feel betrayed or disgusted as she does?

Careful not to disturb Danny, who still sleeps soundly beside her, Leigh slips out of bed with the grace of a cat. She gathers her clothes from the floor and dresses herself with heavy limbs, each garment reminding her of how Danny had taken them off her body. 

As messed up as it sounds, Leigh can't help but draw parallels between him and Matt. They share the same blood, but there's not a single trait in Danny that triggers memories of Matt. With Danny, it's all about his own desires, his movements reflecting his wants. But with Matt, it's like he's always bending to Leigh’s will, submitting to her.

It tears Leigh’s heart anew. 

As she finishes dressing, Leigh glances around searching for her watch. She second-guesses whether she even wore it last night, the disarray of her thoughts mirrored in the disarray of the room. Her eyes scan the bedside table, the floor, and the dresser, but there's no sign of the timepiece.

A sudden sound from Danny startles her, and she freezes in place. She doesn't believe she can prevent herself from literally bolting out of the house if he so much as breathes her name. She’s rooted in her spot however, waiting for his breathing to steady, her heart pounding in her ears. Only when she's certain he's in a deep slumber does she release a pent-up breath, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. In that moment, she mentally curses herself once more, acutely aware of the mess she's created, before tiptoeing towards the bedroom door and abandoning the search for her watch altogether.

As she considers her options, she entertains the idea of escaping town altogether. Maybe if she leaves, she can avoid Danny for the coming days, possibly forever. Leigh wonders if she ever made Matt feel this trapped, inadvertently pushing him to leave in the only way he knew she could never follow.

-

Several days after ignoring Danny’s calls and attempts to talk to her, he retaliates by telling her the most absurd thing about his brother.

He tells Leigh she wasn’t the only one. There had been two others in the last year. 

And the last one, he fell for hard. Or at least that’s what Danny believes.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, her eyes beginning to sting a little. “If you think making me hate Matt would change my mind about us, then—”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, Leigh,” Danny interrupts calmly, shaking his head. “I just believe you deserve to know the truth. Maybe it'll help you stop blaming yourself and move on.”

“It just seems a little too convenient that this 'truth' works in your favor to tarnish Matt's reputation, doesn't it?” Leigh points out with a humorless smile. She’s always thought the worst of Danny, but she never imagined he’d go as far as fabricating a story just to get her on his side.

“I understand your skepticism, I do. I couldn’t believe it at first either,” he says, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the transgression he’s confessing were his own, not Matt’s. “But think about it. Have you ever walked in on Matt just as he's ending a call? Noticed how he's suddenly started spending more time at work, consistently twice a week? And what about his sudden interest in going to the gym and being conscious about what he eats? These are all signs, Leigh.”

His words push her to think about it, even though she doesn't want to. Leigh starts to reflect on how Matt had stopped leaving his phone unattended during showers, how he had suddenly logged off his social media accounts from her laptop, or the noticeable enhancement of his physique—all juxtaposed against a lingering decrease in his appetite for intimacy with his wife.

“I…” Leigh hesitates, searching for a rebuttal but finding none. Then Danny gives her a look—one of pity and longing that makes her want to crawl out of her skin—and suddenly she finds herself vehemently denying all of it.

“I still don’t believe you,” she says, desperately clinging to the last shreds of the illusion she had crafted around her marriage.

Danny's expression remains unreadable and it drives her further up the wall. “Fine. Believe what you want, Leigh. I'm just trying to look out for you.”

Leigh's jaw tightens. “Regardless of what you say—whether it’s real or not—I know what I want, and it's not to be with you.”

He keeps up the stony facade, opting instead to pull a card out of his wallet and hand it to her. Leigh accepts the card, her fingers quivering, as a solitary tear finally breaks free and trails down her cheek.

Danny begins to reach out, intending to brush away her tear, but hesitates at the last moment, withdrawing his hand. 

“See for yourself. Goodbye, Leigh.”

-

Just two days later, Leigh finds herself in front of the small animal clinic you own, situated a short walk away from Beautiful Beast—the fitness studio her mom owns and where she works. 

Though the sun hangs low in the sky, she's been awake long before it began to rise. She waits for the receptionist to flip the sign from “Sorry, we’re closed” to “Come in, we’re open,” ignoring the curious glance directed her way when the receptionist notices she isn’t accompanied by a furry companion. With a determined smile on her lips, Leigh pushes open the door and steps into the clinic knowing she'll leave it with answers—whatever they might be.

The receptionist looks up from her computer, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern when she sees the look on Leigh's face. “Can I help you?” 

Leigh clears her throat, trying to steady her voice. She tells her she’s looking for you, her words coming out in a rush.

The receptionist furrows her brow. “Do you have an appointment?”

Leigh shakes her head, blinking rapidly as she comes up with an excuse. “No, it's... it's urgent,” she stammers. “I need to speak to her right away.”

The receptionist appears mildly annoyed, but it doesn’t faze Leigh in the slightest. “I'll check if she's available. Please take a seat,” she says.

Leigh nods mutely and sinks into one of the chairs. She clasps her hands together tightly in her lap, trying to quell the rising tide of panic threatening to consume her. She imagines Matt’s ghost watching her this very second, frowning at her doubts about their relationship by coming here in the first place. 

And what if she’s wrong? What if Matt wasn’t cheating on her after all? But Leigh had to come here to put the issue to rest. Matt would understand why she needs to do this. He always did. 

A few moments later, the door behind the reception desk opens and the receptionist emerges from it, motioning for Leigh to enter. 

Leigh finds you standing behind your desk, your back to her, arranging a stack of medical records on the shelf.

“Dr. Y/N?” Leigh calls out softly.

You turn around at the sound of her voice, and when she sees you for the first time, Leigh immediately knows.

Danny was telling the truth. It takes everything in her not to break down in front of a stranger her husband fell in love with.

You, however, don’t recognize the woman standing before you, thinking perhaps she's simply one of your past clients. You offer Leigh a contrite smile. “You wanted to see me? Miss…?”

“Leigh Shaw.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell either, but you keep a friendly smile on your face. 

Leigh hesitates for a moment before continuing, her voice sounding fragile. “I need to talk to you about my husband,” she says, studying your clueless face. You're stunning and accomplished—a doctor and a businesswoman. You have a smile that could brighten even the darkest room.

Matt never stood a chance, did he?

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat.

Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation. 

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.”

-

After leaving your clinic, Leigh heads straight to Matt’s grave, stomping angrily on the sparse sheet of grass that has begun to sprout from his resting place.

“You're such a fucking liar!” she spits out at the unsusceptible headstone, the heat of fury spreading through her veins and to every molecule in her body. The cold wind lashes through her hair as Leigh drops to her knees, feeling like the entire world is bearing down on her. She reaches out to touch the cold marble of the headstone, still seeking solace from the one who caused her so much hurt.

“Why, Matt?”

She knows there will be no answers—only the cold silence of death.

Leigh feels a surge of anger rise within her once more as she recalls the way you looked at her—the pain in your eyes when she revealed to you that Matt had died. What you two had was real, as real as what she had with him. She had been hoping it was at least just a fling, but alas, she couldn’t be further from her assumptions.

“I can't believe I ever loved you,” Leigh mutters bitterly. She wants to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all. But all she can do is clutch at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the earth as if trying to anchor herself against the torrent of pain crippling her chest. Tears stream down her face as she finally collapses to the ground, assuming a fetal position, whispering, “I can't believe I still do.”

-

You continue to stare at the space that Leigh previously occupied for a good ten minutes, not moving an inch from where you stood—shocked, hurt, confused. Matt, the man you had been seeing, was dead. And not just dead, but married. Married to someone else, someone named Leigh Shaw, a name so important but he managed to hide from you for weeks. 

Matt had never mentioned a wife, never wore a ring, never hinted at the existence of someone waiting for him at home. If he had, you would never have let him get as close to you like he did. You've always respected boundaries and families—and now you've discovered that unwittingly, you've destroyed one.

Leigh's departure was swift, just as soon as you confessed to having feelings for her husband and how Matt reciprocated those same feelings. Leigh, ruthless in her questioning, demanded to know if you had slept with Matt. You swore you never did, detailing how Matt abruptly ghosted you after your first kiss, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and missed calls. 

You wanted so badly for Leigh to believe you, and you think she did. However, none of it mattered in the end. He cheated all the same. He hurt the woman he made a promise to love and stay faithful to. 

Because of you.

You feel sickened by your own naivety; by the way you have allowed yourself to be fooled by his lies. And yet, amidst the anger and self-recrimination, there is a profound sense of loss. Despite the circumstances of your relationship, you had cared for Matt deeply. Maybe even loved him.

But how much of it was real? How much of it was not about him running from his problems with his wife and using you as a distraction? The ease with which he slipped out of your life suddenly fits into place.

While his passing deeply rattled you, it's now largely overshadowed by thoughts of his widow.

Leigh Shaw.

Earlier, even though you said sorry over and over, it felt like it wasn't enough, and you wanted to do more to make her feel better. What stopped you was the realization that you're likely the last person she would want comfort from. A sense of helplessness washes over you as you come to the conclusion that there's nothing you can do to undo the damage that's been done. Matt is gone, and Leigh's world has been shattered in ways you can't even begin to imagine. 

Moving on from Matt is something you know you could do. He wasn’t the first person to break your heart, be it through deceit or demise. But the situation with Leigh is unfamiliar territory.

How do you fix this for her? 

Will she even let you?

-

When Leigh tells Jules about Matt’s infidelity, her sister fixates on the detail that she slept with Danny. It’s not the response Leigh expected. She anticipated shock, and maybe even a bit of outrage on her behalf. But instead, Jules latches onto the one detail that seems to pale in comparison to the enormity of Matt's betrayal.

“But how could you?” Jules asks, her voice incredulous as she chews on a dumpling. “How could you sleep with Danny?”

Faced with her sister's disapproval, Leigh finds herself clamming up. “Are you kidding? I just told you that Matt was cheating on me, and your response is to judge me for hooking up with a single guy while I'm single?” Leigh retorts, hastily wiping her lips with a napkin.

Jules just shakes her head, putting down her chopsticks. “Leigh, I get it. Matt’s betrayal is awful, and you have every right to be angry. But the ‘single guy’ you hooked up with isn't just any guy, and you know it. You don't think it's weird? What would people think? That all this time, sleeping with your husband’s brother has always been an option?”

Leigh's eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she's speechless. She hadn't—didn't want to entertain the idea of what sleeping with Danny would imply. She was chasing a feeling; any feeling that wasn’t emptiness. And with Danny, she did feel something, even if it was regret and shame. At least it proved she was still capable of feeling at all.

“It… just happened,” Leigh murmurs, rubbing her temples. Hollowness and migraines, she's almost forgotten.

“And? Is it going to be a ‘thing’?” Jules probes, eyebrows raised.

Leigh lifts her gaze, biting back a defensive retort. Instead she simply says, “Absolutely not.”

Jules seems satisfied with that, knocking back the rest of her beer. “Good.”

But as Jules moves on, Leigh’s left stewing in her own thoughts. Telling Jules felt like yelling into a void—exhausting and utterly pointless. Now she’s dreading the thought of breaking the news to Drew. If Jules’ reaction was any indication, she’s in for another round of disappointment. 

Being a young widow already sets her apart, but nothing makes her feel more alone than her family's inability to truly grasp her grief. She guesses she's been feeling alone for years, long before Matt came into her life and subsequently left it.

Jules, catching the tail end of Leigh's distant look, leans in and asks, “So, what's the plan now? You still going to that grief counseling group? Danny's been showing up there, right?”

Leigh's gaze sharpens, a bit taken aback by the sudden shift back to practicalities. “Are you asking about my plans with Danny? Because I already told you, that's over. I'm never seeing him again.”

Jules raises her hands in a placating gesture, mindful that one wrong move could tip Leigh over the edge for good. “Not really, no. I'm asking if you're still keen on processing your grief. Now that it turns out Matt was... well, a snake.”

Jules calling Matt a snake doesn't sit well with Leigh even with his cheating coming to light. But she supposes it's Jules' way of being on her side every once in a while. It's a clumsy attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm still going,” Leigh finally says, her gaze dropping to her lap before meeting Jules' eyes again. “Not for Danny, not for anyone else, but for me. Turns out, finding out your rotting husband was living a double life does a number on you. Who knew, right?”

Jules cracks a small, rueful smile at that and says, “Who knew indeed.”

Leigh thinks back to the time when she believed she knew Matt inside and out, a belief so deeply ingrained it felt like a cornerstone of her identity as his wife. She prided herself on their connection, convinced that they shared everything—every thought, every fear, every dream. It was a pride rooted in the belief that she knew him better than anyone else could, and he, her, in the same intimate manner.

It was the kind of recognition that’s not only about knowing his favorite color or the way he took his coffee. It’s deeper and more layered. She knew the exact tone of voice he'd use when he was about to apologize, the look in his eyes when he was holding back tears, the subtle shift in his posture when he was trying to be braver than he felt. And she thought he knew her just as intricately—the silent language of her sighs, the meaning behind her quietest smiles, the small, everyday details that they believed only they could understand about each other.

“It's hard, you know? Feeling like you're mourning someone who never really existed,” Leigh mumbles after a long pause.

“Yeah, I can't even imagine,” Jules responds, reaching across the table to give Leigh's hand a brief squeeze. “But I'm here, okay? Even if I don't always get it right.”

Jules, Drew, Danny, her mom—all of them—rarely get it right. It has always been Matt. 

He has always been all she has and needed. 

Even if Leigh wasn't aware that she was probably just getting his scraps.

-

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps thinking over the next several days. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It doesn’t help that there’s a new member who has also been widowed, and she’s sharing about her late husband who had quite a number of mistresses throughout their eighteen years of marriage.

Leigh listens, her fingers twisted together in her lap, as the woman talks about the signs she missed, the lies she believed.

“I just keep thinking,” the woman's voice breaks, “if I'd been more attentive, more... I don't know, less demanding, maybe things would've been different.”

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps screaming inside. Maybe I pushed him to it.

-

It took Leigh a long time to return to the apartment she shared with Matt after his passing. 

Mostly, it's because Leigh found it difficult to confront the scattered remnants of him that would remain untouched in his absence. No longer would he be picking up his favorite shirt or completing another page of his crossword puzzle book. Yet, these belongings would remain his, just as Leigh felt she still belonged to him.

So it’s ironic that now, surrounded by the same belongings in her bedroom at her mother’s home, she's being overwhelmed by the impulse to turn them all into ashes. In a sudden frenzy, Leigh grabs a box and begins to throw everything inside. The sound of her ragged breathing fills the room, only matched by the soft thuds of objects landing in the cardboard. 

“Stupid fucking toys!” she shouts, tossing a figurine with more force than necessary.

“And this shirt—what were you thinking?” She grabs a garishly patterned fabric, shaking it at the empty air as if expecting an answer.

Her voice cracks, “You're not even here, and you're driving me crazy!”

As Leigh's wrath burns through the remnants of Matt’s life, her thoughts take a dark turn. The things he owned, the pieces of his life flying from her hand—it all leads her back to the one person who had a piece of him, a piece that was never hers.

The thought of your face, the one that belonged to him too at one point, flashes in her mind, and she's on the edge of losing all control. 

If only Leigh could throw you into the box too.

Finally, she finds the book he gave her for her last birthday, the one she never read, and for a moment, her movements pause. Then, with a cry of anguish, she tosses it in as well. When the box is full, she kicks it. Once, twice, thrice—each kick releasing a burst of pent-up fury until she's gasping for breath.

A knock at the door startles her. It's soft but persistent, making it obvious that whoever is outside has heard the commotion in her room. “Leigh, honey, are you done in there?” Amy's voice seeps through the wood.

Leigh wipes at her eyes. “Almost. I, uh… just give me a minute,” she calls back. She’s not done—not really. But she’ll probably set the house on fire if she doesn’t stop here.

Pushing herself up, Leigh opens the door. She knows the sight she presents isn't pretty—eyes swollen red, nose a mess, and those dark circles. But her mom has seen this look more times than either would care to count.

“You okay?” her mom asks, though the answer's written all over Leigh's face.

Leigh shakes her head, no energy to pretend.

“Want some breakfast?”

Again, “No,” slips out.

Then, “Need a ride to the studio?” her mom tries again.

“Yes,” Leigh finds herself saying, clinging to the offer like a lifeline, a small acknowledgment that life, somehow, must go on.

-

The following day, Leigh looks at the box, then at everything around her. She mutters, “Screw this,” and starts pulling everything out of the box, putting it all back where it came from.

-

Leigh's back at running, not because she loves it, but because the sun insists on poking her awake before the rest of the world stirs. It's an old hobby, dusted off to fill the gaping mornings before her first yoga class. 

It’s easy to do because she realizes she’s good at it. Leigh’s only been at it for just a couple of weeks and already she's feeling fitter, faster. She likes the pain too, not being aware before that there are different kinds of pain, and some of them do feel good—addicting even. 

Mid-thought, her routine jog takes a wild left turn: stranded in the middle of the bustling traffic is a French Bulldog, looking decidedly out of place. Ignoring the honks and the near misses, Leigh bolts across the street. It's a bit of a mad dash, dodging cars that are swerving and braking hard. She scoops him up in her arms and doesn’t stop to think about the close calls. 

It hits her then—she's surprised at her own gutsiness, not even pausing to think that she could've been clipped by a car not paying attention. Maybe all this time spent wrestling with thoughts of death has brought her to a strange peace with it and is no longer scared of it. It's like she's danced with death so much, it's just another shadow she passes by—not something that paralyzes her in place anymore.

Leigh’s not sure if being this fearless is actually a good thing though.

After cooling her heels on the sidewalk for half an hour, with no owner in sight, she shrugs and decides he’s coming home with her.

Jules gives her a scrutinizing look the moment she walks in. “What, you went out for a run and decided to get a dog?”

“Rescue mission,” Leigh shoots back, setting the dog down. “Found him in the middle of Second Street. Seems he’s lost.”

Jules doesn't miss a beat, heading straight for the newcomer. She kneels, her hands gently petting the dog, her eyes softening in a way that Leigh rarely sees. The dog, clearly pleased with the attention, wags its tail vigorously. Her eyes are practically giving her away, so it sounds almost funny when she looks up at Leigh and says, “Just don't get too attached, okay?”

“I won’t, which is why I named him Visitor. It’s temporary,” Leigh says with a smile, looking very proud of the name she came up with.

Jules chuckles, standing up and brushing off her knees. “Nerd. Matt would've gotten a kick out of that.”

The room just freezes at the mention of his name. Talking about Matt is like walking into a glass door you didn't see.

Jules tries to backpedal, “Hey, sorry, I—” But Leigh's quick to brush it off with a shrug. 

“Don't worry about it. Let's just figure out where Visitor here belongs, okay?”

As they refocus on Visitor, Jules can't help but notice the way the dog favors one leg as he trots over to sit snugly between Leigh's legs, looking up at her with those big, trusting eyes. “Looks like he's got a bit of a limp,” Jules points out.

Leigh frowns and leans down to get a closer look, her fingers gently probing around Visitor's leg until she finds a tender spot. The moment she applies a little pressure, Visitor yelps, pulling away sharply and retreating a few steps.

Jules winces at the reaction. “Yeah, that's not good. Maybe we should take him to a vet?”

Leigh can barely hold back a grimace as her brain immediately links you to the situation.

“What's wrong?” Jules notices the sudden shift in Leigh’s mood. “There's St. Mary's Animal Clinic nearby. I heard they're great.”

That's your clinic. Leigh's throat tightens at the thought, the memories of her visit flooding back. “Are there others around here?”

Jules looks puzzled at the question. “I mean, I can look it up, but what's wrong with St. Mary's?”

Leigh considers whether she should tell Jules about meeting you. Part of her really knows it’s unfair to dislike you, especially if you genuinely didn't know Matt was married. But she knows Jules too well—tell her, and it'll turn into a whole thing. Leigh's not sure she's up for that drama.

Despite her reservations, Leigh decides to bite the bullet, her curiosity getting the better of her. Besides, if she can’t be brave enough to talk about this in her counseling group, she should probably at least tell Jules.

“Actually, Jules,” Leigh begins, “St. Mary's Animal Clinic is where... where she works.”

Jules's eyes widen in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait, you mean... you mean her, as in…?” she stammers, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yup,” Leigh confirms, smacking her lips forcefully. 

“Oh my god—that bitch,” Jules spits out, her voice dripping with disdain before Leigh can even brace for impact.

“She didn’t know Matt’s married,” Leigh clarifies quickly.

“And you bought that?”

“I had a feeling she was telling the truth. Besides, I can’t imagine Matt being that brazen to pursue someone while married. He can be a little self-righteous sometimes,” Leigh says, only half-sure of her statement. Recently, she has to remind herself that maybe she never really knew him at all.

Then, an idea sparks in Jules's mind. “You know what?” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe this is a good opportunity. After all, she owes you one, right? Maybe she'll treat Visitor for free, to make up for being... well, you know.”

Leigh rubs her nose, skeptical of the idea. “I don't know, Jules. I don't want to impose…”

Jules leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if she's the reason you're hurting, maybe she should make it right?”

She isn't hurting because of you, not directly. That's why Jules’ suggestion hangs in the air, unappealing. Leigh remembers the pity in your eyes from that morning, and she doesn't want it. She doesn't want anything from you at all. Her resolve instantly hardens like ice. 

“No,” Leigh finally says. “I don't want her charity. I'll pay for Visitor's bills myself. And I'll keep the receipts for when his real owners show up.” It's a decision that feels surprisingly empowering, a small reclaiming of control in a world that's felt off-kilter for too long.

Jules merely sighs; she knows better than to push Leigh when her mind’s made up. 

“Have it your way.”

-

Leigh brings Visitor to St. Mary’s the very next day.

There's a certain set to her jaw, a readiness for something less than pleasant. She doesn’t need to go through reception this time because she spots you right away, escorting a client to the door, cradling their puppy in your arms. Seeing you with a pet makes Leigh realize why you’ve chosen this profession. You fit right in among the animals, she muses bitterly.

It's with a sense of satisfaction that she watches your smile dissipate as soon as your eyes land on hers. 

She strides confidently towards you, dog in arms, forcing you to quickly hand off the puppy back to its owner. Yet, you recover with a swiftness that's begrudgingly admirable as you give her a look that’s equal parts professional and friendly—like you were actually looking forward to seeing her again.

“Good morning, Leigh. How can I help you?”

Without a word, Leigh extends the dog she’s carrying towards you, a silent transfer of trust, or perhaps, necessity. You gesture towards the consultation room, an invitation she accepts with a terse nod, following you into the space where you effortlessly shift into doctor mode.

As you begin to charm her dog, she can't help but narrow her eyes. It irks her, watching Visitor take to you instantly, as if you were old friends. “What's his name?” you ask, looking up at Leigh.

“Visitor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the name, just in time for your irises to capture the light seeping through the office blinds. They glow a hazel-brown, disarmingly so. Leigh forces herself to focus back on the purpose of her visit. 

Leigh continues, “He’s limping on his left hind leg. I’d appreciate it if you can prescribe him something. I'll try not to take up too much of your time.”

Ignoring the undercurrent of Leigh's insinuation, your attention remains undividedly on Visitor. The well-being of the dog before you eclipses any personal sentiments, as it always does. 

“I'm sorry, but before we can consider any medication, I need to examine him thoroughly. It's possible he might require some lab tests to rule out anything serious,” you tell her. Despite sounding apologetic, Leigh interprets it as your polite way of telling her to fuck off and let you do your job.

As you palpate the dog's leg carefully, you begin your routine questions. “Can you tell me his birthday? Any vaccination history?”

They’re basic, but they seem to catch Leigh off guard anyway. “He’s not mine. I found him on the street yesterday,” she reveals with a reluctant sigh.

The news prompts a more detailed response from you. 

“I see. In that case, we should definitely line up some tests for Visitor. We need to ensure he doesn't have distemper or any other airborne virus that could be affecting his mobility,” you suggest, already mentally cataloging the necessary procedures.

You start detailing the tests you intend to perform, explaining their purposes and associated costs. Leigh is clearly deluged by it all and you decide to take pity on the poor woman by adding that it’s still up to her which tests to proceed with, if any at all.

“Your call, Leigh,” you tell her.

Leigh can't shake off the vibe that you're throwing a gauntlet down in front of her. It's like her inner competitor wakes up, refusing to back down. “Do all of them,” she declares, tipping her chin up towards you. “Whatever you think is best.”

“That’s a good decision. We’ll take care of it right away,” you say, already picking up the phone to call the reception for assistance. 

Leigh's still trying to get a read on you. Was her arm twisted into this choice, or did you genuinely have Visitor's best interest at heart? She's not about to hand out trust like free samples, especially when she could end up misjudging you. It’s a tricky spot, especially because she’s clearly been wrong before.

-

The tests take their time, roughly an hour, after which Leigh finds herself pacing the lobby. An additional quarter-hour trickles by before the receptionist finally calls her back into the consultation room.

“Good news,” you start, making sure to catch her eye. She meets your look briefly before her attention shifts to Visitor. “It's only a sprain. The X-ray revealed no breaks or other issues. But,” you pause, checking to see if she's still fully engaged, “his blood tests indicated a low platelet count and evidence of an infection.”

Leigh listens intently, nodding along.

You explain what this means in a clear, concise manner, avoiding medical jargon as much as possible. “It's something we can manage with medication. I'll prescribe some antibiotics for the infection and pain medication to help with his discomfort. It's important that he completes the course of antibiotics to clear the infection completely.”

You watch Leigh closely, gauging her reaction and ready to answer any questions she might have. “We'll need to keep an eye on his platelet count, so I'd like to schedule a follow-up visit next week. This will also give us a chance to check how his leg is healing.”

“Will he be okay?” she asks without looking up from Visitor, busy scratching behind his ears.

“He'll be just fine,” you reassure her, adding, “Any questions about what we discussed?”

Leigh stays silent and you take it as your cue that she doesn’t have any thoughts on the matter. As she wraps up without saying much more, you realize it's time to wrap things up too. But there's something niggling at you, something that's been on your mind since the last time she was here. You're about to let her go, but then, out of nowhere, you feel this urge to clear the air about that whole mess with Matt. 

“So, uhm, about the other week when you…” you trail off, suddenly feeling like you're balancing on a tightrope without a net. You’re not so easily spooked by confrontations, but Leigh makes you nervous in a way you can’t explain. “I guess I just wanted to say sorry… for your loss, and for—”

“Does he really need to take pain medication for seven days?” Leigh cuts you off suddenly. It’s sharp enough for you to shut your mouth and abandon your attempt to get personal.

“Yes, the full course is important to ensure he's comfortable and that the inflammation goes down properly. It's just as crucial as the antibiotics for his recovery…”

Leigh nods, carefully scooping Visitor into her arms, preparing to leave.

You try one last time. “Leigh, I really am sorry–”

“I’ll see you next week, Dr. Y/L/N,” she says dismissively and then she’s gone.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 12

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Chan takes you on a date and you get to see your sister. You and Felix continue right where you left off the night before.

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

chapter warnings: smut

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

You wish you could convince yourself that this is not a date, not a real one, but it’s so hard to do so with the way that Chan presents himself. He wears a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms. His left wrist is adorned with a golden wrist-watch, a beautiful timepiece that you can practically see your reflection in from how shiny and well-taken care of it is. 

It reminds you of… the necklace he gifted you the night of the gala, the golden rose pendant that still sits around your neck. How had you not noticed it? All along you have been wearing it, a subtle reminder in more than one way that right now, you are the property of Bang Chan. 

And before you had left for your date, Jeongin had gifted you gold earrings to match. It’s what he had bought for you at the store earlier, knocking on your door before you left to tell you, ‘this will match your dress.’ And it does, perfectly. 

The dress you wear tonight is black, reaching all the way down to your ankles. It’s strapless and off the shoulders, framing your waist perfectly. The dress has a gold trim that shimmers in the light, capturing the essence of the jewelry that you hadn’t given a second thought to. You look… 

“Gorgeous,” Chan tells you. He holds out for you a bouquet of your favorite flowers and you try not to think about how he knows they’re your favorite. 

He opens your car door for you and your heart warms a little bit at the gesture before you remember why you’re here. You can’t afford to let your heart be warmed by the man manipulating you into going on a date right now. 

He brings you to the nicest restaurant you’ve ever seen. It’s on a rooftop, and he’s seemingly rented the entire thing out so that it’s only the two of you. The table is candlelit, fairy lights strung around pillars that hang little lanterns above your table. The waiter pours you a very expensive bottle of wine which you sip lightly, not allowing yourself to lose your head. 

“This is nice,” you admit. “Do you take all of your dates here?” 

Chan laughs. “That’s funny.” A beat of silence. “I don’t date.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“My line of work doesn’t really allow time for this.” He waves his hand around in the air.

“But you’ve changed your mind?” 

“I think I’ve made myself very clear that I like you.” You don’t respond. You smile politely and take a small sip of wine. 

The waiter brings out dinner. It’s a full-course meal complete with side dishes and dessert and Chan sees to it that you eat until you’re full. The dinner is nice, albeit a little quiet to start. 

“You seem to care a lot about your sister,” he says at one point. “Tell me about her.” 

“She’s the only family I have,” you tell him. “I know she’s very worried for me. She hated that I dated Jungwon. She thought he was really bad for me but I didn’t listen.” 

He nods along. “Is she older? Younger?” 

“Younger,” you confirm. 

“You’re overprotective of her,” he says. It’s an observation, not a question. 

“I guess you could say that,” you reply. It is the truth after all; ever since you arrived here, you’ve been worried about her safety, wanting to let her know that you’re safe. She is all you have, and when you don’t have a lot it makes sense you want to keep that one thing safe. “I just want to make sure she’s alright,” you tell him. 

“Your sister is safe,” he tells you. “I understand the need to see it with your own eyes, but I wanted to let you know that she’s okay.” 

“You’ve been keeping an eye on her?” You ask. You’re a little surprised that Chan would go out of his way to do so. 

“I have eyes everywhere,” he explains. You suppose that makes sense—why would he go out of his way for you when he could get somebody else to do it for him? You’re lost in thought, and the silence is peaceful. You look over the rooftop at the city, twinkling lights. For a moment you remember that Chan probably owns most of the buildings you can see, and that thought overwhelms you. 

“Do you plan to keep me here forever?” You finally ask. You hate the way your heart pounds hard against your ribcage when you ask. 

“I don’t want you to be a prisoner forever,” he tells you with a grimace. “One day, I hope to give you more freedom once I see that you deserve it. I want you to want to stay with me, with our group.” 

“What if I never do?” You ask timidly. 

“You will,” he says. He gives you a charming smile and you feel uneasy at his words.

“Until then… you’re going to force me to fall in love with you?” 

“I won’t force you to fall in love with me,” he says. The smile is now gone, replaced by a sorrow that looks unnatural on his features. “That’s something you’ll do on your own, one day.” 

“But you’re forcing me to go on a date with you! How is that any different?” you point out. 

“I’m forcing you to give me a chance,” he explains. He looks bashful for a moment, hand scratching the back of his head. “I can see how that may have been misconstrued.” 

You’re silent, staring at him with a forced smile. You’re not even sure what to say. Deep down, you wonder if someone like Chan is even worthy of being loved, worthy of having your heart opened to him. Then you remember that your heart has somehow started to let in Felix after you swore you would never love someone like him. Not after Jungwon. Sometimes, the heart can’t help but want someone that’s bad for you. Jungwon was a prime example of that—a bad omen for what was to come, perhaps. 

The rest of the night is uneventful. You make more small talk, but as you predicted nothing changes the way you feel about him. You don’t tell him so. You’re undecided about Chan, altogether. His worldview confuses you and you don’t like the stronghold he seems to have over… well, everything. You won’t deny that he’s an incredibly attractive and charming man, but you’re starting to see right past it for all of the manipulation he’s done so far. How far would he go to get what he wants? You’re not sure. 

The entire night, you would find your mind drifting to Felix, wondering what he was doing. Reminded of your promise after an interrupted moment the night prior, ‘this isn’t over.’ Just the thought of his hands trailing on your skin and his lips hot against yours has your face heating up but you shake away the thought. You wonder what Chan would say if you told him one of the reasons you wouldn’t give him a chance is because you would rather give that chance to Felix, his right-hand man who has proven himself very deserving of your trust. You would never tell him, of course. You value your life. 

On the drive back, Chan sings along with the radio. You’re tired from the overconsumption of expensive food and a smidge of wine so you don’t notice when you start to drift off. You awake to a hand on your thigh, nudging you awake. You recognize your surroundings—your sister’s house. You’re about to ask how he knows her address when you’re reminded of his words earlier: ‘I have eyes everywhere.’ 

You’re almost expecting Chan to stay in the car when you exit to go knock on her door. Of course he follows you, only a breath behind you at all times. He’s busy checking the time on his watch when you knock timidly on her door, your heart beating out of your chest. After a moment of silence, you look at Chan with furrowed brows and worry evident on your face. You open your mouth to speak to him, but before you can the door creaks open. 

“Y/N?” 

You feel your heart jump in anticipation. When you turn around you see your sister, the first time you’ve seen her in months. Words escape you, they truly do as you jump forward and embrace her in your arms. Tears wet the front of your dress and you’re unsure if they’re hers or your own. It’s all you can do to cradle her in your arms and coo sweet words in her ear, to tell her you’re safe and that you’re so, so sorry. 

“Can… can you come inside?” she asks, eyes flitting between you and Chan standing behind you. You turn your head to look at Chan yourself, asking him silent permission while biting your lip timidly. You don’t really want Chan inside of your sister’s house but you’ll do anything to prolong the conversation. He nods his approval and the three of you step inside. 

“I thought you were dead,” she nearly whispers as she sits next to you on the couch. Your heart pangs in your chest at the thought of leaving your younger sister all alone. Though she is only a few years younger and old enough to have a stable income and a small place of her own, you’ve never given up on the role of protective older-sibling with her. You hate to see her having her own worries about you. 

“I’m not dead. Here I am, I’m safe, I promise,” you tell her. 

“But… Jungwon? He was all over the news,” she explains. This comes as a shock to you–you had expected for the news of Jungwon to be taken care of, to be swept under the rug. Not to be broadcasted all over the nation for everyone to see. You spare a glance to Chan and he simply shrugs his shoulders, nothing more to be said. 

“Yes, there was… there was an altercation,” you say, trying to explain the situation delicately. “And Jungwon died. But Jungwon and I broke up a while ago.” 

Your sister perks up at the news. “A while ago? Why didn’t you tell me? I knew he was keeping you from contacting me so it was about time, but you really did it? You took my advice and got away?” You wince a little bit. In reality, the events that have transpired were so much more complicated than that but you aren’t sure how much time you’ll be given to tell her, Chan looming ominously in the corner with his arms crossed. 

She takes your silence as a response. “That means you’re coming home now though, right?” Her eyes light up for a moment before they dim at your lack of response. “Right?” she repeats again, this time addressed to Chan. 

“I’m afraid your sister has to remain in our care until further notice,” Chan says unapologetically. 

“Your care… Who even are you? I can call the cops, y’know–” she rambles, unaware of the way that Chan tenses up at your words. He opens his mouth for a snide reply that you’re sure will scare your sister to pieces but you cut him off instead. 

“Don’t,” you demand before softening your tone. “Don’t. I just need you to know that I’m safe for now and I can’t come home just yet. I can’t really tell you much more at the moment but if I come home I’ll only be in more danger. Where I’m staying right now… it keeps me safe, and more importantly, it keeps you safe.” You bring your hands up to cup your little sister’s face in your hands, using your thumbs to wipe away her stray tears. “I’ll come back for you as soon as I can, okay? I need you to stay strong though, and stay out of trouble. I love you.” 

You’re fighting back tears of your own. In reality, you’re unsure of when you’ll be able to see her again. This time you got lucky, manipulated into seeing her in the form of an ultimatum. There very well may not be a next time, if Lee Heeseung has a say in anything. But you leave her hopeful and you leave a small part of yourself behind with her. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The ride back home is silent and uneventful. You’re sure your demeanor can only be described as pouting but you would never admit it. Chan seemingly has nothing to say as you fight back tears, though you do murmur a slightly ungrateful ‘thank you’ once you’re finally home. When you get to the door, he kisses you chastely on the cheek, close enough that you can smell the petrichor of his cologne. You wait until he is far enough away to rub the essence of his kiss off your cheek, a childish action but one that soothes you nonetheless. 

When you return to your room and close the door, you all but slump to the floor. What you’re not expecting is the sudden grasp on your hips startling you, your eyes shooting open and cursing yourself for your lack of attentiveness. Before you can let out a startled shriek, a hand covers your mouth and you’re met with a pair of warm, chestnut-brown eyes and a sea of freckles sprinkled across Felix’s face. You let out a sigh of relief and slump into his embrace instead, his hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

“Hi,” you mumble awkwardly into his shirt. 

“Hey,” he replies cautiously, pulling away to inspect your features. “I heard you went on a date with Chris.” He says it not as an accusation but a statement that he already knows to be true, unharmed by it but disappointed. 

“Who told you?” you question. His brow furrows and he hesitates for a moment before giving in. 

“Hyunjin,” he admits sheepishly. 

“I should have known!” you exclaim. “I should tell him to count his days–”

“Woah,” Felix interrupts, his hands falling to your shoulders to ground you. “He wasn’t trying to rat you out. It was more…” he pauses a moment, racking his brain for the right words. “Out of concern.” 

“Concern?” you repeat, unsure of what Hyunjin may have to be concerned about on your behalf. 

“Something about forcing you to go so that you could see your sister?” 

“Right,” you deadpan. “I’m sorry–” 

“Don’t,” he interjects. He lets out a long, sad sigh and his hands move from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you in closer to him. “You have nothing to apologize for. I understand why you made the choice that you did and I’m not angry, alright love? Not at you. Chris, he just has this way of manipulating things to get what he wants, even if it leaves everybody else hurt. You’re what he wants,” he punctuates by swiping a stray hair behind your ear, “and it’s not fair that you’ve got caught up in his mess. In our mess.”

“Felix?” 

“Mm?” 

“Why do you call him Chris?” 

“What do you mean?” he muses, a small smile splayed across his features. 

“It’s just, everyone else calls him Chan but you call him Chris. Why?” 

“Ohhh,” he replies unhelpfully. He thinks a second. “I’ve known him for a very long time. Since childhood, you know? We both grew up in Australia in the slums. I owe a lot to him, honestly, and he won’t let me forget it. We don’t have to get into it now. In fact, I’d much rather get you out of this dress,” he says, pulling you even closer to him. You barely have time to register his words, trying to let your brain catch up with you but you become easily distracted by his hands on your skin. 

His hands trail lower, lower until they’re touching the backs of your thighs and before you can protest he’s hoisting you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

“Felix–” 

“I believe we were interrupted yesterday,” he says, his eyes dark and glossy. You breathe heavily when you notice him licking his lips, his tongue poking out gently and suddenly you're crashing your lips against his, messy and breathless and all-consuming. You pull against his soft blonde hair, tugging gently against the roots to hear the breathy moan that escapes his lips. Your tongues collide and you swear you’ve never kissed someone so feverishly. 

You barely notice when he walks backwards with you encased in his arms until he’s falling back against the bed with you now sprawled on top of him, fingers still intertwined in his hair and dress bunched up around your waist. 

You allow yourself a moment to take in the sight of him. A rosy red flush has spread across his cheeks and up to tint his ears the same color; his heart-shaped lips are wet and red around the edges from your ministrations and they’re parted slightly. His otherworldly hair is out of place, flyaway strands present from your pulling and teasing. He looks utterly debauched and it’s all because of you, and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to properly worship him, to trail your fingers lithely across all of the ridges of his muscles and kiss every freckle that appears on his skin. The dark longing evident on Felix’s half-lidded eyes tell you that he’s likely thinking the same thing. 

You kiss him on the lips and then trail down to his jawline, peppering kisses across his neck until you reach his adam’s apple. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss and lick across his sensitive skin, sucking just hard enough to not leave a mark. He looks conflicted between closing his eyes tight from pleasure and wanting to watch your every action. 

When you reach down to lift his t-shirt over his head he’s eager to help you, revealing his toned and well-disciplined body. You stare at his abs, remembering the first time he trained you when he had teased you by lifting up his shirt, revealing his ‘abs of steel’ with a cocky grin. 

“Like what you see?” he smiles. 

“You know that I do,” you remark. 

You’re not expecting for him to grab your hips to move you forward so that you’re sitting properly on his abs, your clothed core dragging across the ridges of his muscles. 

You can’t hide the shaky moan that leaves your mouth which just encourages Felix to keep on going, his hands guiding you through the motions of rocking back and forth on him. 

“Feels good?” he questions, watching the way you fall apart for him so easily. You nod at him and continue to be stimulated by his actions, a high quickly approaching. His hands reach your thighs and tug at the hem of your dress and you nod, more than eager to help him take the fabric off of you. He laughs when you discard the material by throwing it half across the room but stops himself when he notices you’re now completely bare on top of him except for your underwear. 

“Fuck,” he mutters in a husky low-timbre, his hands reaching to cup your breasts. You reposition yourself so that you’re sitting on top of his bulge, relishing in the shaky sound that leaves his mouth when you grind yourself down on him. “I’ve wanted you from the moment we met, you know,” he says, kissing along your neck as he uses his thumbs to tease your pebbled nipples, pulling and tugging at the skin. “You’ve made it so damn hard not to want you. Teasing me when we were training, in the motel…” 

His gaze is fixed on your chest just above your collarbone and as you’re about to question him until his hand trails up to your neck, grabbing at the chain of your necklace and pulling tight until it snaps, falling broken and limp in his hand. 

“What–” 

“This necklace,” he replies, dangling it in front of your face. A gold rose pendant given to you by Chan the night of the gala is no longer in its place around your neck and you make notice as Felix chucks it across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the floor with a thump. 

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he says softly into your ear. “Not his. Mine.” 

He half-throws you across the bed so that he’s now positioned on top of you, smashing his lips aggressively against yours. You moan into him and wrap your legs around his waist, arching your back as he nips down your neck and chest, eventually wrapping a nipple in his mouth and lightly dragging his teeth against it. You gasp. 

“Fuck, your noises,” he breathes against your skin. “I want to hear you moan for me over and over again. You gotta try to be a little quiet though, yeah? Need those pretty sounds just for me.” 

You nod at him through half-lidded eyes, watching as he grabs and kneads at any available surface, using his hands to map out every inch of your body as if it were the last time he would ever see it. You can’t help the squeak that escapes you when his thumbs hook in the waistband of your underwear, breath heavy and close to the fabric dampening against your skin. 

“Felix,” you exhale shakily. 

“Need to taste you. Please? Fuck,” he says, his thumb pushing into the wetness over your panties. His eyes nearly roll back in his head at the squelching sound it makes. You nod at him and his face is pushed into your panties instantly, licking at your folds over the fabric in a way that can only be described as pornographic. You rock your hips upward, wrapping your thighs around his head and squeezing in an attempt to get the stimulation you desperately seek. He lets out a low, guttural groan at the action, fingertips bruising a grip into your thighs. 

When he actually attempts to take your underwear off this time, your hips are lifting up and shimmying out of the material with his help. In your opinion, they can’t get off of your body fast enough. You both let out twin sighs when he finally finally dives in, beautiful and melodic, in sync with one another. 

His lips connect with your clit, sucking first before exploring the area with his tongue. He’s skilled with his mouth, flicking it up and down and alternating with slow, hard circles. Your hands come up to your mouth to muffle your moans and Felix’s thumbs push into your hip bones in order to still your movements—you hadn’t realized you were rocking your hips into his face to get more friction. 

“Felix,” you moan again, this time to warn him of your impending orgasm. 

“I know, love,” he murmurs, tongue moving from your clit to dip shallowly into your hole. He’s enjoying this just as much as you are, you realize, his hips subtly grinding into the bed to relieve some pressure from his achingly hard bulge. He alternates between eagerly licking and flicking and sucking, and you’re almost there, so incredibly close, that when he reaches up to mindlessly thumb over your nipple you spill over the edge. 

He works you through your orgasm, not stopping his movements or slowing down as you explode against his face. Finally, when your hips stop moving and you’re done pulsing through the aftershocks, he pulls up from your center. His mouth and chin are wet from your release and he wipes his face, thumb swiping away the excess juices from his bottom lip as he looks at you with a shit-eating grin. 

“Fuck,” is the only thing you can say while you catch your breath. 

“What are you—Woah,” Felix says as you climb into his lap. Though he’s still clothed, your wet pussy sits just atop his hard cock, soaking the fabric of his pants. “Watch it. I don’t know how I’m going to control myself if you start something.” 

You nod solemnly, feigning defeat as you crawl off of his lap. Blinking up at him and his heaving chest, you smile devilishly as you bring your mouth down to his sweats, mouthing at his cock over the fabric. He looks down and lets out a shaky breath, winding his fingers harshly in your hair to pull you up and look into his eyes. 

“Y/N,” he warns. 

“What?” you tease. “You don’t want to feel my mouth on your cock?” 

“I… I, fuck, I do. Are you sure?” You palm him over the fabric, wrapping your lips over his length with the barrier of the material over him. When you look up at him through glossy eyes and nod your head at him, it’s like all resolve has left his body. He gives in easily, malleable to you and lifting his hips without protest when you drag down his pants and boxers in one swift blow. 

His cock slaps against his abs, long and pretty and elegant just like the rest of him. When you grip him in your hand he shudders, coming undone easily with little effort. You lick a long stripe up his length, your eyes never leaving his. 

“Do you even know what you do to me?” he murmurs, his hand coming to swipe a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is awfully sweet for the situation you find yourself in. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” you punctuate, gliding your hand up and down his cock. 

“Then tell me,” he breathes. 

“I’ve wanted you since day one. I’ve wanted you to ruin me, wanted you to fuck me so hard I forgot my name.” You suck on his tip, swirling your tongue around it with a pop while you use your hand to work his remaining length. “God, Felix, I’ve wanted you to pound into me, take me from behind, choke me–” 

It seems like that is his final straw because you’re on your back beneath him before you can even register what has happened. He cages you in under him with his arms, eyes darker than before and breath uneven. 

“Felix–” 

“You think you’re so cute, trying to rile me up, hm?” he asks into your ear, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. He nips at your ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and tugging gently; you can feel his warm breath down your neck and it’s no surprise that you’re worked up again. You make to push your thighs together to alleviate that growing pressure but Felix is there within the second, catching your thighs open with his torso and pressing his hips against yours. You can feel his cock against your leg and you can’t help the way your body arches, opens up, begging for him to just push inside. 

“Not trying to rile you up,” you whisper, meeting his eyes before staring at his lips a moment. 

“No?” he hums, tilting his head to the side in an almost mocking-manner. 

“Just telling the truth,” you say. “Just… want you. Need you so bad.” 

“Need me here?” he asks, grabbing his length and rubbing it up and down between your folds. Your breath catches in your throat and you almost cry when his tip catches against your clit. 

“Yes,” you beg, knowing he wants a verbal answer. 

He continues to tease for a moment and you all but thrash underneath him, your head moving from side to side. 

“Felix, fuck, I need you so bad. I want you to fuck me, please? Don’t you want it? I’m ready for you, I’m so wet, just please, let it in, I promise I–” 

He stops your rambling by flipping you over onto your stomach. He grabs you harshly by the waist and slams his cock into you before you can complain a second longer. Pushed to the hilt he stills a moment, relishing in the way you feel wrapped around him before continuing his ministrations, slamming his hips into you repetitively. He pulls you on and off of his length, completely using you for his own pleasure in a way that’s just so delicious you can’t help but moan. You push your face into your mattress in an attempt to muffle it. 

His pace is brutal and his hips snap into yours in a way that is bruising. The only sound that fills the room is his thighs hitting the back of yours and you can feel yourself approaching your high even faster than before. 

“Feel so good, like you’re made for me,” you hear, and you don’t have time to warn him before your orgasm crashes over you. He coos and praises you as you cum, tightening around him and spasming until you can’t move, can’t even make a sound from how fucked out you are. 

Felix isn’t far behind you, slamming into you once, twice more before he pulls out, releasing all over your ass. You collapse onto the bed, your eyes fluttering closed as you feel your actions catching up to you. You’re sore but tingly, and you register weight moving off the bed but you can’t bother to open your eyes. You feel a warm washcloth clean up your back and your naked form cuddles into Felix for quite some time, his hands rubbing soothing circles onto your back. He hums a soft but low tune that guides you to sleep even faster, a small ‘thank you’ escaping your lips before you fall into a peaceful slumber, absent of the nightmares that have been plaguing you. 

As your heart fills your chest all the way, you note that you’re happier than you have been since the day you arrived here, maybe even the day you started dating Jungwon all that time ago. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

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[harmonysanreads]

Girl I just reread the most unhinged dark DARK literature of my homeland and I'm not telling you the title because reading the entire book itself requires mental strength but I found a quote that suits how it's like being Blade's darling.

"He's actually sane, there's no doubt about it. The one that's insane is the world that he's facing"

-💅

Nonnie the fact that you reread this apparently unhinged dark DARK literature lol

“He's actually sane, there's no doubt about it. The one that's insane is the world that he's facing.”

At moments, words fail Blade when he stands in the center stage of the circus the universe has made out of his existence.

Rewind time, stroll to a much younger, unassuming version of him, tell him that one day even death will become a luxury for him and watch the way his face twists and churns to confusion, morbidity. He was never supposed to have made it this far, to who still cares he wishes he stayed as that unassuming, eroding construction of flesh. But of course, there is no one and nothing in this universe that will listen to his will.

It's strange, the feeling of having no autonomy over even one's own body. You birth something other than that vacancy he'd forcefully stuffed with conflicting feelings ; it's subtle, easily dismissible but lingering like the trail of incense. Unlike him, you are fortunate enough to be free, to have the choice to end it whenever you please — unlike him. He just wished you weren't always so... clumsy with that apparent freedom.

Constantly hauling yourself towards the precipice of danger, as though the hands on the clock of your existence don't increase in speed the closer you advance towards your end. Foolish, foolish, foolish ; you're not immortal like him — why do you insist on shortening your already waning life? And that fact continues bouncing through his mind : you're not immortal like him, what will you do when the ticking of that timepiece comes to a halt? Or more importantly, what will he do?

Ah, but why does that matter to him? You're just another particle in the grand scheme of things, one among many that will shine for a momentary period of time before disintegrating. Why should he care so much for you, when your inevitable is as clear as it could be? And many more questions that he asks himself before it finally registers in his head, that he'd underestimated the extent of your importance in regards to himself.

Well, not that Blade is that surprised at this point. Affection had become a concept distant from his waking mind, as well as the consequences it brings. The world has never looked upon him in benevolence, brutally snatching away his autonomy. There apparently exists a saying in Penacony and a variation of it goes like this, “People sleep because they're afraid to wake up from their dreams.”

He understands a semblance of it, the fantasy of a designated end, however impossible propels him forward, as paradoxical as it is. So the moment when he starts being grateful for his immortality, that if he can at least slow down the pace of your erosion by becoming your shield, granting him a steep sense of self-worth — the chill it sends throughout his arteries morph into something hauntingly intoxicating.

Insanity may be this world's natural tendency and he has been its victim for too long. But if he could defy this world by dedicating himself to your servitude... that, doesn't sound that unappealing a prospect.

[reikaryu]

PRIVATE FILE : ERROR 1004.

This file is confidential and not available to public view. For more information, please refer to the Chief Detective. To gain access, enter the passcode.

It seems that the file has been leaked. Do you wish to open it?

YES / NO

UNKNOWN : A YOON JEONGHAN ONE-SHOT.

GENRE mystery, childhood best friends to ???, detective!jeonghan, high profile criminal!reader, more tba in full fic

WARNING(S) yn is literally her own person and a psycho basically (BUT she’s an adult!), includes a lot of dark themes & criminal/illegal activities (use of weapons, mentioned deaths of minor characters, escaping prison, lying to authorities, drugging a law enforcement officer, etc.), very plot heavy & potentially messy, teaser is really dialogue heavy, more tba in full fic

WORD COUNT 1,264 words (teaser)

A/N hi everyone this is my teaser/intro to detective!jeonghan <333 I did not expect to be working so hard on this lol ... it was supposed to be a cute little one-shot then it turned into THIS! anyway I hope you enjoy this little teaser! disclaimer, this is NOT a preview. the full fic (which is still a wip) will not include whatever is being written here.

RELEASE DATE mid to late december

Yoon Jeonghan was always top of his class in every subject, catching the eyes of the professors and students. He was never too eager to answer questions, yet never shied away when called upon. He was often said to be rather eloquent, knowing his way around words, how to manipulate them cleverly to get what he wanted. Though bad intentions were rare to cross in his bright mind, they weren’t strangers to him.

The only trait you shared with him was your intellectual prowess. Your lazy, laid-back attitude, constant truancy and sharp mouth to the higher-ups were a stark contrast to his rule-abiding personality. While he was busy meeting deadlines, you were occupied with outdoor activities not even he knew of.

Though, while Jeonghan was surpassing everyone at his school, you were also dominating the fields at yours, a level just below him — surprisingly. It was the universe’s gift to mankind that the two of you were never classmates. No one knew the depths of madness either of you would sink to just to outdo the other and emerge as the victor. No one wanted to.

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND 7 MARCH 2019, 13:20

“Maman, have you seen Papa’s watch? The one with his name engraved on the underside.”

“No, my dear. Perhaps it’s in the safe?”

“Hm, maybe. Papa! Check your safe! I’ll look in my room.”

You heard a shout of acknowledgement from your father, then proceeded into your small jewellery room. It wasn’t very well protected — the door was iron, “easy to dent” according to your mother — but you had nothing in there that was too precious to you, anyway.

You rummaged through the glistening archive, turning every wristwatch in hopes of identifying one with your father’s first name. The second set of timepieces sat beside the first, awaiting your foraging hands, until they paused.

“Ah, there we go! DARLING, I FOUND IT!”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you responded, “THAT’S GREAT! I’ll be out in a moment!”

You began to gracefully place the pieces back to their original positions, slotting the metals nicely into the velvet. When you were done, you turned to leave the room, but something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye.

You stalked towards a piece of yellowed paper peeking out from below one of your jewellery cases. Reaching out slender fingers, you pulled it towards you, unfolding it to read its contents.

The very first letter triggered a childhood memory — no, just a memory. It was too soon to call it ‘childhood,’ as the happenings only occurred a few years ago (or stopped occurring).

From JH To YN

Smiling, you folded it neatly and walked out of the room. With lingering thoughts, you hid the ageing letter safely in your locked drawer.

“Come, sweetie, the flight is at four. We don’t want to be late.”

“No rush, honey. We’re taking our own private jet.”

“Oh, hush, Alistair, there’s still a designated time to be there.”

“No fighting guys! I don’t wanna ruin my first day back in Korea before I even boarded the plane.”

NAME   UNKNOWN ALIASES   NONE RECORD ID#   CF-1495-19 NATIONALITY   UNKNOWN HEIGHT   160-180 CM WEIGHT   UNKNOWN EYE COLOUR   UNKNOWN HAIR COLOUR   UNKNOWN DOB   UNKNOWN AGE   UNKNOWN

ARREST & SENTENCING INFO (UNCONFIRMED)

190915 ARMED ROBBERY — 10Y 6M 0D 200528 GRAND THEFT AUTO — 4Y 8M 0D 210208 SECOND-DEGREE HOMICIDE — 38Y 1M 0D 211022 ARSON — 9Y 11M 220705 FIRST-DEGREE HOMICIDE — 95Y 0M 0D 230318 KIDNAPPING — 3Y 7M 0D

OTHER INFO

Possible other crimes committed by UNKNOWN. Cases stated above possibly not committed by UNKNOWN. Constant clean escapes, no evidence of identity, security cameras down. Sometimes solo, sometimes with partners.

ORDERS

Arrest on sight; to be detained for questioning.

SEOUL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY 25 FEBRUARY 2021, 15:07

The large conference room was buzzing with tension. The entire detective agency was called to gather for an incredibly serious case debrief. Nobody knew what was going on. Even the higher-ups who knew were a selective few.

Jeonghan took a seat beside one of his classmates from the Police Academy, Lee Jihoon. He was a rather short man, almost a complete head shorter than most of his colleagues. Jihoon gave a tight smile, aware of the solemn atmosphere settling in.

The room went silent when the Chief Detective, June Rodgers, stepped up to the pedestal with a document in her hands. As she looked around the room, she spoke into the microphone,

“For the past two years, there have been crimes committed by unknown people. No matter how many detectives or policemen we put on the job, we can never find a single piece of evidence alluding to our culprit. It’s frustrating. I can tell you that every single one of you has worked on one of these … unknown cases. We gather here today to establish this criminal, or group of criminals, as high-profile and our number one priority. However, the order is to arrest on sight, if we ever in a million years come to that point. We want answers — the death penalty, or life imprisonment, will come later. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

It was a quick briefing on “UNKNOWN,” whoever they were. A person, or a group of people, or neither. Jeonghan was beyond curious; he already had some suspicions.

But he couldn’t let himself ponder any longer, because the fire alarm went off immediately after the Chief Detective left the room. Panic set in, sending the detectives into a frenzy. They were trying to keep calm, but Jeonghan could already smell the beading sweat on their foreheads and palms.

At the end of the day, no one, not even the agency’s best detectives, realised they’d detained the wrong person.

They found a man in full-black attire lurking near the burning building. When his hood was pulled down, his crazy grin revealed crooked, yellowed teeth, some already rotting. His skin was dry and flaky, hair full of dandruff. He tried to put up a fight, but the detectives were too strong enough against his nutrient-lacking, deteriorating bones.

He was the perfect image of an arsonist, a convict. Nothing to lose, yet nothing to gain, either.

They would never suspect someone dripping in Prada, nails clean and done, posture perfect every second of the day. They’d never suspect you.

Because who were you? An expatriate who moved to Switzerland for her studies, funded by her family’s wealth.

Paired with your psychology degree, you made the perfect felon. What praise you would get, if only law-breaking was legal …

──────

“I feel kinda bad for that guy.”

“His time had come. He was dying anyway … What’s the penalty for arson again?”

“Ten years? Fifty? Who the fuck cares?”

“Well, if the fire damaged even one really important case file, he’d probably get life imprisonment or a death penalty. Actually, I don’t know.”

“I don’t think any of us do. Especially you, YN. You do whatever you want. I bet you don’t even know how many years basic theft gets you.”

“Um, ten years? Two months? A week?”

“Not even close. A fine or three years.”

“Hey, Switzerland gives ten years. I haven’t been here since I was eighteen.”

“Yeah, but that’s for aggravated theft, and I’m a German citizen.”

“Whatever. Can we go back to discussing dinner? I’m starving. Let’s go to that Chinese place down the street, the one with really good dumplings.”

“You’re paying.”

“Says you, Mr. ‘I Have a Mansion in Thailand and a Long Ass Last Name to Go With It.’”

“No fighting. We’ll pay for what we get.”

“Yes, Taeyong.”

reblogs are appreciated ♡

taglist open !! send an ask or reply to this post (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[delusinalandpassionate]

man i was gonna type something out here but nothing came to mind

part 3 was so good its left me speechless

Thank you very much for opportunity to write my thought down, without thinking about intro.

I LOVE 7 CANTO.

It was amazing. I feel rewarded for all my love and faith toward Don.

AND THE FACT I PREDICTED A LOT OF THINGS ALSO FEELS AMAZING

I loved how Sancho abandons us walking forward, and for the first time, sinners follow her, listening. Paying attention.

I loved to see that story about that Bloodfiend family and how Bari changed everything. I loved to see how he changed his mind and how he tried to change everything around him. I love how when he sees "fruits" of his absence, he tries to bring justice himself, punishing his Family for crime and himself for allowing that to happen. (Also also the fact that while he speaks about his family, the fact that his relationship with Sancho is special. One he takes with him for adventure, one who allowed to run away from this prison, one who allowed to kill him, one who inherits his name. If I were Dulcinea, I would also hate Sancho. Imagine being so obviously second favorite for eternity.)

I loved that Don Quixote did so much to save Sancho from this prison and torture from hunger, and yet the first thing she does after getting saved is lock herself in a prison, ignoring her hunger. She did not want to be saved. She wanted to die here with him, and in some way, she did.

I love that Don that we meet in a beginning a prisoner who for a first time in two hundred years sees world and speaks with other people. Of course, she's weird. Genuinely, she could be weirder.

I love that she confronts sinners and their answer not to beat her into submission but talk with her.

Some of them I believe some of them not but it still was great. Seeing Sinclair stopping circle of violence and being first person to say "hey our friend is hurting, maybe WE WON'T BEAT THEM?!"

I love how desperately Yi Sang and Heatcliff don't want to see their new family to fall apart

I love how Hong Lu says the most correct things

I love how Outis SEES HERSLEF IN DON(not in a way I predicted BUT STILL), and I love how she doubts her.

I usually dislike timetavels in story, but there was something so beautiful in a way that Dante changed only a bit, only a few words, rejecting their fear to help Don.

I love how Don Quixote is broken, but there are still some embers of his ideals. I love dynamic between him and Sancho, I love his weak laughter in battle and how it's almost impossible for Sancho to lose. I love that so many skills Sancho learned from him, but in final action, he copies her, creating a lance.

I love how he dies in her hands, and Sancho keeps crying, explaining how, in the end, she changes. She wants to live, and she wants to be a hero. And how he dies almost happy seeing how his Sancho finally found something worth living besides him.

I LOVE THIS CANTO

But of course, there is some unsatisfying stuff.

We still don't know what's the deal with Sanson.

We still haven't learned what "Promised Timepiece" means.

I also think her sprite SHE HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO HAVE HER SANCHO HAIR

But not everything could be a win for me and that's fine.

I only hope that, at least in the next event we will see Sinners getting used to the idea that ancient vampire is traveling with them and that it's a conscious choice to keep sounding like that.

Also, I want them to use Don's voice actor range because SHES AMAZING

[dlstmxkakwldrlarchive]

(230303) ONEW THE FIRST CONCERT — O-NEW-NOTE DAY I

[sweetandscarlet]

unrequited love | pt 4

notes: i missed this series sm,, hope you all enjoy :) the next part will be up soon, picking up straight after this chapter (wink wink).

words: 2.8k

warnings: 18+, stepmom!wanda, stepdaughter!reader, jealousy, angst and fluff, slight smut at the beginning of the chapter.

"have i mentioned how good you look in this pretty dress, detka?" your stepmother husked out at the shell of your ear, as her needy hands roamed your body, her movements possessive as she eventually settled on your hips. "i am so glad i got it for you"

you entrapped your bottom lip between your teeth, your head falling backwards against the wall that wanda was currently pinning you up against. you almost let out a groan as her lips shifted from your ear to the soft skin of your neck, her tongue swirling against it before taking some between full-red lips and sucking slightly.

"i believe you've mentioned it once or twice," you replied, a breathy laugh falling from your mouth. "but thank you, for the dress and the compliment"

wanda continued to suck and kiss at your neck, her tendencies wanton and desperate as she attempted to use up what little free time you had together to finally get her delicate hands on you.

"what are your plans for the day?" wanda asked, her lips shifting from your neck to place a kiss on your cheek. "i was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me?"

heat flushed at your face at the endearing action and you resisted the thought of hiding yourself in the crook of wanda's neck out of sheer embarrassment. "apart from studying for an hour or so, i guess I'd be all yours.. what movie did you have in mind?"

wanda grinned, the innuendo and the fact that she would finally get to spend quality time with you made butterflies fly wild in the pit of her stomach. “well that barbie movie you’ve been talking about released today, how about we watch that?”

you smiled brightly, nodding your head in response. before you could utter a word, you heard a muffled call of your name from the kitchen. rolling your eyes at the interruption from your father, you moved slightly to shuffle from wanda's hold.

"let him wait a second," wanda whispered, her hot breath hitting the flushed skin of your cheek as she returned to her previous exploit against your neck. the knots in your stomach tightened as you felt one of wanda's hands slip from your waist to move under the hem of your dress, slender fingers trailing gently up the inside of your thigh causing you to throb scarcely at the touch. "i've missed touching you, detka.. the way you feel under me, the way your tight cunt wraps around my fingers, how you beg for your momm-"

"coming dad!" you call out, quickly pushing wanda's wandering hand from under your dress and moving away from the close proximity of your stepmother's grasp. "god you're cruel," you groan, fixing the ruffles of the skirt. "i'm gonna go help dad, meet a few friends and i'll see you later after i study, okay?"

you lean forward, placing a kiss on wanda's now pouted lips and you can't help but giggle at her glum reaction. wanda sighs dramatically causing you to giggle once more before she mimics your actions and reciprocates another kiss, although this one lingers and you hum at the taste of her red lipstick.

"have a good day at work mama"

ᗢ 

as you stared down at the pages of your notebook, pen in hand, you could feel the words you had written previously start to scramble in your mind, as though the letters were singlehandedly moving themselves around on your paper. instantly, you knew to place your pen on your desk and close your notebook; so that's what you did, your hands moving to rub slightly at your weary eyes.

you glanced at the clock to your left, a plain black and white timepiece that wanda had purchased for you not so long ago. you were one to always let time pass you by, your mind seemingly blind to the hours as they slipped away from you. wanda, in all her caring and perceptive nature, noticed this immediately once your relationship started to flourish. thus resulting in the heartwarming reminder that hung on your wall.

thankfully you finished studying in time as you realised your stepmother would soon finish work and finally, your quality time together would begin. it was something that was quite rare in your day-to-day lives, whether it be your busy schedule, wanda's or both, you unfortunately didn't spend enough time together as you both hoped to.

so as you giggled excitedly to yourself, you walked away from your work desk and headed over to your closet, humming as you reached to pick out an outfit that would be in perfect comparison to the movie you were about to see, and also something you know that would drive wanda absolutley insane.

it didn't take long before you were ready, wanda's voice in the back of your mind rang through as you reminded yourself that you were on a time schedule. so, as you finished the final touches of your makeup, you moved to stand in front of the tall mirror in the corner of your room to get a good look of yourself.

you smiled meekly at your appearance, your eyes trailing over the cowl neck butterfly and floral midi dress and the black boots that you had paired with it. you had to admit, you did look easy on the eyes. the dress accented your chest perfectly and the slit in the bottom of the hem gave just enough view of the skin of your thigh to be modest yet playful.

wanda was going to love this.

just as you stepped over to your desk to check your phone, a text notification came through and you breathed deeply through your nose; your heart rate spiked scarcely as you felt the pit in your stomach swarm with nerves.

mama: hi darling girl, i've just stopped for gas. are you ready?

you smiled brightly at the nickname, the nerves in your stomach increasing ten-fold as you could practically hear wanda's raspy voice purr those words into the shell of your ear. shaking your head, you ignored that all-too-familiar dull ache between your legs and began typing back a response.

you: hi mommy, i'm ready! miss you so much, see you soon :)

you turned towards your bed and reached to grab your charming pink clutch bag that seemingly completed the outfit like a glove. you double-checked you had everything you needed before slipping your phone inside and heading downstairs to await the return of wanda.

ᗢ 

staring back at your reflection you smiled widely as you held up your phone in front of the restroom mirror. wanda kissed your cheek from behind you before slipping her arms around your waist and mimicking your smile. after hearing the shutter click from your camera go off, wanda squeezed at your hips gently before moving away.

"i like that, we look good malysh" wanda commented, observing the picture on your phone from over your shoulder. "i wish we could upload it but i guess having them for safekeeping will have to do for now.. will you send it to me?"

"of course mama," you mumbled back a reply, your fingers swiping through the preset filters until you happened upon one that you liked. "i wish we could upload it too, i want everyone to see how dashing you look in your pink in your suit"

the colour of wanda's suit jacket practically melted onto her skin as the redhead's cheeks flushed a hot pink at your words.

"oh shush, detka. look at yourself, you look absolutely ravish-"

your head turned in confusion, eager to know why wanda had suddenly cut off her own sentence. the mystery didn't last long as your eyes quickly averted to her phone and you immediately recognised a picture of you and kate from before your relationship took a turn with wanda.

the sokovians nostrils flared as she gazed back at a picture of you two kissing, her eyes glancing down at the caption that read 'missing my beaut right now, long distance is hard but you're more than worth it!'

"y/n.. what the fuck is this?" wanda gritted out as she tore her attention away from her phone to gape back at you. her pupils soon grew dark, what was once a beautiful striking sea of green was now quickly fading into black as rage brewed in wanda like a mad storm. "why is she posting pictures of you? was this- is this why you were too busy last friday? were you fucking her?"

your eyebrows shot up as your eyes widened in fear, your mouth turning dry as the accusation of wanda's words settled on your chest like bricks. "what? b-baby no! of course not. can we-" your eyes scanned around the restroom, your ears pricking up at any sound of possible eavesdroppers from inside the stalls. "can we please talk about this at home? not here, wands.. please"

the redhead's deadset stare continued to gaze into you, her stance not faltering even the slightest bit.

you directly stepped forward, and the hand that wasn't holding your now locked phone moved to cup one of wanda's cheeks. the heat of wanda's skin radiated against the palm of your hand and you didn't miss the way your stepmother nuzzled just slightly into your hold.

"mommy please," you whispered, stepping closer until you felt the material of wanda's pants suit rest against the soft skin of your thigh that peeked out through your slitted hem. "i promise you i have no idea why she posted that, it's an old picture.. plus i ended things with her, remember?"

the sokovian sighed heavily, her rigid posture relaxing as she recalled the conversation you had a few months ago regarding your relationship with kate and although you hated the fact that wanda was still a married woman, you understood the severity of her situation compared to yours.

"you're right detka, i'm sorry i-" wanda reached an arm around your waist, her slender fingers running up and down the small of your back. "-i didn't mean what i said. let's go get takeout and we can speak about this at home, yeah?"

you nodded meekly, the weight of your chest growing lighter by the second as you watched the redhead return to her usual state.

as you both left the theatres, your hand itched at your side as you felt the all too familiar urge to hold wanda's. it was something that nagged at you every time you were both out in public, the feeling never fading the more time passed and you knew wanda shared the same sentiment.

when you both pulled into the driveway, takeout in hand, you watched as wanda stepped out of the door of the drivers’ seat and swiftly made her way around the front of the car. your stepmother pulled open your door, reaching a hand out for you to take which you happily obliged to, a smile displaying itself on your lips at the endearing action.

entering the house you instantly smelled the cherry blossom scent that flowed through the house, courtesy of a candle you had previously lit while you were waiting for wanda's return mere hours earlier. clearly, it was money well spent on your end as the fragrance remained potent.

your home sojourned peacefully with only a quiet whistle of wind that came through the kitchen window, the sound growing more audible as you made your way through the swinging door to place the takeout bag on the kitchen counter.

"detka?" wanda's muffled voice called out from the other room, the click of her heels moving with vigour as she stepped through the door of the kitchen. "i really am sorry about what i said, it was stupid of me to become so jealous so quickly"

you sighed, the headache from earlier starting to display its aching annoyance in your already sensitive temples. as you rummaged through the takeout bag, your hand deftly separating yours and wanda's food, your mind jumped back to the prior conversation you had with kate. a conversation that was pivotal and much awaited.

"wait.. i don't understand? what are you saying?"

your head hung in shame as you sat opposite your soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. 

"i know it's a lot and may seem sudden but i've been feeling this way for a long time and i just- it's not fair on you nor myself. you deserve better than that kate, you deserve-"

"y/n just fucking spit it out! instead of beating around the bush like you always do, why not just say what you mean?"

your bottom lip started to tremble as you felt your eyes burning, the familiar tightening in your throat as unwelcome tears threatened to spill at her tone. "i'm sorry, i-" you cleared your throat, hoping the wavering in your voice would remain undetected. "we can't be together anymore"

"oh"

just that one simple word had you knowing that kate would never speak to you again, would never forgive you for this, and you didn't blame her. if the shoe was on the other foot, who knows? you'd probably think the same way.

"y/n?"

your head turned to your right, your eyes settling on your concerned stepmother. her eyebrows furrowed as she stepped closer, a warm hand resting itself gently on your forearm.

"sorry wands, i was just-" sighing once more, you took a step back, the action causing the redhead's hand to fall to her hip; you instantly read the hurt that flashed across her face. "kate said something a few months back.. that i don't say what i'm truthfully thinking and it really resonated with me"

wanda quirked an eyebrow at that, curiosity and apprehension resting their heavy weight on her chest like a bolder. "oh.. well i always want you to be honest with me, malysh"

breathing deeply through your nose, you redied yourself for the two possible outcomes for how your relationship with wanda could go after this nerve-wracking conversation.

"i love you"

the redhead's eyebrows shot up as the feeling in her chest faded away at the unsuspecting words.

"i love you and i would never in a million years want to hurt you or betray your trust. i don't know why kate did what she did, okay? maybe she was drunk or high when she did it? i don't know! but if you want us to work wanda, you have to trust me"

"i- you love me?" wanda muttered the question, her mind swirling with endearment as she stepped closer to you, her now taut throat struggling to swallow the hard pill of regret for her dubiety towards you. "detka i- i love you too, and i am so, so sorry for letting jealousy cloud my judgment. i guess i'm just too afraid to lose you, your father is a good man but.. you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time"

you felt your heart contract at wanda's words, the beat of it skipping slightly before switching to a racing pace that had your head spinning. all you could think to do was practically throw yourself at the redhead; your arms immediately wrapping around her suited torso as you nuzzled your head against her chest.

wanda sighed at the contact, all of her anxiety and tension completely melting away as she settled against your touch. she let one hand rest against the back of your head and the other against the small of your back, her delicate fingers stroking softly against the material of your dress.

"does this mean you forgive me?" wanda husked out, a hint of a timorous tone in her voice as she broached the question.

you moved your head away slightly from the comfort of her chest to tilt your head up scarcely. you reached up on your tiptoes ever so slightly to place a kiss against the flushed skin of her cheek, "of course it does, you doofus!"

a smile itched at wanda's lips, her mind swirling with gratuity and adoration as she stared down at you. "i'm glad.. because i really don't like it when you're mad at me"

a chuckle escaped your lips, your hot breath hitting the sharp line of wanda's jaw. "you're just a big ol' softie, aren't you?"

you heard wanda gasp dramatically above you, causing you to chuckle once again. "hey, less of the old! i'm only thirty-two"

"fine, you're just a big softie" you giggled as you stepped back from the warmth of wanda's hold, "can we save the takeout for later? i'm not so hungry anymore. maybe we could have a few glasses of wine and play a board game or something?"

a grin displayed against wanda's plump red lips and you noticed her eyes darken slightly as the wheels turned in her mind.

"how about we save drinks and games for when we finish eating? i have something better in mind.."

[s-soulwriter]

Dark ideas for your book

(promts)

The Eclipsed City: In a dystopian future, a city is perpetually shrouded in darkness due to a rare cosmic event. Within its shadows, a mysterious cult thrives, promising salvation to those who embrace the eternal night.

Spectral Inheritance: A family cursed with the ability to see and communicate with ghosts is haunted by a malevolent spirit that seeks to manipulate them into committing unspeakable acts.

The Silence Plague: A mysterious illness sweeps across the world, causing those afflicted to lose the ability to speak. As society collapses, a group of survivors must navigate the eerie quietness and unravel the origins of the plague.

Cabinet of Wonders: An eccentric collector amasses a macabre assortment of cursed artifacts. When a group of thieves attempts to steal from the collection, they unwittingly unleash ancient evils upon the world.

The Labyrinthine Asylum: A renowned psychologist opens an asylum for the criminally insane, but as he delves into the minds of the patients, he discovers a shared, otherworldly experience that threatens to consume them all.

The Dollmaker's Obsession: A toymaker creates eerily lifelike dolls imbued with the souls of the deceased. As the dolls begin to exhibit disturbing behavior, the townspeople must confront the consequences of meddling with the afterlife.

The Whispering Woods: A forest is rumored to house a malevolent entity that preys on the deepest fears of those who enter. A group of friends camping in the woods must confront their inner demons as reality warps around them.

Mirror, Mirror: A cursed mirror reflects not the physical appearance but the innermost desires of those who gaze into it. As individuals succumb to their obsessions, the mirror's dark power grows stronger.

The Forgotten Carnival: A long-abandoned carnival mysteriously reopens, drawing in unsuspecting visitors. However, the attractions harbor supernatural secrets that force patrons to face their darkest fears.

Phantom Limbs: After a groundbreaking medical procedure, patients begin to experience the sensation of phantom limbs that seem to have a life of their own, leading to a series of grisly and unexplainable events.

The Clockwork Curse: A clockmaker crafts a series of intricate, cursed timepieces that manipulate the lives of their owners. As time unravels, the characters must race against the clock to break the curse.

The Wretched Symphony: In a haunted opera house, a composer unwittingly writes a masterpiece that channels the anguish of tormented spirits. The music's power transcends the stage, causing supernatural disturbances throughout the city.

The Soul Market: A hidden market emerges where people can buy and sell souls. Those who partake soon discover the horrifying consequences of trading away their essence.

Tunnels of Despair: A series of mysterious tunnels are discovered beneath a small town, leading to an ancient chamber that houses a malevolent force capable of manifesting the fears of anyone who enters.

The Crimson Masquerade: At a masquerade ball, attendees wearing cursed masks find themselves trapped in a surreal realm where their darkest secrets are revealed, leading to a night of intrigue, betrayal, and horror.

The Oracle's Prophecy: A gifted oracle foretells a series of apocalyptic events, and a group of unlikely heroes must decipher the cryptic messages to prevent the end of the world.

The Coven's Conspiracy: In a secluded village, a coven of witches enacts a dark ritual to unleash a powerful ancient entity. As the villagers begin to vanish, a lone investigator must confront the supernatural forces at play.

The Unseen Gallery: An artist creates paintings that come to life, each depicting a nightmarish realm. As the paintings multiply, they threaten to merge the real world with their grotesque dimensions.

The Haunting Melody: A cursed melody is passed down through generations, causing madness and death to those who hear it. A musician discovers the haunting tune and must find a way to break the curse before it claims more lives.

The Apothecary's Concoction: A mysterious apothecary brews elixirs that grant extraordinary abilities, but at a cost. As users become addicted to the potions, they spiral into madness, leading to a city on the brink of collapse.

[delirious-donna]

Expensive Taste [Extra Drabble]

Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother

an: I love added detail and I wondered what reader would get up to now she is aware of who’s bedroom she is standing in. If anyone is curious about the watch mentioned, the link to it is here for visual reference.

pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

warnings: none at all

Series Masterlist

“C’mon c’mon,” you muttered to yourself, listening to the incessant ringing in your ear. The line clicked over to voicemail. You cursed loudly, tossing your phone onto the plush bed. A bed that wasn’t yours, not even temporarily.

Your fingers tightened into the fluffy white towel fixed around your chest, a sense of guilt settling in your gut. It was ridiculous. You didn’t know you were in someone’s home. Blowing out a long breath, you spun on the spot. There were details you missed on first entering the room, and finding them now only made you feel foolish.

Set upon the right-hand nightstand was a black leather organiser with an expensive-looking watch displayed next to a retro alarm clock. You padded closer, bending to examine the timepiece without touching it and blinked rapidly as you came face to face with an Omega watch.

Shit, those were expensive.

You didn’t dare to touch the steel links, only admired the yellow-gold detail and navy blue face from a safe distance whilst telling yourself not to pick up your phone and find out just how much money these would set someone back. It wasn’t any of your business. None at all.

Dressing with little care, you hopped around the room to pull your leggings up and caught sight of yourself in the floor-length mirror. What a situation to be in. You couldn’t decide if this was the plot of some rom-com or a horror movie, at this point, it could go either way. Even knowing that your instincts told you to trust him. If he had wanted to cause you harm, then his best opportunity had blown right by.

Suppressing a smile, you remembered how mortified he had looked once the realisation had set in. The look of a man who did not have a clue what to do and that only endeared you to him despite the unsavouriness of the situation.

You fixed your hair into a loose ponytail, thankful that only the ends were wet with your untimely splashing session in the bath, and that’s when you spied the inset doorway to the left of the mirror.

Curiosity killed the cat, or so the saying goes.

Maybe it wasn’t a good quality of yours, this inability to resist temptation, but an open entryway wasn’t snooping, was it? You weren’t rifling through his drawers or looking at anything not openly on display. That was your argument, and you were sticking to it.

“Goddamn…”

For the second time this day, you spun a full 360 in what turned out to be an immaculate walk-in closet. Had you spied this earlier, there would have been no doubt in your mind that this place belonged to a man and a wealthy one at that.

The racks were neatly arranged into categories, with shirts of white, navy, black and grey hung with pristine creases highlighted in the sleeves and the cuffs and collars starched. Another housed trousers with matching jackets in the section next to them. You reached out tentatively, fingertips brushing against the thick expensive fabric. Just how much money did this guy earn?

One thing you noticed was that the area reserved for what you would consider casual attire was remarkably sparse. A few thin-knit sweaters hung with care. A pile of folded t-shirts stacked beneath and one pair of folded light blue denim jeans. Workout shorts and a few Under Armour compression shirts finished your perusal of the more than generous space.

Each item spoke of luxury, of an indulgence in the finer things in life but it did not necessarily strike you as excess. You gathered that everything in here held a purpose, be it to dress to impress at work or get the most from a workout. Nothing seemed like the kind of impulse buys that you were guilty of on the odd occasions you felt flush with money. Whether it was your place or not, it spoke to something within you, and you liked that he was indulgent where it counted.

You didn’t dare to open the drawers beneath, scared to death of what you might find—underwear mostly likely. Instead, you scurried back into the bedroom, terrified that he might return if you took too long.

It would be a lie to deny you were curious about him. He was far from old enough to be Karin’s father, a brother perhaps? You worried your bottom lip with your teeth, eyebrows pinched at the thought you might not know your friend as well as you assumed.

The man had an immaculate taste, but you very much got the impression that he was a workaholic. Even from the brief time you had spent together in the steamy bathroom, the fatigue was evident on his face. He could use a vacation most likely.

With that thought in mind, you went in search of the man in question. Several outcomes were jostling in your brain for attention, and all you hoped was that it wouldn’t end with you out on the streets with nowhere to go.

This Nanami Kento wouldn’t be so heartless, would he?