#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

[sbcdh]

“Oh gosh the fire. Yes it was truly a tragedy. You know, HECA79 was the prototype for the new regulation model. Well, haha, new for the time. It was the seventies after all. It really is fascinating. She was the first one we put in the class N tanks. Fascinating technology for the time, clever as the dickens. You see, the insides of the tank were to be lined with a thin layer of magnetically laminated gold calcite particles that formed a reflective lattice under electrical stimulation. A gold plated one-way mirror for brainwaves! I’m sure you understand, it was the best we could do for 1983-”

“So you subscribe to the, uh, equipment malfunction theory?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh. Terribly sorry. Equipment malfunction? As I recall, it functioned quite well.”

“So you believe the fire was caused by something else?”

“The fire? Oh. Well, I’m not quite sure. I don’t know the exact specifications, but if I recall correctly, there were all sorts of firebreaks and engineers and junior-engineers stationed all around –all helmeted, mind you– to make sure that sort of thing never happened.”

“And yet.”

“And yet. Indeed…Well, between you and me, I think It was one of the junior engineers.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. We were a bit of a maverick bunch back then. Reagan gave us all that research money, but, well, its always a bit different when the wheels hit the pavement haha. Oh. Oh. I hope I haven’t gotten anyone in trouble. They were nice lads all. Well, some of them were Germans, but nice lads.”

“We are more interested in your observations of HECA79. I was told you were able to directly observe her during the incident. If there is anything you can tell us, please, speak loudly enough for the tape to hear.”

“Oh! Oh gosh. You know, I completely forgot we were being taped haha! And you caught all of my rambling! Well, I think I can help you out. Oh yes. Now. You must understand. A good half of this is going to be embellished. You know how memories go, you always get more heroic looking back as time goes on haha. But yes, I think I can help you out. Ah, where should I start?”

“What was the first thing out of the ordinary that you noticed?”

“Her lips were moving.”

“Is that out of the ordinary?”

“By gosh for a plutophant yes! At full emmanation, there is no part of them that is not the market! Every neuron soaked in hypno-amphetamine rocket fuel! Most of them –if you’ll pardon my language sir– shit their tanks the moment their Id touches the sub-finantial background grid! What do you think half those tubes are for! A plutophant in full emmanation doesn’t have a braincell to spare to keep their sphincters closed, much less perform something as complex as speech!”

“I see. Could you make out what the asset was saying?”

“Oh no. No, I’m afraid not. I can’t read lips. Back in those days, they were hooked up to a helmet, and then the helmet read the delta-wave patterns, and then printed that on magnetic tape. That way, we could feed the tape to some lob-, ah translators, and have them interpret the feed.”

“When did her lips start to move? What time of day?”

“Funny thing, almost exactly at 12:03. I should have been off at lunch, but I was procrastinating. I had a crossword I was right on the edge of solving. It was one of those big words that goes all the way across the page. TIMEPIECE. I remember that clear as day.”

“Interesting. I have here that equipment registered the fire almost exactly seven minutes later.”

“Oh dear. Do you understand what that means sir?”

“No, please, enlighten me.”

“Is that a schematic of the N class tank you have there? Hand it over. Thank you sir. So. Back in 1983, we didn’t have any of the fancy digital equipment we have now. Well, we did, but not to the same degree. Most of our equipment was good old analogue. You see this module here? These weren’t part of our system. No, we were waiting on the replacements to show up.”

“And, what is that part?” 

“Think of it like the uh, ah yes, the carburetor in a car. It keeps everything balanced. Keeps the subjects metabolism steady so they don’t chew through the drugs too fast, keeps the tank at the ideal temperature for chemical reactions, without boiling the subject like a lobster haha. But the key is, it was completely mechanical. But at the end of the day, it's just a bunch of tubes full of fluid that move based on pressure differentials.”

“Which means?”

“Well, heat would throw it off.”

“Here, I think we have a schematic. Now, doctor, this is very important. I need you to explain to me exactly how the machine malfunctioned, and how it would affect HECA79.”

“Well technically, it wasn’t malfunctioning at all. It was functioning correctly, just under less-than-ideal circumstances. Oh, haha. Yes, haha, but thats not what you’re looking for haha. Yes. Well. What side did the fire hit it from? Do you know?”

“This one here.”

“Fascinating. Well. Then, the apparatus would have uh, hm. Oh dear.”

“Doctor.”

“It would have spiked the hypnostimulant feed, while introducing impurities.”

“Which means?”

“I- I haven’t the slightest idea. It would've been deadly, I can assure you that. But its as if…Its as if you had a car, coasting in neutral, downhill at terminal velocity, and then you switched gears to high gear, and then slammed the gas while spraying rocket fuel into the intake.”

“Could we ask you to write a full report on your speculation?”

“Frankly sir, I am as intrigued as you are. You would have to hold my wrists to keep me from writing on this. Fascinating.”

ENCLOSED: FINAL READOUT OF HECA79

"BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD"[Phrase repeats over twenty thousand times.]

[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.

[rose24207]

hiiiii!! i loved you normal lando mechanic story, can i request a part 2 where lando gets a taste of her lavish life, maybe like an expensive fundraising event or similar?

More than enough Pt.2

Summery: Lando experiences a whirlwind of love and luxury as you shower him with extravagant gifts, fine dining, and unwavering affection, helping him realize his worth beyond material things.

Genre: Normal!Lando, CEO!reader, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: I love normal!Lando!! I think I might do a few more parts based of this! What do you think? English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

P1

Masterlist

Lando leaned against the hood of his beat-up project car, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. It was another long day at the garage, but he didn’t mind. The work gave him purpose, and besides, he had something even better waiting for him at home: you.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. Ever since he’d discovered the truth about your wealth, life had taken on a surreal quality. It was a lot to process—going from a modest life to being immersed in the world of luxury—but the thing that amazed him the most was how little your status had changed the way you treated him. You were still the same person who laughed with him over cheap wine, danced barefoot in his tiny kitchen, and held his hand during late-night drives.

But lately, you’d made it your mission to spoil him in ways he never thought possible.

The first surprise came on a cloudy Saturday morning. Lando had been tinkering in the garage when you appeared, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smile.

“Hey, handsome,” you called, your voice cutting through the hum of the street outside.

“Hey,” he replied, wiping his hands on his overalls. “What’s up?”

“Come with me,” you said, holding out your hand.

Lando raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. You led him out to the driveway, where a sleek, black luxury car sat gleaming in the soft light. His steps faltered as his eyes widened, disbelief washing over him.

“What… what is this?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s yours,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just turned his entire world upside down.

“Mine?” he repeated, staring at you like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

“Yes, yours.” You laughed at his expression, stepping closer to hand him the keys. “You’ve been working so hard, and I know how much you’ve wanted something reliable—and fun. So, here you go.”

Lando’s hands trembled as he took the keys, his heart pounding in his chest. He walked around the car, running his fingers over the polished surface, his reflection staring back at him.

“Babe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “this is… I don’t even know what to say. This is insane.”

“Say you like it,” you teased, leaning against the car.

“Like it?” He turned to you, a grin spreading across his face. “I love it.”

“Good,” you said, your smile matching his. “Now, how about a test drive?”

Lando didn’t need to be asked twice. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he marveled at the smooth leather interior and the advanced dashboard. Everything about the car screamed luxury, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel like he belonged in it.

As he drove through the winding streets, the car purring beneath him, Lando couldn’t stop smiling. The way you looked at him, proud and happy, made his heart swell.

The car wasn’t the only surprise you had in store. A week later, you insisted on taking him shopping.

“Babe, you don’t need to buy me anything else,” he protested as you pulled him into a high-end boutique.

“Humor me,” you said, dragging him toward the watch display.

Lando glanced at the gleaming cases, his eyes widening as he took in the rows of intricately designed timepieces. Each one looked like it cost more than a month’s worth of his paychecks.

“Pick one,” you said, gesturing to the display.

“What?” He turned to you, his eyebrows shooting up. “No way. These are… I mean, look at the price tags!”

“Don’t worry about the price,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “I want you to have something nice.”

Lando hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and the watches. Finally, he pointed to a classic design with a black leather strap and a gold bezel.

“That one,” he said, his voice almost timid.

You nodded, signaling the salesperson to take it out. When they handed it to Lando, he turned it over in his hands, marveling at the craftsmanship.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, slipping it onto his wrist.

“It suits you,” you said, your smile warm.

Lando pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

A few days later, you surprised him with reservations at a Michelin-starred restaurant. When you told him, Lando’s eyes went wide.

“Are you serious? Those places have, like, year-long waitlists!”

“I might have pulled a few strings,” you admitted with a wink.

That evening, as Lando stepped out of the car in his new suit, he looked around in awe. The restaurant was perched on a hill overlooking the city, its glass walls offering breathtaking views.

Inside, everything was immaculate—the soft glow of chandeliers, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of glasses. Lando felt slightly out of place at first, but you squeezed his hand, grounding him.

“Relax,” you said, your voice soothing. “This is your night.”

The meal was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Each course was a work of art, and Lando couldn’t stop raving about the flavors.

“This is insane,” he said between bites of the main course. “I didn’t even know food could taste like this.”

You laughed, your heart swelling at his joy. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Enjoying it? This might be the best night of my life.”

Over the next few weeks, you continued to treat him to little luxuries—a weekend getaway to a private villa, a pair of custom leather driving gloves for his new car, and even a surprise visit to a racetrack where he got to test-drive some of the fastest cars in the world.

But what made it all worthwhile was the look on Lando’s face. Every smile, every laugh, every moment of pure, unfiltered happiness reminded you why you were doing this.

One evening, as the two of you lay tangled together on the couch, Lando turned to you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “when I first found out about… everything, I didn’t think I could handle it. I felt so out of my depth.”

“And now?” you asked, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Now I feel lucky,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “Not because of the car or the watch or any of that. But because I have you. You make everything better.”

Tears pricked your eyes at his words, and you leaned in to kiss him. “You’re everything I could ever want, Lando. And I’ll never stop showing you how much I love you.”

As he pulled you closer, Lando realized something he hadn’t before: it wasn’t the material things that mattered. It was the love and care behind them, the way you made him feel like the most important person in the world.

And for the first time, he truly believed he deserved it.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hxxi3, @same1995, @amatswimming

[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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@raspberrii ; @holdontoitwhileitlasts ; @korthbum ;

[sixtsposts]

Bully bullied - James Potter

TW: female!reader, cursing, threatening bullying, Snevillus, Mulciber, harrassment, angry James, reader, physical bullying, kinda bully!James, bully!Severus and bully!Mulciber, mention of Mary's assault, choking, use of pet names (pretty, darling)

You were walking down the hallway of Hogwarts, your books in your arms as your steps echos in the empty hallway. You put a strand of your hair behind your ear, internally cursing yourself for being late for class once again. But what can you say? You're not an early bird at all.

You sigh through your nose and start to walk faster, hoping the classroom won't be closed. Maybe you'll be able to sneak in without Professor Slughorn seeing you? At least it's not McGonagall, because she would have change you into a timepiece or an alarm clock-

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear students chanting something in the hallway opposite to your direction. When your curiosity push you to glance toward the noises you realize there's a crowd assembled around something. You decide without an hesitation that good old Horace could wait a little bit, you wanted to know what was going on.

"Snevillus, Snevillus, Snevillus!" The students chant as you approach and sneak into the crowd of students, it doesn't take long for you to understand the scene in front of your eyes. The Marauders have once again pulled a prank, on no one alse but Severus Snape. The Slytherin boy was glaring deathly at Sirius Black and James Potter, his hair turned completly green.

"What's the matter buddy? Don't like your house color?" Sirius tease his ennemy with a smirk as he rest an arm around Remus Lupin's shoulders. James behind them huffed a laugh, "Yeah, we can see that you're very committed to your house, Snevillus," he snorted with a mocking tone and bump Peter Pettigrew in the shoulder, making him giggle too.

You can't help yourself when you let out a laugh, putting your hand in front of your mouth. You're not at all supporting the four guys' pranks, that's bullying. However, to be fair you need to admit that Snape is an awful person. You think he's loathsome at every point from what you've experienced.

And the Marauders looks, although, nice. They're in the year above yours and have always been nice to you and all the person you know. You know them from Pandora, Alice and Frank, you are not the closest but you hang out a bit. So you would rather not take part in the matter.

Though, it seems like you did the moment you let out a laugh because Severus glared at you, his dark eyes sending dread shiver down your spine. You shake the feeling and push yourself against the nearest wall, trying to make yourself small. You probably imagine him looking at you, he was surely looking at someone behind you. Right?

Few seconds later the four Griffindor friends decided to left the place before getting caught by one of the prefects. They make their way into the crowd of cheering students - mostly Griffindors. As they pass just next to you, James sends a wink at you above his glasses, his bright and confident smile making your heart beat faster. You probably imagined that too, he was surely winking at the... wall behind you. Right?

You shake all these thoughts out of your head. As the crowd slowly fades around you, the fact that you are late for class hits you again. And now you are, like, really late. You press your books to your chest tightly and start to run as fast as you can to your class. As you enter the classroom, the class has already started and you got lectured by Slughorn. Great.

Thankfully the rest of the day happens without any further incidents. You goes to every class and try to concentrate as much as you can. But it's hard since your mind always go back to what happened this morning, how James had winked at you with his sparkling brown eyes. But also, how Snape had glare at you with this threatening expression. You're still tense when you think of it, you feel bad for laughing too. You shouldn't have done that.

Luckily, you're not in class with any of James or Snape given you're in 6th year and they are in 7th. As the school bells rings, meaning the end of the day, you grab your notebooks and start to head toward the Great Hall. You walk quikly, the hunger being audible in your stomach.

Though, one of your book fall on the floor in your rush. "Shit," you curse silently and crouch down to pick it up. When you stand up again, there's no student left in the hallway. They're all in the Great Hall and you were about to join them when a voice stops you in your track.

"Fucking damn mudbloods," a dark voice spits with venom. You turn around to recognizing Snape with one of his friends Bruce Mulciber. Ew. Severus' hair got back to normal, you notice. Probably thanks to Mulciber. If there is one person you hate more than Severus it is for sure Bruce. You don't quite know why but some creepy aura float around this guy. You tighten your grip on your books instinctively.

"It's always you, huh?" You frown at Snape's words. What was he talking about? "Listen Severus, if you're angry because of this morning, I'm really sorry I laughed-" but he doesn't let you finish as he approach you quikly, this frightening look back in his dark eyes. "You're sorry? Oh, she's sorry," he mock you as he glances at Mulciber behind him, who laughs and stare at you.

"What d'you want Snape?" You ask defensively as you take steps back from him. You don't want to stay close to him, he is slightly scaring you. "Oh look at her Sev, she's shaking like a leaf," you hear Mulciber's deep mocking voice in your back, it makes you jump and releasing all your books, that falls on the floor loudly. How did he moved so fast? you wonder as you look between Severus in front of you and Bruce in your back. They circle you and you feel like a prey around starving lions.

"Mudbloods, always so scared and defenseless," Severus smirks meanly and his wicked words makes you nauseous. You frown at him, wondering if you should stand your ground or shut your mouth. Both are risked right now. Though, you don't have further time to think about it when you feel a cold and strong hand wrapping itself tightly around your throat. Your eyes widen as you realize Snape is trying to actually choke you. "You think you can laugh at me..." his grip is brutal and his eyes show no mercy.

"And get out of it safe?" You struggle in his grip, your hands holding tightly into his forearm as he slightly lift you off the ground. You can feel your face turn red from the lack of air, making it impossible for you to scream. You can hear Bruce's laugh in your back, his tone arrogant and merciless, you can feel them enjoy the show you're putting on.

"You little bitch, you're gonna pay for your four friends," you feel quikly tears prickling into your eyes because of the fear and pain his hold on your throat is causing you. Your hands are gripping at his forearm harshly, your nails scratching his skin. Though he doesn't react, like he didn't even notice your action. His dark eyes are locked on yours and you can see in them all the weight of his hatred, the humiliation of this morning fueling the fire in his heart.

As you almost thought that he was going to kill, now and there, Mulciber's body is suddenly propelled against the nearest wall. This catch Snape's attention, his eyes roaming over the dark hallway in search of the coming threat. Then, as his gaze locked on something behind you, his eyes widen and you can notice fear in them. However, before he can say anything, his own body is quikly projected against the wall next to both of you.

Though, he doesn't let go of you and brings you in his movement, making your head hit harshly the cold stone of Hogwarts' walls. You gasp because of the shoke and fall back on your bottom, wincing slightly at the sound of Severus body falling brutally on the floor at few feet away from you.

Your hand goes immediatly to your head where it hitted the wall, inspecting if everything was fine while your eyes scan the hallway to find who's here with you. You don't take long to recognize the familiar dark messy hair and round glasses when James ran to you, a worried expression on his features. "You okay?" He asks quikly and kneeled down next to you, "I didn't mean to hit you, darling," he explains with a frown on his face as his hands analyse your head.

"James?," you ask confuse but a little breathless. A wave of relief hit you as you realize James just saved you from a very shitty position. "I noticed you weren't in the Great Hall and I- I had a bad feeling," he explains as his hands goes to your cheek and he examine your face for any bruise, "Guess my guts were right.

That makes you chuckle softly, but your laugh quikly turns into a loud and hoarse caught. At this action, James' eyes goes down to your throat. You can see his brown eyes turning dark and you immediately understand that you must have a bruise on your neck. Instinctively, your hand goes to your throat and touch it softly.

"I'm gonna kill them," he mutters slightly, his jaw clearly clenched. You frown, concerned as he gets up, you've never seen him like that. You don't know him that well, but you do know for sure that James is not one to return match. Except on the Quidditch field. "You're not like them James," you try to resonate him with a genuine tone.

James look back down at your frail form on the cold floor, "How could someone want to hurt you?" He mumbles and it seems like he's asking the question to himself. You don't reply anything before Snape shifts on the floor. Yours and James' eyes turns directly to him as he weakly gets up.

"You," without thinking twice you see James throw himself at Severus, grabbing his collar harshly and pinning him against the wall next to you. You don't do any movement to stop what is happening as you stay still on the floor and look up at the scene. "This mugblood bitch mocked me, she deserved it," spit Severus without even looking down at you.

"You're lucky I don't kill you tonight Snevillus, you tacky piss of shit," he mutters lowly, his face close to the other boy like he was spitting venom. Behind his glasses there is fire in James' eyes, a fire you didn't know he had in him. Apprently, Snape didn't knew either since all the color have been drained from his face.

"Of course you'd have helped her," he mumbles, more like a realization then an accusation. "Of course," James hemphasize with a scoff his tone, "If you got a problem, next time come and attack those responsible, coward," he adds, pushing him more against the wall.

"If she crosses our way again, be sure this time we won't miss her," you hear a third voice, it's strained and heavy. It's Mulciber. James immediately let Snape sore body fall on the floor and turn to Bruce. "Levicorpus," and with a quick motion of his wand, Mulciber's body starts to fly above the floor as he gasps in distress.

"Say that again," James' voice is cold but you can hear a smirk in it as he make his way toward Bruce's flying figure. "Say that again to my face," he snaps now with anger and from your spot on the floor your can see James' face close to Mulcibers. Suddenly the tension in this dark and empty hallway feels thicker.

You can hear Mulciber struggling in James' spell, "If this little bitch of yours crosses our way again she'll regret it," he spits then, his voice is full of venom and hatred. James let out what sounds like a low curse under his breath. Quikly, his wand in under Burce's chin in a threatening way. James is a good wizard, not as good as Lily Evans, but good enough that he could hurt Mulciber and Snape really bad if he wanted to.

You just hope he doesn't want to.

Before James have the time to respond anything Mulciber adds something. "By the way, how is your little friend Mary?" Mulciber's voice is amused and teasing and beside you you can hear Snape snarking. And it's the last straw for James. The Griffondor lift his wand and all can you see is a white lightening before you see Mulciber's body on the floor few feet away.

There is no sound for few seconds before you break the silence, "S'he dead?" You ask with a little voice. James turns to you a little with a little frown on his face, "No," he mutters as he shoulders relax slightly, "Even if he'd have deserved it," he adds.

He turns to Snape after that, walking to him and grabbing his collar brutally, "I got a message for you and your little boyfriend: if you or him touches ever again one of my friend you can be sure you'll be hunted by more than just me. Am I clear enough for your shit brain?" He says darkly and all the Slytherin boy can do is nodding. James just let go of his collar, letting him fall back down on the floor.

Then he walks up to you, putting his wand back in his pocket. He gather your books before gently helping you up, one of his arms wrapped around your waist and his other hand holding your stuff.

"You okay?" He mumbles softly worriedly, his face close to yours and all you can do is staring in his blue eyes and nodding like an idiot. There is just too much that has been going on that you don't know what to do or say anymore, except "Thank you James."

The boy chuckles softly at your expression before his lips form a soft and warm smile, "You're welcome, pretty," he replies and your little smile turn a bit shy. That makes James giggle again as he begans to lead you down the hall, "C'mon, we should head back to the Great Hall. You must be hungry, huh?" He says as if nothing had happened and you are grateful to him for that. "A little yeah..."

[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

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Making Arrangements Part Two

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.

Length: 7.9K

Notes: Hey look it's part two! This is the end of the fic!

No beta, we die like Billy Kimber

Warnings: Arranged marriage; mentions of prostitution; canon-typical attitudes toward sex; slow burn; enemies to allies to lovers; mention of Reader's mother passing away, though it doesn't say how; Reader has a brother and an aunt; no physical descriptions of non-canon characters; possessive Tommy; explicit sexual content - vaginal sex, unsafe sex

Summary: Mrs. Shelby. It had been your truth for nearly six months now, but you heard it so rarely that it hardly seemed to fit you.

“You look impressed.” You noted it to him with pride. Thomas’ gaze swept around the hotel room as he pressed a tip into the bellboy’s hand. The young man dipped a courteous nod before hurrying out, shutting the suite door behind himself.

“You chose well,” Tommy conceded. You shrugged nonchalantly, turning away to hide your proud smile. When Tommy had asked you to make arrangements for your trip, you’d been certain it was a test. It seemed like you’d passed, at least. The interior was opulent, with rich shades of red and tawny across the furnishings.

“There’s a balcony,” You nodded him toward it as you headed for the doors. You opened them, stepping out and peering over the hotel’s small courtyard. You heard Thomas come up behind you, felt his hand rest on your lower back as he set the other on the banister.

“It’ll be nice to be able to get some air without all of the street noise,” You added. Why were you so chatty now? It was hardly the first time you’d been alone with him.

Maybe it was the fact that Tommy had trusted you with this in the first place. Maybe it was how close he’d stuck to you on the car ride down, urging you to sit closer so that he could hear you properly over the rumbling of the road beneath his tires. Maybe it was the fact that, unless something else prevailed, you were going to share a bed with your husband for the first time that evening.

You glanced back toward Tommy and found him eyeing the courtyard below. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder and nodding inside.

“Do you like it?”

He turned to you, a small, patient smile on his lips.

“Yes,” He reassured, his thumb sweeping gently over your lower back. “I like it.”

You nodded, relieved, and turned back to the courtroom.

“What time is your meeting?”

“Six o’clock.”

“What time do you want me ready to go?”

“Five thirty should work well enough.”

You reached out, fishing into Tommy’s jacket for his timepiece. You ignored his heavy, curious look as you eyed the face. You had a couple of hours between now and then.

“Alright,” You shrugged, tucking the watch back where it belonged before you turned, heading into the room. It was another moment before Tommy followed you back inside.

“What’ll you wear?” He asked.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Where we’re going and who we’re meeting.” You crouched by your suitcase, casting Thomas a sidelong glance. “You still haven’t told me.”

He hummed, drifting closer and leaning against the bed frame.

“We're meeting Jay Miller.”

You frowned. That name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it. He waited patiently as you wracked your mind. Jay Miller. Jay Miller…

Your mind flashed with a face that you used to know well—a warm smile, a lopsided grin, the flutter of dark lashes as you took him between your lips—

You turned away from Thomas, your face going hot.

“I didn’t know that you knew Jacob,” You said crisply.

“It’s a young acquaintance. Lewis made introductions.”

And you would have to thank your brother for that—perhaps with a smack upside of his head. What the devil was he thinking, introducing your husband to your former beau?

“How fortuitous.” You straightened from your suitcase, looking down at its contents. Jay Miller. Lord above. You hadn’t seen the man in years. Maybe he wouldn’t remember you? Maybe he wouldn’t dare say a thing in front of Tommy. Maybe Tommy didn’t even know—

“That one.”

Your mind quieted as Tommy stepped up beside you, pointing into the suitcase. Your brow furrowed as you followed his direction, crouching down to pluck up a purple beaded dress.

“Why this one?” You asked, turning the fabric over in your hands.

“I’ve never seen you in it.”

“You haven’t seen me in most of the things I’ve packed,” You pointed out. Tommy hummed, pressing tightly up against your back, making your stomach turn somersaults.

“Then this’ll be a good place to start,” He insisted.

“And you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“We're having dinner at the Granville Hotel."

You drew in a shaky breath as he stepped away again, reahing into his pocket for his cigarette case as he headed back toward the balcony. You'd wear your purple dress to the Granville Hotel. Fine. You looked down at the dress, smoothing the crepe satin with your fingers. You’d known that you would need to prepare yourself physically, but preparing yourself mentally was now an entirely different matter.

-- 

It was a boon that Jacob seemed as shocked to see you as you had been when Tommy had mentioned his name to you. For as long as it had been, Jacob seemed almost wholly unchanged. He stood from the restaurant table, straightening his jacket as you and Tommy grew closer.

Jacob’s dark hair was neatly coiffed; his warm, dark eyes lingered heavily on you as you approached him on Tommy’s arm. He was taller than Tommy, nearly 6’4, with broad shoulders, and biceps that bulged in such a way that they seemed to challenge the seams of his suit. 

“Mr. Shelby,” Jacob turned his attention to Thomas, shaking his hand warmly.

“Mr. Miller,” They shook hands before Tommy gestured toward you, “I believe you know my wife.”

“I do,” Jacob nodded, “But I’m ashamed to say that I have not had the pleasure for quite some time.” He took hold of your extended hand, and while you’d expected a shake, he bowed over it, brushing a kiss to your knuckles. You fought to hold your expression steady as he leaned back, murmuring, “Mrs. Shelby.”

Mrs. Shelby. It had been your truth for nearly six months now, but you heard it so rarely that it hardly seemed to fit you.

“Mr. Miller,” You answered softly. “It is nice to see you again.”

“And you.”

“Shall we sit?” Tommy asked.

“Please.” Jacob waved his hands to the seat on the other side of the table from him. Tommy pulled your chair out for you, nodding as you murmured your thanks. He leaned down, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head, and you couldn’t help but glance back with a small smile on your lips. You didn’t even care if it was for show. The outward affection that Tommy had given you in the last few weeks felt so nice. It had been so long since you’d felt anything like that, not since—Well. Not since Jacob, at least.

You let your eyes stray to the other side of the table where Jacob seemed to be perusing the wine menu. It was a relief. You weren’t sure what business the two were engaged in, and finding out right off the bat would have been a bit much for you to handle. You knew well enough now that Thomas liked to ease into his business rather than state it outright.

--

Dinner was delicious. Course upon course upon course of perfectly prepared, filling food, chased by sips of the best bottles of wine that the restaurant had to offer you. Jacob and Thomas spent the entire meal exchanging pleasantries, talking around business…Until you reached the wasteland between dessert and the bill.

“...Now,” Jay started, folding his arms on the table. “We ought to come to our reason for meeting.”

“In front of the lady?”

“She can handle it.”

Where there had been a tease in Tommy’s voice, there was a thread of annoyance in Jay’s, insistent and firm. You weren’t sure who you were more grateful for at that moment. Jay knew you in your place in your family’s structure; Tommy was still learning you, in a way. He shifted in his seat a touch beside you, curling his arm around the back of your seat.

“I know she can,” Tommy insisted. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s simply not polite.”

Polite. You were almost certain that that word had never once applied to Tommy Shelby. Jay gave Tommy a tight smile, giving a small nod.

“Well then,” He replied, tone clipped. “Let’s get to it. We have sixteen distribution centers, but we’d only be able to lend five to you and your operations.”

You glanced toward Tommy, trying to gauge his reaction to the news. He nodded slowly, tapping the ash from his cigarette into the tray on the table.

“When we last spoke,” He spoke matter-of-factly, his tone tipped with venom, “You told me that ten centers would be available.”

“Yes, well.” Jay’s gaze flitted toward you lightning-quick, then away again. “That was blue sky thinking on my part. The fact of the matter is, we have five. Take them or leave them.”

“I’ll leave them.”

Your gaze flitted over to Tommy, stunned. He’d leave the option of five, rather than pursue them and find five elsewhere?

“You’re kidding,” Jay scoffed before he nudged you beneath the table with his foot. “Talk some sense into your husband.”

You considered for a moment, taking in Tommy properly. It was stalwart—almost flat—but he quirked a brow. You took in his expression, his countenance…And you knew. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be enough for him. You shook your head a little, your gaze fixed on Tommy as you agreed:

“It’s ten or nothing, Jay,” You warned.

“Please,” Jay laughed. “You can’t have bought into his shit so quickly.”

Tommy’s expression flickered as he turned to meet Jay’s eye again, his eyes narrowing.

“You doubt my wife’s sense?” Tommy frowned, his voice daring Jay to disagree.

“Thomas,” You warned softly, but it was drowned out by Jay’s, “I’m questioning whether your wife still has a mind of her own.”

Tommy stood so quickly that it made you jolt, stunned at the sudden move. Jay followed suit, the glasses on the table rattling as his thighs hit the table on the way up. You reached out, hurriedly steadying the table as the motions drew the attention of the other diners. You looked up, gaze darting between the two of them.

“You question my wife’s intellect. That is a dangerous path to walk.”

“I knew her long before you, Shelby, and better, if I do say so.”

“Is that right.”

“Thomas,” You hissed, “Don’t.”

Your dread grew as Tommy’s gaze held steadfast and heavily on Jay’s.

“Tommy,” You reached up, catching hold of his hand and squeezing it, “Please. Not here.”

It was another long, harrowing moment before Tommy lowered himself to sit beside you again, his arm curling around the back of your chair. You watched him, your heart pounding as Jay reluctantly lowered himself to sit, casting an apologetic smile toward the maître d.

“So,” Tommy drawled, “If five is all you’ve to offer, we may as well conclude our business now.”

“I suppose we should,” Jay agreed, his gaze drifting toward you. Your eyes dropped to Tommy’s shoulder, holding steadily there, rather than look at Jay.

“I’ll take care of the check,” Jay offered.

“There’s no need,” Tommy insisted, drawing out his money clip and slapping a stack of bills on the table. “It’s on us.”

--

Your entire body was hot as you stormed into your hotel room, already reaching up to remove your earrings as you crossed the threshold.

“Was that necessary?” You spat, glancing back toward him.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

You bit your inner cheek, holding in a hysterical laugh. That was bullshit. You tossed the earrings onto the vanity, ignoring one that pinged off of the mirror and onto the floor. You reached back, struggling to tug your dress off. You huffed in irritation, simply holding your arms up. It was a moment before Tommy strolled over, drawing the dress off of your body. You turned away from you before he could get a proper look, snatching the dress, your pajamas, and robe before hurrying behind the room divider to change.

You drew off your slip and your stockings hurriedly, listening to Tommy mill around on the other side. You tugged on your pajamas and robe, tying the tie tightly before rounding the divider, your pretty purple dress balled up to shove into your suitcase.

“I did not appreciate that,” You announced primly, crouching beside the case for your toiletries. 

“Appreciate what, precisely?”

“Being used as a bargaining chip.”

You straightened, settling at the vanity and taking up your cold cream to take your makeup off.

“...That’s not why I brought you.”

“Bullshit.” You met his eye in the mirror, uncaring of the fact that you likely looked ridiculous, smearing cream all over your face. “You wanted a position from the higher ground, and bringing me, you got it.”

You sprung up, striding over to the restroom and taking up a washcloth. You twisted on the tap, running it under the water and raising it to clean away the cold cream. You looked into the mirror, swiping away the remaining smudges of kohl beneath your eyes. You drew in a steadying breath, fighting to staunch your irritation. It felt good, but it just wasn’t enough.

You could hear the twisting of a bottle top, chased by the almost melodic sound of whiskey being poured into a glass. You straightened up, pitching the used washcloth into the basin of the sink and winding into the room. You plucked the glass of whiskey out of Tommy’s hands moments before he could take a sip, stomping over to the balcony and yanking the door open. You drew in a deep gulp as you leaned against the balcony, peering into the courtyard. The small winding path around it was lit with small lanterns, swaying in the evening breeze. You heard Tommy’s footsteps approaching after a few moments, but refused to look in his direction.

“What if you’re right?” He asked after a few moments.

“Then I’d say that you’d accomplished your mission.”

“Thank you for following my lead.”

“You should’ve taken the five.”

“Excuse me?”

“Better to have five to start with and look for five,” You argued, glancing up at him. “You could’ve negotiated a lower fee with Jay and an equal fee elsewhere.”

“You think my choice is foolish.”

“I think it’s short-sighted.”

Tommy’s brows rose and fell swiftly.

“You’re certainly entitled to that opinion.”

The telephone rang on the side table just inside the bedroom, and Tommy stepped away with a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As he went back inside. You turned to watch him, leaning against the balcony and watching him. He plucked the phone up, tucking it against his ear and answering, “Yes…Ah, Jay,” His gaze darted to yours. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this evening…Mm…Mhm…I see…”

Your brows rose, stomach roiling with nerves as you listened.

“Yes…Yes, ten centers will still do just fine,” Tommy insisted. You narrowed your eyes slightly. Dickhead.

“Of course… I understand…Thank you…Lovely doing business with you as well.”

You rested your chin on your hand as you heard Tommy lower the receiver back into the cradle. A moment later, he joined you on the balcony. You listened as he drew out a cigarette, tucked it between his lips, and lit a match. You caught the acrid scent of his cigarette just a few moments later.

“...Go on,” You finally sighed.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Gloat. Get it over with.”

“I think I’ll wait.”

--

“Tell me about him.”

Getting into bed with Thomas had been nerve-wracking. You’d been certain that he’d stay up and go out, but as you’d shut the light off and gotten under the covers, he’d joined you. There was a good amount of space between the two of you. You’d been staring at the ceiling, praying that sleep would come quickly, but you’d laid in silence until he’d asked that shocking question.

“What?” You frowned, letting your head loll to the side to look at him.

“Jacob Miller.”

You could feel him watching you in the room’s low light. You rolled onto your side to face him, tucking your hands under your head.

“I’m sure you did your research before doing business with him.”

“I did, but everything that I know is strictly professional. How did you meet him?”

You sighed softly, casting your mind back.

“It was at a party.”

“You brother’s?”

“No, he was still too young then. One of my Aunt Pearl’s friends threw it.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“How old was he?”

“Mm…Twenty I guess.”

“You liked him.”

“Not at first.”

“Why not?”

“He was just…I don’t know,” You shook your head. “He was too showy, flashy. Loud. But, he was already drunk by the time I got there. He’s far more calm when he doesn’t have a few in him.”

“Did you want to marry him?”

You considered for a moment, your thumb sweeping along the band of your wedding ring.

“I used to, I suppose.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“...It didn’t feel right.”

“And our marriage did?”

Did. The word hit you low in the belly. Did? Not does? What made Tommy think that your stance on the marriage had changed already? Was it your irritation at his tactics earlier that evening? You were certainly justified in that upset, and you wouldn’t let him talk you down from that, at least.

“...It’s different,” You insisted. “Jacob and I were simply attracted to one another. No strings. You and I married for the sakes of our families.”

“Do you regret it?”

You were quiet for a moment, taking in Tommy’s features.

“...No,” You shook your head. “We both got what we wanted. Didn’t we?”

Tommy nodded slowly, his foot gently brushing yours beneath the sheets.

“That we did.”

You nodded, relief melting over you.

“Have you ever been in love?” You hedged. It took a moment before Tommy admitted, “Yes.”

“Who was she?”

“There was a girl. Greta. We were young, and…She got very sick.”

“Only her?”

“...Another, named Grace. She worked at the Garrison.”

“Why her?”

“I thought we were cut from the same cloth.”

“...And now?”

Pain flashed across Tommy’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Now I know better.”

-- 

It was strange to wake up with someone else. You opened your eyes slowly, focusing on the rise-and-fall of your belly with the weight of Tommy’s arm atop it, the heat of his body pressed into your side. You tipped your head to look at him, taking him in properly in the early morning light. You raised your hand, gently smoothing back his sleep-mussed hair.

The night had yielded far more than you’d expected. You hadn’t expected Tommy to tell you about his first love, and you hadn’t expected him to ask about yours. You hoped that it would bring you closer, but with Tommy, you could never tell. Maybe it was leverage…But if it was, why would he have told you about Greta, or Grace? You peered up at the ceiling, noting to yourself that you ought to ask Peggy more about them when you got back to Birmingham.

You glanced toward Tommy as you felt him sigh, nuzzling your shoulder sleepily.

“...Morning,” You murmured. He hummed softly, turning his head from the window.

“I want coffee.” “I’ll order room service.”

You rolled over, reaching for the phone. You sucked in a breath as Tommy’s arms curled around your middle, his body pressing up against your back. You swallowed thickly, reaching out to dial the front desk.

“...Hello?...Two coffees…” You requested, “And, um…” You drew the receiver away. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Toast for now.”

“And two orders of toast…Room 402…Thank you.” You hung up, settling back down in bed. “It’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Should be ten for what we’re paying to stay here, ” Tommy sighed, brushing his cheek against your shoulder.

“Did you sleep alright?”

“Fine…You?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Tommy rolled away, stretching and yawning widely before he sat up. You stayed in bed, trying to remember the warmth of Tommy cuddling so close, certain that you wouldn’t feel it again any time soon. You’d forgotten how nice it was to be held. You watched him for a few moments, taking in the expanse of his pale back before you finally pushed yourself to sit up, lowering your gaze to the sheets as Tommy turned back toward you.

“...You alright?” He asked after a moment. You swallowed thickly, forcing a placid expression as you met his gaze again.

“Of course.”

For a moment, you thought that he may push back for an answer, but he let it go, nodding as he fished into his coat pocket for his cigarettes.

-- 

The news that the Blakes would be visiting Birmingham had reached Pearl first. She had mentioned it to Polly, who had told Tommy while Lewis was in earshot. Lewis had written and sent you a note, and you’d had the facts of it by noon.

By the time Tommy returned for the evening, you were completely occupied with the arrangements. He found you in the kitchen with notebooks and your planner spread out over the table.

“I see you’ve heard,” He commented.

“I have.”

“Is there dinner?”

“There's soup and bread in the oven.”

Tommy grunted, walking more deeply into the kitchen. You hardly registered the feeling of him resting his hands on your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

“...How was work?” You asked after a few moments.

“Fine.” You heard the oven door open, then close again. You tutted as he nudged some of your work aside, setting his plate down before he sat beside you. You could see Tommy rolling his sleeves up out of the corner of your eye, but you simply drew another notebook nearer to yourself, eyeing an itemized grocery list.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asked after a moment.

“Totaling the estimated costs. I want everything to be prepared before they arrive.”

“Mm…Have you eaten?”

You turned the page of your mother's old notebook, brow furrowing. Was it apple cake or apple pie that the Blakes preferred? Or apple strudel? You knew that there was apple involved—

You jolted as the notebook was yanked out from beneath your hands, tossed to the other side of the table, out of reach. You whirled around, eyes wide.

“Tommy!”

He pushed the plate toward you, turning it in your direction so that the stew was closer to you than it was to him. “Eat.”

“And what’s to stop me from just taking up the notebook up again?”

“I am.” Tommy snapped his fingers, pointing at the plate. “Eat.”

You huffed softly, taking up a piece of bread and reluctantly dipping it into the stew.

“...I made this for you,” You grumbled.

“What was it that the minister said when we were married? About the two being as one? Means we share.”

“How technical,” You grumbled through your mouthful. You glanced up as Tommy nudged a glass of wine closer to you. You took the glass up, taking a deep pull before passing it back. Lord above, you hadn’t even realized how hungry you were. It hit you all at once, your stomach grumbling as you swallowed. You didn’t dare look at Tommy, nervous that he’d heard it.

“How long have you been at this?” He asked, waggling a finger toward the mess on the table.

“I don’t know. A while.”

“Mm. An awful lot of uproar for the Blakes.”

You cast him a sidelong glance, brow raised. “The Blakes are one of the oldest families in our acquaintance. I haven’t seen them since I was a child, since—” Since before your mother had passed. You cleared your throat, lowering your gaze to the plate. “Anyway. I was just going over my mother’s old party notes. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Beyond offending them and losing our connections? Gee, Thomas, I can’t think of a thing,” You quipped dryly. He seemed to smile unwittingly.

“Less chatting, more chewing,” He counseled, nudging the bowl closer again.

-- 

“I trust you have everything in hand.”

Pearl’s tone indicated that she did not trust that you did, in fact, have everything in hand. Despite her prickly barb and lack of faith, you’d managed everything quite well. The Blakes would be staying in your guest room, which had been fully kitted out when you’d remodeled the house. You’d ordered in a chef and a sous chef for the next few days, giving you the freedom to deal with the house, and you’d hired on a maid permanently. Ethel was a quick, eager, high-spirited woman, who had practically been your shadow for the last few days.

You cast Pearl a sidelong glance, jaw clenched as she lazily swept her eyes across the neat sitting room. You could just make out the sound of the cook and his sous chef bustling about in the kitchen, Ethel in the living room, setting the table.

“Yes, I have,” You nodded. “And thank you for all of your help this week.”

Pearl snorted at your contemptuous tone, tapping the ashes from her cigarette into a tray on the sideboard.

“You’re the lady of the house. You have to learn how to manage these things for yourself sometime. It may as well be now.”

You sighed, turning to the house and straightening the cushions for what had to be the eightieth time that day.

“Did you see them when they went into the office?” You asked, glancing back toward Polly.

“Mm, briefly. Beulah looked like hell. Poor woman never did have the stomach for the crossing. They booked too late, couldn’t get a cabin close enough to the middle. She must've spent the last five full days chucking her guts up.”

“Pearl,” You scowled, disgusted.

“I”m simply saying, don’t be too offended if she doesn’t eat too much at dinner tonight.”

“Mm. How about the old man?”

“Oh, you know Chester. Strong as an ox. He’ll outlive us all.” Pearl was quiet for a moment before she added, “They brought Hugh.”

The news hit you like a freight train. You groaned loudly, giving your foot one petulant stomp before striding over to the door to the dining room. You drew in a deep breath, steadying yourself before you opened the door.

“Ethel.”

“Ma’am?”

“We’ll be ten for dinner tonight—Unless,” You glared over toward Polly, “You have any more surprises.”

“Not a one. You’re a dear, Ethel,” Pearl gave her a bright smile. You turned your own tight smile toward Ethel, nodding, “Ten.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s better this way,” Pearl insisted as you let the door swing closed. “You were saying that you hated a lopsided table. Hugh evens out numbers.”

“How kind of him,” You grumbled. “How old is he now?”

“Thirty.”

“Married?”

“Divorced.”

“Mm.”

“...Attractive.”

You arched a brow at Pearl’s comment. She watched you for a moment before she lowered her gaze to the smoldering end of her cigarette.

“Is your husband still seeing that woman?” She asked. The mention of Lizzie made your gut pang with bitterness, but you forced your face into an uninterested mask as you shrugged.

“I don’t know,” You admitted.

“Does he bring her around?”

“No, but he may go to her. However he handles that business, he doesn’t—...It isn’t in the house, at least.”

“Have you considered asking him?”

“I don’t care what he does.”

“It’s up to you to know. Especially for the course of this visit.”

You sighed softly. “Thomas will do what’s best for the business. He won’t jeopardize it for a roll in the hay.”

“You’re certain?”

“Trust me, aunt. If there is one thing that he cares for in this world, it’s that.”

-- 

Pearl’s assessments of your visitors had been correct—you could see that the second they walked through the door.

With a full head of greyed hair and a neatly trimmed handlebar mustache, standing at 6’2, Chester Blake had the same larger-than-life air that he’d possessed when you were young. He was a little thicker around the middle than he had been the last time you’d seen him, but the sands of time didn’t exactly flow north. He was aging, but he wore it well. Beulah, on the other hand, looked as if she’d spent the entire crossing on the cargo hold of the ship. Her hair and clothing were neatly styled, but her typically pinked fair skin looked sallow, and her expression was drawn. Her bright grey eyes were dull, and her smile seemed just a little wobbly as she took you in.

“My word,” She managed, “How much you’ve grown.”

“And you haven’t changed at all,” You smiled as you embraced her, “Either of you.”

“A lie, and one that your mother would’ve abhorred, rest her soul,” Chester patted your shoulder, “But I’m happy to hear it myself.”

You smiled, shaking your head.

“I think that my mother would’ve scolded me if I hadn’t said as such.”

Tommy skirted around Beulah, resting a hand on your hip and leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. You smiled, despite the fact that the show of affection was likely a show for your guests.

“We mustn’t all crowd in the doorway,” You insisted as Tommy helped Beulah out of her coat, passing it off to Ethel, “Can I get anyone a drink?”

“Have you got whiskey?” Chester asked as they followed you into the sitting room.

“Man after my own heart,” Tommy commented, walking over to the sideboard.

“And you, Beulah? Some tea, perhaps?” You suggested softly. She took your hand, giving it a grateful squeeze.

“I’d love nothing more.”

“Ginger?”

“You’re an angel.”

“Ethel,” You turned to your maid as she headed for the kitchen, “A ginger tea for Mrs. Blake, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

You guided Beulah to a seat before joining Tommy at the sideboard.

“Would you like one?” He murmured.

“Thank you, no. I think it’d be best if I kept my head for the evening. There’ll be wine with dinner, besides.”

“Mm.”

You glanced toward Beulah where she had closed her eyes, then looked toward Chester, where he was eyeing the tintype photographs of your parents, and of Lewis when he was young.

“...Where are the boys?” You asked after a moment.

“With Polly and Pearl, showing Hugh a good time at the Garrison.”

You groaned quietly in annoyance. That was just what you needed—the lot of them spilling in to dinner, absolutely smashed.

“They’ll be on their best behavior,” Tommy added before you could complain further.

“You’re certain?”

“They gave me their word.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line before you gave a short nod, murmuring, “Alright.” You could feel Tommy eyeing you for a moment before you felt his hand slide across your waist. You raised your eyes to his as he shifted just a little closer, his hip pressing to yours.

“The contract was signed this morning—everything from here on out is just pleasantries. Relax.”

You drew in a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before you sighed, lowering your eyes to collar. You closed your eyes as Tommy leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You patted his hand softly before he drew away, taking up one of the glasses and turning back to your guests.

“Here you are, Chester.”

You glanced toward Beulah, grimacing as you saw her raise her hand to her mouth, resting it there, as if she wasn’t sure whether she’d be ill or not. You walked over to her, forgoing propriety as you crouched beside her.

“The tea should be ready in a moment. Would you like to go and lie down for a few minutes before dinner?”

She gave you a small, grateful smile.

“I’ll be alright, dear,” She insisted, patting your hand. “But could I ask you to get the tin of mints from my coat? They’re in the left pocket.”

“Of course.”

You straightened, heading for the coat closet. You’d only just retrieved the tin when the front door was flung open. You heard the clamoring of voices just a moment later, and you watched as Polly, Pearl, Lewis, Arthur, John, and an unfamiliar man piled in. You folded your arms across your chest, unable to help the slight, disapproving raise of your brow. Pearl caught sight of you first, and she cackled, pinching your cheek.

“Give up the sourpuss, pet, it’s only us.”

“I can see that, thank you.”

Ethel zipped into the hall, rushing to collect the coats as quickly as they were being shrugged off. You gave Lewis, Arthur, and John a peck on the cheek as they passed you, heading into the sitting room.

“I don’t get one?”

The man’s voice gave you pause, and you turned to get a better look at him.

Hugh Chester Blake had been a menace of a child when you were growing up—stealing your books, dipping the ends of your hair in ink, shoving you down into the dirt as he passed. Your gaze swept him speculatively. He had his mother’s eyes, his father’s thick, dark head of hair. You had remembered a lanky little twit, but he’d grown to be quite tall and quite broad.

“Hello, Hugh,” You greeted.

“That’s not a very warm welcome, is it.” He took a step closer, and you fought the urge to step back, swallowing thickly as he crowded into your space. Christ, where had Polly and Pearl gone? Play nice, just play nice. Pleasantries, you thought. Thomas had done the hard work, you couldn’t undo it by insulting the man—

“About time, Hugh,” You heard.

You could’ve cried with relief as Tommy joined you, curling a territorial arm around your waist.

“Mrs. Blake is looking for those mints, darling,” Tommy added. Darling, that was new—Your mind stalled at the endearment before you squeaked, “Oh, goodness! Excuse me.”

You hurried away from the crowded doorway, just catching on Tommy saying, “You boys took your sweet time.”

You crouched beside Mrs. Blake’s seat again, murmuring your apologies as you passed the tin over.

“It’s quite alright,” She insisted, “I know all about the hosting game—your attention is torn ten different directions.”

You smiled gratefully, giving her hand a squeeze as you straightened, glancing around. Everyone had drinks in hand…And Tommy and Hugh were still in the doorway. You frowned, recognizing the tight, irritated set of Tommy’s jaw. What could they possibly be discussing—?

“Dinner is nearly ready, Mrs. Shelby.” Ethel’s news snapped you out of your contemplation, and you nodded, smiling at her.

“I’ll start herding the cats, then. Thank you, Ethel.”

--

Dinner had gone off without a hitch. Every dish had been prepared perfectly—and the chef had been quick to heat broth for Beulah when she’d been wary of not being able to keep any of the rich meal down. You could feel yourself beginning to truly relax as you watched Pearl and Polly dance with John and Lewis. The sound of the record player, their chatter and laughter began to brighten up the typically drab, quiet calm of the sitting room.

“Room on your card for me?”

Hugh’s question made you clam up again, and your eyes darted to his palm. Pleasantries. You could manage one dance, couldn’t you? You gave him a small smile, resting your hand in his. You knew the moment that you did that it was a mistake. He tugged you far too harshly toward the others, causing you to nearly trip over your own feet. He rested his hand on your lower back, fingers splaying wide, nearly dipping lower than what was appropriate. Your hear ticked up in your chest as you took in the ruddiness in his cheeks.

Hugh was drunk.

You didn’t know how much he’d had at the Garrison, but he’d been pounding the wine back at dinner, nearly drinking an entire bottle alone, and hardly touching his food. Now, he jerkily steered you around the crowded space, his grasp on your hand so tight it was nearly painful. Where was Beulah? Maybe you could excuse yourself to check in on her—

“I’m cutting in.”  

Your eyes darted gratefully to Tommy as he grasped Hugh’s jacket, forcing the man to stop.

“What?” Hugh asked, face reddening in irritation.

“I said,” Tommy stepped closer, “I’m cutting in. I want to dance with my wife, if you don’t mind.”

If you don’t mind. It was tactful, almost genius. It put the ball in Hugh’s court. The polite thing to do would be to acquiesce; if he didn’t, the phrasing and his refusal to let go would seem absolutely ridiculous. You felt Hugh glance between you and Tommy before he reluctantly passed you into Tommy’s hands.

“Thank you for the dance,” You added over your shoulder before Tommy steered you to the other side of the dance floor. You sighed softly, resting your forehead against Tommy’s shoulder. “Your timing was superb.”

Tommy hummed knowingly, swaying you slowly as Arthur switched the record over.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sweeping his thumb over the side of your hand.

“I am now,” You murmured, lifting your head to look at Tommy. He nodded, gaze sweeping your face. His nose brushed gently against yours, his eyes flitting to your lips, and lingering. You swiped your tongue along your lower lip, stomach fluttering as Tommy pressed his lips to yours. You felt the swaying slow, then stop as Tommy’s arm curled around your waist, drawing you into his chest. You gently lifted your hand from his shoulder, resting on his nape. You had barely kissed him on your wedding day. This was sweet in a way that you’d never known from Tommy—a way that you wanted to become more familiar with.

The hoots and whoops from Lewis, Arthur, and John snapped you from the tender embrace, and you turned your head from Tommy, embarrassedly pressing your face into his neck.

“Alright, pipe down,” Tommy grumbled. When you managed to draw yourself from your nervous hiding place, you found Polly and Pearl sharing a smile.

--

“…What are you doing in here?”

The question flew out of your mouth, coated in your surprise, and you could see the swell of Tommy’s amusement as he closed your bedroom door behind himself.

“Hugh is in my room,” He informed you. Oh—Lord above. You nodded a little. Of course. How hadn’t you thought of that?

“I see,” You muttered. Tommy hummed, pushing off from the door and walking deeper inside. You watched him take in the furnishings, his gaze sweeping the armchair and bookshelf, the small reading table, the nightstand…And the bed. You raised your hand, scrubbing at the back of your neck.

It was going to be alright, you told yourself. You’d slept with Tommy—you’d been asleep with Tommy—before, just a few weeks ago. That had been a comfortable enough experience, so…So this would be more than alright. You were certain of it.

“I’ll just,” You gestured toward the divider in the corner of the room, “I’ll go change.” You skirted around it before Tommy could argue, or offer to be the one to change behind it. You plucked up your pajamas and stepped behind the divider, scrubbing your hands over your heated face once you were out of his line of vision. How did this man still make you so nervous?

“...It was a lovely evening.” Tommy’s insistence floated over the divider to you, prompting you to snap into action.

“Yes, it was,” You answered, words slightly muffled as you drew your dress up and over your head. You hung it over the silk folding screen, reaching for the fastenings on your brassiere and corset. “I’ll have to give the cook an excellent recommendation. Dinner was superb.”

“Yes.”

You drew off your thigh-highs, hanging them on the screen by your dress. You pulled on your nightdress, smoothing your hands over the cool, sky-blue fabric before putting on the matching robe.

“…May I come out?” You asked, damning your nerves.

“Of course.”

You stepped around the screen, surprised to find Tommy in bed already. He had the manuscript that had been on your bedside table in hand.

“You’re making progress,” He commented, flipping through a few pages, skimming a few of your corrections and notes.

“I was. Things got a little…Held up with the Blake’s visit,” You admitted. You’d hardly touched the manuscript in the last couple of weeks. You walked over to the basin, trying to ignore the feeling of Tommy’s gaze following you.

“…Is that new?” He asked.

“Hm?” You looked at them, finding his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. The interest in his gaze warmed you, and you hurriedly looked away again as his eyes swept upward. “Oh, the—This? No.”

“Had it long?”

“A few months.” It was another outfit that you’d gotten for your honeymoon months ago—one that Tommy would never had had a reason to see before.

“Will you be reading before bed?” Tommy asked.

“I think not. It’s been a long day.”

The stress was beginning to drain from your system, making you feel the full weight of your fatigue. You were almost certain that you’d fall asleep the second your head hit the pillow. You washed your face quickly, listening to Tommy turn the pages of the manuscript every few moments. When you finished, you dried your hands and turned back to the bed.

“Would you like to leave that light on?” You asked, nodding toward the lamp on the bedside table as you shrugged your robe off, hanging it up on the bed post.

“I can do without it, unless you’d like it on.”

“No! I’m alright,” You chirped as you climbed into bed, tugging the covers up. Tommy set the manuscript aside, shutting the light off before he settled down in bed beside you. You could feel his legs brush against yours as you the two of you laid on your sides facing one another.

“…Hugh’s a live one, isn’t he,” Tommy commented.

“He hasn’t been told no much before.”

“That became quite clear.”

You shivered at the thread of steel in Tommy’s tone. You reached out, tracing a finger gently along the back of his hand.

“Thank you again,” You added, “For stepping in when you did.”

“I told you,” Tommy turned his hand over beneath yours. “If I ever find out another man touched you, I’ll give you his hands.”

You huffed a soft laugh through your nose.

“May put a bit of a damper on your contract with his father.”

“Though they’d make an excellent trophy above the mantle.”

“That’s vile,” You giggled, smile widening as Tommy’s hand wrapped around yours. You were quiet for a few moments, reveling in the heat of his palm against yours. “…I don’t suppose I’m afforded the same opportunity?” You added.

“What do you mean?”

“Whose hands would I get to take as a trophy?”

Tommy met the statement with silence, and it made you want to sink into the bed. You’d been joking—

“There’s been no one,” He finally said. The admission made your heart stutter in your chest.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s been no one,” He repeated.

“But…Lizzie—”

“Not for months.”

Months. When had it stopped? And—

“Why?” You asked, shaking your head in disbelief. Tommy raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He pressed another to your forearm, then shifted closer, lips brushing against your shoulder. He turned his head, and your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Tommy—” You breathed, but you were unable to get another word out as his lips covered yours. You sighed against his lips, raising your other hand to smooth over the close crop of his undercut. He let go of your hand just long enough to grasp your nightdress, using his hold on the fabric to draw you closer, then steer himself up over you. You let your thighs splay as he slotted between them, pressing his bare chest against you, hips flush and grinding against yours. His kisses trailed lower, hands grasping covetously at the fabric covering your chest. He gave the lace a yank, and you hissed softly as you heard it rip.

“Tommy—Oh,” Your mouth fell open as he drew one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, “Damnit—I liked this nightdress.”

Tommy lifted his head, lips brushing your chin. “I’ll get you others,” He grumbled against you, “I’ll buy you a hundred more tomorrow.” His hand slipped between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers brushed against your pussy. You tipped your hips up into his touch pleadingly, lowering your chin and finding his lips with yours.

“I want you bare,” He murmured against your lips.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“No.”

The answer made you go still, embarrassment and nerves flipping your stomach. Tommy took your face in his hands, holding your gaze steadily with his.

“I’m going to make love to my wife.”

--

His palm pressed heavily over your mouth, muffling your moans as his cock stretched your needy core. You pressed your head back into the pillows, curling your arms around his shoulders, and your legs around the backs of his.

“Sssh,” He murmured, the push of the hush brushing against your ear. “We don’t want the Blakes hearing, do we?”

You managed to shake your head a little, blinking up at Tommy as you panted broadly against his palm. Your cunt throbbed around his cock as he fully sheathed himself in you. You reached up, tugging Tommy’s hand away and catching his lips in a kiss. His fingers intertwined with yours, raising your joined hands to rest on the pillow beside you. He rolled his hips gently, then again as you whimpered, swirling his tongue with yours. Tommy fucked you with slow, even strokes, trading slow kisses as you moaned and panted into one another’s mouths.

Tommy broke your kiss, pressing his face into your neck as his thrusts became harder. You gasped, sinking your nails into his shoulders as you let your eyes slide closed. The bed was beginning to creak with his movements, the slapping of your hips slightly muffled beneath the sheets. You felt the familiar curling sensation beneath your waist, and you slid a hand down, grasping Tommy’s behind and using the grip to urge him on. He drew back just enough to get a good look at you, his eyes bright in the dim room. You sucked in a stunned breath as he reached between your legs, fingers teasing your clit as his hips pounded yours more roughly.

Your eyes widened as the headboard whacked against the wall behind you.

“Tommy,” You chastised, “Hugh will hear—”

“Let him,” Tommy spat, “Let him hear how I take care of my wife.”

You bit your lip to quiet your moans, grasping his wrist and stilling it as his touch tipped you over the edge. Your hips bounded up against his, chased by the harsh slamming of his hips, and the heat of him spilling into you. The scrape and squeak of the bed quieted as Tommy braced himself over you, looking down at your sweat-sheened body. He leaned down, brushing his lips over your breasts, then up, over your neck. You closed your eyes, curling your arm around his shoulder and resting your hand on the nape of his neck. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the pounding of his heart against yours. You turned your head, nuzzling his hair and pressing a kiss to his head.

“…Think that dresser has enough room for my things, too?” He mumbled. You grinned, tightening your grip on him as his hand tenderly smoothed along your thigh.

“It certainly does.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @babaohhhriley ; @thescarletfang ;

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Shot Down - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

He hates being told 'No'...

tw: codependency, manipulation.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Sevika nods, once. But the sorrow lingers in her eyes.

"What about you?" she asks. "Will you be—?"

"I'll be here."

"Doing what?"

"There are a few threads to tie up. A handful of meetings with the chem-barons. Then a trip to the Terrarium. As soon as I'm done, I'll join Jinx and Viktor in the Aerie. By then, I anticipate the glyph will be in their crosshairs. And Violet, already cold. By the time her body's found at the Abattoir, Zaun will have a brand-new power source under wraps. One that will transform the city. Rewrite the past. Reshape our future."

From beneath his half-lidded eye, he watches Sevika absorb the words. Her face is immovable, but there are undercurrents of conflict in her forehead and jaw. Her mouth—kiss-swollen—parts, then shuts.

She can sense the charge or of excitement in him. The resolute sense of purpose. It compels her, as it always has.

But that sorrow—that strange, inexplicable sorrow—won't fade. Her hand, in his, won't let go.

Like she cannot shake the feeling he is gone for good.

Yielding to rare impulse, Silco kisses her. A kiss that goes from claiming to paying court with the same thread of savoring slowness.

She shivers, but doesn't answer.

"This is it, Sevika," he breathes. "After all these years. The moment we've been waiting for."

"I know." She swallows. "I know."

"What is it?"

"I guess—I didn't realize that today was the day."

"Neither did I. Not until last night. Jinx dispatched a message by crow."

"And you came here."

"To prepare you."

"You could've radioed."

"And start my day without a proper legover?"

The levity falls flat. Her expression doesn't alter. No low-slung smirk. No sly quirk of the brow. Just the sorrow, and a hand in his.

Again, he kisses her. Her eyes fall shut. The crude Shimmer veins on her cheekbone pulse like a wound seeping blood. He traces them with the folded fingers of his free hand, down to the curve of her throat.

The heat of her fresh-fucked body exerts an irresistible pull. Her skin is so richly scented. So electrifyingly sweet.

The countdown's in motion: six bells and a schedule from hell.

But need's got no use for a timepiece.

It's why, the past few weeks, he's sought her out, again and again. Home can always be leveraged against you. But a steadfast tether is the surest bulwark in a storm. And that storm's inside him: a restless cage of teeth and hunger and howling rage.

It's been that way since the blood game began. He's plotted every square; the pieces are in place. The checkmate is close.

Sevika's closer still. Her heat, her pulse, her body—all within reach.

All his.

Slowly, Silco eases her back across the rumpled sheets. Kisses her again, his hand roaming from her throat down to the bisecting line of breasts and belly and the damp vee of thighs. But when his palm delves between them, ready to begin preliminaries, he meets resistance. The solid muscles of her thighs flex shut, keeping his questing fingers out.

Frowning, Silco stops.

"Sevika?"

Her stare holds his, the way it's always done. But the light in her eyes has gone strange.

"You should go," she says. "Big day ahead."

"No chance of a victory lap?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Oh, I don't know." Silco insinuates his fingers an inch deeper. Her body gives a telltale tremor. "I've been in front, below, behind. But inside's where the real payoff is."

"You can't afford the distraction."

"It's a small one. Indulge me."

He dips his head, kissing the hollow of her breastbone. Tongues the groove of muscle down to the pucker of navel. There is salt caught in the fine hairs of her skin. Life, at its strongest, radiating under his lips.

"Don't," she says, but with a catch in her breath.

"You don't want to?"

"Not now."

"I can change your mind." He nuzzles the dense pooch of curls at her mons. Breathes in the heady musk of her. The faint quiver of her belly is a dead giveaway. "Just say the word."

Her cybernetic hand catches him by the nape. Gunmetal eyes lock with his own.

"The word's Kill It," she says.

The safeword—non-negotiable—stops him short.

He doesn't let go, but his hand slips away. He still wants her, so badly it hurts, except the hurt's now something he cannot put a name to. Conflict; self-doubt. Reflexively, his mouth seeks hers, an anchor amid the alienness.

This time, she lets the kiss linger: a simple contact of flesh-on-flesh. But a moment later, she gently, firmly, withdraws. Her good hand squeezes his, letting go before he has a chance to lock his fingers into hers.

Their clasp falls apart.

The tether's gone.

Sitting up, Sevika reaches, not for the vodka, but her smokes. Lipping a cigarette from the pack, she sparks up. Her hair—past her shoulders now, and growing ravishingly long with each week—falls forward, shielding her expression.

The smoke's a shield too. Behind it, he senses a strategic retreat.

"Go," she repeats, and it's not a tone that invites persuasion.

"You're turning me down."

"I am."

She is rifling through her drawer. Finding what she wants—an old horsehair brush that once belonged to Nandi—she leans over and begins brushing vigorously from the nape. He cannot see her face at all, and half-expects her to set fire to the glossy black locks with her cigarette.

He half-expects the flat to go up in flames, and engulf his pride with it.

"Sevika—"

She preempts whatever spiel he's preparing to spin. "Nothing personal. But a lot's riding on today. Especially with Jinx at the helm."

"She's not at the helm. I am."

"You've given her the tools. The gem. The runes. The map."

"I trust her to succeed."

"And I trust her to blow us sky-high. So, on the off-chance it happens, I'm prepping in advance." Silco watches the gliding play of muscles along her spine. The brushstrokes slow. Tossing her hair back, she takes one last drag, then grinds the butt into the ashtray. The smoke dispels, but her shield holds. "You're the brains, Silco. I'm just the muscle. And I'd rather those muscles be ready to roll. For Zaun's sake."

"Is that why I'm being evicted? Out of patriotic duty?"

"Partly."

"And the rest?"

"The rest's between me and mine."

"Sevika—"

"Next time, sir, I'd suggest starting your day with a cold shower."

Silco stares. The snark is vintage Sevika. But there's something oddly forced to it. A blistering bite that goes beyond her usual repertoire.

It unsettles him. As does the bluntness of the brush-off. She's been at his beck and call for years. Never refused his advances. Never once held back. Hell, half the time, he never even has to ask. It's simply a matter of when.

Now her distance is a drawbridge, impassable.

And Silco realizes: he's forgotten what it is to be denied. To be made to heel.

To feel human.

Inexorably, the rage cuts through. At himself, for wanting. At her, for withholding.

And rage, he can work with.

"If you insist," he says mildly. "Though I was going to share the rest."

"The rest?"

"The game-plan after Vi's out of the picture." A beat. "And how Noxus enters into it."

That gets her attention.

Her head swivels, just a fraction. Her slitted eyes seek his. Silco says nothing. He only smiles. A smile that is the equivalent of a card leveled across a poker table. On its surface, stenciled in bold black print: an ace of spades. On its flipside, a handwritten scrawl: Fuck You.

She had her chance, and she's squandered it.

Now, they'll play it his way.

"So," she says quietly, "you're still holding out on me."

"We can't always get what we want."

"Except for you, huh?"

"My wants are Zaun's wants." Lazily, he rises. "Zaun's wants are mine."

"And the rest?"

"In time."

His clothes are a heaped mess across the floorboards. He'd allowed himself a spot of spontaneity, where ordinarily he'd fold them first. Now it strikes him as a warning sign. Trust: creeping from the corners of his control. Tempting him to let it bleed all the way through.

He'll never make the same mistake twice.

Methodically, he dresses. Trousers, shirt, socks. Shrugging on his waistcoat, he adjusts the lapels, and begins tying the cravat. In the mirror, Sevika's stare roams. There is a bit of a voyeur in her. She's always liked to watch him slinking into his clothes, same way Nandi enjoyed watching him slither out of them. Something about the way the movements limn his scarred musculature, his fingertips spidering across buttons and fastenings, puts her into a dark-eyed reverie.

Silco's never minded. It's no different from when he watches her kill at his command.

Today, it's different. Something in her eyes—in their raw steeliness—is telling. It's not her old look: the one from when he'd just been smooth-talking Sil, and she was just a girl with a good right hook. The way she'd look at him then: an unguarded stare that saw past the layers of charm and calculation he put on for the rest of the world. That saw the man inside.

All the parts of him, dark and light, laid bare.

Now, it's a look that sees too much. And, seeing, understands that there's nothing left.

[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.."