#who had to spend her entire life figuring out her dream

[ladsonlads]

Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Tags -> Angst, fluff :)

Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.

Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)

Late October

It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you. 

It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning. 

“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway. 

That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway. 

“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.” 

The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.

“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.” 

You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.

“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock. 

There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.

Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.

Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.

“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock. 

Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead. 

“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered. 

“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond. 

“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion. 

“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one. 

“How long ago?”

“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket. 

“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.

“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.

“Do you have a phone now?” 

You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.

“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant. 

“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.

“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all. 

“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits. 

Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.

“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand. 

“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”

“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.” 

The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically. 

“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.

“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you. 

The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam. 

You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.

“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you. 

“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you. 

You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.

But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her. 

“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief. 

Early November

You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow. 

You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.

…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…

As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option. 

You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.

Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short. 

Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan. 

30 minutes later you had:

Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score. 

Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style. 

“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11. 

The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it. 

Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again. 

You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall. 

Since when was there a—

“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.

“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them. 

“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.

“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?

“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus. 

“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace. 

“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate. 

“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer. 

“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground. 

“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck. 

“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house. 

Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home. 

You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree. 

“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return. 

“A million dollars.” 

“Done.” 

Dammit, you should’ve asked for more. 

“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.

“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests. 

“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”

“Okay.”

You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.” 

“Elaborate.”

“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”

“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request. 

“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?” 

Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive. 

“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.” 

It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”

______________

You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck. 

“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun. 

“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.

“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation. 

“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life. 

“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.  

Mid-November

This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions. 

The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will. 

But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.

Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no. 

It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.

Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.

Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.

You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.

They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.

You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.

“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.

“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.

“What have you done?”

“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded. 

The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake. 

“You threatened an old man with a gun…” 

“Yes.” Kieran responded. 

“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief. 

“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected. 

“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one. 

“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.

“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find. 

“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?” 

Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right? 

“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed. 

“Fine, what’s the address?”

_____________

You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress. 

When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.

“Y/M/N?” 

Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?

“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.” 

Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”

“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.” 

Right. The reason you were here, the gem.

“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”

“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.

“The Painite one.”

He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”

“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair. 

“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone. 

“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”

“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question. 

“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others. 

“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…

“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.

“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued. 

“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling. 

“You are the spitting image of your mother.” 

The comment caught you off-guard.

“You think so?”

“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.

It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her. 

“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod. 

“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”

You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.” 

His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?

“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.” 

You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”

“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.” 

“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom. 

You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other. 

___________

You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.

“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.

“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.

“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”

“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing. 

“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added. 

“How do you know that?” 

“It’s in the shared calendar.”

“Fuck.” 

With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.

“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.” 

Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb. 

“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year. 

“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too. 

“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.” 

You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?

Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.

“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you. 

“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office. 

“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting. 

“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile. 

“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary. 

“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ. 

You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left. 

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”

The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now. 

“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.

You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence. 

“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity. 

He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly. 

You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings. 

But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour. 

Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours. 

Late-November

“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s  voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.

“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday. 

“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive. 

“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic. 

“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk. 

“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?” 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?

“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them. 

Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head. 

“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go. 

“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed. 

“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.

“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.” 

Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life. 

 _______

When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.

The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb. 

When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.

“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response. 

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.

“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.

“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.

Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway. 

“Order whatever you’d like.” 

“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.

“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”

Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu. 

“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.

“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied. 

“We could, but that’s no fun.”

“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny. 

Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The necklace.”

You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.

Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.

You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.

When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.

The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne. 

You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand. 

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?

“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with. 

“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course. 

Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead. 

“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.  

“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night. 

“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.

“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”

The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?

“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.

When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter . 

Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it. 

“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.

“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare. 

“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours. 

“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman. 

When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down.  “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.” 

He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask. 

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.

“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry. 

Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural. 

“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free. 

The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break. 

When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare. 

“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”

“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment. 

“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name. 

Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you. 

“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”

“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.

“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war. 

“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.” 

You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.” 

“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.

“Bite me.” 

Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.

“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption. 

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.

“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.

Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice. 

“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw. 

“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.

“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset. 

“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately. 

You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne. 

“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.

You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.

“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded. 

The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back. 

“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.

He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."

You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material. 

You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”

Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind. 

_____________

In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.

The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.

“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.  

“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”

“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was. 

“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left. 

“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.

Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.

“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.

“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.” 

“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?

“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew. 

“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?” 

“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.

“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.

“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.

You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”

“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well. 

“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.

“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces. 

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged. 

“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies. 

“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.” 

“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work. 

He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided. 

“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.

You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.

“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast. 

“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner. 

“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.

“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before. 

The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve. 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see. 

You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory. 

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November. 

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly. 

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants. 

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.

When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.

The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet. 

“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.

The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide. 

Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.

You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.

Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked. 

Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused. 

Come on sinkhole. Anytime now. 

When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.

“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.

“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”

“Then why did you have it open?” 

You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.

“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”

“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”

“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand. 

“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”

You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”

“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”

“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”

“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.  

“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave. 

“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him. 

Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game. 

“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features. 

“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions. 

“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.” 

Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right. 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important. 

“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.

You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.

“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?” 

All sound came to a stifling halt. 

“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”

The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus. 

He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.

“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.

“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.

“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.

“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”  

It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned. 

People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again. 

You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.

His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse. 

His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return. 

But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism. 

“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.

“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”

Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side. 

“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”

It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth. 

“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure. 

Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued. 

“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”

He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.” 

When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms. 

For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?

“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream. 

“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.

In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time. 

Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”

His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?” 

“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success. 

Late December

You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves. 

It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.

Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.

— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.

— Your hair looks especially nice today.

— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.

— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about. 

You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk. 

He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands. 

You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you. 

While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.

The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.

Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.

Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.

“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.

“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store. 

“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.

“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.

“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.

“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.

“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.

“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead. 

They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship. 

_________________

You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.

The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick. 

Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?

Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it. 

As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.

“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.

“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”

“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”

The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice. 

Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress. 

“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.” 

“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.

“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.

You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.

“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose. 

“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace. 

“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.

He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.

“I can change—”

“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?” 

“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone. 

“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.

__________________

“Did you see Sylus’s date?”

“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”

“I bet she’s had work done.”

“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”

You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight. 

All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.

“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response. 

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.

“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. 

“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his. 

Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.

Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.

But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane. 

But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.

But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy. 

“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise. 

“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice. 

“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.

Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.

“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date. 

“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.

There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.

“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.

“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind. 

“I don’t care.” In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same. 

“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away. 

“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him. 

“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.

“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse. 

“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.  

“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them. 

“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly. 

“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart. 

“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next. 

“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent. 

You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you. 

“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?

The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!” 

A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.

“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back. 

You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts. 

“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.” 

Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.

It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear. 

His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.

“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.

Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.

“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.

“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone. 

“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful. 

“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you. 

So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.

Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.

Christmas Day

“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time. 

“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation. 

“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality. 

“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.

“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you. 

“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible. 

“Yeah.”

“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary. 

“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt. 

“This is too much.”

“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.” 

“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex. 

“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”

“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.

“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.” 

You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again. 

“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.” 

“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.” 

You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.

“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this. 

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.

Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.

“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet. 

“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop. 

While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that. 

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Sorry if you were tagged but didn't get a notif, I think some of you might have your tags off because your blog wasn't coming up for me >:c

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 6 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel and Y/n are idiots in obsession and perfectly matched in lust.

Warnings: Azriel & specs, Azriel's chest, delusional Azriel, smut towards the end, minors please stay away.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel was always an early riser. He would wake up at five in the morning religiously. The only exceptions were when he’d visit his mother or his two moronic friends. 

Today, however, was an exception because he had woken up at. . . what time was it? 

He felt quite refreshed but in many other ways than what sleep could do to him. 

He blinked a few times and took in his surroundings. 

Why was it still dark? Had he slept through the entire day? 

Azriel took his phone from the nightstand and checked. Midnight had just passed. 

He kept his phone back and turned to the side and saw a silhouette under the light of the moon. A woman. 

Azriel took his phone back and switched on the flashlight. It was a woman. Her back, to be more specific, but a woman nonetheless. 

He quickly sat up straight. 

He had to bleach himself. 

Out of what insanity or desperation had he invited a woman into this apartment? 

This apartment that he’d purchased solely for attaining his goal of making Y/n his?

He had to buy a new apartment now. 

Or a new building.

Wait. 

He had to go purify himself first. 

And then he could only hope and beg and pray that Y/n would still accept his adulterous self. 

Y/n, I have committed an unforgivable sin. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. 

Now, what did people do to cleanse their sins?

Repentance. But before he could do a Google search on how to regain his virginity, the woman beside him stirred. 

Azriel didn’t even want to know who it was. Knowing would make it even more real. 

He had to go to a temple, shave his head, and become a monk for a while before he became chaste enough for Y/n. 

What if Y/n saw this woman leave his apartment? She’d instantly reject him as a potential husband. The horror of it made it increasingly difficult for him to breathe.

How did people repent for infidelity? He had to know immediately. He had to make Y/n his and be hers in this lifetime. 

Maybe he should just go over to her apartment and beg for forgiveness already. Azriel could already see himself kneeling and apologising and begging Y/n to marry him.

He took a quick look behind him to see the woman’s face. 

Y/n. 

Y/n?

This beautiful goddess with the lovely figure was Y/n?

Was she real? Or just a figment of the uncountable number of fantasies and dreams he’d had of his woman? He calmed down a little. 

Azriel hesitantly poked her cheek. Fuck, she was so adorable. 

And then he pinched his cheek and pulled it until he felt the pain. 

Oh. She was real. 

Y/n was real. 

He nearly melted into the bed, now watching her carefully. 

Thank fuck he hadn’t cheated on her lest his conscious haunt him forever and beyond. 

Memories of the previous night flashes before him. Kissing her. Undressing her. Devouring her on the dining table. 

Fuck, fuck, that pretty mouth had been so good for him, taking his cock so well. And he’d tasted her again and then, he’d found himself inside her. 

How was it that he’d lost himself to this world again and again, only to find himself with Y/n? Was this what home meant? 

Her hair spread behind her in soft dark waves. Such lovely hair. So easy to grab and pull so that he could manoeuvre her body. 

Azriel dared to move closer to this ethereal being. And as if she’d sensed him, she snuggled closer to him, as if she was seeking him out. 

He checked whether they were wrapped properly in the blankets and watched her. Her legs were pushing and poking his own, trying to be sandwiched between them. 

His hand on her back felt like a dream. Such supple skin.

She was so beautiful, he had to tell his mother of his intention to marry her. 

He felt his brain become mushy as he watched her. 

His perfect Y/n. 

Such brilliance. 

Such a blessing. 

His phone began vibrating and Azriel suddenly felt murderous. 

Who the fuck thought they would interrupt his time with his woman and get away with it?

It was Rhysand. 

Of course, it was Rhysand. 

The asshole had no consideration about the time difference ever since he was hell bent on acquiring Hewn Inc. 

Azriel’s Umbra Industries and Rhys’s Velaris Corp. were all set to acquire Hewn Inc. and they were mapping out all their plans for its future. 

The acquisition was on its way with their lawyers working on it but when Rhys had an idea (which was usually a brilliant one), he also made it a point to be a menace. 

He cancelled the call and texted him. His arm was already missing Y/n’s skin from when it was draped over her. 

Why did he have to hold a device when Y/n was sleeping next to him? This was utterly ridiculous.

Rhysand’s reply was interesting enough that he left the bed, took out his laptop, and returned. Now, he was absolutely determined to get this done before he could return to holding Y/n. 

And if the sun rose before he could get in a good amount of cuddling time, he’d definitely thrash Rhys.

****

Y/n had woken up feeling rather refreshed. Her body turned and stretched on the bed itself before she properly opened her eyes and. . . where was she?

This wasn’t her fluffy furry blanket on her. The windows bringing the moonlight were on the wrong side of the room. There was another source of light in the room coming from the other side of the bed.

She turned around and saw a toned body lit up by the screen of a laptop. 

That body, inked in swirls and patterns unknown, belonged to Azriel. 

She looked up at that face and found him wearing glasses. 

So, overall, logically speaking, her neighbour, this man, had nice abs, tattoos, tanned skin, a perfect face, curly dark hair, and glasses.

Y/n buried her face under the sheets quickly, knowing that the movement would definitely catch his attention. 

Because she couldn’t look at him for too long. 

She’d faint. 

Of course, she’d faint. 

Why was this man so ridiculously, otherworldly, erotically, fictionally hot?

This should be illegal.

But when she realised that he hadn’t initiated a talk with her, she shyly took a peek. Only to see Azriel’s face close to hers. 

Y/n squealed as she hid under the blankets again. 

He was still wearing glasses. So unfair. 

“Y/n?” What was with that bedroom voice? 

Was this man determined to not let her breathe in peace? 

Could he take a break from being so hot?

“Sweetheart?” Somebody, have some mercy already. Lord or Lady or Satan, somebody better help her soon else she’d die of bliss and fuck off to the afterlife. 

Nesta. 

Nesta. 

The only one who could help Y/n right now was Nesta. That woman could manipulate men whereas Y/n was definitely the opposite if anyone could see her right now. 

And what the fuck was that world-rocking, toe-curling, mindblowing sex?

Did anybody warn her that her endlessly handsome neighbour, with a build as if the devil had personally sculpted him, was going to be some kind of a sex god? 

The man had literally picked her up like she’d weighed nothing and thrown her on the bed. 

He’d thrown her. 

The goddess of dark romance and smut had finally, finally, answered her prayers and blessed her. 

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank–

“Y/n?” While she was busy with her gratitude, Azriel had pulled off the blankets from her. 

She looked up at him, embarrassed at her own behaviour. “Hi?” 

“Hello.” And he wrapped the blanket over her excluding her head. He was now laying sideways, resting his head on his hand with the elbow propped up. “Why were you hiding?”

“Nothing.” And she moved to turn her body but Azriel grabbed her waist, pulled her closer, and secured her. 

“Nothing?” Why was his delicious chest in front of her? She shut her eyes tightly to control herself. Do not lick. No matter what happens, do not lick his chest. 

Y/n felt him closer as he laid down properly, his arm now extended and placed beneath her head. The other hand played with her love handles, gently pinching and poking them. 

“Sweetheart?” His voice was sincere and affectionate and Y/n couldn’t help but look at him. Under the moonlight, Azriel looked like he adored her the most in the world. “There’s my girl.” 

The hand on her waist trailed up to her side, his thumb grazing the underside of her breast before the hand came to cradle her head. Azriel leaned in and kissed her forehead softly. 

Once again, Y/n felt a veil fall on her. She didn’t understand what it was except that she felt immensely comforted. “Az?” 

“Hm?” He stroked her hair. 

“Mhm.” Y/n snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her. “You’re so warm.” Yes. Focus on the warmth and fluffy things. Cleanse thyself from filth. 

“You like that?” Y/n had read this line in a smutty romance. Jesus had probably abandoned her after seeing her reading list. 

“Mhm.” She snuggled deeper against him. A few minutes of contented silence passed before Y/n realised why she’d woken up. “Az?”

“Hm?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh?” Y/n could hear the filth in his tone and she pinched his arm. 

“For food.” She added, hoping to heavens because she definitely needed more energy before even kissing him. 

Azriel kissed her temple, her cheek, her jaw, and descended to her neck. “Sure I can’t convince you otherwise?” 

“I really don’t have the energy. And I didn’t have anything after lunch.” At that Azriel stopped his attempts at seduction.

“What do you want to eat?” He sounded quite serious. 

“Do you have some snacks?”

“You’re a healthy eater, sweetheart. Will snacks be enough?” It wouldn’t. He knew her eating habits by now. 

“Cooking sounds tiresome.” She caressed his cheek. Gods, this man was so warm, she’d keep him as a personal heater. 

“Then let me take you somewhere.” 

“To that place you said earlier?” He did mention that right after they’d started kissing against her front door. 

“You paid attention to that?” The hand that snaked around her waist did not have any innocent intentions.

“Food, Az. Or I might faint.” Y/n desperately wanted to ride this man while he wore specs. Gods, that was a wonderful fantasy. 

“When we return, I’m having you all to myself.” Azriel grumbled, not liking the idea of being away from their cuddling session. 

Who was she to say anything when she was least interested in leaving bed where he was keeping her warm?

Once they’d somehow escaped the temptation of a warm bed, Azriel told her to dress warm and borrow his clothes as needed. 

He grabbed his keys and they were in the car, en route to some place her hot neighbour did not divulge. 

They reached a quaint fast food outlet from where they had burgers and fries and finally moved. 

****

“Tell me we’re going home.” Home? Gods, he loved hearing her say that. Home. What a beautiful place to be. But he was already home since she was next to him. 

“Not yet. I wanted to show you something.”

“Those mouthwatering burgers weren’t it?”

“I planned to bring you there anyway but this is something else.” They were headed towards the outskirts of the city. At some point, Y/n had fallen asleep. 

Such an adorable woman. He really needed to marry her. 

They’d reached their destination soon. He stepped out of the car, opened the door to the passenger seat, and gently shook her to wake her up. 

“Y/n? Sweetheart?” And she mumbled something incoherent and weakly pushed his arm away. He tried again and again and again before she finally woke up. 

“Az?” It was the softest he’d ever heard her. Now, how difficult was it to get a marriage certificate? It was certainly not difficult but Y/n and his mother would team up to kill him if he tried that. 

“We‘re here.” And it was a viewpoint in the outskirts of the city from where the city and the stars were an incredible sight. He watched Y/n as she admired them, awe on her features. 

“They’re so pretty.” She sighed, her head against his arm. “When did you find this place?”

“I went on a midnight drive a couple of days ago. Thought you’d like it.” 

“I do like it.” She affirmed. Azriel noted that. He needed to tell his PA to search for properties in the area. They leaned against the bonnet of the car for all of five minutes maybe before Y/n yawned loudly. 

“Let’s go back.” 

“But we came all the way here.” She protested sleepily. 

“And you’re sleepy. We need to rest. We’ll come back another night.” 

“Promise?” She was so fucking adorable.

“Promise.” He pinched her cheek. 

Azriel helped her settle in the passenger seat before entering the car himself. Y/n had once again fallen asleep on the way home. 

He had to wake her again since it would��ve been difficult to carry her and punch in the security code for the building and then open his door. 

During the elevator ride up, she stretched her arms like a cat waking up from sleep. By the time they reached their floor, Y/n was more awake than she was downstairs. 

They made it to the bedroom and Azriel knew they would undress. He knew they would go to bed. And yet, as she removed his jacket, he was consumed with need. 

If he removed his pants right now, he’d lose restraint and definitely beg for another round. He watched as she gathered her hair and secured it with a hair clip, claw, whatever that was. 

And she then removed the shirt he’d lent her for the night. It was one of his favourites but it looked so much better on her. Y/n gracefully removed it, giving him a spectacular view of her back and neck. 

The purple blots on her neck felt like his personal branding on her. Pride bloomed as he noted those hickeys. Those hands deftly unclasped her bra and she turned to keep the clothes on the chair. 

And Azriel, being the man that he was, was a goner as soon as he caught sight of those plentiful breasts. He was hard. And with good reason. 

And then, Y/n saw him staring shamelessly at her. She raised a brow. “What?” 

The plan was to reach the bed. 

The plan was to cuddle and sleep. 

The plan was no more. 

The new plan was to get her naked and fuck her silly. “Don’t seduce me if you’re not going to do anything about it, Y/n.” 

How stupid did he sound? She was undressing. Just as he knew she would. She wasn’t even fully naked and he was already aroused. The bulge on his pants was enough proof of his lust and shamelessness. 

Y/n was tired. Or was she? Since she’d been stretching in the elevator. But her gaze right now. As she watched him and her own eyes mirrored his desire. “Or what?” 

It was a challenge. 

Maybe his woman was not so sleepy after all. 

Her nipples were already hard and ready for his mouth and Azriel was looking nowhere else.

He marched over, a hand rising to her throat and the other playing with her breast, fingers pinching her nipple. “How about we see if you keep behaving like a brat once I’ve edged you for some time?” 

“Or shall I go to bed and you can take care of that in the bathroom?” She touched his hand on her throat and brought it to her cheek and leaned into his touch. 

Oh fuck. 

That confidence of hers did things to his belly, all of which shot straight to his cock. 

“And you’ll just sleep?”

“Maybe I’ll take care of myself here while you’ll be occupied with your cock.” 

“Really?.” Azriel lifted her and carried her to bed. He removed her jeans swiftly and sat right next to her. “Should I come on your tits?” Azriel kissed her, moving so that he was hovering over her. He moved to suck on her nipple and remained there for a while. 

“Or on your belly?” He kissed right above the pelvic bone. Her hands scratching his neck and back was a wonderful sensation. With that much, he was ready to fuck her. 

Azriel moved to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. “Or inside that pretty pussy?”

“Are you going to wear all that to bed?” She lazily asked, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. His clothes were cold against her topless body. 

“No. I think I like being naked around you.” He responded with a playful smile. 

“Then, strip.” It was at this moment that Azriel once again realised that he was entirely fucked. 

He thought he was wholly hers from the moment he saw her but there were more parts of him. Parts that submitted to her when they kissed. 

When he ate her out. 

When she touched his cock for the first time. 

When he thrusted into that warm cunt. 

Every single time, a new part of him he didn’t know about became hers. “You’re making this hard for me.” 

“Your cock is hard for me?” She coyly rephrased and shot back, a sultry smile gracing her lips.

**** 

The way she wanted this man to rail her hard—it was honestly not funny. At this point, Nesta would be more proud of her sexual enthusiasm than Azriel.

“Yes, it is. And what a fucking temptation you are.” He grabbed her throat and kissed her. It was heavenly—the feel of his mouth pressing wet kisses to her neck.

She caught hold of his hair and let her nails through the scalp as Azriel brought some relief to her nipples with his mouth. 

For all her hunger, Azriel gave and gave and Y/n really wanted more and more. She sighed. “Az.”

“I know.” He growled. Frustration didn’t even begin to cover this. 

Azriel brought her leg above his and slowly thrusted into her, eliciting a moan. Her body curved, neck exposed for his mouth. 

“Now, sleep.” Wait. What?

He pressed a wet kiss to her throat. 

“Can’t sleep.” It felt so warm. And now that his cock was inside her, she couldn’t help her need. 

“It’s the only relief.” He kissed her shoulder.

“It’s not.” She whimpered. It was torture not to be fucked by that perfect cock. “Please.” 

“Like that?” Azriel thrusted once. 

“Oh yes.” And he thrusted again. The slow thrusts began, pace never faltering. Y/n was feeling more and more and she wanted to take more. 

“Dirty girl. I thought you were tired.” Azriel was now setting a slow, steady pace. 

“I thought that too.” She sighed. “Az!” She nearly shrieked his name when he sped up for a few seconds. “Wait.” 

Azriel paused, examining her face. “What happened?”

Y/n bent her leg and pushed herself up so she was now straddling Azriel. 

“Fuck me.” He sighed, hands coming to her hips.

Y/n felt her sensuality bloom. It felt good to know her effect on him. To know she had control. She rose and descended on his cock twice. “Like this?”

She then rotated her hips and rose and descended. “Or like this?” 

Azriel’s eyes were shut tightly, grip on her hips tightening. “Fuck.” 

This was liberating. To be sexually empowered. Especially when Azriel made his pleasure known, thereby making her feel like she was good. She felt wonderful. And she felt beautiful and sensual and so many things.

“Or like this?” And she willed herself to clench on his cock. 

Azriel opened his eyes instantly and moaned—moaned. 

Pride zapped her in the chest. To know that she could pleasure her man and find pleasure in it was such an empowering feeling.

And when she loosened her hold on him, he pulled her by the hand and let her fall on his chest. “My dirty girl.” 

Azriel bit her ear and Y/n felt him move his legs. His thighs moved and her face was suddenly pushed closer to his. “Az?”

“Prepare yourself.” That was the only warning she received before Azriel thrusted into her like that. He was now rigorously thrusting inside. 

Y/n then realised that he’d planted his feet on the bed for this position. She lifted her neck, floating high above the clouds in pleasure, waiting to fall and shatter. 

She couldn’t control her sounds. Whether it was a man or sigh or a groan, neither of them cared. She loved that both her and Azriel made their pleasure known and loud. 

Her head fell against his shoulder, incoherent cries leaving her as she tried to beg Azriel. She didn’t even know if she wanted him to stop or continue. 

Everything felt too good. The feel of his skin against hers. The sweat. The sounds. The hurried kisses. The grip on her hips. Being on top. And most of all—his cock. 

The harsh slapping of wet skin against skin contributed to her pleasure, reminding her again and again exactly what was happening. With a lewd moan, she found her pleasure.  

Azriel continued his unrelenting thrusts, his grip tightening as he came. He began stroking her hair and pressed a kiss to her temple. “My perfect girl.” 

They laid there in silence before Y/n began shivering. She was on top of him with no blanket covering her and the cold was getting to her. Goosebumps rose and she shivered before Azriel came out of his post-orgasm haze and realised what was happening. 

He immediately pulled the blanket over them, ensuring she was covered and she snuggled against him like a cat. 

Gods, she’d keep this man. 

Not just because she had real feelings for him or because the sex was fucking fantastic but because he was a great source of warmth. 

The warmth was a cosy feeling but his body in general was quite like a pavement. So once she gained her strength, Y/n moved to the side, choosing to settle there, curled against Azriel. He turned and caged her in his arms.

“What are you doing to me?” Azriel whispered against her ear. 

Y/n looked him in the eye and replied. “Probably whatever it is that you’re doing to me.”

****

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[1d1195]

Green Skies, Pink Grass

~2.6k words

From me: Going with another one shot for Monday. This very much jumps into the middle of a storyline that I'll never write but just wanted to post something small in between Most updates.

Warnings: jealousy, enemies(?) to lovers

Summary: It is very obvious Harry gets enjoyment out of irritating her. But not when she can't take it anymore.

“Excuse me,” she approached like she owned the table. She slid right between Harry and the girl that was talking to him. She stood at the corner of the square table made for four. But there were only two, Harry and the girl that had every right to be sitting at one of the right angles so they could be closer together.

For nearly the entire night, she watched another girl touch Harry’s arm and flirt with her eyes as they spoke. All while he leaned close and whispered God knows what. Who knew what secrets he was telling her. The stuff that she dreamed of knowing and not just figuring out from her friends or him taunting her. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Rebecca,” she stated and looked around her intruding body so she could peek at Harry. This was ridiculous. She was talking to him and there was no reason for her to have intruded like that and get in between Harry and him. Everyone knew they didn’t like each other. Of all the people that could have taken his attention from her it couldn’t have been the girl that wanted to wring his neck.

Her backside was directly in front of Harry’s vision. He paid nearly no mind to the intrusion—almost like he expected it. In fact, he took the moment to sip his drink because while he wasn’t proud of it, he was extremely grateful for the reaction it caused from her. All night he felt her stare from across the restaurant. Her gaze bored into him. It was painful how long it took to come to this in his opinion. Now he couldn’t wait to see what she was going to do next. She didn’t even flinch as she approached; her sure-footed steps had her heels clicking across the floor with a power that made Harry’s body warm over. The confidence she had was so sexy. The only thing that could have made the current interaction better than having her perfect ass right in front of his face, would have been being able to see her pretty, angry face as she glared at the girl he was chatting with. “Can I help you?” Becca asked.

Harry smirked, grateful neither one of them could see him because he was very much looking forward to this.

“Yeah, umm…” she swallowed that swagger and confidence suddenly wavering.

Harry wasn’t hers. Not by a long shot. They argued about almost everything there was to argue about. They had opposite movie tastes. He never took her suggestion for making dinner recipes better. His driving directions to get somewhere the fastest were always different than hers. She swore he would argue the sky was green if given half the chance. They weren’t that close, but Niall was her favorite coworker and quite possibly her best friend. But that meant she had to spend an infinite amount of time with his best friend, Harry.

She could have taken all his misgivings in stride, honestly. Tt wouldn’t have been that bad nor hard to have. She liked a bit of a challenge in her life. If Harry hadn’t looked down on her the first time that they met, they might not have been on this frustrating path of annoying one another.

It was no secret that Harry was one of the most gorgeous men she had ever met. His handshake was warm and firm but that was as far as his warmth went—at least when it came to her. She wasn’t oblivious to the way his voice sounded when he talked about his mum, sister, or niece. He donated to a ton of charities and was constantly helping his friends.

It was just her.

He was cold and standoffish the day they met. It hurt. Mainly because Niall told her that she would love him, and she was excited to make a new friend. How often did someone in their late twenties make new friends?

But after their introduction and awkward silences while Niall tried to get them chatting about their similarities instead of their differences, she overheard him whispering to Niall in the kitchen while they got plates and drinks for the pizza they ordered. Only catching some of the words that included dislike, irritating, and know-it-all. She prided herself on being kind, never making anyone feel inferior, but Harry made it seem like a fault and didn’t see her that way at all.

Harry wondered where she was possibly going to go with her irritation at Becca. Only moments before the evening began, she wanted to strangle him. He could see it in her eyes and knew she truly thought about wrapping her hands around his throat because he made some comment about her not getting fucked properly in front of Niall. He smiled impishly at her as the rage filled her eyes. It made her eye twitch in that cute way of hers. The way that made him want to keep pissing her off so it would continue twitching. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch just next to her eye and hope that it would make her crazier but also so he could ease that tension all the same.

But it was clear she was lost here. There was no follow through for this moment and seeing Miss Prim & Proper discombobulated was one of Harry’s favorite kinds of sights. But even still, she didn’t deserve to be this lost. It wasn’t her fault the little envious monster took hold of her without a way out of the situation.

“Hey love,” he hummed quietly, pressed a hand on her lower back. She stepped away like he shocked her—or stabbed her. Her eyes were wild as she glanced at Harry briefly. He smiled, his lips straining a little too much to keep him from smiling mischievously—just like before they entered the restaurant. That little quirk that made her eye start to twitch just the same as well.

 That stupid dimple, that knowing look. She wanted to strangle him again.

He knew what she was feeling all too well. Fortunately, it hadn’t happened tonight, but he knew the irksome feeling that heated his stomach and chest when anyone bought her a drink or complimented her smile while he was in earshot.

It was a beautiful smile, but it made him sick to hear other people say it to her and not him.

“Do you have something to say or what? I was talking to Harry.”

Perhaps the alcohol she had ingested was cause for the bravery that resulted in her walking across the restaurant and planning to tell the girl off. But what was she supposed to say? Harry wasn’t hers. There was nothing she could say that would deter Rebecca from spending time with him. Nothing to stop Harry from spending time with Rebecca.

It seemed Harry noticed she was floundering but for once he didn’t make fun of her nor antagonize her further. Instead, without warning, there was a warm hand on the small of her back. “Kitten,” he hummed. His voice was low, directly in her ear, and full of caution. “Let’s go,” he pressed his fingers into her back in effort to get her away from the table. “Sorry, Becca, I gotta go,” he grabbed his drink, tossing the remaining sip back and settling it back on the table.

She said nothing, glaring at her feet with heated cheeks. While the woman who had taken Harry’s attention but wasn’t going to keep it smiled bitterly. “You’re really going to leave? Just because she interrupted?” Harry ignored her, rolled his eyes but not even the girl he had his hands on could see it.

Harry’s lack of response made her burn with anger more and she wished she knew why she went over to interrupt them. Harry was behind her, his body so close to hers she thought a piece of paper couldn’t fit between them. “Wow can’t even fight back—”

She started to move back for Rebecca, but Harry yanked her closer to him. Not even a molecule of air could have fit between them, before she could even take a full step. His arm was wrapped around the front of her stomach, his lips went directly to her earlobe. “M’here, kitten. She’s not worth y’time,” he assured her. “Walk,” he ordered quietly. Normally, she would fight back and tell him not to order her around. But the alcohol in her system simultaneously subdued her anger toward Harry and amplified it toward everyone else. So she walked.

She could hear the way Rebecca laughed calling her pathetic loudly to anyone that walked by. Harry snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly each time he heard one of Rebecca’s taunts and the following pull of her muscles to turn around to continue her chat with her.

Once they were out of the restaurant, he continued to usher her up the road away from the offensive restaurant. There was a cool chill in the air that hadn’t been there when they entered the venue. Confident she wouldn’t make a break for it and return to give Becca a piece of her mind, Harry released her briefly.

In an instant, he pulled his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her waist again. He gave her a warm squeeze then walked beside her; his other hand stuffed in his pocket. They didn't speak as they walked. After a block and a half, she bit the inside of her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Harry hadn't ever heard an apology directed at him from her mouth. "Am I dead?" He murmured.

She sighed. "I don't know what came over me," she admitted.

Harry knew. He knew because he knew exactly how she was feeling. "Yeah," he nodded.

More silence followed and they just kept walking. The shoes she was wearing weren’t really conducive to a city walk but she was willing to have a blister on each toe and her heel if it meant Harry’s warm arm and a jacket that smelled like him was going to be wrapped around her. “Did you like her?” She asked.

Harry smirked. “She was fine.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Kitten,” he chuckled. “She was fine, but I’d’ve much preferred you sitting next t’me all night.”

“But you don’t like me.”

Harry snorted. “Honestly, right now, I don’t. Think I could throw y’into traffic for such a remark. What are y’talking ‘bout, love? M’obsessed with you,” he rolled his eyes.

“Obsessed?”

“Obsessed.”

Her heart fluttered. She stopped walking. Mainly because her feet hurt, but also because she was floored that he admitted such a thing. After all the time she spent wondering why he taunted her and made her want to strangle him. Her voice shook as she asked her next question. Because it was mean spirited of him. “Is this a trick? Like that time Niall was setting me up on a date and you convinced me I got the date wrong, and I sat at the coffee shop for hours before—”

Harry chuckled at the memory. Proud of his handy work and grateful she didn’t go on a date with that prick (who was actually a really nice guy that probably deserved her more than Harry did). “No, s’not a trick.”

She was staring at him like he had ten heads and honestly there was nothing better than seeing her little eye twitch. “You like me?” She asked.

“Very much, kitten,” he nodded and stuffed both hands in his pockets while she processed this.

“Can we sit? These shoes are killing me,” she frowned. Harry followed her to the bench out in front of a closed café. He reached for her feet and unclipped the strap from one ankle then the other.

“You really like me?” She asked again while Harry untied his dress shoes. Harry had this thing about always wearing two pairs of socks. It alleviated blisters, of his own dress shoes and there had been countless times Gemma hated her own high heels after a long night at a family wedding. He slid off the top pair and put them on her feet without fanfare.

“I really like you,” he assured her.

“But you...” She frowned, her stomach aching at the kindness he was showing her. Finally. The nice thing about the cute little sock thing he was doing? She had never seen him do it for anyone else. This was a treat for her as far as she knew. He retied his shoes and settled her feet back to the sidewalk. He held her shoes beside him on the bench.

“I what?” His smile was adorable, mischievous as always, dimple appearing cutely in his left cheek, but it didn’t make her eye twitch and even though he missed it, he liked her soft expression, analyzing him more.

“You said I was a know-it-all. And... irritating.”

“You are irritating,” she glared at him so cutely, he wanted to take a picture of her and make it his phone background and print it on a poster to hang on the ceiling above his bed. “When did I call y’irritating?”

“When you met me. You said you disliked me."

He tilted his head. “Do y’mean at Niall’s?” She nodded. He was clearly processing that and tried to think back. She was finally quiet, while he thought. Didn't try to further their discussion because part of her thought she would turn it into an argument just by accident. “Is that why y’always keep me a foot away from you? Why y’never let me get a word in? Why y’argue with everything I say? Swear y’would tell me the grass is pink jus’ t’argue,” She didn’t dare dignify that with a response. Or that she felt the same way. Harry tugged her legs back up and shifted her so she draped across his lap. His arm around her back while her bum warmed his thigh. He brought his hand slowly up her leg, over the socks he had put on her that looked ridiculous with her dress. His fingers skimmed over her knee and up her thigh while his eyelids hooded his gaze as he followed the path of his hand. He tickled her skin, his fingers circling her wrist in her own lap before he brought it to his shoulder. Then he brought his fingers to her face, cupped her cheek in his palm. “I’m going t’kiss y’now,” he murmured. “Because m’not going t’explain how ridiculous y’are for thinking the first time I met you I called you irritating, or that I disliked you...or thought you were a know-it-all.”

She blushed. “Oh...” she swallowed feeling woozy Harry's face was so close to hers. He smelled so good. He looked so good.

“Don’t y’think it was much more likely I called Niall an irritating know-it-all that I would fall so hard for you and I disliked how right he was?” She remained silent, dropped her gaze again, until Harry tilted her chin up once more. “You are irritating,” he murmured his mouth a breath away from hers. He could feel the warmth of her lips pulling an invisible string to his. Like he had already touched them without touching them. “But I love when y’irritate me,” he assured her and closed that final breath between their lips.

The sky could be green. The grass could be pink. Harry was done arguing with her about it.

--

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[merrybloomwrites]

It's Just a Game, But Really

Summary: When your brother starts dating Taylor Swift, you figure your wild dreams of dating Harry Styles are now definitely crushed. But some meddling from Jason, Travis, and Taylor may make some dreams come true after all.

Word Count: 3K

AN: This idea randomly popped into my head months ago and I couldn't get it out until I fully wrote it. I feel like this falls into the category of "Crack treated seriously" lol

Also, I understand this is niche, but as an Eagles fan (pls don't come for me) I've watched the entire Travis/Taylor relationship unfold and just thought this would be silly. Writing Jason and Travis was pretty fun too since I've been listening to their podcast for years and it was a cool challenge to write in their voices

Finally, I took creative liberty here and while I normally try to keep details as close to reality as possible, I've changed some things. So the Packers vs Eagles game that happened in Brazil now takes place in philly, and the Chiefs game on Christmas is now against Baltimore so it would be plausible to have the dinner scene in PA. None of this actually matters, this is fiction lol

Title from "So High School" by Taylor Swift

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Growing up with two athletic brothers had been quite an experience. Hundreds of hours were spent at sporting events, often bundled up to watch them play ice hockey or attend the late season football games. In your family, it was important that everyone supported each other.

It went the other way as well. Your brothers attended every spring concert, theater performance, and dance recital you were in. They were your biggest fans, always cheering you on and bringing flowers to give you.

They also took time to learn about your interests. Instead of getting annoyed when Taylor Swift’s music would play through the house, they started listening.

Especially Travis.

He liked the music, and thought she seemed pretty cool. He didn’t admit it, but you guessed that maybe he had a bit of a celebrity crush on her.

Life continued to change as your brothers left for college, then moved to different cities when they got signed to two different NFL teams. You missed them, but it was great seeing them succeed.

Jason and Travis still made time for family, even when Jason got married and started a family of his own. You and Kylie became friends right away, and you immediately loved having another girl in the family. You couldn’t wait for it to be Travis’s turn to find someone. But preferably not through his dating show.

When Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, you desperately wanted to go. So you were highly disappointed when you weren’t able to get tickets.

And then Travis surprised you with tickets to her show in Kansas City. By this point you had moved in with Jason and Kylie near Philly, but Travis assured you that he’d take care of all the travel logistics to get you to the concert.

You flew in the night before, getting to spend the day with your brother before heading to the stadium. It was weird to be there for a concert, having attended numerous games there before. It was cool to see how it was transformed into something almost unrecognizable.

Being there with Travis meant getting to be seated with a great view in a cordoned off section. It also meant Chiefs fans coming close to the barrier to talk to him before the show. Watching your brother trade friendship bracelets with these people was a strange moment, one you never would have imagined happening.

Through all that, there was one bracelet he had that you noticed he wouldn’t trade. Taking a closer glance you see what’s written on it and give him a confused look.

“Travis, what in the world is this?” you ask.

“Friendship bracelet,” he answers simply, dodging your true question.

“Obviously. But why is your number on here? Who is this for?”

He laughs nervously but before you can press it further another fan comes up to say hi. You can’t help but wonder what his plan is for that bracelet, even though you have a pretty good idea who its intended recipient is.

The concert begins and you have a wonderful time, dancing and singing along, Travis just as excited beside you. As it ends, Travis speaks with one of the staff members, looking slightly disappointed but not too bothered. Once again you’re left wondering what that was all about.

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re listening to the latest episode of Travis and Jason’s podcast when they bring up Travis attending the concert. Sure enough, he confirms he was trying to get that bracelet with his number to Taylor, and you have to commend him on his creativity and optimism.

What you don’t expect is for Taylor to find out about that and get in touch with Travis. Now a year later, your brother is in a happy, committed relationship with Taylor Swift. She’s come to family dinners, you’ve been next to her during Chiefs games, and she’s made it so you could come to a number of concerts on her tour. You cannot believe that this has become your life. And you have to give your brother credit for his powers of manifestation.

One afternoon you’re hanging in the living room while Jason records the podcast in the basement. He calls out for you and you go down to see what’s going on.

He hands you a set of headphones so you can hear Travis as well, and fills you in on the topic.

“So,” Jason begins. “Fans are starting to give you credit for Travis and Taylor getting together. Do you think that’s fair to say?”

You laugh for a moment that this is why you’re called to speak on what should be a sports podcast, before answering, “I think that’s fair. I mean, he did the work but I would say my childhood Swiftie obsession planted the seed.”

Travis replies, “You don’t think I would have found out about her on my own?”

“Oh you totally would have. But I got the ball rolling ages ago. Timing is everything, what if you’d been too late?”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. We can say you had a hand in this.”

“So that means you owe me,” you say.

Jason chimes in, “Yea Trav, your turn to manifest for Y/N.”

“You want me to manifest a boyfriend for our little sister?” Travis questions.

“Oh, right, wait, don’t actually do that. I forgot, Y/N’s not allowed to date until she’s forty,” Jason says, leading you to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness.

“Ok, but if I were to try, who would it be? Y/N, who’s your celebrity crush?” Travis asks.

There’s no way you’re answering that on camera, especially with who the answer actually is. You clench your teeth and lift your eyebrows before cheekily saying, “Oh, no, I cannot answer that on the pod. That’s uhm. That’d be messy.” You then shrug and laugh, trying to play all of this off as a bit.

While Travis tries to dig and get you to answer, it clicks for Jason and he says, “Wait, I think I know who it is. Is it, uhm-”

“Don’t you dare say anything!” you exclaim to shut him up.

“Alright, alright. I won’t spill your secrets.”

“Well at least tell it to me later,” Travis says, to which you reply, “Absolutely not. I’m afraid you may actually try to meddle.”

“Who, me? No way,” he replies only to be met with an unimpressed look from you.

The boys drop the subject and you head back upstairs as they finally talk about football again.

You assume that they’ve moved on, and you’re happy when they don’t bring up your celebrity crush again.

You’re even happier when Jason tells you he’s taking you to the season opener Eagles vs Packers game in Philly. You’re super excited to be able to experience an Eagles game alongside your brother. You’re also glad you can be there for him in case it’s hard for him to watch them play without him for the first time since his retirement.

What you’re unaware of is the plan that Jason and Travis had made behind your back.

“So now you’re on board with trying to set up our little sister?” Jason had questioned during a phone call a couple weeks prior.

“Yes. And I have a way of making it happen,” Travis had answered.

“And you want me to help Y/N meet and potentially date a popstar who happens to be your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s a Packers fan?”

“Yea, that is the unfortunate part. And you’re not really helping them date. That’s all on them. But you could at least help her meet him at the game.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jason says. “But I’ll do it.”

And that’s how you find yourself walking through the tunnels of the Linc with Jason before the start of the game and bumping into Harry Styles.

“Hello, I’m Harry,” he says cheerfully, holding a hand out for you to shake.

Mustering up all of your chill, you smile in return while reaching out to clasp his hand and say, “I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.”

“Well, thank you for your support,” he says.

“You kids want a picture?” There are few times you want to kill your brother, but him butting in while you’re talking to Harry Styles is definitely one of them.

“That’s alright,” you say, trying not to impose on Harry too much. So you’re surprised when Harry says, “Of course, let’s get a photo!”

You stand next to him, and his arm wraps around your shoulder and you hope your expression doesn’t show how crazy fast your heart is beating while Jason takes the picture.

“It was so nice meeting you both, I’ll see you around!” Harry says as he walks away.

Before Jason can begin to tease you, you say, “Don’t even say a word.”

He listens to you and instead just laughs as you keep walking.

After some quick hellos to the stadium staff, you’re led up to a box.

“I thought we just had seats today?” You question.

“We did. But when I was talking to Mark he said we got upgraded.”

When you step into the box you’re once again surprised by the presence of Harry Styles.

“Okay, we are definitely in the wrong place,” you murmur to your brother.

“Oh good, you guys found us!” Harry says. You look to see who he’s talking to and get shocked to see it’s you and Jason. “There were some open spots so I asked if you two could join us,” he explains.

“Wow, thank you!” You manage to squeak out.

Suddenly you’re realizing what is about to happen. A four minute encounter in the hallway? Easy. An entire three hour football game? There’s no way you make it through without embarrassing yourself.

And yet, halftime comes and you’ve so far managed not to make a fool of yourself. In fact, you’re even impressed by your witty banter as the Eagles and Packers go back and forth taking the lead.

“So, I read about these botanical gardens nearby,” Harry says.

“Longwood?” You ask.

“Yea, have you ever been?”

“A couple times. I went with Jason, Kylie, and the kids earlier this summer. They’re really nice. If you’re thinking about going, I highly recommend.”

“I actually got a couple tickets for the fountain show tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

Quickly processing that Harry is asking you to hang out with him, possibly go on a date with him, you reply, “I’d love to!”

“Fantastic! I can pick you up in the afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me, thank you.”

You exchange phone numbers and give Harry your address, still in disbelief that all of this is actually happening.

The game resumes, and as the Eagles make their comeback you can’t help but cheer and get wrapped up in the game. And even as Harry’s team starts losing, he still stays happy and continues to joke around with you.

When the game ends and the Eagles fans celebrate, you say to Harry, “I hope this doesn’t affect us hanging out tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, in fact I think that will cheer me up,” he says with a smile.

“Hey Y/N, I’ve gotta go talk to a couple people. You hanging here or coming with me?” Of course, there’s your brother interrupting again. And while you’d rather stay with Harry, you don't really want to be separated from Jason in the post-game chaos. So you say goodbye to Harry with the promise to see him the next day.

On your way back home you put up with the teasing from your brother.

You beg him to be on his best behavior when Harry picks you up the next day.

You know he won’t.

So it’s no surprise that he gives Harry “the talk”, telling him that if he hurts you at all then he’ll have to face two NFL players.

You’re hanging in the living room with Kylie and the kids while this happens, and when the two boys come back Kylie asks,”He wasn’t too scary, was he?”

“No,” Harry replies. “Just scary enough I’d say. Shall we get going?” He addresses this last question to you and you agree, more than happy to get out of the house before Jason takes his big brother role too seriously.

When Harry drives away he lets out a deep breath and you say, “You good?”

“Yea, just- Your brother is scary.”

You start to laugh at the fact that Jason managed to actually shake up Harry Styles. But you decide to help him out by saying, “He seems scary, but it’s mostly all talk. Unless you do something to hurt me. Then you should be scared.”

“Oh I feel so much better,” he says, laughing along now.

The two of you have a wonderful time together at the gardens, especially since Harry manages to somehow fly under the radar. The fountain show is fascinating, and you stand together, Harry’s arm around your waist sending butterflies through your belly.

It’s late when you get home, and he walks you to the door like a gentleman.

When he asks if he can kiss you, of course you say yes. He leans in for a soft kiss before saying goodnight, not leaving until you’ve made it safely inside.

Jason is waiting up for you, and as you tell him about your night you watch his gruff exterior fade away. He looks truly pleased by all you have to report and you’re glad that he seems to approve of Harry.

For the next couple of months, it all goes well. Your relationship with Harry flourishes. You get to see him more than expected since he starts working out of a studio in NYC, only two hours away from where you are.

There is one mild bump in the road, occurring on a Friday evening when Jason and Kylie are supposed to be out at a party with the girls.

You’d been planning on a quiet night home alone. But then Harry had surprised you by showing up at your front door, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

One thing led to another, and before you know it you’re both on the couch. You’re straddling his lap, his hands sliding under your shirt as the two of you make out.

As much as Harry had surprised you, Jason surprises you even more by suddenly coming home and walking right into the living room.

Harry notices him first, and in an effort to save this interaction he pushes you off of him, luckily managing to shift you to the open spot next to him on the couch.

There’s a moment of oppressively awkward silence as Jason stares at the two of you, speechless. Without saying a word he walks to the mud room and grabs the diaper bag that had clearly been left behind earlier.

As he passes through the room to leave he says, “You are adults. Just- don’t be stupid. There are enough kids in this house already.”

Without waiting for a reply he leaves the house. After another moment you and Harry break into nervous laughter.

The mood is pretty much ruined but you still have a nice night watching a movie together. Harry stays with you but has to leave at lunchtime the next day.

That afternoon Jason knocks on your bedroom door, asking if he can talk for a minute.

“Sure, what’s up?” You say, not expecting the conversation that follows.

“I just wanted to ask how things are going between you and Harry,” he says.

“Oh! Good! Yea, things are going well. I really like him,” you answer.

“And you’re being safe?”

“Oh my god, Jason! We are not having this conversation,” you say as your cheeks warm at the implication.

“Well you’re living in my house, I just, you know. I feel responsible for your well being.”

“I’m safe. Very safe. You don’t have to worry.” You hope your words will convince him to drop the topic.

“And you trust him? Cause I mean, he’s a big time Popstar. Bet he’s broken a fair number of hearts before.”

You find yourself needing to defend Harry and ask, “Have you had this conversation with Travis about Taylor?”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. You’re sure about him?”

“I am.”

“Okay then. That’s what matters. I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know. But Harry and I are happy. I promise.”

With that smoothed over, the next few weeks continue drama free.

And then comes Christmas.

Due to scheduling, Harry had yet to meet Travis. You’ve talked to your brother about him, and you know Travis has talked about all of this with Taylor. So while you’ve been told that it’s no big deal that your boyfriend and your brother’s girlfriend are exes, you’re still a bit nervous for Christmas dinner.

It’s a late meal, since you have to wait for Travis to get there after the Chiefs vs Ravens game, and you spend the afternoon entertaining your nieces and helping prepare the food.

Finally Travis and Taylor arrive, and for a moment you can’t help but feel self conscious. The room is full of NFL players and international pop stars. You excuse yourself to the kitchen for a moment to collect yourself. When you walk back to the living room, Harry greets you with the biggest smile, and those feelings of self doubt melt away. Because those big accomplishments and accolades aren’t what matter to him. What he cares about is how kind you are, how fun and loving you are. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your head and you blush knowing your whole family is watching.

But looking up at them you see nothing but support. Your mom is practically glowing seeing all her children with their significant others, and quickly organizes a family picture.

It takes some time to get all three of the little girls to cooperate, and by the time the photo is taken, dinner is ready.

There is something surreal at seeing Harry and Taylor pass the potatoes or bread basket, never having imagined this is how your life would turn out.

But that night, as you all agree to break the internet by posting the family picture, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: I wrote the first half of this as the Eagles lost to the Commanders, thus breaking a 10 game win streak soooo that was a bummer.

I wrote the ending after watching the Eagles beat the Cowboys, so at least that turned back around!

I think this may be the silliest thing I’ve ever written.

[pianokantzart]

YES! GOOD! I’m going to just going to analyze the whole dinner scene, because it’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. 

Mario and Luigi walk in, and immediately the whole room lights up to greet them. Despite everything that follows, one thing is clear: The Mario Brothers are happy to see their family, and the family is happy to see them. 

The whole family confirms that they watched their commercial. Everyone except their mom insists the commercial was a bad idea, but the fact that they all watched it speaks to the fact that there is no indifference regarding Mario and Luigi’s dream. They’re eager to see where this endeavor leads, even if they think it’s going to end in failure. 

The moment Mario and Luigi sit down at the table, their uncles begin laying into them like it’s open season on financially struggling plumbers. Just full blown, no-holds-barred roast mode on their nephews.

Mario is on the defensive, but he doesn’t get angry, he’s just trying to argue his side. Clearly this is typical behavior for Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur. They’re loud, overly honest, and obnoxiously confident in their opinions. Uncle Arthur, thankfully, has his wife to keep him in check. Uncle Tony, however, who is seated next to poor Luigi, is an absolute menace.

Luigi ignores all the teasing. He is only interested in getting food, but this is not an easy task. Tony’s verbal arguments are all directed at Mario, but Luigi is the one who gets prodded and shoved around, and that makes getting dinner next to impossible.

Luigi attempts to serve himself salad, attempts to ask for a roll, attempts to eat the mushrooms being put on his plate, and at every turn he’s either pushed away or talked over. He is clearly very soft spoken compared to the other men in his family, and never quite had the strength to stand up for himself... after all, everyone means well, they just lack self awareness. It isn’t worth the fight. 

Thankfully, Luigi’s mom comes to the rescue, and puts a bowl of soup in front of her boy. She’s the queen of the caretaker role, making sure all the loose ends are tied up and that everybody eats.

But on the flip side, it’s interesting to note that once the uncles start tearing into Mario, Mario’s Dad serves him up a plate of food. He may have just been serving the person next to him because that was the polite thing to do, but I have a theory...

I think that this wasn’t the first night that Mario and his uncles went at each other. I think Mario’s Dad read the room, and figured that if Mario was going to spend dinner playing defense, he should at least remember to eat while doing so.

It also speaks volumes that Mario’s Dad doesn’t voice his disapproval until Mario asks for his opinion. Before then he avoids the subject and lets everyone else do the talking, but so long as he’s being questioned directly, he can’t help but be honest.

“I think... you’re nuts. You don’t quit a steady job for some crazy dream.” This sounds like a voice of experience. Mario’s Dad has the figure of someone who has worked physical labor for a good portion of his life (look the size of those arms). He may have had dreams of his own when he was younger, but he had a wife and kids to worry about, and family took priority. 

Speaking of family taking priority: “... and the worst part? You’re bringing your brother down with you.” That settles it. The conversation has gone from a casual roast session to dead serious. The entire room falls quiet as Mario puts down his fork and storms off. 

“What’d I say?” Everybody at the table (except the niece, she’s long since checked out) gives Mario’s Dad different versions of the look™. Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur have the same “Jesus Christ bro, you didn’t have to go there” expression, and Luigi just looks hurt on Mario’s behalf. His Dad, however, is just confused.  

He didn’t get the gravity of what he said. His relationship with his own brothers– loudmouthed schmucks who call their own shots – is completely alien to what Luigi and Mario have. He probably knows Mario is protective of Luigi, but he doesn’t realize the depth of responsibility Mario feels for him. Anyone can see that Luigi is loyal to his brother, but Mario alone knows how loyal he is, and the implication that he’s betraying that loyalty is intensely painful. 

I doubt Uncle Arthur and Uncle Tony truly relate to Mario and Luigi’s relationship either, but they’ve probably teased Mario enough to understand one thing: bringing Luigi into it is a line you do not cross.

Conclusion:

There is a lot of love in the Mario family.

Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur are definitely the most insufferable of the bunch, but there is no malice in their teasing. While they are brash and overbearing, it’s all in good fun, and they get visibly uncomfortable when things go too far and someone actually ends up hurt. 

Luigi seems to take after his mother; kind, nonconfrontational, and happily invested in a supporting role. While his Mom cares for and assists the family, Luigi cares for and assists his brother, both emotionally and in his business ventures.

Mario, in the meantime, takes after his Dad, who appears to be the oldest of the three brothers. He doesn’t always think before speaking, but he isn’t constantly running his mouth like Arthur or Tony, and acts with the gravity of someone who bears a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t quite “get” his sons, but he knows enough to see that Luigi follows his brother everywhere, and Mario does not always think before jumping into things. Despite what Mario may believe, his Dad doesn’t see him as a “joke” so much as he sees him as an impulsive young man who doesn’t grasp the consequences of his actions. But Mario does understand the consequences of his actions, he just dreams big, and... thanks to Luigi... actually has the support he needs to pursue those dreams. 

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: We’re going deeper and darker on this one, with an ending you might not expect...

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. TW: attempted sexual assault (not successful), violence, character death, drug use, and a twist.

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Part 5: Eminence Front

Your last conversation with your mother was on a Sunday morning, in hospice.

You sat at her bedside and held her hand. Chris and your father were downstairs in the hospital food court, ordering sandwiches. You hadn’t had much of an appetite for three days.

“I had your father call the whole family so they could watch the music video with you and Soldier Boy,” your mom said. She wore a proud, if weak smile. “He even recorded a few tapes of it. He sent one to your aunt, another to your cousins, and another to our friends Leah and Stan.”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal piracy, Mom,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t care. You’re my daughter, and you’ve worked incredibly hard to get here,” she said. Her eyes misted over a bit in memory. “We’ve all worked hard.”

You stilled at that. You didn’t know what memories she had filtering through her head, but you were sure your perspective behind the lens was…different.

In your mind’s eye, you saw yourself at twelve years old. Chris had been pestering you all day, as big brothers were wont to do sometimes. With a slap on his arm, you’d screamed at him to leave you alone.

He didn’t speak to you for a whole month. He didn’t go to your piano recital or your choir concert, where you had the best solo. He didn’t talk to you until you touched him again, grabbing his arm, pleading with him.

"Please, whatever I did, I'm sorry. Just talk to me!"

He startled as if he’d woken up from a dream.

Your parents had shared a look, and they’d known then that their gamble had worked.

You remembered being sat down by your mother and told that they had spent their entire life’s savings to make you a hero. So you were going to spend the rest of your young life training to be one.

“We’re investing in your future, but we’re also investing in ours.”

You remembered sleepover invites rejected and summer plans canceled on your behalf. Your mother used her meager retirement fund to sign you up for vocal lessons from a former opera singer. Your high school football coach father drilled you to condition your body like an athlete.

You never had a moment that wasn’t scheduled. You were always exhausted, taking whatever “supplements” your parents gave you to keep you going. (Often it was Adderall, until it started giving you insomnia, among other delightful side effects.)

You were miserable. Then again, you’d be surprised by what you could get used to.

The end goal was always getting into Payback. It was where you’d garner the most fame and make the most money, and therefore, make the most returns on your parents’ investments.

So your father later took out a loan to get you some basic combat training from an ex-Vought employee. Your parents wanted you to be well-rounded and prepared for anything when you got onto the team—and it was always when.

If was not part of the story.

Any small commercials and modelling gigs you landed throughout middle school and high school helped pay for your family’s bills, and later for college, where you double majored in Vocal Performance and Marketing. You would learn how to become your own brand.

Through it all, you always remembered what your mom had said to you on the set of your first commercial. You were crying because the hours were long and you missed your friends, and even your brother.

“Come on, let’s wipe those tears. You don’t want to smudge your makeup,” she’d said. When you couldn’t be consoled, she guided you over to a quieter corner of the set. “Listen, sweetheart. Don’t let them see you upset. You'll get a reputation for being difficult to work with.”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to do this anymore,” you said, sniffling badly as you scrubbed at your eyes. Your mother sighed sharply.

“You’re just starting out. Of course there are going to be growing pains,” she said. “Showbusiness is a cutthroat world, and yes, you’re so young. Maybe too young.”

She wiped your face with gentler hands, then she laid them on your shoulders and made sure you met her eyes.

“But you’re going to be better prepared than most superheroes. You can literally read men. You know what’s in their hearts, and you can control them. As a woman in this world, do you know how damn powerful that is?” she said.

She squeezed your shoulders.

“That’s why you’ll be smarter than any of them, and you’ll only show the world what you want them to see.”

What you want them to see…

“We don’t have to talk about that right now,” you said at last.

Your mom nodded and stroked your hand. Her eyes fell closed in rest. She looked so small and frail in her bed.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” she said. “Always remember that.”

Your lower lip trembled, and your eyes stung. You couldn’t help but feel hollow. What was there to be proud of? You’d failed. All your hard work was meant to give your family a better life, not…this.

“You’re so beautiful and talented,” she continued. “And you’ll get your father out from under these medical bills I put on him, won’t you?”

Deep in your soul, a painful ache twinged.

You ignored it and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take care of Dad, don’t worry.”

Your mother died the next morning. You wrote a statement about her passing to explain your absence to your fans. It went through Madelyn Stillwell and Arthur before they released the press release and even had it covered in Vought News. Then you spent the next week entrenched in funeral arrangements with your father and brother.

When you eventually returned to Vought Tower after the funeral, it felt like another part of you had chipped off.

Your room was filled with flowers and gifts from your fans, which managed to make you wide-eyed, and even tearfully touched. So this was the power of fame, then?

But there was one vase filled with beautiful scarlet roses. Attatched was a handwritten note:

Welcome home.

You thought you recognized the scrawl. A small smile graced your lips.

You gave into the desire to venture up to the penthouse floor, and knock on Ben’s door. He opened it himself. He was dressed down for once in the afternoon, in a normal sweater rolled up to his elbows and tucked into his slacks. Once he saw you, he was a little surprised.

You held up the note for his view. “Was this you?”

He smiled slightly, but he didn’t answer you. He just welcomed you inside. You followed him into the living room area and sat heavily on the couch. An album was playing on his record player. You recognized Sinatra’s smooth voice singing “My Way.”

“You want a drink?” Ben asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied. He rose a brow, but he fulfilled your request.

While he was busy, you grabbed his forgotten half a blunt from the ashtray on the coffee table, and you lit up. You didn’t often partake in drugs because you didn’t like being out of your lucid mind. You preferred being in control.

Today was different. You needed a distraction. Maybe that was why you were here to begin with.

You accepted the glass he handed to you and took a generous sip, though you coughed at the burn on the way down. And you took a puff, the smoke irritating your throat even more. You practically coughed up half a lung, until he sat down beside you and reached out his hand. You passed the blunt back to him. You two traded off hits until it was more than halfway down to the roach, and he eventually put it out on the ashtray.

“My offer still stands, you know,” he said.

You turned to him. Even in your “enlightened” state, you could feel his intentions. The way he roamed your body with his eyes was unmistakable, but just then, you had a moment of clarity. You couldn’t be bothered to play this game, or hide your true thoughts for that matter. You smiled to yourself, and you stood.

Ben got up with you, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Thank you,” you said, “for finally showing me who you really are.”

His lips slowly pulled into a frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“My mom died,” you said. “I know you knew that, but you couldn’t even muster up a basic ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ or whatever the fuck.”

You even laughed through the spark of tears. You wiped at your face. “This place is exactly what I thought it would be.”

The man was silent while you finished the drink in one long gulp. You slammed the glass on his counter, and you left his apartment.

It wasn’t the first time Ben watched you walk away from him, but despite his outward stoicism, it was the first time he felt the sting of it.

You knew it would be difficult at Vought, but you were finding it more and more challenging to keep focused as the months went by.

On one mission, Ben threw a man out of a three-story apartment. He lived, by some miracle, but shattered almost every bone in his body.

On another, Black Noir choke-slammed an escaped convict so hard, her esophagus caved in. And it was a good day if the TNT Twins even zapped the right culprit.

You were increasingly wary of the collateral damage and violence you were being complicit in, just by being there. You had to keep reminding yourself of why you were here. You needed to take care of your father, who was still swimming in your mother’s medical bills and funeral costs. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do this, with or without Ben’s help.

Even so, a day you were called to a full team mission made you more anxious than excited.

It was a drug ring that the police had been trying to dismantle for nearly a decade: Los Reyes. They were the "kings of cocaine," and they were brutal in their retaliations, locked in a turf war with one of the Italian mafias. As Stan Edgar had explained, the police were grateful for any help that Payback could provide.

You guys were sent to a warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen. According to law enforcement intel, it was the base of the Reyes gang's operations.

Infiltrating it was the easy part. Countess blasted right through the front doors, revealing your entire team to the group of men huddled around entire tables and crates filled with product.

When a man aimed a gun at you, Ben threw his shield. It hit the man, who then crashed into a support beam and broke his back in half. Your eyes went wide in horror at seeing his lifeless ones. You gaped up at Ben.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked in alarm.

"Would you rather get shot?” he said coolly.

The others picked off a few men in the room, but the rest of the gang scattered into other rooms within the large building. Ben barked commands for who should go in which direction.

“Sirena, you’re with Swatto. Head east towards the alley and cut off any rats,” he commanded.

You wanted to take issue with being partnered with Swatto. You glanced over at him. After how you compelled him a few months ago, he still had a grudge against you as well. But you two knew better than to argue with Soldier Boy on a mission.

You and your partner ducked out the east side into the alley. Sure enough, you saw blood splatters on the wall from a handprint, and drips of blood leading down the concrete path. After sharing a nod, you and Swatto followed the line of blood.

You turned the corner into a dusty construction site, where a new skyscraper was only partially built. Some walls were up along with the foundation, but it was mostly dirt, bare concrete walls, and piles of brick.

When you turned a corner, you and Swatto stopped short as bullets rained your way.

“Oh, fuck!” Swatto shouted. He pulled out his gun and decided to fly above. You heard more shots and men screaming, and then, it was quiet. You cocked your own gun, though you hoped you didn’t have to use it. The problem with your powers was you needed to be close enough to touch someone to actually compel them, man or woman.

Your last resort was your actual siren song, a power you rarely used. Mainly because it was lethal to any man who heard it. For that reason, it had to be your in case of emergency break glass tactic.

So you crept around the corner to see what Swatto had done. You were surprised to find that he fought well. He managed to kill a few of them, but one large man was still alive. He was on his knees in the dirt with his hands folded behind his head.

“See? Ain’t so fuckin’ tough now, huh?” Swatto taunted. “Get ready to get fucked in the ass in jail, Paco.”

You grimaced in disgust. “All right, that’s enough. Just—”

Before you could realize what was happening, the man raised up from the ground and swept the gun from Swatto’s hands. It flew across the clearing and hit the wall, setting the gun off. A bullet ricocheted and grazed Swatto in the side. 

“Aw, fuck! I’m fucking hit!” he yelled in alarm. His wings expanded from his back, and he raised off the ground in flight. Your eyes widened.

“Where the hell are you going?” you shouted.

“I’m hit! I need a hospital!” His voice grew smaller as he flew away like a fucking coward.

It left you alone with a man twice your size. He seized you up with a smirk.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “You’re the new one, right?”

You raised your gun and fired, but you were too late. He evaded and grabbed the gun from your hands. You held your ground after the first punch, but the second and third made your legs shake. You were more durable than the average human, and you were well trained. Unfortunately, you didn’t have super strength like most of your teammates.

You blocked when you could and gave blows of your own, but this man was large enough that it didn’t slow him for long. He wore a sweatshirt with long sleeves, so you couldn’t easily compel him with a touch.

Okay, this warrants an emergency, you thought in alarm. When you opened your mouth to sing, he shot out a sharp blow to your throat. Maybe he thought you were going to scream for help, but it had its intended effect of choking you into silence.

He grabbed you and proceeded to beat you down, until you felt the sharp breaking of ribs and blood and dirt in your mouth. Every time you tried to slip away or get to your feet and escape, he knocked you back down. He was toying with you, and having fun with it too. You could sense his sick enjoyment.

But then, you felt his intentions shift. Darker, and more carnal. A more intense fear coiled in your stomach, rising up into your throat. A gasp got stuck there as you tried harder to crawl away.

He grabbed your ankle and dragged you back towards him. He took your wrists when you tried to claw at his eyes, or even just touch his face to try and enforce your power over his.

Just a scrap of skin. That’s all you need.

A whimper escaped you as you struggled, but you kneed him hard between the legs. That managed to stop him for a moment as he grunted and cursed. He got a hold of a meaty hand around your neck. Your eyes glowed in desperation.

Suddenly, the man’s weight lifted off you.

You panted for breath and raised yourself up on your elbow. You watched with wide eyes as Ben slammed your attacker’s face into the dirt until he couldn’t breathe. Ben glanced at you, taking in the sight of your bloody face and cut lip, your arm wrapped around your battered ribs.

His frown deepening in displeasure, he bent the man’s arm until it broke in at least two places. His howls of pain echoed into the night. Ben cut it off by twisting the man’s neck, until it released a loud crack.

He threw the body to the ground in disgust. He barely even wiped his gloves before he stood straighter. Then he went back to you.

“You all right?” he asked gruffly.

You stared up at him with tears shining in your eyes. You tried to answer, but it hurt your throat. It was also painful for you to move your body. You tasted blood in your mouth and knew it had dribbled down your chin.

With a rough exhale through his nose, Ben lowered down and slid his hands underneath your body. You cringed and cried out when he moved you, but you were grateful. You were embarrassed. And you were exhausted.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you folded your arms over your battered middle. You couldn't help but lay your head against his chest.

The rest of the team was waiting at the other end of the clearing, except for Swatto. Even Countess was quiet as she watched Ben carry you out of the construction site.

You spent a couple of days in the hospital. There you were surrounded by Vought security fielding off any journalists or tabloids, and you were accompanied by your dad and brother.

Chris especially was angry for you, not to mention worried, but you tried to hide your pain and reassure them that you would be okay. This was just par for the course when taking down the bad guys.

Yeah, that one sounded hollow, even to you.

You were grateful when you got out of the hospital and were sent back to the Tower. Even so, the doctor had you mostly on bedrest until your ribs healed up. You weren’t proud of it, but you wallowed in your embarrassment and a bit of self-pity while you watched a marathon of Cheers and ate from a box of assorted chocolates. You dug around for your favorites, but you kept getting the weird shitty filling ones.

“Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came,” sang the TV show theme song. “You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same. You wanna be where everybody knows your name…” 

“Bullshit,” you muttered aloud. Such was your grouchiness that you had half a mind to change the channel. This godforsaken sitcom was too damn cheery, no matter how much you loved Ted Danson’s fine, rugged ass.

God. Maybe I do have a type.

That was when a knock at the door threatened to disrupt your solitude.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

You’d now recognize that smooth, deep voice anywhere. Sighing, you closed the box of chocolates and hid them under your pillow before you turned off the TV.

“Come in,” you said.

Ben stepped into your apartment and soon found you in your room. It was the first time he’d ever been in here, and he took a subtle look around. He wore his suit and tactical gear.

“Just come from a mission?” you asked.

He nodded and approached your bed. He smiled slightly.

“Eating your feelings in Whitman’s, huh?” he teased, tapping his nose. He could probably smell the chocolate.

You blushed and crossed your arms on reflex, but you grimaced when the motion made your ribs twinge sharply. You made a sound of discomfort and lowered your arms back to your sides. You shifted in the bed as slowly as you could. You’d been in this position for a while.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m peachy,” you groused. When you looked up at him though, you realized that he hadn't needed to come visit you. He was here of his own free will…and there was something you had yet to say to him. You sighed and met him with sincerity.

“Look…thank you, for saving me,” you said.

Ben inclined his head. He lowered down and sat beside you on the edge of your bed.

“You may not like how I run things here, but this is the way of it,” he said, holding your gaze. “This is the real fucking world. If you’re going to stay here, you need to get with that program, or this place is going to chew you up and spit you out.”

That fell between you two for a moment. The more you turned his words over in your mind, the more you realized that he was right, to a point. If you stayed, this was your life. You couldn’t keep handwringing. You had to be smarter.

“I’m sorry, I’m not looking very camera ready,” you said eventually. You meant it to be joking, but your voice was heavy. “I wouldn’t blame you for averting your eyes.”

You half expected him to make a joke about your black eye and torn lip. But to your surprise, Ben picked up your hand with a kind of gentleness. He raised the back of it up to his lips for a kiss. He gave you a reserved smile.

“Rest up,” he said.

He got up and strode out of your apartment. Not for the first time, he left you feeling unbalanced…and this time warm.

It took a few weeks for you to fully heal. You agreed to do an interview with Jason Carver, the anchor of Vought News. It was a bit intimidating being in yet another studio, and this was live.

The cameras aren’t there. This is just a stage like any other. You’re just…having a conversation, you coached yourself. You sat in an uncomfortable leather chair across from Jason at his desk.

When he got the green light from the producer, he kicked off the show by introducing you as his special guest.

“Can I just say, Sirena, we’re all very glad to see you’re all right,” he said, with a very convincing note of sincerity. Your abilities allowed you to read the truth.

Only show them what you want them to see.

You gave him a grateful smile.  

“Thanks, Jason. I appreciate that. It’s just…hazards of the job description, you know?” you said. “But I’m doing much better, and I’m very thankful that my team was there to support me.”

“Yes, the rest of Payback really stepped up to not only apprehend your attacker, but round up the entire Reyes gang. Is that right?” he said.

You nodded, reading the teleprompter. You were meant to go on a mini monologue about how great your team was, and how grateful you were to be a part of it. It was a script approved by Madelyn, and even Stan Edgar.

You paused, glancing over to where Arthur and Madelyn stood in the dark with the rest of the crew. They were both looking at you encouragingly, but expectant.

You took a steadying breath, and you decided to go a bit off-script.

“Well, actually, it was Soldier Boy who saved me,” you said. Jason’s brows rose at your shift in direction, but he reacted with all due interest.

“Really?” he prodded.

“Yes, he did,” you said. The memories of that night filtered through your mind with harrowing detail, including the way Ben stepped in and brutally handled that man. “He didn’t even hesitate. He just threw himself into the fray…and when it was over, he carried me to the hospital himself.”

That part wasn’t exactly true. He’d carried you over to a Vought-owned SUV, and the director of the camera crew drove you over to the hospital. You decided to gloss over that detail, and many others.

“Wow,” Jason said. He shook his head in wonder. “He truly lives up to the legend, doesn’t he?”

You smiled. “He’s more than that. Believe it or not, Soldier Boy was the first one to take me under his wing. He knew I was new to the city, so he guided me all over New York to see the sights like a tourist. Stuff I’m sure he’s seen millions of times, like Top of the Rock and Times Square. Oh, and he was also very gracious when my nephew came to visit. Got me some major brownie points for ‘Best Aunt in the World.’”

That earned you a congenial smile from your host. Your expression faded with a kind of weight in your heart.

“Ever since I got here, he’s been the one to tell it like it is, with that deep, authoritative voice of his,” you said, laughing a little when you tried to imitate Ben’s voice. It got you a laugh, even from those in the studio. “In a way, he’s the one who’s looked out for me the most. I’m very grateful for Soldier Boy, and of course for the rest of my team.”

When you finished, Jason nodded and clapped along with everyone else in the studio.

“Well, that’s just wonderful. Well said,” he said, and he looked straight into the camera with two fingers poised at his temple. “Soldier Boy, if you’re watching, we all appreciate you. And we salute you.”

Ben watched the clip from his living room with a small, incredulous smile on his face.

He wiped the remnants of white powder from his nose and sneezed. Blinking the bleariness out of his eyes, he refocused on the screen while you talked about him. He knew you had to be playing it up for Jason and the cameras, but you also seemed so sincere.

“He’s more than that.”

After the segment was over, he enjoyed the climax of his high while sitting back on his plush sofa. He tossed up an old baseball from his collection up towards the ceiling, this one signed by Babe Ruth. He caught it when gravity pulled it back down towards his face.

That was how Donna found him when she let herself into his apartment. She was out of her suit and wearing a little red dress, one of his old favorites. She graced him with a sultry smile.

“Busy?” she asked.

“Evidently,” he said.

She pouted, almost like a little girl. She went to him and curled herself under his arm and against his chest, draping a smooth thigh over his.

“I miss you,” she purred.

He smiled wryly and turned off the TV.

“Really now?” he drawled. “Because by my calculations it’s been…what, a few months since we’ve fucked?”

Donna paused, the smile slipping from her face.

“And I’m not counting that hand job a couple weeks back. That shit was pitiful, and a little chafing,” he said.

For the past few months, he’d been wracking his brain to remember what it was that had attracted him to this woman, besides the obvious outer packaging. He knew the difference now.

In the beginning, she idolized him. Worshipped him. Loved him. These days, she only came to him when she wanted something, and he had gotten bored. Bored of her.

As if sensing his shift, Donna moved her leg off his lap and sat up with a frown.

“Well, then let me fix it,” she said, as she slid a hand up his thigh. Suddenly she was all too willing to use those red-painted lips to service him. 

Ben couldn’t help but envision those lips as yours, a sinful red, while your mouth did sinful things. He’d gotten off more than once to the thought of it alone, ever since he shot that goddamn music video with you.

So he grabbed Donna’s wandering hand and looked at her coolly.

“Look, for whatever reason, I know you’re not happy,” he said, waving dismissively with his other hand. “Neither of us are. So let’s just stop wasting time.”

Her eyes widened. “What’re you saying?”

Ben’s brows furrowed. “Am I speaking fucking English? It’s time to call it quits, sweetheart.”

Donna’s jaw worked as she fought to keep herself under control. He had a feeling she’d be angry. She always was a little spitfire.

Her body was coiled like a spring when she withdrew her hand from his and got to her feet. She gave him an icy look.

“This isn’t going to last,” she claimed, with a prideful tilt of her chin. “In a month, a week, you’ll get tired of her. And you’ll remember that I’m the one who looks best by your side.”

Ben huffed in amusement before he laid back again. He continued to toss up his baseball.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said dismissively. 

Donna let loose an aggravated breath, but she kept most of her reaction inside. She turned on her heel, prideful as ever, and left his apartment.

When her fingers landed on the doorknob, however, she turned back for just a moment. Silence greeted her.

It wasn’t until then that her tears finally bubbled over.

Days later, a knock on your door drew your attention out of pulling on some jeans. You were intending to go on a walk through the city, take some time to get out of the Tower and just be you for a change.

That had better not be Madelyn at the door again. She had chastised you for going off-script at the studio twice already. She made the point that she and Stan had gone over those talking points for weeks, and agreed that framing your rescue as a team effort would cover Swatto as well.

He was still laid up with a broken leg, long after the scrape of the bullet had healed. He was tight-lipped about how he’d broken said leg, but you’d heard from Tommy that he’d shattered it…somehow.

Arthur had smoothed things over about your adlib though. He pointed out that talking positively about Soldier Boy helped the whole team. He was the leader, after all.

So yeah, you hoped this visit wasn’t another passive aggressive dress down from the head of PR. You sighed and went over to get the door. You were thoroughly surprised to see Ben.

And a Ben that was wearing a regular suit, for that matter. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Hugo Boss catalogue, steeped in charcoal gray with a long black coat draped over his arm. Your mouth parted in soft shock, especially when he produced a single rose from behind his back.

You took it with tentative fingers and a blush rising hotly in your cheeks.

“Okay, what—”

“Let me take you out,” he said. “One night. You’ll get to see what it’s like to be with the most famous man in the world.”

What an opening line that was. You sensed he was in full Charm City mode, complete with a suave smile. Yours was more amused, even though you twisted the flower's soft petals lightly on your chin in contemplation.

After a few seconds to think, you gave him a patient look.

“Ben, nothing’s changed for me. I told you, I–”

“Countess and I are done, for real this time,” he said.

Once again, you were taken by surprise—mostly because he was telling the truth. You felt it.

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “When did this happen?”

“Recently,” he shrugged. “But like I said, it hasn’t been working for a while. It was a mutual thing.”

You weren’t so sure about that, but… 

This is what I wanted, you reminded yourself. In fact, it had been half what you’d hoped for when you went off-script. You just couldn’t believe it had worked this well, so soon. As much as you probably shouldn’t, part of you began to feel bad for manipulating him. For lying to him.

But it’ll be good for my career.

“…Okay,” you agreed, glancing down at your plain shirt and jeans. “Just give me some time to change.”

He raised a brow. “How much time?”

You gave him a slightly cheeky smile. “An hour, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

He sighed, but he agreed.

“Just don’t keep me waiting all fucking day,” he said.

“Come on. What’s a little delayed gratification?” you teased. Then you gave him a more sincere smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Ben nodded, with some added charm in the look he gave you in return.

You slipped back into your apartment and shut the door. You paused there when a thought struck you.

Shit, now what am I going to wear?

AN: Did you see that one coming?

A lot of darker angst and drama in this one, sorry for that. But I think you may like what's coming up...

Next Time:

You slid your hand over his on the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, his body tensing up at your touch. You frowned when you saw the glint of wariness cross his face.

“I won’t compel you again, Ben. I promise,” you said. As long as you don’t give me a reason to.

Your hand traveled up his arm, soothing along his neck, your palm finally resting against his cheek. His green eyes stared into yours.

Soon enough, his wariness bled away into desire.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 6

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ breathe your name ♡

♡ Pairing: best man!hyunjin x bride!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: angst/fluff

♡ Summary: It's the day of your lavish wedding. Everything's set in place. From the dress you wear to the aisle you're walking down, everything's picture perfect. At least you're able to pretend it is until the appearance of a particular wedding guest in your dressing room brings up feelings that you can't ignore. Will you be able to bury your past to get through this day or will you find yourself drawn back into the arms of thet man you swore you'd never speak to again?

♡ Word Count: 3.7k

♡ Warnings: mentions of an affair that you definitely had with Hyunjin. a lil make out session. mentions of sex. but other than that? none (shortest warnings list I've probably ever written. oh my gosh).

♡ A/N: This is what happens when you leave me alone with an Adele playlist. Anyway, I hope you have fun at your wedding. It's gonna be...interesting, babes xoxo

There’s something some girls spend their entire lives dreaming of. Wishing, even praying, for. 

The perfect wedding. 

And you have it. 

The picturesque church nestled in the heart of a gorgeous historical district. It costs more than some people’s mortgage to rent this place for a few hours. The simple act of laying eyes on it starts knocking numbers off of your bank account. The celebrity planner who's been on the cover of wedding magazines and worked tirelessly to make sure today’s an occasion people will talk about for years to come. The gorgeously crafted white dress, custom sewn and beaded for your special day. It accentuates every delicate contour of your figure perfectly. Like everything else here. So perfect. 

“Smile a little, babe. This is the happiest day of your life!” your makeup artist giggles, applying the finishing touches to your lipstick. 

Seated in front of a mirror in the church’s dressing room, you nervously toy with your diamond bracelet and force a faint smile. All you can manage under the circumstances. 

“It might be raining out there” she hums, her gaze drifting over to the gloomy sky looming beyond the stained glass windows, “But you, my dear, are pure sunshine.” 

She circles behind you, gentle hands resting on your bare shoulders. “So, what do you think?” she asks, fussing with a few flyaway hairs that managed to sneak their way out of your updo. 

You take a deep breath and summon all of your courage to face what you’ve been running from all day. Your own reflection. “It’s beautiful” you lie, your smile beginning to waver as your stomach audibly turns. 

She shouldn’t be here. No one should. Not your family. Not your friends. Certainly not you. This is not the best day of your life. This is a mistake. You’ve known that for a while now and have been biding your time ever since waiting for the right moment to fix it. But the moment never came and time, as it does, ran out. Your fiance’s proposal had been accepted out of spite. It didn’t matter at the time that you were giving yourself away to a cruel, narcissistic man whose greatest joy in life is that he can use his daddy’s money to buy who and what he wants. 

What mattered was that the man you truly loved, the one your heart pines for even now, had broken your heart and you needed to break his. A mission that the announcement of your engagement flawlessly accomplished but was it worth it? Was any of this worth it? Your heart sinks to your stomach as if weighed down by cement bricks, heavy with the knowledge that it wasn’t. 

Your makeup artist sees it on your face. The sorrow. The regret. A sudden tapping at the door diverts any attempt she might’ve made to question you. She turns to answer the door but there’s no need. A figure in black is already entering the room, filling the air with a cologne you once spent endless passionate nights inhaling. Without thinking you breathe it deep into your lungs, savoring it even as you despise the appearance of the man it emanates from. 

“You must be lost. The groom’s room is down the hall on the left” your makeup artist frowns, waving the man in the designer suit away. 

The corners of his lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile but pleasant enough to be mistaken for one. “No, I’m not lost. I just need a second with her. I won’t be long” he insists, advancing towards you with a confidence you find both irritating and irresistible.

That was Hyunjin for you. So charming. So graceful. So handsome. So much of everything that you can hardly stomach him. You crave his touch on every inch of your body and want him to get lost all at the same time. 

You clear your throat, patting your makeup artist on the back of the hand, “It’s fine. If anyone asks, just let them know I need a moment please.”

Hesitantly she nods and makes her way out of the room, all the while keeping a skeptical eye on Hyunjin who takes her place behind you. He fusses with the same hairs, successfully finding an excuse to touch any part of you. 

Hyunjin sighs, head tilted to the side. He pokes his bottom lip out, releasing a huff of air that blows his long dark hair free of his line of vision. Now he can see you perfectly, unobstructed, and his eyes light up at you the way they always have. “You look like an angel” he smiles and it’s genuine this time, no matter how badly you wish it weren’t. His fingertips brush your ears and your body’s flush with heat in an instant. You always despised it, how little it takes for Hyunjin to get a reaction out of you. 

“What do you want?” you snap, your tone unforgiving. The way you look at him, it’s as if you hate him. Why? Hyunjin knows why. He can’t deny that he deserves it for what he’s done—for what he’s come here to do. His hands drift along the outline of your face. They skim your cheek too lightly to disturb your makeup but you feel his touch still.

“Leave” you demand, drawing in a sharp breath at the sensation, “I don’t want you here.” The power behind your request is not existent. Rather than come out threatening, laced with conviction, your words are nothing more than a whisper. If you had to rely on them to push him out of the door he wouldn’t move an inch. 

Hyunjin leans into your ears, his eyes not once leaving the mirror where they remain locked with yours in a gaze brimming with enough heat to burn down everything around you. “I’ll leave but only if that’s what you truly want” he whispers, gently placing a warm hand to the soft skin of your chest.

Your heart picks up a speed only he can make it race at. The feeling’s a comfort to him. It’s the knowledge that even after all that happened you still feel what he does. There’s a fondness there that can’t be buried, it’ll always find its way back to the surface, but there’s something else too. Something he’s been able to hide from until this moment. You’re broken. Over the past few months you’ve done everything to pretend that you weren’t but you are and the pain has your eyes swelling with tears even as you fight to hold them at bay. 

“Fuck you, Hyunjin!” you shout, bolting up from your chair just in time for a few tears to escape, “Since when have you ever cared what I truly want? It’s always been about you. All this will ever be about is you.” 

Your anger’s boiling, hot tears staining your cheeks as you pace the floor. Usually on her wedding day a bride sheds tears of joy for her husband at the altar yet here you are full on weeping in front of his best man. Speechless, Hyunjin reaches out to grab your arm but you pull away from him, backing yourself into the furthest corner of the room. 

“I don’t know why you’re here. I gave you everything and it wasn’t enough. What else do you want?”

Hyunjin watches you for a moment, letting your words flow through his veins like a poison of his own making. “I never said it wasn’t enough…”

“Oh, you never said it?” you scoff, “You’re right, you just said, ‘I can’t do this anymore’ and then acted like nothing ever happened.”

“I was trying to do the right thing.”

“If that was ‘the right thing’ then what do you call this?” 

You await an answer, hoping that for once he might have something worthwhile to say, but you’re met with silence. The same silence he’s offered you every day since he broke your heart. “

Typical” you mumble to yourself, returning to the vanity in a desperate search for tissues. Maybe if you grab them soon enough you can preserve some of what your makeup artist worked tirelessly to achieve. Drying your eyes you catch a glimpse of Hyunjin and for a fleeting moment he seems deflated, like he has something resembling feelings, but you made the mistake of believing that before and you can’t let yourself be fooled by it again. 

Hyunjin’s chest tightens, every breath beginning to feel like hard labor. There’s something he’s been holding inside too and it’s aching to come out, it won’t let him breathe until it does. “You’re right, all this was ever about was me, but I never thought you weren’t enough. I loved you, I love you, I was just afraid you still loved him.”

Tossing your tissues aside, you turn to face him, arms folded across your chest. “You were afraid I still loved him when I was in your bed everyday?”

“And you crawled back into his every night” he says, a hint of bitterness slipping out, “I knew you’d leave him for me but for how long? I thought that if I ended things…if I told you to be with him instead you’d be happier.”

You take a deep breath, doing a regal twirl for him in your wedding dress, “Do I look happier without you?”

Hyunjin feels a tear wet his cheek and it stuns him, he hadn’t felt it coming yet there it is. “Do I look happier without you?” he shoots back, closing the distance between the two of you. “I know I’m the one who told you to stay but I can’t…I can’t stand there and let you marry him. He doesn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated. He can’t love you the way that I love you.”

Pinned against the table, his body too solidly planted to move, there’s nowhere for you to run to escape the truth. He slips his arms around your waist, bringing you into his chest with little concern to the mascara threatening to stain his dress shirt. You let your head rest there and for a moment you can pretend that you’re somewhere else. Back at his apartment maybe, like all those times before, cuddled up against him on the couch talking about nothing as the hours melted away. You always felt so at peace there, so protected. 

“They’re almost ready for you, darling!” a voice rings out as the door swings back open. The two of you scatter in opposite directions, unable to face one of your bridesmaids as she hurries into the room. She stops dead in her tracks, unsure what she’s walked into but positive it’s nothing good. 

“Everything good in here?” she asks, digging for the truth where you wish she wouldn’t. 

“Everything’s fine” you swear, painting on that forced smile again, “He was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Hyunjin?” 

Hyunjin looks to you, unsure what to do. He can’t stay and fight for you, not in front of your bridesmaid, but what happens if he leaves? He has no choice but to see. “Yeah, I was just leaving, uh, good luck with everything.” 

Your head drops as he dips back out into the hallway, leaving you to pick up the pieces all on your own but you can’t be mad at him, not for that. This is as much of your mess to clean up as it is his, if not moreso. You wish you could go back in time and do things differently but you can’t change the past and you can’t change what’s coming. Outside of that door hundreds of people are waiting for you. Your fiance’s waiting for you. The time for wishing has passed. It’s too late. 

A city bus whips through the rain slicked streets, settling as it pulls up to the only bus stop for 15 minutes in either direction. Outside a small crowd of people forms a line, hidden under the cover of jackets or umbrellas. The weather mentioned a chance of light rain but it’s pouring hard enough to make an umbrella almost useless. The second the bus doors swing open they’re piling inside, rushing to pay their fare and escape the downpour. As they settle in their seats the bus driver readies himself to close the door and truck along to the next stop. 

“Wait!” you shout, bolting through the rain to catch him before he peels off. 

Luckily he stops, the sight of you likely being the highlight of his day. You’re standing in front of the bus stop in a wedding dress soaking wet with your heels in one hand and a small clutch in the other. You probably should’ve attempted to grab an umbrella, a jacket, something before you got here but when you’re darting out of a church on your wedding day you don’t particularly have time to raid the lost and found for survival supplies. 

Completely out of breath, you climb onto the bus, attempting to wedge your toes back into your slippery shoes. “I’m sorry for holding you up sir but where does this bus go?”

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin’s calls from somewhere in the distance. 

You peek off of the bus, spotting him not too far away. Your blood runs cold. If he knows where you are, who else does? There’s no time to find out. 

“Nevermind” you say to the bus driver, fishing your fare out of your purse. 

You pay for your ride and scurry to the back of the bus, flopping down into your seat. You’re in a panic, attempting to bring yourself down from the rush of anxiety that came from bolting the second your bridesmaid turned her head. It’s a difficult feat when all eyes are on you. You do your best to appear normal, play it off like any other day, but this isn’t any other day. Everyone can see that.

Their curiosity piques even more when Hyunjin hops on the bus, frantically paying before scanning the seats to find you. A sweet old lady points to the back and Hyunjin rushes towards you, heaving for air as he takes the seat beside you. The bus doors finally close, plodding down the street as the two of you sit at the back like two soggy Barbie dolls. 

Staring out of the window, you watch the world pass you by, finding an odd comfort in the growing space between you and that church. There’s something therapeutic about leaving that place and everyone in it behind. Well, almost everyone. You can’t bring yourself to look at Hyunjin but he’s looking at you. Only at you. He watches you without expectations. There’s no pressure to speak, not even to acknowledge him, he only cares that you’re here and that he’s with you. Placing a hand on your knee, he shifts his attention to his own window, zoning out as the cars whoosh past, splashing rain onto the windows. You sit like this for the rest of the ride, trapped in your own worlds and tethered to each other’s all at the same time.

Everyone else must be searching for you right now. It’s likely that at first no one thought much of it. Someone would’ve suggested that you hadn’t heard the cue or might have run to the bathroom at the last minute. They would’ve sent your bridesmaids to search for you and the groomsmen next. Before long everyone would be in a panic trying to find you. You wonder how long it must’ve taken for them to notice that Hyunjin was missing too. It’s possible that they haven’t even asked that question yet, in too much of a frenzy to find you to think of it but when they do… 

The bus comes to a sudden stop, bringing you back to earth where Hyunjin stands over you tugging at your hand. “Come on, this is our stop.” 

You ask no questions, allowing him to guide you off of the bus and out onto a street corner you slowly begin to recognize. The rain has let up to a light sprinkle, the fresh post rain air a welcome change to the stuffiness of the bus. Looking around you spot a familiar restaurant. It’s the same one you used to grab breakfast from before heading to Hyunjin’s in the morning. Across the street is the park he’d take you to for picnics where you’d sit listening to music while he sketched the landscape in his notebook. His place is only a couple of minutes from here, you could find it with your eyes closed, but you let him lead the way, flashing an awkward smile at strangers whose gazes linger on you along the way.

Hyunjin keeps his hand glued to yours the entire time, not letting it go even as you climb the stairs leading to his apartment. Circumstances aside, it feels nice to have your hand in his again. The sex between you was amazing, each time more memorable than the last, but that wasn’t what he missed the most when you were apart. It was warming your hand with his on a cold day or feeling your noses brush when you kissed. The tiny things people take for granted until they lose them. 

“Wait here” he says once you’re inside, disappearing down the hall and abandoning you to the silence of the living room. 

The place is exactly as you remembered it. The black tufted couch with the fluffy purple star plushie on it. That guitar propped up in the corner that he swore he’d play for you one day but never got the chance to. Bookcases lined with everything from his precious manga to paint stained art history books. Art supplies scattered across the coffee table, a vase of fresh sunflowers positioned at the center.

You’re taken in by all of the new paintings. They’re darker than what he used to make and you try not to linger too much on the reason why. Hyunjin emerges from one of the rooms with a bundle of towels tucked under his arm. He wastes no time making his way back to you, tossing one over your head before you can react. 

“Hyunjin” you giggle as he dries you off like a puppy he’s just given a bath. Your hair goes everywhere, the tiny flower clips throughout it clanking as they fall free and hit the oak wood floors. 

He can’t contain his own laughter at how cute you are with your nose scrunched up like that, your laughter filling these walls for the first time in what seems to be an eternity. “What? I’m helping.” 

“You call this helping?” you pout, snatching a towel and giving him the same treatment he gave you. 

“Ouch, you’re gonna snap my neck!” he whines, twisting free of you. He runs to the other side of the room and you chase after him, draping the towel over his head and wildly tossing his hair around with it. 

“What? I’m helping” you mock. 

Hyunjin grabs you by the wrists, holding you in place, but your fingers still wiggle against his scalp and it tickles. “Stop it” he whispers, bringing you in close enough to watch the pink tint of his cheeks deepen. He says it like a dare masquerading as a threat and you’ve never been a girl opposed to taking Hyunjin’s bait. 

“Or what?”

He turns your wrists loose, hands dropping down to cradle your face in his palms. The surprise of the contact makes your body tense but that only lasts for so long. In the blink of an eye you’re melting into his touch, a low hum of electricity buzzing through you from head to toe. Hyunjin takes a deep breath, staring into your eyes like he’s falling head first into your starry orbs. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

It’s not a question as much as it is a notice. His lips crash into yours, stealing the air from your lungs to fuel his. This isn’t this kiss you remember. It’s sweeter—deeper. Dripping with enough longing that you can taste it. Your hands traverse each other’s bodies like weary travelers in desperate search of home. A home that’s your fingertips pressed against his chest, tearing at the soaked material of his shirt. A home that’s his hands hungrily devouring your figure through your dress. You’re two planets colliding, every piece of one scattered throughout the other. Neither of you have ever wanted anything this badly. Nothing in this whole wide world. 

“Hyunjin, wait” you somehow manage with his tongue still swirling around yours. You pry your lips free, tempted by how dangerously close to his they remain. “Are we really doing this? Are we…”

“We’re doing this but only if you want it. Do you?” he says softly, tracing the zipper of your dress. 

Your body arches into him, a trail of fire left in the wake of his fingertips. “I do but first there’s something I need to do.” 

“Something like what?” he asks and you catch seeds of panic blooming on that handsome face. 

You pet his chest to soothe his worries, “Something I should’ve done a long time ago. I saw your car when we came in. Can I borrow it? Pretty please?”

Hyunjin studies your expression, doing his best to decipher exactly what’s going through your pretty little head. But he can’t say no to you, that’s never been a strength of his. Digging through his pockets, he finds his keys and holds them out to you, only to snatch them back at the last second. “Come back to me…for good this time.” With that he hands the keys over, stealing one more kiss before you head for the door. 

Stopping in the doorway, you turn back to steal another glance at him. “For the record there was never any competition. It was always you.”

Hyunjin quirks his head at you, grinning as he nibbles at his bottom lip. “And it was always you. Always will be.”

[burningembers91]

I'll Bring You Flowers - Ryu Su-Yeol/K x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Chalk and Cheese

Synopsis: When K hears you're having a bad day, he orders you some flowers to cheer you up. But he finds it hard to keep his distance from the girl who makes him feel so alive.

A/N: After i'd finished writing this i realised i'd also used the broken boiler in my Hwang In-Ho fic. I guess i'm just a sucker for a damsel in distress and a man who know his way around a toolbox

The flowers were waiting for you when you got home. A large, beautiful bouquet, filled with the most stunning pastel petals. The muted pinks, blues and purples were complimented by the cream vase, with a small note attached to one of the stems. I hope your days become brighter soon, was all the note said. There was no name, no indication of who’d sent you such a thoughtful gift. You’d been having such a terrible day, but you hadn’t told anyone about it.

It had all started that morning, waking up to a text from a guy you’d been casually dating, saying he didn’t see your relationship going anywhere and he thought it was best if you broke it off. You weren’t upset because you particularly liked the man, it was more frustration at the fact that yet again, you simply weren’t good enough for someone. Your boiler then broke as you were halfway through your shower, the water turning ice cold in a matter of seconds, leaving you screaming as you scrambled to exit the Arctic conditions. Your favourite coffee place was closed, meaning you had to skip your usual morning latte, and you were passed over for a promotion, losing out to a man who wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if it punched him in the face. You couldn’t figure out who had sent you such a beautiful gift, but it had brightened your day.

K watched you through the peephole of the apartment door as you picked up the vase. He was buzzing, practically vibrating with joy as he saw the small smile flicker across your face. The flowers had been expensive, a lot more than he’d planned to spend, but that was a problem for Su-Yeol to worry about. He’d heard you this morning through the walls of the apartment, crying as you turned the shower on. He heard you scream, heard the cascade of swear words fall from your lips as you cursed every God under the sun. He wondered what had happened to you, and he’d have gone marching straight to your door if Su-Yeol hadn’t fronted and stopped him in his tracks.

K still couldn’t figure out why Su-Yeol didn’t want you the way he did. They both agreed you were beautiful, kind, funny, and feisty. You were K’s dream woman, and he knew you were Su-Yeol’s perfect girl too. “Just take her out for dinner,” K insisted one night during another of their childish bickering matches. “No,” Su-Yeol had snapped back, trying his hardest to ignore his more passionate alter ego. “Then let me take her out! I’ll show her how a real man should treat a woman.” K stood up, puffing his chest out as he paraded around the living room. “I’ll wine her, I’ll dine her, I’ll sixty-nine-” “Absolutely not,” Su-Yeol cut him off before he could finish, desperately trying to rid his mind of the image of you spread out on his bed.

But K wasn’t giving up. He waited until Su-Yeol was asleep before fronting and ordering an excessively expensive bouquet of flowers. He paid extra for the vase, hoping his extravagant purchase would teach Su-Yeol a lesson. He was wasting his life, punishing himself for things that weren’t his fault. K didn’t want to spend his entire existence alone, and he knew Su-Yeol didn’t either. But K had always been the brave one, and it was time they stopped living in the shadows.

He waited until you were heading out on your run, something he noticed you always did when you’d had a stressful day. It hadn’t been easy to overpower Su-Yeol, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d maintain control, but he had to know if you liked the gift. He waited until you were almost passed the door before he flung it open, his smile wide. “Did you like the flowers?” he cried, throwing his arms wide out to the side, a huge floppy grin plastered to his face.

“Jesus Christ!” The sound of your neighbour’s voice scared the living daylights out of you, and you jumped back, knocking your phone and earbuds clean out of your hand. “Wait, it was you?” you asked, fumbling to pick up your belongings. “You got me the flowers?” “Yes,” K nodded, “I heard you crying. You sounded very sad.” You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, could feel the beet red burn of embarrassment. “Oh, right,” you mumbled, fumbling for an excuse. “And then I heard you scream,” K said. “And you said “fuck” quite a lot. I figured you could use a little pick-me-up.”

You couldn’t help but smile at your mysteriously odd neighbour, who was quite clearly in one of his better moods this evening. His smile was wide, his floppy hair falling so effortlessly into his big, brown eyes. He wore a royal blue silk shirt adorned with leopard print, and on anyone else you were sure it would look ridiculous, but on him, it looked incredible. “My boiler broke,” you explained, “and I got dumped. Sorry you had to hear me snivelling.”

K desperately tried to stop smiling, tried to look like he felt bad for you, but he simply couldn’t manage it. His smile was face-splittingly wide as he heard that you were single. This was perfect, a dream come true, and he couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. “Did you get your boiler fixed?” he asked, crossing his fingers behind his back in the hopes that the answer was no. “Not yet,” you shrugged, “they can’t come out until Monday, but I can just use the showers at work.” “I can fix it,” K said before he could stop himself. He’d spent some of his time in control learning practical skills, sick of seeing Su-Yeol pay for people to fix things around the apartment when it was simple enough to learn. “Really? I wouldn’t want to put you out, Su-Yeol,” you said, but you found yourself curious about your handsome, if a little odd, neighbour. This was longest you’d ever spoken before, and tonight he seemed to be in a particular good mood. “Call me K,” he insisted, desperate to hear you say his name. “Ok… K,” you smiled, “Is that some kind of nickname?” He laughed as you said his name, the pure joy of hearing someone other than Su-Yeol speak his name aloud was overwhelming. The way you said it was so perfect, and he knew it would be playing in his head over and over again.

You showed him into your apartment, and K noticed the flowers taking up pride of place on your kitchen island. The handwritten note was pinned to your fridge and K was sure if he smiled any harder, his face would completely split. You showed him the boiler, handing him a toolbox you kept in the storage cupboard but barely ever used. You watched him work, noticing for the first time how toned his muscles were, visible even through the silk of his gaudy shirt. He chatted away as he worked, telling you about himself and asking you questions about your life. K made sure to sprinkle in snippets of both himself and Su-Yeol, hyping up both of their best qualities; he wanted to put their best foot forward.

You’d never realised what a great laugh Su-Yeol had, had never realised how funny he was. He had you laughing until tears streamed down your cheeks, had you hooked on every word he said. He was an incredible storyteller, so vibrant and passionate when he talked, his arms gesticulating wildly. How was this man before you the same man who parked halfway across your parking space and purposely closed doors on you? He was so different to the cold, stony-faced man you’d grown so used to.

K was an efficient worker, almost too efficient as he fixed the problem with relative ease. He didn’t want to go back to the apartment, but he could feel Su-Yeol breaking back through, could feel himself losing grip. “Come for dinner with me tomorrow,” he said, as you showed him to the door. “I know a great sushi place.” “Ok,” you found yourself saying, unable to resist the almost electric charm he possessed. “Pick me up at 8?” “It’s a date,” K smiled, taking your hand gently in his. He brought it ever so slowly to his lips, softly brushing them across your knuckles. You felt a spark go through you, felt yourself falling into those perfect eyes of his. “I’ll see you tomorrow, K,” you winked, closing the door behind him.

He couldn’t believe it; couldn’t believe you’d spoken in his name. He finally felt like a real person, not some annoying character Su-Yeol had to deal with. You made him feel alive, made him finally feel like he existed as an individual.

He knew Su-Yeol would go mad when he found out he’d asked you out, but you were worth the wrath he’d incur. K could only hope he’d be able to keep control long enough to take you out, to get to know more about you and hopefully convince Su-Yeol you were worth it.

They were both tired of being alone, tired of having no one but each other for company. If only K could get Su-Yeol to see how great you were, he knew you could have something magical together.

He wasn’t about to give up on the girl who’d finally made him feel alive.

[birdiewriteslit]

“on the down low”

harry james potter x f!weasley!reader

no voldemort au

summary: you and harry have been hiding your relationship from your family for four months, but when he stays over for the holidays, they start to uncover the truth, one by one.

warnings: idk how long this is but it feels long, kissing, fluff, CHRISTMAS

me pretending voldemort doesn’t exist again for the sake of plot convenience and my own happiness

Godric, you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to pretend over the holiday. At first, it seemed like a dream come true. Harry staying at the burrow for Christmas meant you’d be able see him whenever you wanted, but you couldn’t exactly do what you wanted.

During the day, you and Harry had to act indifferent to each other, like you hadn’t been together since the end of the summer.

It was different than it was at Hogwarts, where nobody suspected a seventh year to go for her brother’s best friend, who was a year younger. That excluded Hermione, of course, who was just too damn smart to not figure you out.

You hadn’t realized how easy it was to sneak around in a giant castle with a multitude of empty classrooms and an invisibility cloak at your disposal compared to your house of nine other people where the walls were thin and the furniture was old, regardless of proximity between you.

You kicked Harry’s foot under the dinner table. He looked up from his plate and stared at you, bewildered. You nodded to your mother who had just asked him a question he clearly hadn’t heard.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his response. “Sorry?” He took his gaze away from you and onto Molly.

“Harry, I asked you if you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend this year?” she clarified.

Harry spluttered, glancing at you quickly before looking back at her. He cleared his throat. “No, I haven’t.”

Your mother tutted. “A shame, really. Let’s hope you don’t end up like Charlie. Such a handsome boy, and yet, he can’t find a nice woman to settle down with,” she sighed and turned her attention to your older brother, who was rolling his eyes.

Harry looked relieved that he was no longer the one being questioned. “Mum, stop it. I’m only 22. I’m too young to settle down. Bill’s older and he’s not married.”

Bill stopped mid bite to gesture violently at Charlie to cut it out, but Molly paid him no mind.

“Spend your whole life with dragons, see if I care,” she responded vehemently. “Let’s hope your sister doesn’t go off with you to Romania when she graduates.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you became your mother’s new subject of torture. It was true, you were looking into a career with dragons, but it was unlikely you’d end up on the same reserve as your brother.

“You know, darling, you ought to find a nice boy. It would do you well.”

You grimaced. “And here we are, back to your favorite topic.”

“Not mine,” Fred interjected.

“Certainly not,” George added. “She’s not allowed to date.”

“Oh, she’s not, is she?” Ginny said, giving you a seemingly knowing look. Merlin, you could only hope she knew nothing.

“No, and neither are you, Gin,” Fred said swiftly.

“We’ll that’s unfortunate,” Ginny looked at you smugly. “Because I think our sister has had her eye on someone.”

Harry turned paler than normal, looking at you in alarm, his face saying, ‘Did you tell her?’ Hermione, to his side, gave you a similar look.

Your face heated under the eyes of your entire family. You shot Ginny a glare before deciding to get her back. “That’s what you think, but I know you bloody well fancy Dean Thomas.”

The focus shifted from you to Ginny. “Dean Thomas?” said Ron, staring at your sister in astonishment.

“Who’s Dean Thomas?” your mother asked cheekily.

Ginny groaned, hiding her red face in her hands. “I’m excusing myself. Goodnight, family.”

She stood up from the crowded table and basically threw her plate into the sink before running upstairs.

“Seriously, who’s Dean Thomas?” your mum asked for the second time.

“A boy in Ron’s year,” you explained briefly. “He’s perfectly decent,” you elaborated further, once you realized your family’s eyes were unrelenting.

“Well, who does she think you fancy?” Bill said, grinning. Why did the first thing he contributed during this conversation have to target you? Why couldn’t it have been revenge on Charlie?

“How should I know? I haven’t told her anything that would make her think I was interested in anyone.” That was a lie. You did tell her something.

“Are you?” Bill followed up.

“That’s really none of your business,” you said, standing up from the table and clearing your plate.

“As long as it’s not someone in our year, that’s what I say.” Ron nudged Harry, looking at his friend who nodded weakly.

You began to walk up the stairs, but not before shooting Harry a look that pleaded him to come upstairs when he could get away. Because of your circumstances, you’d gotten very good at giving each other wordless glances like these.

A little while later, a pajama clad Harry entered your room, checking the hall for anyone before closing the door behind him.

“Ron thinks I’m in the bathroom. Did you tell Ginny about us?” he said hurriedly.

“Of course not,” you denied. “I may have given her a hint though.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to! She was talking about Dean, and asked me if I liked anybody, and who am I to lie, so I said yes.”

“Um,” Harry interjected. “One problem with that is that we lie about our relationship every day. You are a liar.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Harry. Anyway, she asked me who and I wouldn’t tell her, so she started listing names. She asked me what I thought of you, and I let it slip that I thought you were cute,” you said sheepishly, toying with a button on his shirt. “I think I scared her off with the Dean thing, we should be in the clear.”

Harry only grinned. “You think I’m cute?”

“Oh shut up, would you?” you said, pushing his chest away from yours.

“Sure.” He pulled you back by the waist, his hands resting on your hips as he ducked down to kiss you. He tasted like toothpaste, but you really didn’t mind it.

He was about to pull away after a moment, but you tangled your fingers in his hair, keeping his mouth attached to yours.

“I’ve missed you all day,” Harry murmured against your lips.

“Godric, me too.” You clung onto him like you knew it wouldn’t last, and it didn’t. Ron called out to Harry from somewhere in the hallway, and Harry pulled away from you. His glasses were fogged up and he was cursing Ron.

When the lenses cleared, he leaned down to press another chaste kiss to your lips. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered, exiting the room quietly.

You slumped onto your bed, staring at the open door with a forlorn look on your face. Ginny suddenly appeared in the doorway, her mouth hanging open and her hand pointing to the end of the hall, then to where you sat.

“What- what have I just witnessed? Why? This changes life as we know it. You! And Harry! You-“

You hurried to cut her off, standing from the bed and practically sprinting to the door to cover her mouth. “You be quiet now,” you warned, looking both ways in the hall and shoving Ginny inside your room.

“Why did I see Harry leaving this room looking like he’s got something to hide?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Listen, lady, you didn’t see anything, because nothing happened,” you said, pointing a finger at her.

“I never said anything happened, I just said he had something to hide. And guess what? I know he has something to hide, because I know you like him,” she retaliated, pointing her finger right back.

“Who? Me? Like Harry? Psssshhh… you’ve got the wrong girl. That doesn’t sound anything like me.”

Ginny folded her arms over her chest. “Oh really? Well, does this sound like you? Oh, Ginny, Harry’s just so cute! I wish he would like me back because, well, I just love him so much!” She batted her eyelashes, imitating a version of you that didn’t exist.

“Actually, Gin, that sounds nothing like me, so you can just forget anything that you think you saw,” you retorted.

“I don’t think I will forget. I think I’ll just tell everyone that you’re sneaking around with Harry. I didn’t miss the look he gave you at dinner either! So I can tell everyone, or you can quit lying and just give me all the details.”

She did have a way of getting you to cave. Really, it was just tactful manipulation.

“Alright fine, but if you tell anyone, you’re dead. Well, you can tell Hermione. She already knows.”

Ginny gasped, very offended. “You told her before your own sister?”

“I did not! She’s too smart for her own good. Anyways, sit down.”

Then, you told Ginny everything. It felt actually good to be able to talk about your relationship to someone other than Hermione, especially to your only sister, who you were honestly very grateful for.

You told her about how he kissed you a week before you left for school, solidifying the relationship you were having throughout the summer holiday. You told her about how he was funny and such a gentlemen. You even told her about how you’d been sneaking off since school started, and what you’d been doing.

Once Ginny was fully satisfied with the information and you were relatively sure she wouldn’t squawk to any of your brothers, she bid you goodnight and went to bed.

The following morning, Christmas Eve morning, you had risen later than usual. “Good morning, family,” you greeted, entering the kitchen and heading straight for the kettle.

“Morning,” Ginny said from the table. “I trust you slept well. I expect you feel loads lighter now.”

“Oh yeah, much lighter,” you grinned back.

“What are you two on about?” Bill said from his seat across from Ginny.

“Oh, nothing. Our sister just shared some interesting things with me last night,” she hummed.

You saw Harry’s head perk up from the couch, where he was laying. Ron was sprawled on the floor below.

“Gin, shut up,” you warned quietly.

“I’m not even sure I want to know,” Bill said.

“Oh, you’d be delighted, I’m sure. But, alas, I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Ginny sighed.

“Then why even bring it up, you idiot?” you said as you sat down next to her, carefully eyeing a nervous looking Harry.

Bill followed your gaze and whistled lowly. You almost had a heart attack. “I see. That is very interesting.”

You turned to face your sister. “Look what you’ve done now. Why not just shout it from the rooftops?” you scolded.

“I didn’t say anything!” she defended.

“She’s right, you gave yourself away,” Bill confirmed, leaning in to whisper, “You’re lucky Ron’s pretty clueless on the floor over there.”

Your face burned. “Just don’t tell anybody.”

“Now why would I do that? It’s a whole lot more fun if you do it yourself.” Bill grinned, leaving you and Ginny at the table.

You dropped your head into your arms.

Later, you and Harry sat in the yard, leaning against a tree. You were on the side that couldn’t be seen from your siblings’ makeshift quidditch game across the yard.

It was the nicest day of break so far, not too cold, but not necessarily warm either. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, which delighted you.

You were lying in Harry’s lap, gazing up at him as he mindlessly played with your hair. “I can’t believe you told Ginny,” he said for the tenth time since breakfast.

You rolled your eyes and sat up. “I already told you, she was nagging me. Plus, I can’t really talk to Hermione about this sort of thing. She’s hung up on Ron. I keep telling her Lavender was just a phase because of some stupid love potion infused chocolate, but she usually just goes glum and ignores me.”

“You could just stop talking about us,” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you said, reaching forward to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket.

“Why? Am I too charming and handsome for you to shut up about?” He grinned, taking hold of your hand and pressing it to his chest.

“Something like that.” You smiled, but quickly stopped when you saw the smug look on his face. “Don’t let that get to your head, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he said, leaning in to kiss your lips. His free hand came up to frame your face, and you placed yours on his thigh. You had half a mind to pull away, but only enough to see his face.

“Harry, we can’t do this out here. My siblings are right over there. Someone could see us,” you said softly, staring up at his bright green eyes.

“Honey, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not gonna care,” he said, breath heavy as he looked at you adoringly. Your stomach did flips and you instantly forgot about reasons to hold yourself back.

You surged forward, kissing him hard on the mouth. You knew you wouldn’t get the chance to do so until well after dinner, so you took advantage of your siblings being distracted. He responded enthusiastically, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Woah, looks like I’ve caught more than just the snitch!”

You sprang apart, wiping your mouth as you looked up to see one of your grinning brothers, hovering above the tree on a broomstick holding a little golden sphere.

“Charlie! This isn’t what it looks like,” you managed, pushing yourself as far away from Harry as possible.

“Really, because it looks like you’ve been snogging his face off,” Charlie said, looking pleased with himself.

Harry burned bright red, refusing to make eye contact with either of you.

“Charlie, what’s taking you so long?” you heard Ron call from the other side of the yard.

“I’ll keep this a secret, but only because I love you, little sister. And because it’s funnier this way.” Charlie grinned again and turned on his broom to speed back to the group.

You and Harry left for the house before anyone else did, completely ignoring Hermione on the couch, her nose deep in a thick book, as you rushed upstairs.

Once you were sure you were alone, you stopped Harry in the middle of the hallway. “Okay, that was the last time. No more doing that in the open.”

“Sorry, got carried away. At least it wasn’t Ron who saw us.” Harry shuttered, not even wanting to think about what his reaction would be.

“Shake it off, Harry. Just three, only three of them know. There’s like a bajillion others that don’t,” you rationalized. “Look, we just need to get through this holiday without anyone else finding out that we’re together. I think we can do that.”

“You lied to mother?” A stiff voice came from down the hallway. Shit. You forgot Percy was still in the house, holed up in his room doing his Ministry work.

Harry’s eyes widened as he shook his head at you, refusing to turn around.

“You’re seeing someone and you lied about it?” Percy frowned. “Well, I’ll have to tell her.”

“No, you won’t have to tell her. Don’t tell her. Please,” you practically begged.

Percy didn’t look convinced. His steely gaze wouldn’t let up. “I won’t if you promise me to tell her.”

“I promise, Perce, just let me do it when I’m ready,” you said, less of a real promise and more of a strategy to get him to go back into his room. You were thanking God when he nodded curtly and did just that.

“Well, would you look at the impeccable timing on that,” Harry said sarcastically.

You grimaced. “Dinner’ll be a real treat tonight.”

Dinner was not a treat. It was delicious, of course, courtesy of your mother. But it was quite tense, at least for you and Harry.

Bill kept shooting you knowing glances from across the table, looking back and forth between you and Harry, who made the seemingly unconscious choice to sit beside you.

Charlie couldn’t even look at you without snickering to himself, prompting your mum to start questioning him on his odd behavior.

Percy was silently urging you to say something about it, pulling at his collar uncomfortably and staring at you, unrelenting.

Ginny was, thankfully, docile for the time being.

“Charlie, would you stop laughing at your sister? I don’t see what’s so funny about her,” Molly scolded, finally having quite enough of your brother’s behavior.

“Nothing’s funny,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Bill was looking at him with his eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you know?” he asked suspiciously.

“What do you know?” Charlie replied, just as skeptical.

“I think the better question is, what does dad know about muggles?” You laughed nervously, getting weird looks from Ron and the twins. “Come on, dad. Why don’t you tell us about your latest case?”

Your father looked up from his meal, looking surprised, for he had hardly been acknowledged since the start of dinner. “Oh, well, we had an odd couple in the other day. They were the sort who didn’t really look like they belonged together. So, anywho, they-“

“Hold on,” Ginny interjected. “How do you know they didn’t belong together? There are loads of couples who you might not think belong together, but actually do, so it’s best not to judge before you know the whole story.”

Your dad looked confused. “Um, I guess they just didn’t seem compatible, but I’m sure they belong together just fine, Gin, no need to worry about that.”

As he continued with his story about this couple and their illegally enchanted carpet, you turned to glare at Ginny.

She gave you a rather obvious look of annoyance, which gained the attention of Fred and George.

“Something’s going on here, Freddie,” said George, leaning to his right.

“Agreed,” said George, looking around the table.

You actually heard Harry gulp beside you. You put a hand on his knee, attempting to comfort him. This action made him choke on the sip of water he had taken.

“All right there, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry coughed. “Just fine.”

Percy cleared his throat. “Maybe he has something to say.”

“Percy, don’t be rude,” your mother scolded. “The boy’s just choked.”

“Yeah, Percy, don’t know why you’d think he wants to say something,” Ginny said. “So, keep your mouth shut.”

None of the siblings who knew had known that others at the table were also aware, but they were each starting to connect the dots.

“Can I just have a nice Christmas Eve dinner with my family?” Molly slammed one hand on the table. “Enough of the fighting and the strange comments. Please, just be normal.”

Fred grinned. “I can’t imagine what’s abnormal about us.”

“Oh, me neither. But you, Freddie, are abnormal looking,” George followed.

The rest of the night after dinner was just as stressful. You and your siblings were sitting around the living room, with the exception of Percy, who, to your immense relief, had gone back to his room for work.

Fred and George decided it would be a good idea to play a game of truth or dare with the assistance of some veritaserum they nicked from Snape’s stores the day before holiday began.

Needless to say, you and Harry were not excited.

“Hermione,” Fred said. “Truth or dare?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as George made a gesture that suggested she should choose truth. “Dare,” she said.

“I dare you to go outside and kiss one of the gnomes.”

“A gnome, Fred? Really?” Ron scoffed.

“You’d rather she kissed you, would you?” George teased.

Ronsaid nothing, but his ears turned red, giving him away.

Hermione’s face turned a similar shade as she stood up from the armchair. “Fine, then.”

You all collectively gathered around the window and watched Hermione stalk outside and grab one of the ugly gnomes by its bald head. She made a disgusted face and gave the gnome a peck so fast that you barely saw it.

She came back inside and washed her mouth out in the sink before returning to the chair. “George,” she said coolly. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth, of course!” George said happily. “We’ve got to put our stolen goods to good use.”

“It was very wrong of you to take Professor Snape’s materials,” Hermione said, frowning. “Is it true that you were the ones who gave Ron amortentia spiked chocolates last month?”

“Yes,” George said easily.

Ron scoffed loudly. “You told me that wasn’t you! You said it was her! I was following Lavender Brown around for weeks because of those!”

“Well, we hadn’t meant for you to go for her. It was supposed to be someone else.” George winked at Hermione.

“We messed up the potion,” explained Fred.

George looked to you. “Truth or dare?” he asked.

“Truth,” you said mindlessly, thinking about Hermione and the gnome. You noticed the alarmed look Harry was giving you and realized your mistake. Damn gnome.

George grinned mischievously. “Do you really have a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” you said unwillingly.

A gasp from Ron could be heard from the other side of the room. Ginny and Hermione were looking rather nervous for you. On the contrary, Bill and Charlie were quite amused.

“Tell us, who is he?” Fred continued off of George.

“Harry Potter,” you admitted before slapping a hand across your mouth.

An even louder gasp could be heard from Ron that caused Charlie to burst out laughing. Fred and George were looking rather pleased with themselves. You supposed that was better than them pranking the life out of Harry for dating their sister, which you had expected to happen.

Harry sat on the couch with his hands clenched at his sides, looking at the floor as his whole face turned red.

“My sister, Harry? Really?” Ron said, his voice carrying a mixture of anger and betrayal.

“Yeah, well, I love her,” Harry said, fully dropping his head into his palms. He definitely hadn’t meant to say that to everyone in the room. “I hate this damn potion.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Freddie,” said George.

“It sure does, Georgie,” Fred said, clasping his hands together over his chest.

“Honestly, this is a Christmas miracle,” Hermione burst out. “I’ve been covering for you for months. Four, horrible, long months.”

“Four months?” Ron said, bewildered. “Hermione, you knew and you never told me?”

“Oh, please, Ronald. If you opened your eyes you would’ve seen what was going on,” Hermione said.

“Easy for you to say, you’re bloody brilliant. You could spot anything off. I love that about you,” Ron confessed.

Bill and Charlie were wheezing on the floor at this point.

“This is the gift that keeps on giving!” Fred exclaimed.

“I’m so happy we played this game,” George said through laughs.

Hermione stood, cheeks burning. “We should all go to bed. It’s Christmas tomorrow.” She went up the stairs quickly. Ron seemed to have forgotten all about you and Harry and followed her.

Your other four brothers slowly made their way upstairs, practically dying from laughter at your expense.

Ginny stood awkwardly, bidding you and Harry goodnight and leaving you alone in the room.

“That could’ve gone worse,” you said, finally making eye contact with Harry, who was still looking a little red.

“I, for one, didn’t fancy confessing my love for you to your whole family,” Harry said, scooting over to your spot on the couch.

“I did.” You grinned, leaning towards him. He rolled his eyes, but indulged you anyways, letting his lips touch yours.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” you whispered against him. “I love you, too.”

[nanawritesit]

Your Highness - Sanji x Reader: Part One

PART TWO PART THREE

plot: you’re a runaway princess bride who finds her way into the straw hat crew. you expected one hell of an adventure, but you never expected to fall for the head chef. things get even more complicated when your father, the king, and your ex-fiancé send their troops after the going merry. now you must choose between surrendering to save your crew and being with the only man you’ve ever truly loved. but of course, the straw hat crew isn’t going to let you go without a fight. especially sanji.

You panted heavily, hands gripped tightly onto your heavy white skirts as you navigated your way through the back alleys of the city. Your hair, which was previously tied up in perfect ringlets behind an intricate headdress, was now flying wildly behind you in loose waves. Suddenly, your heeled shoe snapped beneath you, and you fell to the ground with a thud. Mud splashed up onto your pristine white wedding gown, but you didn’t care. You were more focused on the march of soldiers’ footsteps that sounded off in the distance. You snapped your head around to glance behind you, then got back up on your feet to continue running away, your shoe left discarded in the alleyway. You didn’t know where you were heading, but you knew you had to get far away from the castle.

You never liked being a princess. All the rules and expectations were suffocating. Everyone was always telling you what to do, how to dress, how to act, how to feel… you had no freedom and led an extremely restricted life. You were the eldest daughter of the king, with two older brothers in line for the throne before you. Since birth, it was very clear to you that your only purpose in life was to marry a prince and produce his heirs so that your father could gain an ally. You were merely a pawn in a game that you never even got a turn in, and you were sick of it. You craved adventure. To see the wonders of the great world as they were intended to be explored. To live a life of passion that offered you fulfillment and excitement. That was your dream.

Today was supposed to be your wedding day. Your father had picked a prince for you to marry, and you were to be wed in just an hour. You were not in love with your fiancé, in fact, you’d never even spoken to him before. You only met him once, and that was when your father informed you of your betrothal. He was smug, entitled, and pompous with you the entire time he addressed you, treating you like a trophy or a pet. You decided right then and there that there was no way you were spending the rest of your life married to a man like him. So today, after your ladies’ maids had gotten you dressed and left your quarters, you took your chance to make an escape. You gathered up some gold and a few personal belongings and climbed down the ivy on the side of your ivory tower, making a run for it.

You reached the outskirts of the city along the coast, several long piers stretching out in front of you with huge, royal ships docked along the side of it. They were likely all boats full of nobles who had come as your wedding guests. You rolled your eyes as you scanned over them. Were you ever going to be able to escape the life you were born into? Was this just a foolish attempt of running away? Maybe you should just turn around and surrender to your father. Perhaps the punishment wouldn’t be to severe if you turned yourself in before the wedding.

Just as you were about to give up hope, you noticed an unfamiliar ship with a ram’s head decorating its bow. It was smaller than the other ships, and the crew didn’t look very stately at all. You saw a scrawny boy in a straw hat, a beautiful ginger girl, and a tough-looking moss-haired swordsman on deck, distracted by the map held out in front of them. Then you saw the jolly roger sail along the mast, and realized it was a pirate ship. You figured they were only here to dock ship and gather supplies, then head back out onto the seas. Seeing this as your only chance at escape, you ran towards it with unrelenting speed.

Right as you saw your fathers’ troops turning the corner, you ducked into the opening of the ship. Now in a long, empty hallway, you darted into the first open door you saw, slamming it behind you. You rested your back against the surface and sighed in relief. That was a close call. Perhaps you did have some luck on your side after all!

“I can’t make any food for you until we get more supplies, Luffy.” a man’s voice grunted from around the corner.

Shit, nevermind. You gasped, heart stopping in your chest. Cautiously, you peered around the corner and saw the most gorgeous man you had ever seen at a counter taking inventory. He had a perfect face, beautiful blonde hair, and was sharply dressed in a black suit with a pinstriped shirt and black tie underneath. His long, nimble fingers held a pen in them, swiping over the papers in front of him with quick fervor, pale blue eyes focused on his work.

When he didn’t hear a response from who he assumed was his captain, he glanced up and met your panicked gaze. His eyes widened slightly and his lips parted slightly, seemingly awestruck by you for a few seconds. Then, as if remembering himself, he blinked and clicked his tongue, a charming smile taking place on his expression.

“My my, while it’s always a pleasure to have a beautiful lady in my kitchen, might I ask what you’re doing here madam?” he asked with a flirty lilt to his voice.

You also snapped out of your daze at the sudden question, taking a few slow strides towards the stranger.

“Please sir,” you began, mustering up as much courage and diplomacy as you could. “I’m about to lose my freedom. My dream is to see the world, but I have people chasing after me to lock me back up in my gilded cage. I need to escape this kingdom without anyone knowing where I went.”

He scanned over your appearance, taking in your exquisite wedding gown and intricate jewels.

“My god… you’re a princess aren’t you?” he murmured with a contained gasp.

You nodded reluctantly. “I am Princess Y/N of Dacovia. I’m the eldest daughter of the king, and today is my wedding day. If you just allow me to board your ship, I promise I can make it worth your while.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a handful of gold. “Please captain.”

He smiled once again, putting his hands on his hips as his eyes flickered to the ground. He glanced back up at you and ran a hand through his golden locks. “While I appreciate the formalities your highness, I’m not the captain of this ship. I’m Sanji, the head chef.”

You winced, embarrassed by your groveling. You swallowed hard, then regained your confidence and met his gaze again with a polite smile. “My apologies. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Sanji.” You curtseyed to him.

“The pleasure is all mine, your highness.” he grinned, bowing at the waist. “But there’s no need to call me sir.”

You smiled appreciatively. “Then, there’s no need for you to call me your highness either. Y/N will do. I’m not particularly attached to my title as you can see.”

He chuckled heartily at your joke, cocking his hip forward and crossing his arms. “My, I’ve never met a noblewoman with such a good sense of humor.”

“You’ve met other noblewomen?” you asked perplexedly. You never expected the head chef of a pirate crew to have such connections.

“I used to work at a restaurant in the middle of the East Blue called the Baratie. It was very high class and had an extensive guest list of noblemen and commoners alike. Our motto was to never turn away anyone who was hungry.”

“That’s very admirable.” you complimented him. “Is cooking on a pirate ship your dream?” It was kind of a personal question, but conversation seemed to flow so easily between the two of you that you felt secure in asking it.

“Not exactly.” he laughed, leaning against the counter. “My dream is to find the All Blue. It’s a cook’s paradise, with a vast variety of ingredients from all four seas. I met our captain, Luffy, while working at the Baratie, and he offered me a spot on his crew. All of us are after something in this world, and Luffy wants to help us achieve our dreams.” He walked around the counter and reached for your hand. You gently placed it in his grasp, letting him squeeze it gingerly. “I’m sure if you talk to him, he’ll allow you to join as well.”

You smiled brightly, with such unbridled joy you thought you might burst. “Oh, thank you Sanji!” You couldn’t contain yourself any longer, and threw your arms around him in a tight hug.

He let out another contained gasp, then reciprocated your affections with a lighthearted chuckle. He pulled away after embracing you, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes.

“It’s no trouble, your highness. It’ll be nice to have another beautiful woman on board.” he grinned flirtatiously. “I’ll go fetch Captain Luffy.”

You nodded, watching him retreat into the hallway. “I told you, you don’t have to call me your highness.”

He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at you. “I know. It just suits you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Being a princess doesn’t suit me at all.”

“Maybe not being a royal princess…” he proposed. “But perhaps you could be the princess of the Going Merry.”

——————

“A princess? You’re joking, right?” a female voice rang out down the hallway. You jumped in your seat at the counter, startled at the sudden break of silence.

“Oh man, I’ve gotta see this.” a gruff, sarcastic male voice commented.

“There’s no way she’s prettier than Kaya.” another, more lighthearted male voice added.

“Come now, just give her a chance.” you heard Sanji bargain with them. “You’ll like her Luffy. She’s got that certain spark, you know?”

You braced yourself for meeting the captain. You hadn’t seen any pirate captains in real life before, but the stories you read painted them as enourmous, swarthy men with long beards and dirty teeth. You gulped, gathering all of your courage to face the fearsome leader of the Going Merry.

The door swung open, and you locked eyes with the scrawny boy in the straw hat that you saw on the deck. Your eyes widened. He was the captain?

Sanji entered behind him, as well as the pretty ginger girl and the stoic swordsman you saw earlier, and a strong-looking, darker-skinned man as well.

Sanji smiled warmly as his eyes met yours. “Princess Y/N, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to the crew. This is our navigator Nami, our first-mate Zoro, warrior and storyteller Usopp, and finally… Captain Monkey D. Luffy.”

“Hi Y/N!” the captain beamed, stretching his hand out in front of him.

You just stared at it in confusion. No one had ever initiated a handshake with you. You didn’t even know how to reciprocate it. You began to panic. Were you already going to blow your chance at escaping?

Suddenly, Sanji gently picked up your arm and guided your hand towards Luffy’s. Luffy wrapped his fingers around your palm, thumb hooked with yours, and you did the same back to him. Sanji tilted your elbow up and down to shake the captain’s hand. You looked over at him, mouthing a silent thank you.

“So, I’m told you want to join the Straw Hat Crew?” Luffy asked with an excited grin. “Why’s that?”

You exhaled, collecting your thoughts before answering the captain. “Captain Luffy, as Sanji may have already told you, I am Princess Y/N, eldest daughter of the royal family of Dacovia. I’m about to be married against my will to a prince I don’t love, so I ran away from the castle. Soldiers are currently trying to hunt me back down. I know I was born into a life of immense privilege, but I don’t want to be a princess. I want to see the world and experience life as my own woman. I might not have a lot of skills that would be valuable on a pirate crew, but if you just allow me to stay with you, I can make it worth your while.” You opened up your purse and showed him all the gold that you had brought. Nami and Zoro’s eyes widened, but Luffy seemed unfazed.

“That’s very nice, but payment won’t be necessary.” Luffy smiled brightly. “The Going Merry is a ship of dreams. All of our crew is here to achieve their greatest desire.” He began to point to the members as he listed them. “Nami here wants to draw a map of the world. Zoro is gonna become the greatest swordsman in the world. Sanji will find the All Blue. Usopp there wants to be a brave warrior of the sea. And I…” He jumped up onto the counter and placed his hands on his hips dramatically. “Am gonna become King of the Pirates!” He knelt down and leaned towards you. “Do you believe in us?”

You looked between all the members of the crew. They all seemed so hopeful… so passionate… so brave… your eyes stopped on Sanji. As you looked into his icy blue eyes, you saw a certain sparkle that made you feel certain he would do anything to achieve his dream. Then you glanced back around at the rest of the crew, and saw that same optimistic glint in all of their eyes. You turned back to Luffy, meeting his determined gaze.

“Yes, I do. I believe that everyone in the Straw Hat Crew will do exactly what they set out to do.” you told him with a confident nod.

Luffy gave you the widest grin you’d ever seen, extending his arm towards you. “Then welcome aboard, your highness!”

Your face broke out in an overjoyed smile as you took Luffy’s hand. He pulled you up onto the countertop, making you gasp as he began dancing around with you. Usopp began cheering as well, while Nami let out an amused chuckle. Zoro cracked a content half-smile, which was huge for him.

Suddenly, your foot slipped off the edge of the counter, and you lost your balance. Now tumbling to the floor, your eyes widened as you envisioned your downfall. You squinted your eyes, waiting for the impact as everyone around you gasped worriedly.

Right as you expected to hit the ground, you landed softly in a cushiony embrace. Slowly creaking your eyes open, you were met by Sanji’s gorgeous blue eyes and charming smile hovering overtop of you.

“We’re gonna have to take it easy on her highness for a while guys.” he chuckled, shaking you in his arms playfully. Everyone joined the two of you in laughter, even Zoro.

“Speaking of which, we’re going to have to get you out of that gown.” Nami giggled. “Come with me, I’ll lend you some of my clothes.”

“We’ll get you some shoes when we get our supplies too.” Sanji assured you.

You glanced down at your bare feet. You didn’t know when you lost your other shoe, but you supposed it was useless without its mate anyway.

“Thank you all so very much.” you beamed, glancing between the crew members. “I am truly indebted to all of you.” You looked at Sanji again with admiration, as if to say especially you. He nodded, somehow understanding exactly what you meant.

——————

And so, you set off aboard the Going Merry as the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew!

It was a bit of an adjustment at first.

You shared a room with Nami, as she was the only other girl in the crew. She was a bit rough around the edges at first, but you were able to crack her tough exterior after a while. Deep down, she was actually very sweet and empathetic. Like you, she had just been through a lot. She was certainly glad to have another girl on board to help keep all the boys in line, and the two of you actually became quite close.

Usopp was always happy to entertain you with stories of his “grand adventures.” You had never heard tales of such whimsy and wonder with your stuffy background, and always listened intently and amazedly. Being away from Kaya, there wasn’t anyone else around who gave his stories much attention and awe. Though it wasn’t the same, he did derive a great happiness from your encounters.

Like Nami, Zoro was also pretty distant at first. You began to notice that everyone in the crew had some pretty thick trauma. However, you won him over by buying him plenty of liquor whenever you stopped somewhere with a bar. He also offered to teach you some general sword fighting moves when you expressed how worried you were about not being able to protect yourself. He acted as if it was no big deal, but you could tell he enjoyed having someone to fight with, even if it was just the basics.

Luffy was just as friendly with you as he was with everyone. He would regularly ask you about what your life was like a princess, and what kind of adventures you hoped to encounter at sea with him. You would often sit on the bow together, not having to worry about falling off, because you knew his rubber arms could stretch out and catch you no matter how far you flew. The two of you would gather up a bunch of snacks, courtesy of Sanji, and just talk through the night, staring up at the stars.

Then there was Sanji. He was definitely the member of the crew you were closest with. Not only was he the first one you met, but he was the one who understood your background the best. And, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely captivated by him. You knew it was silly, and that he was charming with just about every girl he met, but you couldn’t help but fall for him. It wasn’t just his perfect smile that made you melt, or his flirtatious attitude. It was his unyielding kindness and understanding. He was forever patient with you, never making you feel like a burden or an inadequate member of the crew.

You actually started out as his assistant, as the crew figured it would be the easiest thing for you to grasp as a newfound pirate. You loved hearing him talk about food and cooking. The passion and excitement in his voice was utterly captivating, and you could tell it all came from a place of genuine contentment. He was always encouraging with you in the kitchen, guiding your hands with his own as he taught you how to chop vegetables properly. You tried to ignore the way his breath blew against your neck, and how he smelled like fresh linen and tobacco, but it was kind of impossible when he was literally pressed up against your back.

Today, Sanji had given you the day off from kitchen duties, saying a pretty lady like yourself deserved to rest every once in a while. So, you were currently just sitting at the kitchen table, writing away in your journal. Finally having the freedom to dress yourself, you had traded your heels for combat boots and your ballgown for a simple white cotton dress and a black leather waist belt, your hair gathered back in one of Nami’s borrowed red bandanas. You had abandoned all of your fancy jewelry, except for a simple string of pearls and some small gold hoops in your ears.

You jumped as the door swung open, revealing a smiling blonde chef.

“Oh, Sanji!” you greeted him. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No, by all means, stay. I could use some good scenery.” he winked, going over to his counter. You couldn’t help the warm blush that crept up your cheeks. You tried to tell yourself it was just how he was, but that was proving to be a futile effort. “What are you doing anyway, my dear?”

“Oh nothing, just writing some poetry.” you explained, gesturing to your journal.

“Really? I didn’t know you wrote poetry.” he asked, beginning to boil some water. “My, you are just full of surprises, your highness.”

You laughed lightheartedly at his banter, slowly shaking off your bashfulness. “It’s just one of those princess habits I can’t seem to shake. I’ve been taught it from such a young age, it’s one of my only outlets. Sometimes I feel like it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

He frowned slightly, shaking his head. “Don’t say that, your highness. You’re good at a lot of things.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you fished, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Well, for starters, you make a wonderful sous chef.” he grinned, peeling some potatoes. “I don’t think I could prepare Luffy’s monstrous portions without your help.”

You giggled, closing up your journal. “Well that’s mostly just you being a great teacher.”

Now it was Sanji’s turn to feel bashful, although he was great at covering it up. “Well, you’ve also got a great sense of humor. I don’t know anyone on the crew who hasn’t cracked up at one of your jokes. You even make Zoro laugh, and he’s a major stick in the mud.”

You chuckled at him, feeling slightly embarrassed at his praise. “Oh Sanji, now you’re just trying to butter me up like I’m one of your entrees.”

“Just being honest, princess.” he shrugged with a cocky smirk. “You’re also very selfless. You’ve been willing to sell a lot of your old jewelry just to get us some extra money for supplies.”

“Eh, I don’t need any of that stuff anymore.” you huffed, waving a hand in the air dismissively.

He set down his peeler and placed both hands flat on the counter, leaning forward and looking at you with a sudden intensity that made you freeze.

“You’re one of the bravest women I’ve ever met. How many princesses have ran away from their weddings and joined a pirate crew?”

You glanced down at the ground, fighting the urge to smile. “Not many, I believe.”

“I’d wager zero.” Sanji retorted. “You know what you want in life, and you’re not afraid to go after it. You’re smart, and kind, and beautiful, so I won’t have you meandering on about your so-called inadequacies, alright?”

You nodded with a small, shy grin. “Yes, chef.”

And on the flip of a dime, his same old playful demeanor returned, and he resumed preparing dinner. He plunked the peeled potatoes into the pot of water and moved onto slicing up the steak.

“I’d love to read your poetry sometime. I’m sure it’s just as lovely as you are.” he mused, glancing up at you momentarily.

“Oh I don’t know…” you muttered, fumbling with the journal in your hands. “I’m not sure it’s any good. The only one who’s ever read it is my governess.”

“Oh? And what did she think of it?” he asked interestedly.

You smiled fondly at the memory of her. “She always told me I was gifted. She was so kind, always commending me on my creativity and passion. She used to call me her poetry princess.”

“She sounds like an amazing lady.” Sanji commented. “Were you fond of her?”

“Oh, most definitely!” you marveled, spinning around in your chair to face him. “She was more of a mother than the queen ever was to me. She was the first person in the world who made me feel like I was more than just a decorative pawn in my father’s game of conquests.”

He chuckled lightly, beginning to prepare his skillet with butter and garlic. “Do you miss her?”

Your eyes landed on your lap as you tried to find the right words. “Very much…” You started to feel a lump form in your throat. It was hard to think about how you had abandoned her. You didn’t regret leaving the kingdom, but part of you did regret leaving her behind.

Sanji seemed to sense your inner turmoil, as he removed his skillet from the stove and walked around the counter towards you. He knelt down in front of you, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting it up to prompt you to meet his eyes.

“I know how difficult it is to leave someone you care for behind.” he explained sympathetically, looking at you with such soft kindness that you felt like you could burst into tears at any moment. “But the thing you have to remember is that they want what’s best for you. They want you to chase after your dreams and live the life you deserve. It might be hard to accept that they don’t need to be a part of it, but their love and hope for you is greater than that.” He brought a thumb up to your cheek to wipe away the stray tears that you didn’t even realize had fallen. “You did what you had to do. And I’m so glad you burst into my kitchen months ago, all tattered and panicked, begging for safe passage. Because the truth is…” He then placed both hands on your cheeks, giving you the warmest smile he’d ever given anyone. “It wouldn’t be the same without you, your highness.”

You smiled through your tears, placing your hands around his and giving them a delicate squeeze. “I’m so grateful for you Sanji. You’ve been so kind to me.”

He grinned contentedly. “It’s my pleasure, your highness.”

You stayed like that for a little while, just holding onto each others hands and smiling at each other. Suddenly, the mood shifted as you noticed his eyes focused on your lips. You mirrored his actions, glancing down at his own lips. They were plump and pretty, a beautiful shade of blush that had you in a trance. His tongue darted between them momentarily.

Your eyes locked in on his for a moment. They were shining with light-blue anticipation, the kind that gave you so much confidence and courage. Both of your eyes darted back to each others lips, and what seemed to be in unison, you began slowly inching forward. You fluttered your eyelids shut in preparation for the connection of your lips…

“Hey Sanji, what are you making for dinner?” Luffy suddenly asked from the doorway.

Sanji squinted his eyes together and let you a frustrated sigh. When he opened them, you shot him a sympathetic smile, one that hid your own discomfort and disappointment extremely well.

“Hey there captain. Tonight’s dinner is grilled steak strips, garlic roasted potatoes, and parmesan crusted asparagus.” Sanji huffed as he walked over to Luffy, who had a clueless grin on his face.

“Awesome! I can’t wait!” the captain beamed, hopping up on the counter. “Oh, hi Y/N! I didn’t see you there!”

“Hi Luffy.” you smiled politely. It was hard to be mad at him when he greeted you so cheerfully. “I was just about to head out, Nami said something about teaching me how to read a map.” you lied.

Sanji shot you a small pout. “Are you sure you have to leave? I could still use some help prepping the ingredients.” He was pleading at you with his eyes to stay. However, things were now too awkward with Luffy walking in on you guys almost kissing, and you just needed to leave the kitchen.

“It’s my day off, remember?” you replied cheekily, making your way over to the exit. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

——————

It had been a week since your almost-kiss with Sanji. Things were undeniably tense between the two of you. You were still friendly with him, and he was as flirtatious as he always was. But you both knew you were avoiding a huge elephant in the room, and neither one of you knew how to bring it up without making things uncomfortable.

It was currently the middle of the night, and you were laying in your hammock-bed staring at the wooden ceiling of you and Nami’s shared bedroom. You were having yet another sleepless night. Every time you started to drift off, you’d immediately be reminded of how you were so close to kissing the guy of your dreams.

You glanced over to Nami’s side of the room, hoping to see her restless so you could talk to her about your dilemma. She was the only one on the crew who knew about your enormous crush on Sanji. However, she was sound asleep in her own hammock.

You exhaled a heavy breath, then threw your blankets off your legs and stood up to leave the room. You obviously weren’t going to fall asleep anytime soon, so you figured you’d stretch your legs a bit.

You ended up crawling your way up into the crow’s nest, as there was currently no one else on deck. You leaned back against the hard, cold wood and gazed up at the stars. It was amazing to think that these were the same stars you looked at from your ivory tower months ago. They seemed so much brighter over the sea.

To fill the silence, you decided to sing one of the songs your governess taught you. You formed a habit of singing it to yourself whenever you were stressed or feeling hopeless. It made you feel calm and grounded.

You tried to be quiet, as everyone else was asleep, but as the song went on you couldn’t help but put more passion into your song. You had always loved singing since you were a child.

Finally your song came to an end, and you were startled by the sound of applause. Your head snapped around to the edge of the crow’s nest. There was Sanji, clapping his hands with an admiring smile.

“You have a lovely voice, princess.” he complimented you, hopping over the barrier to sit down next to you.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, concerned you were singing loud enough to wake the whole crew.

“No, not at all! I was up making myself a late night snack. It helps when I’m having trouble falling asleep.” he explained.

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke. He held one out to you. “Want one?”

You studied it, debating whether or not you wanted it. “I’m not sure, I’ve never smoked before.”

“Here, you can try a puff of mine. See if you like it.” he grinned, handing you his lit cigarette. You cautiously brought it to your lips and began to suck on it. “Just make sure you don’t-“

But he was too late. You were already coughing up a storm, hunched over and pounding on your chest.

“Inhale…” he finished with a chuckle, patting your back .

“God Sanji, how do you smoke those?” you hacked out between coughs. “It’s disgusting, I’m throwing this out!”

“No don’t!” he pleaded, reaching for the cigarette.

But you were too fast, throwing it over the edge of the crow’s nest before he could grab it.

He just looked at you with his mouth agape, the corners of his mouth tilted up in a baffled smirk. “That wasn’t very princess-like of you. I’m starting to think this pirates life is rubbing off on you.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as he just pulled another one out of his pocket and lit it up. “So, you couldn’t sleep either hm?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

He shook his head. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, your highness.”

You chuckled, nudging him with your elbow. “Same here. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about what happened, but I just…”

“Couldn’t find the right words?” he finished your sentence for you.

You nodded, putting your head in your hands and laughing in disbelief at how easily he could read you. “Exactly.”

He leaned back up against the barrier to join you in looking up at the night sky, seemingly in thought. You suddenly felt brave enough to lay your head on his shoulder. You could feel him smiling down at you as you cuddled up closer to him.

“Well, who says we need words?” he asked, turning his head towards you. “Actions speak louder sometimes.”

“Hm?” you asked, sitting up to face him.

He put out his cigarette and tilted your chin up with his forefinger, prompting you to look up at him. He just looked over your features for a moment, taking in the sight before him.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” he told you in an uncharacteristically serious voice. His eyes were like cornflower pools of commendation, fixed upon you with unrelenting intensity.

You just stared back at him, mouth slightly agape at the sudden intimacy of the moment. “Thank you, Sanji…”

“I mean it.” he told you, looking you straight in the eye. “But your beauty is only a fraction of what makes you special. I mean, you’re a talented writer, a beautiful singer, an amazing aspiring chef and swordsman, a good joke-teller, and a selfless, loyal pirate… Is there anything you can’t do, your highness?”

At that moment, it was like a cupid’s arrow had shot you straight through the heart. As a princess, you were always taught that the most important thing for you to be was beautiful. Not smart, not kind, not creative. Your only job was to sit still and look pretty. But with Sanji, all of that was thrown out the window. You got to express every part of your personality that you’d had to hold back for so many years. It was freeing, and it made you feel like your existence was truly meaningful to someone.

Before anyone could possibly interrupt you, you took your chance and pulled him towards you by his black neck tie, crashing your lips against his with everything you had. There was an element of softness to it, but it was just intense enough that he could feel how long you had desired to press your lips to his.

He was frozen for only a second or two, then he gingerly placed a hand upon your cheek, gripping onto it slightly to deepen the kiss.

After a while he pulled back to catch his breath, forehead pressed against yours as you both panted heavily.

“You can add amazing kisser to the list of things you’re good at.” he smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You giggled, placing your hand over his. “With you around, my list will become a mile long.”

“As it should be.” he told you, going back in for another kiss. This one was more passionate, his free hand moving to your waist to hold you in place. Your hands went up to his shoulders, gripping onto them tightly as if you could fly away at any second.

His tongue brushed against the parting of your lips as if asking for safe passage, which you granted him by sliding your own under his. He tasted like rum and vanilla, equal parts bitter and sweet with a touch of tobacco, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“I really like you, Sanji.” you suddenly confessed, not being able to hold it back any longer.

He held your face in his hands, looking at you in pure amazement, searching for any possible sign that you might be joking. “Do you mean it, your highness?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. This was it. This was the part where he would either refuse or accept your feelings.

“I like you a lot too, Y/N.” he smiled warmly, pulling you into his lap. He began frantically kissing you all over your face and neck, making you giggle and feign resistance.

For the remainder of the night, the seagulls and pelicans were the only ones who heard the laughter of two pirates exchanging kisses from the crows nest. They both ended up falling asleep curled up in each others arms, causing the rest of the crew to tease them lovingly in the morning.

[autistic-writer-angel]

Octonauts Headcanons

May add to this, as I go:

Captain Barnacles:

Just everyone’s Dad™

All of them, except for Professor Inkling has called him Dad at least once. He doesn’t mind.

Nobody has ever seen him cry.

He spends one on one time with each of the crew members whenever he can (typically once a week with each of them).

Sings in the shower

Showers in the morning

Has pretty strict routines, but can also be flexible, given the unpredictability of life as an Octonaut

His birthday is in October. (I Googled when that flower that blooms every twelve years does so, to see if I could narrow down what time of year his birthday is. Apparently, the peak blooming period is in September/October and with OCTOber, I figured it fits!)

If anybody on the Octopod were to go to his room and tell him they had a nightmare, he would let them sleep with him. (The only ones who do are Peso and the Vegimals.)

Sort of a joke headcanon, but I'mma add it anyway: He has reoccurring dreams about playing his accordion on stage, with hundreds of adoring fans cheering for him.

Kwazii:

ADHD

Not just afraid of spiders, but needles too (not that he’d ever admit it!)

Often takes the GUP-B out just for the fun of it, but will also do so to get out of something (normally cleaning or when the Captain’s playing his accordion)

Sneaks into the Captain’s room to play with his model ships

Such a sweet tooth

Messiest of all of them

Peso:

Intimidated by Captain Barnacles when they first met

Stopped feeling that way after a difficult mission, where the Captain told Peso he was very proud of him

Puts the Captain on a pedestal

Looks up to all the Octonauts, but of course, he looks up to the Captain the most

Youngest and most recent to join

Still pretty recent to join when the series started

Anxiety

He has hundreds of family members and he remembers the names and birthdays of every single one.

Shellington:

Autistic

Bullied as a child; Pearl stuck up for him and they were extremely close as a result

His satchel is a comfort item and a seemingly bottomless pit. If you see him pull things out of it, you’ll think, Wow! How did you fit all that in there?

Mother calls him Shelly; she’s the only one who does so

(I can’t remember where I saw this theory, but I think it makes a lot of sense.) In addition to marine biology, he has an interest in linguistics. That’s how he was able to learn Vegimalese.

Does not care if you interrupt one of his infodumps. He will just keep talking.

Clumsiest and most absentminded of the crew

Do NOT watch any nautical themed cartoon with him (e.g. SpongeBob or Finding Nemo). He will just spend the entire time pointing out all the inaccuracies.

Best artist on the Octopod

Dashi:

Octopod’s unofficial DJ

Loves strawberries and strawberry flavoured things

Completely ignores danger while trying to get the perfect photo

Second best artist

Just loves babies! Any kind of babies!

Tweak:

Mother passed away when she was young; Ranger Marsh raised her all by himself

Known Captain Barnacles longer than any of the others

Even though the Captain is her dad and Kwazii’s her brother, she’s the mum of the Octopod.

Plays the banjo

Professor Inkling:

Most painfully slow driver you can imagine

Gives the best advice

Shellington was one of his (most talented) students. That was how Shellington got the job with the Octonauts.

Never leaves the library unless he absolutely has to

Leave him alone with a child and he has no clue what he's supposed to do

Also the case when someone's crying

Vegimals:

Always make sure they have a supply of everyone’s favourite flavour of kelp cake in case anybody needs some emergency comfort food

Often sleep holding hands (they learned this from Shellington when they were babies)

Sometimes sleep with one of the Octonauts (mostly Shellington, but sometimes the others as well)

We know they get stuck in the kitchen vent. Well, I bet half the time, they get stuck while showing the other Vegimals how they got stuck!

[sleepyangelkami]

WITHOUT HESITATION j.todd

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 3K

JASON TODD X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - jason, almost too late, realises that you're in immediate danger. when he finds you and your sister in a flipped car rigged to blow, he makes the impending decision to save you and not her, without hesitation.

 ☆ WARNINGS - blood, gore, injury, explosions, car crash, arguing, worry/anxiety, the joker, mention of alcohol consumption, main character death (not j. or r.), grief, crying, (6) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

jason had realised much too late what was going on.

his head had been torn while working on the case with dick. what was joker going to do next, who was the target? after all, he never did go out without a bang. and he was getting closer and closer to the people they loved.

it was just a matter of time.

he had to admit, during all of this he'd managed to push you away. unintentionally, of course. you two were getting into it almost every day now. though he had to agree that it was his own doing and not yours. he'd snap, you'd merely stare, wondering what was wrong with him.

didn't you see? by the end of the week, joker would have gotham painted red if they didn't figure out his next move soon enough.

this was why jason was thankful your sister had come for the weekend to take you away. your sister, ashley, worked a long while away from gotham and it wasn't often that she came to see you. when she did, she turned her nose up at the sight. she never was a lover of gotham.

jason supposed, neither were you.

but as much as you hated the crime that circled gotham, the dirt on the street, the injustice of the entire city, you still loved it dearly. it was where you'd grown up and you just couldn't bring yourself to leave. so, you got a paying job, lived in the smallest of apartments where you spent most of your time with your lover. and if you and jason weren't there, you were spending time at the manor, wrapped up in jason's black sheets while he recited the books that lay on his night stand.

the trip ashley was taking you to would last a total of two days, the friday she came and the saturday after. you wouldn't be heading home until that sunday evening.

he hoped by then that he would have the case sorted out and it was safe enough for you to come home.

often times, he wondered what he was doing as red hood. perhaps it wasn't worth it anymore, would it be better to just let it all go? batman and nightwing could save gotham. he and you could live a normal, mundane, happy life. then he'd look at you in the midst of reading, glancing down at your closed eyes and pretty pouty lips. then, he'd be reminded of why he did what he did. to make gotham a better place for you and one day, for his family.

"you all set?" he questioned, shutting the trunk after lifting all your bags into the car. you'd told him you could do it yourself but he only insisted. he'd done enough to you in the past few days, you deserved this at least.

"yes." you grinned up at him, sweet as ever. even in he midst of chaos, you were the sweetest he'd ever seen. "apex grove awaits us!" you glanced to your sister who was sat in the car, leaning out the window with an ugly green suncap on her head apex grove written in yellow writing.

"it's gonna be the best weekend ever!" she was whooping in the car causing you to giggle at her antics. it would be the best weekend ever, for her, that was if she remembered any of it after she got shitfaced two nights in a row.

jason was not unfamilliar to your sister's drinking habits. but he thought what harm, it wasn't as if you were stupid enough to get dragged into it too. "you have fun, okay? not too much fun."

you listened to him huff out a laugh. "i will." before moving forward to let your head fall on his chest. hugging jason was what you assumed hugging clouds felt like. though you'd never experience it, you could still dream. "'m gonna miss you." you mumbled, only loud enough for the man to hear.

even during arguments, you were the only one that truly saw him.

you never blamed him for his short temper or his aggrivation he felt during cases like these. you only moved with caution, letting him know you were there. you were something he would be eternally grateful for.

"i'll miss you too, sweetheart." he mumbled back, pretty eyes glowing in the little sunlight that gotham got.

"bleh!" your sister yelled, rolling her eyes. "come on, y/n! we're gonna be late for the dinner reservation!"

"okay, bye." you reached up, kissing him on the lips ever so gently. "love you."

"love you too." watching as you made your way towards the passenger seat giddily. "take care of her!" placing his hands on his hips as though he were a mother.

"bye jason!" your sister only yelled back in response causing his brows to crease even further. was she trying to make him go grey in his prime? nevertheless, he waved towards your window until your sister's range rover left through the wayne manor's gates.

while watching them close on the way out, he felt a certain tightness in his chest. worry. he worried for you, worried that something would happen to you while you were gone. then he reassured himself that here was where the trouble was. if anything, he should be thankful you were anywhere but here.

you'd given jason a key to your apartment. you'd always insisted he'd take one anyway but he never did, you soon learned that was because he sort of liked coming through your window, grin on his face as you jumped sheepishly with a fright.

now, however, the key was forced into his back pocket.

you'd told him he'd better stay at yours for at least the nights, reassuring him that this whole joker business would get sorted out as it always did. you told him that whatever he was to do, he was at least to get sleep in your apartment and not stay cooped up in the manor wondering where joker will land next.

and he really wanted to make you happy, truly.

but it was now sunday and they were no closer than they were before.

bruce was injured, heavily so, from the joker's last attack. alfred had all but bedbound him, forcing him onto the lush mattress that costs more than your apartment complex put together.

so for the most part, it was just dick and jason on this one. tim was away and damian wasn't trusted on something so severe without the guidance of bruce.

alfred popped in once or twice to deliver food and assure that they were getting the rest and nutrition that they needed.

however, all the brothers could do was think the entire events over and look for clues. "three wheels on fire." dick's hands were clasped in his lap while he sat by the computers. "that's what he said, why didn't he show?"

the men had thought for sure that the joker would have struck at the fun fair. gotham was throwing one and there happened to be exactly three ferris wheels. "i don't know." leaning his face onto his hand that was propped onto the table. a map lay atop it. "maybe it was to throw us off his trail?"

"no chance!" dick quickly shut him down as he stood, pacing the cave. "maybe something went wrong. maybe he messed up. three wheels on fire, i mean, that was his chance! what else could he have been talking about." seconds passed before dick practically had a light bulb appear over his head. "a car? three cars?"

"that could be any three cars." jason waved him off. "how on earth would we figure out who? besides, three random civilians? don't you think it's a little too.... theatrical for three civilians?"

dick slumped back into his chair. "the joker does love his theatrics."

and jason had to agree with that. his eyes glanced down to the map, scanning it, until... "dick." his head turned. "hand me that red marker?" doing as he was told, dick handed jason the red marker that he used to scribble little dots against the page.

in confusion, the older boy watched him. he watched as fear suddenly took over his face, draining him to a ghostly while colour. dick hadn't seen jason scared of many things but whatever he had just uncovered... that was enough fear for a lifetime. "talk to me jaybird."

he swallowed thickly, already standing. "everywhere the joker's hit has been in pathway's through towns. every dot on the page is where he hit."

dick shook his head. "no, no, he didn't hit there." bulky finger lingering on the last spot on the page.

"no." he shook his head. "but it's the only dot that would connect the full circle. apex grove. it's where y/n is." the words came out sort of like a whisper, a whisper of pure fear.

"no, no, okay? you can't go off of some silly circle drawing, i mean, how do you know she's even in a car right now?" his hands were on jay's shoulders, trying to keep him steady in all his attempts. but jason's mind had already been clouded by fear and that enough had it made up.

"she's coming home tonight."

"that still doesn't prove anything!"

"dick." his face stern and steady. "if anything happens to her," voice cracking ever so softly. "if anything happens to her, i won't forgive myself."

dick swallowed too, realising perhaps jason was right. and even if he wasn't, was it a situation he was willing to put your life on the line for? "okay, let's go."

"it's so dark." you giggled, glancing out the window. you were... tispy, you could say. thing is, you'd been the sober one for friday and saturday night so ashley decided you were going to drink at least one night so she decided why not now, it wasn't as if you had to drive back to gotham, she had that handled.

"yeah." she chuckled. "tends to happen when the sun goes down." you hummed, sitting back up. you weren't exactly drunk, everything was just buzzing a little. "i didn't wanna ask because i didn't wanna ruin the whole night or anything but what was going on with you and jason?"

"what do you mean?" you questioned, turning your head to her while laying it against the seat. tiredness consumed you whole and while you'd loved this little getaway with your sister, you were thankful to be sleeping in your apartment bed tonight.

she shrugged her shoulders, eyes set on the dark road ahead. "i don't know, thought there was a little tension or something."

"we had a little fight." you admitted, absentmindedly gazing out the window. "but it's okay, all couples fight, right?" you couldn't tell her why you'd fought because that would include telling her about the fact that he worked with batman against the joker and that didn't seem like a great way to tell her.

"oh yeah, you should see me and theo." theo was her husband, the father to her kid, teddy, it was supposed to be sort of like theo but you didn't know if that was how it actually sounded. "we fight all the time."

"but you love him." you added.

"oh yeah, to bits." grinning and for a split second, glancing at you. "and as a girl in love, i can tell when other people are in love. and you and jason are just... soulmates." you huffed out a little laugh. "no, seriously, i've never seen two people so in love. i mean, all through highschool, i really thought you were gonna end up a crazy old cat lady."

"i do like cats."

"mm, always did."

BANG !

jason swore he broke every speed limit known to man, he didn't care. he couldn't care. dick waited until the motorbike slowed to a stop.

the men discarded the vehicles before stepping onto the road, staring in shock.

in the darkness of the night, a range rover could be made out, lights still on, though it appeared only one was working. it had been flipped on it's backside, one wheel discarded on the other side of the road. what had hit them? jason had no idea but what he did know was that there was a kind of ringing in his ear, fear.

"is that them, jason?!" it wasn't the first time dick had yelled out the question.

though his voice suddenly brought him back to life, his brows knitted. "the car's not on fire." he mumbled, confused. "dick, the car isn't on fire."

"oh shit." instinctively taking a step back. "it's gonna blow up."

the words should have registered in jason's mind to get the fuck out of there. instead, he ran towards the car.

he heard the faint yell of "jason!" from behind him. but there was only one thing on jason's mind as of now. and that was you.

he found you quick enough, popping off the door with his strength instead of wasting any more time. he could see you flipped in the passenger seat, your sister next to you. even when blood dripped from your forehead and your nose, gash against your hairline, you looked almost peaceful, as if you were only sleeping.

it caused genuine fear in him. jason swore he'd never been so scared.

knowing that at any moment the car could explode, he grabbed your limp body with ease, carrying it until you were a safe enough distance from the car and setting you down on the ground.

"y/n? baby, can you hear me?" dick watched as his baby brother held his limp girlfriend in his arms. "y/n, wake up. wake up!" as if in some distant world, you'd heard him, your eyes slowly peeled themselves awake. "there you are, there you are, huh?" though a laugh emitted his mouth, there were tears in the corner of your boyfriends eyes.

confusion washed over you, eyes hazy. "where am i?" but before you could receive an answer, everything came flooding back and you began sitting up, turning your head. "where's ashley?"

you were leaning on your arm, the other had a wound soaking through your shirt.

the men didn't respond, glancing to one another. going in there meant risking their lives. and sure, they risked their lives every day for the people of gotham but that car could blow at any minute. "where is she?" you practically cried, eyes turning to the flipped car behind jason. "she's still in there?!"

"y/n, listen―"

you cut dick off, trying to stand. "no! no! i have to get her!"

jason held you though it didn't take much, your body already weak. "sweetheart, the car is gonna blow, we can't risk you―"

"i have to save her! get off!" as much as you tried to writhe against him, it worked at no avail. "jason, get off me! jason!" dick's heart pained as jason's hand soothed the back of your head, pushing it against his shoulder.

BANG !

you swore you screamed, you heard a scream, you think. it was all really hard to remember. you clawed at jason, crying into his redhood suit shoulder, sobbing horrendously as you watched the car that held your sister burst into flames.

jason held you, not uttering a word and watching dick flee the scene, most likely in suit of finding the joker. he could only hold you close, listening you scream the word 'no' on repeat.

"i know, i know." he swore he could feel his own eyes muddling with the same glassy tears that yours were covered with. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."

at some point, you turned your eyes away from the explosion, face in jason's chest. you no longer fought against him, crying so loudly as he held your wrists against him, trying everything in his will to pick the pieces of you up. but in some way, he felt as though he'd caused them.

"she's gone." you sobbed out violently against him. "she's gone." the words repeated in your brain. you'd lost many people to gotham but never did you think you'd lose her, anyone but her.

"baby, you're bleeding." blood covered your hands and his, practically dripping down your face. "we need to get you to a hospital."

but you were beyond the point of caring, blubbering with few whimpers between. all you could think was your pretty sister, a husband and a kid, burned away in an explosion. she was gone and she was not coming back. "i- i can't." hyperventilating out the words. "i can't l-leave."

"i got you." you felt him help you off the stone ground, your knees weak. though nothing really registered, a ringing in your ears. even hours later, he kept repeating the same words. "i got you. i got you." sitting on the hospital bed next to you while you sat with a sullen look in your eyes. you were far away, that much was obvious but no longer stained with the vicious blood.

"she's gone." it came out much calmer now, though tears still coated your glassy red eyes. "why didn't you take her and not me?" though it was a stupid question.

even in your clouded mind you knew that if he could do it all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.

"i had to save you." he answered.

when he saw you were in that flipped over car, knowing there was a chance he could have blown up with you, he took it anyway, grabbing your limp body without hesitation.

he'd rather die than let something happen to you.

and in this case, he'd rather let someone else die than any harm to come to you. and that was simply something he wasn't afraid to admit.

he could lose. he had lost. he lost almost everything from his family to the world around him. but he couldn't lose you. no, anything but you.

main masterlist/jason's masterlist

[cobaltperun]

Genius (3) - Own It

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next Part

Word count: 4k

-I will never run from it when I’m in the moment, I’m gonna own it own it ain’t afraid to own it-

Winnie chose to spend the night at Cairo’s place, it was big, Cairo was often lonely, she liked spending time with Cairo, it was a win-win situation. Besides, the beds were really comfortable. How long ago has she fallen in love with the girl? With her mysterious aura, a hard to approach exterior with a surprisingly softer side, with the acceptance of others she didn’t expect from someone born in Cairo’s circumstances. And it didn’t hurt that Cairo was beautiful, but none of that mattered. Cairo just didn’t see her that way.

Cairo never really saw anyone that way, she was stuck in her books and writing, and Winnie never realized what it was that Cairo wanted. She thought Cairo wanted more books, more of what she already loved. But then you said you’d take Cairo out of the village and Winnie swore she saw something she never saw in Cairo’s eyes. You and Cairo knew each other, that much she understood, but you’ve been apart for at least the past four years. And you, just like that, in one sentence, made Cairo look lost in her thoughts, a yet to be opened book in her hands.

And even worse than that Winnie heard your name before, though Cairo never talked about you. Between Cairo’s reaction to recognizing you, and then her willingness to let you take her out, take her somewhere outside of the village, there was no doubt in Winnie’s mind that you were the same person from that night.

~X~

Cairo was in a really bad mood the whole week and Winnie wanted to cheer her up, but nothing was working. It was like it didn’t matter that they had good weather, that a small cinema just opened in the village. Well, Cairo wasn’t much of a movie fan, she preferred her books, so that didn’t do much for her, but it was something new in their village! And as hard as Winnie tried, she couldn’t understand why Cairo was in a bad mood. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, yet the girl didn’t want to leave her bed.

“Come on, Cairo, talk to your Winnie,” she tried to poke her, but Cairo just pushed her hand away.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered, though Winnie could see her eyes were a bit puffy. And the open book next to Cairo’s head looked a bit wet.

Winnie sighed. Why wasn’t anything working? She groaned, losing her patience with the girl and leaving her bedroom. She’d go and make some food for Cairo, since she wasn’t sure when was the last time the girl ate, but as she came back after spending way too much time deciding on what to make for Cairo with a sandwich in hand she realized Cairo was asleep.

Cairo mumbled something incoherent in her sleep, not for the first time, she often talked in her sleep, though Winnie rarely got the opportunity to hear it. Well, at least she was sleeping. She figured she should leave, and so she placed the plate on Cairo’s nightstand and turned to leave. She didn’t dare to push a few strands of Cairo’s hair out of her face.

“Wait,” Cairo muttered and for a moment Winnie’s heart skipped a beat, but when she turned she saw Cairo was still asleep. “Y/N,” the girl said a name Winnie never heard before, but she said it with so much longing Winnie could have sworn her own heart broke for the girl. Who was she dreaming about? Why did she never mention this ‘Y/N’? She didn’t know, she wouldn’t dare to ask because the tone of Cairo’s voice told her enough already.

~X~

The moment Cairo realized who you were that night came to Winnie’s mind and at first Winnie was worried. She wasn’t sure how Cairo would react, and more importantly she wasn’t sure what made the two of you separate. Yet that worry began fading when she realized just how softly you were looking at Cairo, she saw the same longing in your eyes, the same intensity as the longing she heard in Cairo’s voice.

And though she could admit she was feeling jealous that you so openly looked at Cairo like she was the only one in the room, she was glad whatever separated you and Cairo didn’t leave you mad at the girl.

“What are you thinking about?” Winnie finally chose to speak up and if Cairo wasn’t as composed as she was she was sure the girl would have jumped a bit.

“Just childhood,” she said as she got up and placed the book back on the shelf, and Winnie saw that it was some book by Jules Verne, which wasn’t too unusual, but it definitely wasn’t the genre Cairo was currently into.

“About Y/N?” she asked, observing carefully as Cairo went stiff, as she looked to the side, refusing to meet Winnie’s gaze.

“It doesn’t matter, I have other things to do,” Cairo grabbed a pack of cigarettes and went to her laptop, and Winnie got a message, she didn’t feel like talking about you.

But she still agreed to go with you, and while she didn’t say it, and while she tried to hide it, Winnie knew her well enough by now. Cairo wanted you back in her life.

~X~

Saturday came way too quickly! Between classes, settling down, handling the moving, well, a handful of things that you couldn’t carry on your motorcycle being shipped to you, and all the small details that took up your time you felt like you blinked, and Saturday arrived!

You haven’t seen Cairo since Monday, and you had to admit you were a bit too anxious for your own liking. What would you talk about? Would you be able to go back to the way things were before she suddenly cut you off from her life? No, of course it couldn’t be the same. It’s been years, you were different people now. Would she be okay with riding on your motorcycle? Was that pushing her too far out of blue? Forcing her to be that close to you? Maybe you should take your parents’ car? Did it have enough gas though?

Maybe you should, but you weren’t that experienced with cars, you were much more comfortable on your motorcycle and you didn’t want to be a nervous mess in front of Cairo. Well, any bigger nervous mess than you were going to be in less than half an hour.

Motorcycle it is! If she isn’t comfortable, you’ll just go back and get the car. With that in mind you went to get dressed, opting for simple jeans and a white T-shirt, with your jacket, gloves, and boots.

And now you just sat there, taking deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You didn’t even specify the time! And you didn’t get her bloody number!

“Damn it!” you yelled, almost slamming your helmet and the rest of the protective gear on and got on your motorcycle. You’ll figure shit out with her instead of torturing yourself like this!

~X~

She should have asked you for your number. She should have told you exact time you should meet up. Was she supposed to come to you, or would you come to her house? Why didn’t she think this out more carefully?!

All things considered, Cairo’s been ready for an embarrassingly long time, for about two hours now. Since seven in the morning since she could barely sleep last night. And she spent an hour going through her wardrobe, never quite happy with what she was wearing. In the end she chose to go with black shorts and a button-up baby blue shirt. She was so distracted by her own worries that she nearly missed someone ringing her bell. It had to be you, after all, one of the last buses would leave in half an hour and after that you wouldn’t be able to leave for another three hours.

She took a deep breath and went to the front doors a bit too quickly for her own liking, but there was no going back now. She opened the doors and saw you, with a helmet in hand and a bit of a nervous smile on your face. You were wearing a sturdy-looking black jacket with red stripes going down the sleeves and your sides, it matched your gloves and helmet as well. Wait… A helmet? Her eyes widened. “When did you come back?” she blurted out, surprising you.

“Hm? Oh, Last Saturday night, I drove down the road,” you pointed with your thumb behind you. “So maybe you heard me? The lights were on,” you said and sure enough, there was a red motorcycle on the road, parked right next to her gate. You were her biker from last week.

“Sorry, yeah, I heard you, I just,” she frowned, hating the shakiness of her voice. “I did hear you, I just didn’t realize it was you,” she said, suddenly feeling stupid. Of course she didn’t realize it was you. Why would she? She didn’t know you were coming back, it never even crossed her mind that you’d come back, and she certainly never imagined you coming back on a motorcycle.

You smiled, as if you relaxed due to her embarrassing stammering. “It’s okay, hey, it’s just me,” you said softly, and Cairo nodded. “By the way, I know we didn’t specify the time, so, do you need me to wait for you, or maybe come later?”

“Now is fine, I’m ready,” she said and you rubbed the back of your head nervously.

“You should put jeans or something like that on,” you muttered. “And a jacket, sorry, I should have brought another one with me,” you apologized as Cairo blushed. Yeah, her shorts probably weren’t a good idea if you were going on a motorcycle. “Or would you like me to go get my parents’ car?”

She shook her head. “No, this is fine, I’ll go get changed,” in her nervousness she slammed the doors closed and then leaned her forehead against it. “I’m so stupid,” she whispered, feeling her face burning as she pleaded or the ground to open up and swallow her. First conversation in almost seven years, the first time alone after all that time and she was a nervous wreck. And now she pretty much slammed the door in your face to make things even worse.

She ran up the stairs and changed into the first jeans she came across and grabbed a denim jacket. It would have to do, she didn’t have anything as sturdy as wheat you were wearing. She looked at the mirror and blushed even harder when she realized her face was still so red. “Come on, Cairo, get it together,” she glanced outside her window, you were still there, still waiting for her. She really should have invited you in instead of closing the doors like that.

Well, there was no going back now. She went outside again and scratched her cheek a bit as you looked her over and nodded. This would do. She followed you to your motorcycle and stopped when you pulled guards for elbows and knees and shins out.

“I’m a careful biker, but better safe than sorry. Did you ever put these on?” you asked her.

“No,” she said and you dropped down to your knee.

“It might be better if I put them on you the first time, to make sure everything is in place. Is that okay with you?” you looked at her and waited until she nodded, not trusting her voice. You didn’t waste time or any movement, from what she could tell, just putting the guards on her legs and elbows and then taking the helmet and gently put it on her and she was thankful that the visor was already down because you were tucking her hair in and your fingers accidentally brushed against her neck and she just knew her entire face was about as red as it could get.

She would have to mark this date as the day filled with embarrassment and absolutely everything going wrong for her.

~X~

You managed to calm your nerves as the two of you got on the motorcycle, Cairo even placed her hands around your waist without you telling her and that was a relief, because you could tell she was nervous, but you weren’t sure if she wanted to talk or just relax during the ride, so, you remained silent for the most part.

When you got on the open road and drove for a few miles you felt her hands unclenching from their vice grip on your jacket and she seemed to relax a bit.

“Is this okay?” you asked her through the helmet’s communication system.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you do this a lot?” she asked.

“You mean riding? Or having a passenger?” you grinned a bit, hoping you weren’t making her feel awkward.

“Both actually,” Cairo loosened up a bit.

“Yes, for riding, no, for passengers, well, it happened a few times, but more because we didn’t have much of a choice than because I wanted someone behind me,” you told her.

“Mhm,” she accepted the answer, leaning a bit closer to you now, though maybe that was just to be safe.

About an hour later and only a bit of occasional questions and comments about the nature you rode past, you arrived at your destination. It was exactly what you promised, the beautiful view with river flowing nearby, a mountain cottage aesthetic to the restaurant and a nice live music playing just loud enough to enhance the feel.

You and Cairo sat down across one another and she gracefully took the menu. You were still early enough for a breakfast so you knew exactly what you wanted.

“All of this looks good,” she commented. “You went here before, right?”

You nodded. “Lots of times,” you didn’t want to admit it, but you wanted to go back to go back to the village several times, to maybe see if Cairo was still there, or ask her parents for a way to contact her, but you always changed your mind in the last possible second, turning around and coming here to take a break.

“Help me out then?” she requested with a small pout on her face.

“I suggest French toast with berries and whipped cream if you’d like something sweet, or an mushrooms and onion omelet,” you said, those were by far your favorites as far as breakfast menu went.

Cairo nodded as the waiter came over.

“Hey, Y/N, you brought company this time,” he was a polite man in his late twenties, and you came to the restaurant so regularly pretty much everyone on the staff knew you by now.

“Hello, yeah,” you met her eyes, silently asking for her permission to introduce her, and as if the years changed nothing between you she smiled a bit. “This is Cairo, my childhood friend,”

He turned to her and nodded, bowing slightly. “Nice to meet you, I’m Robert and I’ll be your waiter for the day. What may I bring you?”

“I’ll have French toast with berries and whipped cream, and a Coca Cola please,” Cairo said.

Robert nodded, writing it down and turning to you.

“Mushroom and onion omelet with iced tea,” you told him.

“Coming right up,” he nodded, leaving the two of you alone.

And, as if the small interaction broke all the tension between the two of you, you just leaned forward, your arms resting on the table with your gloves and your and Cairo’s helmets safely out of the way. “Tell me everything,” you told her. “How have you been? What’s been going on these past years?”

Cairo didn’t lean as much as you, but she did get a bit closer. “I really don’t have a lot to tell you. You know how things are back home, nothing ever changes,” she said. “Well, we did get a cinema, and Winnie likes to go there often so, I guess I’ve been reluctantly watching movies.”

You laughed at that. Cairo and movies? Now that sounded almost ridiculous when you were kids. “For real? I’m glad she got you to try something new,” you replied, nodding to Robert as he brought your drinks.

“She’s persistent, but she’s been my best friend ever since I started high school,” Cairo said with a smile on her face, and you could tell she cared about the girl.

“I’m happy to hear that,” and you were, you were worried she would still be lonely, but she found a best friend, one capable of dragging her to movies of all things.

“And you? I mean, as far as best friends go?” she asked, turning the glass in front of her before opening the bottle and pouring some of the Coca Cola in.

“I haven’t really stayed in one place long enough to get to that point. My parents moved a lot until I was fifteen,” you told her. “And after that, well, they settled down, but then I began moving since I turned sixteen and got my motorcycle,” you explained. You really did move a lot, and you never really made connections worth the best friend status. After all, Cairo did set a bar pretty high.

“So, you went and began traveling,” she looked through the window. “This is my first time outside our village,” you found it hard to believe, but looking at her face you realized she was telling the truth.

“You’ll have time to explore every place you want. You’re not late for anything,” you just told her, though you couldn’t tell her that you were happy you were the first one who got to take her somewhere. There, with the last hints of morning light shining through the window and illuminating her hair you felt your breath getting stuck in your throat.

For the first time in your life you didn’t think Cairo was pretty, she was beautiful, so effortlessly beautiful you found it hard to look away. And she didn’t change much from what you could tell. She was still a lot like she was when you were kids, only more closed-off from the looks of it.

You missed her, you missed this, even if having a meal in a restaurant wasn’t something you used to do as kids, well, without your parents taking you there at the very least. No, you just missed being with her, her voice, her eyes, her smile, you missed all of that.

And in the midst of that realization, you didn’t figure out something just as important. That there was a feeling that wasn’t there before emerging in your heart.

“You think?” she sounded uncertain.

You just nodded, even if she was uncertain you’ve met enough people to know that she was exceptional.

You ended up having a lunch at the restaurant as well, talking about random things, about a book Cairo read, or about a place you visited, or a movie Winnie made her watch, or a new song she recently heard. And that eventually moved the conversation toward music.

“Do you still remember everything you hear?” she asked, smiling fondly as if she was reminiscing about good old times when you and her would spend time reading. Well, when she would read and you’d listen.

“Unfortunately,” you chuckled, remembering way too vividly that teacher reading about… split fig. “Don’t ask, I have scars I wish I could erase from my memory,” you quickly raised a hand to stop her. It wasn’t even the split fig, as much as the circumstances during which you heard it.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, giving up on further questioning. “Did you consider learning to play an instrument?” she asked instead and you looked back toward the band.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you teased, looking back at her and watching her light up.

“You did, didn’t you?” Cairo sounded excited about the idea.

You just winked at her and hopped to your feet. “I’ll be back soon enough,” you jogged over to the band without waiting for her reply.

“Hey, Jack, mind if I borrow your guitar?” you opened with that, not even bothering to say ‘hi’ properly. You were a bit excited to play a song for her.

“Hello to you too, biker girl, which song are we playing?” he humored you, glancing behind you and seeing Cairo. He seemed to piece it together quickly enough.

“Just instrumentals this time. I don’t want to miss a thing, the guitar cover,” you told him, accepting the electric guitar and taking a seat.

You weren’t sure if Cairo would recognize the song, and maybe the lyrics would be a bit too much in case she already didn’t know the song. So, just this would do. You nodded to the rest of the band and they began playing. You waited for half a minute and then joined them and as you played you looked at Cairo, smiling back at you as she listened and swayed a bit to the soft tunes of the guitar you were playing.

Still, it didn’t look like she recognized the song, she just enjoyed the melody. And that was fine as well, perfect even as far as you were concerned.

The song ended and you thanked Jack before going back to Cairo. “I guess I can play a bit,” you said as you sat down.

“A bit? Yeah, that was a bit. What song was that?” she demanded but you just shook your head. “Come on, tell me!”

“You will never know!” you laughed, ignoring her pleading eyes.

“Please, I want to listen to it,” she tried again, but you were adamant on staying silent.

You might tell her later, not now though. She could live a bit longer without knowing the song.

~X~

The ride back was pleasant, the soft breeze, the almost empty open road, the smooth way you drove, as well as how easy it felt to just put her arms around your waist. When you parked outside her house, she almost reluctantly got off your motorcycle, but staying on it would have been too awkward to explain.

“Thank you for today, I loved it,” she said as you took off the knee and shin guards off her while she was handling the elbow guards.

“Thank you for accepting,” you reached up and helped her get the helmet off since she still wasn’t used to doing it. You didn’t take your own helmet off, just lifted your visor so she could see your eyes.

She felt at peace, she finally set foot outside her village, she just expanded her world and she did it with you. And she couldn’t think of a better person to do it with.

“I missed you,” she said, her hands reaching for your helmet and, as if in trance, you helped her take your helmet off and lowered it on your seat, and Cairo, she just stepped forward, hugging you not nearly as tightly as she wanted to do, but still, she was hugging you.

“I missed you too, Cairo,” you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her a bit closer.

She didn’t want the night to end, she wanted to invite you in, to talk more, to make up for lost time, to apologize and explain what happened that day, to tell you just how much she wanted to approach you. But she did none of that, she just separated from you once again and smiled at you as she watched you get on your motorcycle. “I’ll see you on Monday,” you said, and she nodded, eager to see you again.

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[bullet-prooflove]

Final Words: Kayce Dutton

Tagging: @kmc1989 @midnightheat @queenslandlover-93 @littledreamer9211 @spooky-librarian-ghost @atomic-art-dragon @sleepystoner326 @themarvelousmaks

Nobody talks about the year that Lee went missing.

Kayce doesn’t even know about it until he finds the stack of journals tucked away underneath a broken floorboard he’s trying to fix. The damn thing has been creaking ever since he moved into this place and it’s starting to drive him just a little crazy. When he pulls up the panel he doesn’t expect to see the collection of black Moleskine notebooks, each one thick with dust. It’s when he pulls out the first one and starts flicking through the yellowed pages that he realises that they belong to his deceased brother. He had no idea that Lee kept a journal, that he had since he was sixteen years old.

He spends the next couple of hours sat in front of the fire with a glass of bourbon, reading through them in chronological order. The first one is about normal school shit, he describes the pretty girl who sits in front of him in Lit, how she lent him a pen when he forgot his own. They end up being partners in Biology and over the next few months Kayce reads about how his brother falls in love with Anna-May, how he promised to marry her one day.

It's insight into his brother he had absolutely no clue about. There’s was ten year age gap between him and Lee. Whilst he was secretly applying to colleges, Kayce was ten years old making up songs about each of the horses in the stables, trying to figure out what words rhymed with sugarcube.

It all turns to shit when Lee announces he’s going to Berkley. He details the conversation between him and their father, the refusal to pay the tuition. Lee couldn’t apply for financial aid because of their circumstances so his dream was dead in the water before it even had a chance to get off the ground. He helps Anna-May pack her things and sends her off to California alone while he takes his rightful place at the Yellowstone.

It’s for the best, he writes, it’s not fair to put the burden of the ranch on Jamie and Kayce.

It’s a six months later that their mom dies in a riding accident and Lee accidently causes a wildfire that takes out a couple of pastures on the Eastern side of the farm.

I can’t stand this numbness anymore, it feels like I can barely breathe anymore. I need to see her.

He takes off to California a week later, in a truck stolen from the ranch. He drives it all the way up to Berkley, where he wants for Anna-May outside of her dorm. When she finally lays eyes on her, he doesn’t get out of the truck because she’s with another man, his arm slung over her shoulders as he whispers sweet nothings in her ear.

I told her to move on, Lee writes. I just didn’t realise how much it would hurt when she did.

He doesn’t come home after that, he spends the next year travelling from state to state, picking up seasonal work, he’s been in Maine for three months, chopping wood when his father finally catches up with him.

In that moment I realised there was nothing for me but that ranch, my future had been set in stone from the minute I was born, what was the point in trying to fight it anymore?

It breaks Kayce’s heart because he can feel Lee’s exhaustion emanating through the pages. His brother takes the brand that night as punishment for abandoning his responsibilities. The acknowledgement of his failure is seared upon his skin, the same way it had been upon Kayce’s.

It’s three in the morning when he finally gets to the last one, the mood starts to shift, the tone changing. Anna-May had stepped back into Lee’s life and it was like his entire world had erupted into colour again, it’s only then that Kayce realises how depressed his brother had been throughout the years. He’d hidden it well on the surface but the reality of it is etched into each of these journals.

It's when he gets to the final pages of the one he’s reading that the sonogram falls out into Kayce’s lap, his breath catches in his throat as his gaze lingers on the last few words that Lee ever wrote.

 It’s become clearer over the past couple of days that we can’t stay here at the ranch. I see the way that my father is with Tate and I know he’s already being prepared for a role he has no awareness of. I don’t want that for my son, I don’t want that for Kayce’s son. I want them both to have the choices we didn’t, to live the way they want, to be the people they want to be.

It's then that Kayce sees the truth about Lee, the weight that sat on his shoulders, day in and day out, suffocating him. It’s the same one that sits on his own because Kayce, he thought this is what Lee would have wanted, someone to take up the role, to fulfil that legacy. He’s been killing himself to trying to honor a dead man’s wishes only to discover those weren’t his wishes at all, they were those of his father, the man that’s currently grooming his son to be the next in line for the throne.

It's that night that Kayce packs his bags.

He’s leaving Yellowstone and he’s taking his son with him.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[host-club-hq]

heyyy !!! can i submit a request ? thanks !!! feel free to reject/deny this if u want to tho !!!

reader who’s from a middle to upper middle range family and they’re like in their 20’s or so and they just seem to have a lot of time and money on their hands but their family doesn’t know what they exactly do in terms of work so they confront her and ask if they’re doing drugs or nsfw work and turns out they have a bf (kyoya) who’s just really rich

thanks !!! 🫶

➼ pairing: kyoya ootori x fem!reader (slice of life!AU)

➼ summary: you come from a middle class family and all of a sudden you’ve been spending considerably large amounts of money… and your family is wondering what exactly it is you do for a living nowadays? are you in with the wrong sort of people?

➼ word count: 2.7k

➼ what to expect: "It's worth nothing if you aren't wearing it."

➼ warnings: none :) unless an excessive amount of fluff causes you to have severe heart issues (me too babe)

➼ i literally saw this request and was like oh my god i have to write it, then since i wasn't at my laptop, proceeded to write the fic in my beta reader's dms. thank u so much for this request it actually helped me get out of a writing rut :)

You never thought you would be sitting in your apartment for a living.

Well, technically, that's not what you do for a living, but it might as well be.

You work from home, with extremely short hours and a paycheck that's nothing to write home about. You could do your job from an office, but why bother? Most of the 8 hours you would work, you'd be sitting at your desk with nothing to do, your brain going numb from lack of stimulation.

Although you don't enjoy having virtual meetings with strangers, that's basically your entire job — you are a virtual history tutor, after all.

You never wanted to be a teacher but you still wanted to pass your extensive knowledge on to other generations, so you figured either being a substitute teacher or a tutor would suffice. And when the school you applied to mentioned an online tutor position, you snatched it up and ran with it.

Of course, you had a job before this. And it definitely wasn't your dream job. Before your passion for teaching arose, you took one of the first jobs you found available that called you for an interview. The secretary of a prestigious CEO of... a company that you're not quite sure what they did (you called it your Devil Wears Prada moment). You vaguely remember copying data and putting things in color-coded folders, but the position was brutal. You were set with impossible tasks and goals that your immediate superiors struggled to reach (truly, your Devil Wears Prada moment). You contemplated swerving your car into oncoming traffic every day on your way to work at 6:30 in the morning (obviously you didn't, too many innocent lives would have been put in danger).

But, at least, that's where you met-

Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock... knock, knock

Your ears immediately perk up and you turn your head toward the front door from your position on the sofa in the living room. There's only one soul alive that would knock on your door in that fashion.

You shut your laptop rather hastily and leap up to answer the door, sliding through the kitchen and the entry foyer in your socks to get there. Honestly, the distance from the front door to your workspace could have been considered a 5k marathon (no it's not, you're just out of shape).

You don't even have to glance at the peephole before you open the door to reveal-

"y/n! Oh, my dear, how are you?" You're immediately pulled into a crushing embrace and a comforting scent surrounds you.

"Mom?" You gawk, slowly encircling your arms around her to return the hug.

"I know I probably should have called but when I thought about doing it, I was already at your door. And I have to say, this is quite the upgrade!" Your mother wanders in without an invite, in awe of the clean, neat appearance of your apartment.

Well, penthouse. You take up the entire 58th floor at the top of your building. The elevator requires a reading of your house key-card to even press the button. It opens up right in front of your door.

... how did she get up here?

"How on earth did you get up here?" You voice your thoughts as her mother discards her walking shoes beside your own, slipping on a pair of guest slippers.

"I told the man in the lobby I was your mother and you would not believe the convincing I had to do to get him to let me up. He even needed my ID!"

"Well, yeah, because you don't live here-"

"Would you look at this place! My god, y/n, how do you keep it so clean? Not a speck of dust!" Your mother, true to her nature, swipes a finger across a nearby decorative table and it comes up absolutely spotless.

"Thanks, I mean it's not-"

"You even have a foyer! And a kitchen that doesn't double as the dining room!" Your mother wanders into the next room faster than you can process her presence.

"Mom, what are-" You try to best to follow her, slipping and sliding over the wooden floors in your fluffy socks.

"Really, y/n, I never pegged you to like modern furniture! I thought you liked a little character in your possessions. But, I must say, it's much better than I imagined your living situation to be." She strolls into the living room next, gawking at the mere size.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" You frown, relieved that she seems to have finally picked a room to settle in. She sets her enormous bag on the sofa.

"What are you even doing here? Not that I don't appreciate the surprise visit..." You save quickly, smiling sheepishly at the glare she briefly sends your way.

"I wanted to see you of course. But..." She digs through her purse and pulls out a Macbook. "I came for an explanation for this." She all but waves it around. You wince.

"Careful. Why do you need an explanation for that? You mentioned you needed a better laptop and your birthday was coming up so I thought-"

"Exactly! It's perfect, it's everything I could have ever dreamed of in a laptop!" Your mother scolds. You tilt your head.

"... is that a problem?" You blink owlishly.

"First it was the watch for your father's birthday, then the mountain of stuffed animals for your little sister for Christmas, and now this!" Your mother sighs, crossing her arms after setting the Macbook on the coffee table.

"Wha- I'm sorry, I think I'm missing what the fuss is about. I tell you guys to send me your lists and you never do, so I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted-"

"It is what we wanted, that's why I'm here!" She retaliates.

"Okay, Mom, you're going to have to calm down and tell me what the problem is because I am clearly missing something here." You lead her to the coffee table, where you both lower yourselves to the floor, cross your legs, and sit beneath it.

She takes a deep, calming breath, "I'm just concerned is all. Your last job was enough for you to live and have a fair amount of money to spare, but you don't even work there anymore." Your mother places both hands on the table, avoiding your eye.

"You're right, I don't work for them anymore." You quirk a brow, curious as to where this is going.

"And now you're an online tutor who barely works more than a few hours per day, sometimes a week! So... I'm just curious..." She sighs, shaking her head.

"How are you getting the money for all of this? This is a multimillion dollar penthouse, you sent your father a 7,000 dollar watch, and you sent me a laptop worth at least a few thousand dollars." Your mother finally meets your eyes.

Before you can respond, she reaches across the table and grabs you by the shoulders.

"Just tell me the truth. Are you selling drugs? Are you stripping? Are you doing drugs? Because whatever it is, I'm sure I can talk my way into gaining your innocence in a courtroom but you have to come clean-"

"Mom! I'm not doing anything illegal!" You exclaim adamantly, shrugging her grip off your shoulders.

"Are you in credit card debt? Your father warned you about things like this, and I always thought you were a modest spender but-"

"Mom, listen to me, okay? I'm not in debt. I'm not stripping. I'm not doing drugs." You take both of her hands in yours and speak calmly. She nods, still looking a little confused.

"Then how are you getting all of the money for this?" She asks.

You chew your lip, "Well... it's not really my money-"

Just as you begin your explanation, the front door opens and shuts loudly, the sound of dress shoes click loudly against the wooden floors.

"Honey, there's someone in your house." Your mom steadies herself, reaching for her purse like she's got some sort of weapon.

"Mom? Mom!" You hiss quietly as she starts to get up.

"I'm home, darling! Are you in the living room?"

Your mother blinks at the voice calling from the foyer.

"Yeah, I'm in here!" You reply in a trembling voice, your brain trying to decide whether or not you should greet your boyfriend or calm your mother first.

Before either of you can open your mouths again, the body attached to the voice calling for you appears in the doorway.

Kyoya sheds his blazer, leaving him clad in his button up shirt tucked into his dress pants as he tosses it onto the coat rack beside him.

"I was- oh." Kyoya finally looks up, meeting your eyes first, then the worried, albeit confused, eyes of your mother.

"I'm sorry, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." Kyoya bows politely at the presence of someone unfamiliar to him.

Your mother's instincts cause her to return the bow where she's sitting, still completely lost.

"You're not, darling." You get up from your place at the table to greet him.

Kyoya welcomes you eagerly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, bewildering your mother further, before making eye contact with her again.

"This must be your mother. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. l/n. I've heard so much about you." Kyoya bows once more, a bit more deeply.

Your mother blinks, eyes glancing between you and Kyoya with haste.

"Mom, this is Kyoya Ootori... my boyfriend." You allow Kyoya to place a respectful arm around your back.

"Your what?" She blurts. You grimace. You knew you'd have to tell her sooner or later, but most of your high school boyfriends were intimidated by her and her doting nature.

And the fact that your father threatened to end their lives if they ever laid a finger on you.

"My boyfriend..." You sigh, almost like a scolded child.

"Ah, that reminds me. A flower for you, my dear." Kyoya sets down the shopping bag he was holding and his briefcase, handing you a rose.

"Oh, it's so pretty. Thank you." You'd rather Kyoya brought you individual flowers than an expensive bouquet since you're god-awful at keeping them alive. You peck his cheek.

"Oh, and before I forget. I saw this in a store window on my way home and I couldn't help but imagine how well it would paired with that black dress you know I like so much. I thought you could wear it to dinner." Kyoya pulls out a large, black velvet box from the shopping bag and turns toward you.

"Kyoya, we've talked about this-"

"I know. You don't like when I spend money on you but I just couldn't help myself." He opens the box to reveal a necklace glittering with diamonds, more than you can count. It glimmers in the light and you're afraid to even touch it, let alone wear it.

"Oh, my god, this must have cost a fortune." Your jaw goes slack. Your mother nosily peers over your shoulder and gasps loudly.

"It's worth nothing if you aren't wearing it." Kyoya smiles. A pretty pink hue dusts your cheeks at the compliment as your heart flutters.

"Thank you, my love. It's breathtaking." You gently take the box from him so he can gather his own things.

"Would your mother like to join us for dinner? I'm sure they won't mind moving us to a different table." Kyoya inquires innocently.

Your mother in question is still completely baffled by all of this.

"So... so you're dating my daughter? And... you're rich?" Your mother blurts.

"Mom!" You scold.

Kyoya chuckles, "I'm under the impression you hadn't been told about me. My apologies."

"Kyoya!" You scold him next.

"And... and this is... your house?" Your mother gestures to your surroundings.

"Yes, ma'am." Kyoya nods affirmatively.

"I moved in about... I want to say two months ago or so." You shrug. Kyoya nods.

"And how long have you been dating exactly?" She quirks a brow.

You nearly cringe at your answer, "... a year."

"A YEAR?" Your mother all but shrieks, earning a wince from you.

"Mom, it's not a big deal-" You reach for her to calm her down.

"It is a big deal! You've been seeing this gorgeous man with a mansion behind my back!" She gestures wildly to Kyoya, who blinks at her, brows raised at her reaction.

"Not behind your back! You never asked!" You insist.

"That's because you swore off men in high school after that boy stood you up-"

"WE don't have to talk about that." You want to shove your hands over her mouth. Kyoya quirks a brow quietly from behind you.

You sigh, "I met him while I was a secretary. He owns a portion of his father's company and was scheduled to meet with my boss."

That's the only thing you're thankful to that secretary position for. Your boss had buzzed for you to prepare two cups of tea for him and his guest. Once you brought them their tea, your attention was stolen by the man sitting across from your superior. Luckily, you didn't drop any of the china on your way in once you caught sight of him. After Kyoya was finished meeting with your boss, he struck up a light conversation with you that had your heart soaring. Simply basking in his beauty and powerful nature made you swoon.

Kyoya returned to your boss's office far more often than he ever needed to after his first interaction with you. He appeared at your desk, asking for your boss when these types of things could have definitely been handled over the phone. At first he didn't understand why he did it, but he soon realized his feelings for you when he caught himself asking you to dinner on his way out one day.

"I still don't understand why you didn't tell me you were dating this man. Let alone living with him." Your mother finally calms down enough to have your heart aching with guilt.

"I meant to, Mom, but I just... I guess I was afraid of how you'd react." You admit finally, fidgeting with your fingers.

"Kyoya helps me pay for you gifts because I want the best for you. But honestly, he can get you much nicer things than I pick out... I'm pretty sure he can buy you a house." You mutter your last sentence.

Your mother laughs, "If my daughter likes him, I like him. Come here, Kyoya." She strides forward and pulls Kyoya down for a tight embrace.

Kyoya nearly chokes, clearly rendered speechless by her sudden show of affection. He manages to reciprocate despite his shock.

"Thank you. I can assure you, I only want the best for your daughter. I'm sorry we haven't met sooner." Kyoya grins.

He has contemplated reaching out to your mother by himself despite your adamant disapproval. But he hated the idea of going behind your back to do anything at all, so he kept to himself.

"It's alright, dear. I'd love to get to know you better. Are you sure I wouldn't be a bother at dinner?" Your mother returns to the woman you know and love.

"Not at all." You shake your head, a wide grin spreading to your lips.

"I'll call the the driver, tell him to bring around the SUV rather than the Benz." Kyoya pulls out his cellphone.

"A driver?" Your mother gasps, placing a hand over her chest and glancing to you for confirmation. You nod, biting your lip eagerly.

Once Kyoya's sent the short message, your mother slots herself beside him and curls her arm around his.

"So, Kyoya, you own your father's company?" The two of them walk in the direction of your shared bedroom, side by side. You watch as they leave you standing in the living room.

"Just a portion of it, yes. We're in the medical business, you see, managing hospitals and..." Kyoya's voice fades off into the house. He doesn't seem to mind your mother's sudden attention in the slightest, even switching his jacket to his other arm to accommodate her like the gentleman he is.

You purse your lips, glancing down once more to the velvet box in your hands and you're reminded that you need to start getting ready for dinner. You follow them, rolling your eyes as you hear your mother start to ask about just how well Kyoya's been treating you.

This is going to be the longest dinner of your life.

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Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.  

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows. 

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere. 

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny. 

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”  

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?  

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said. 

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.    

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.  

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind. 

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.” 

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.” 

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him. 

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.   

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either. 

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called. 

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear. 

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said. 

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick. 

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail. 

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep. 

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

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