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helloalycia · 3 years

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lose you [two] // leigh shaw

summary: following her kiss with you, Leigh begins to act unfairly towards you and says something she instantly regrets.

warning/s: none i don't think?

author's note: only one more part after this! hope you’re all liking it, and if you’re not an elizabeth fan, i’ve got a kara danvers two parter coming up after this so stay tuned! also the lena imagine part three one is still in the works, so don’t worry, i haven’t neglected it!

part one | part three | masterlist | wattpad

Leigh had ghosted me before. She'd done it on and off throughout the first six months following her husband's death, unable to maintain contact when she barely had energy for herself. And I was patient, always, because that's what she needed. But this was different.

Her absence in my life was nothing to do with her grief, but rather the kiss she gave me the day I decided to take her out. It just had to be that, otherwise she was merely being ignorant and I knew she wasn't that harsh without reason.

Whenever I texted or called her, it wasn't with the intention of talking about what happened. She hadn't brought it up and I didn't want to pressure her into speaking about it, especially if it was a mistake (which, selfishly, I hoped it wasn't). I just wanted to hang out with her like we used to, but she was giving me blunt responses or claiming she was busy. It was like she was doing her utmost best to push me away and I couldn't take it anymore.

After about two weeks, she simply stopped responding to my texts. Her 'busy' life was keeping her from even acknowledging my contact and that was when I couldn't put up with it any longer. This wasn't about grieving or needing space, this was about her avoiding me for something she did.

On my day off, I headed over to Beautiful Beast, Leigh's mother's fitness studio where she worked. When I arrived, Jules was sat at the front desk, wiggling a pencil before her eyes distractedly.

"You look like you're real hard at work there, Jules," I commented playfully, smiling at her as she paid me attention.

"I was testing out that whole rubber pencil trick," she said nonchalantly.

"And your conclusion?" I asked, leaning against the front desk.

She couldn't help but smile. "It's pretty cool."

I chuckled at how cute she was. "Good to know."

"So," she began, leaning back in her seat. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me if Leigh is in? I feel like I haven't seen her in a while."

Jules was about to respond, then her eyes fell behind me and she smiled. "Speak of the devil... there's your answer, Y/N."

I followed her gaze and realised the class that was going on in the studio had ended, with students leaving tired but happy. Leigh trailed out after them, using a sweat towel to wipe her face and push the loose strands of hair from her ponytail out of her face. She approached the desk, but upon spotting me, seemed surprised.

"Y/N," she said, rounding the desk to stand beside Jules. "You're here. Hi."

She was casual, unbothered by the fact that she'd clearly been ignoring me the past few weeks. I decided not to question it, instead offering her a small, awkward smile.

"Hey," I greeted with a nod. "I was hoping to catch you. Are you, er, busy?"

She avoided my eyes as she lowered her sweat towel, now grabbing her water bottle from the desk and busying herself with it.

"I mean, I've got class in an hour," she said with a shake of her head.

"Perfect. Maybe we can grab lunch and talk?" I asked, not giving her chance to decline since there was no reason to.

She furrowed her brows, feigning confusion. "Talk? About...?"

I pursed my lips, raising a brow with disbelief. She was seriously going to play it like this? Judging from the absent stare she was sending my way, she was. So, I glanced at Jules, who was back to distracting herself with her pencil and barely paying attention to what we were talking about, before looking back to Leigh.

"About things...?" I settled on, knowing she'd know what I meant. "I haven't heard from you in a while."

Leigh scrunched her nose, shrugging apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'd love to, but I'm going to be practicing for my next class. Maybe not today."

I kissed my teeth with annoyance. "Hm. Okay, sure. Good luck with your class, I guess."

Rolling my eyes, fed up at her pretence, I said a quick goodbye to a half-listening Jules and left them both to it. I'd like to think Leigh would come to her senses and contact me, but maybe that was wishful thinking. Either way, it was certainly not thinking for now, so I tried not to let it bother me for the time being.

—

Waiting on Leigh to make first contact was probably not the brightest idea, since I was sure if it was up to her, she'd just ghost me forever. But I was stubborn and I wanted to make a point (clearly not a very good one since she still proceeded to ignore me...), so another week passed without speaking to one another.

The only reason I went over to her house one evening was because Jules asked for my help with something. Since I was a graphic designer, she'd asked me to help design the promotional material for this new set of classes she wanted to start at work. Of course I said yes – in the many years I'd befriended Leigh, I'd also befriended Jules. I was happy to help, even if it meant awkwardly bumping into Leigh.

When I arrived, I was greeted by Leigh and Jules' mum before being led to the dining-room with Jules to help her. I tried to hide the fact that I was subtly searching for Leigh around the house, genuinely wanting to make sure she was okay despite the radio silence on her end, when Jules seemed to notice.

"She's not here," she said, making me look to her, embarrassed I'd been caught out. "She's on some date."

I raised my eyebrows, nodding. "Oh. Cool."

It shouldn't have bothered me – Leigh had been on a handful of dates in the past month, attempting to move on – but it did. Maybe it was because I foolishly thought our kiss meant something to her, since she initiated it. Clearly not, since she was already moving on. It didn't help that she couldn't just act normal with me if it meant nothing to her. No time for her best friend but time for dates with random people? Not cool.

"Did something happen with you two?" Jules asked whilst starting up her laptop.

I hid my panic with confusion. "What do you mean? Did she, er, say something?"

Jules shook her head, leaning on the palm of her hand as she glanced at me. "No, nothing. I just thought I'd ask since I haven't seen you around with her lately. Thought maybe you'd fallen out or something."

So she hadn't told her sister what happened. Maybe she really did want to forget about it.

"No, she's just been busy I guess," I mumbled in response, before pulling my memory card out my bag. "Forget that anyway. Let's see what we can do with your promo stuff, huh?"

Leigh long-forgotten, I showed Jules the designs I'd come up with for her banners and posters, which she was super excited about, and got to work. We mocked up some promotional material for her to get printed soon and she talked me through what she had in the works which was adorable since it was great to see her invested in everything. She'd come a long way from rehab and it was refreshing to witness.

We snacked so much whilst working that by the time I finished, I knew I wouldn't need to eat dinner. Jules' mum offered, but we were stuffed and it was getting late.

"If you need anything else, just let me know," I told Jules as I grabbed my bag to leave. "If you want anything changing, also let me know."

She gave me a thumbs up and a grin. "You got it, chief. Thanks again. I know you have an actual job to do an–"

"Don't do that," I stopped her with an amused smile. "I'm always happy to help you out."

She nodded appreciatively. "Well, thanks. I'll let you go."

I waved goodbye to her before shouting a goodbye to her mum and heading to the door, letting myself out. Only, when I opened the door, I squealed awkwardly upon seeing Leigh making out with some random guy on the porch. The uncontrollable noise that escaped my lips was enough to pull them apart with a start.

"Y/N," Leigh got out with shock, wiping her mouth and clearing her throat. "What are you– what?"

Still dumbfounded, I swallowed hard and looked away. "I– er– sorry to interrupt. I'm just gonna– mhm."

Closing the front door behind me, I quickly walked around the pair and began to leave, trying not to let my surprise, hurt and irritation build up inside of me. It wasn't my business if she kissed somebody else. It was her life – she could do whatever she wanted.

"Wait, Y/N!" I heard her call and winced at the sound.

Pretending not to hear her, I picked up my pace and finally made it to my parked car, fumbling for my keys in my bag under the dimly-lit streetlamp.

"Y/N, wait up!" she called again, and I risked looking up to see her approaching my car quickly, eventually stopping by my side.

Now that I had a better look, I saw that she was dressed up beautifully for her date, wearing a black dress that accentuated her curves and high heels that dared anybody not to stare. Though, when I met her gaze, I saw her ruined red lipstick and was reminded of the stranger she'd just been making out with.

"It's cool, I'm sorry," I repeated, shaking my head and wishing I could feel my keys in my bag already. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's not like that," she said breathlessly, holding her jacket and watching me carefully.

Finally finding my keys, I pulled them out and unlocked my car. "Not like what?" I asked, glancing at her with a tight jaw. "You can go on dates, Leigh. It's not my business."

Her expression softened. "Then why are angry?"

"I'm not angry," I said, before realising it was a little more hostile than I intended. "Look, forget it. Just enjoy your stupid date. I've got to go."

Before I could open the door, she grabbed my arm and pulled me back, eyes darkened with annoyance.

"What's your problem?" she asked impatiently.

I shook her off me and widened my eyes with disbelief. "Are you serious right now? You followed me!"

"Yeah, because you're clearly pissed at something!" she snapped, crossing her arms. "What's your problem?"

For once, I wasn't going to put up with her bullshit mood swings. It wasn't fair how she was treating me and I was going to do something about it.

"You're my problem, Leigh," I admitted with a glare. "I've been waiting for you to call or text or make some freakin' effort to acknowledge my existence, but as usual, nothing. And then to top it all off, I find out you're on some date when you can't even find a spare second to text your best friend that you're okay!"

She scoffed. "Sorry I have a life, Y/N."

Clenching my jaw, I pushed down the anger that was bubbling up inside. She looked so smug, like she'd done absolutely nothing wrong in this scenario, and it was pissing me off.

"You know what? Never mind," I gave up, releasing a shaky breath. "You clearly don't get it."

I tried to move around her and get into the driver's seat of the car, but she groaned loudly with petulance.

"Why the hell were you even here anyway?!" she asked, like she had the right to. "Couldn't you leave me alone for one night?"

I tried not to laugh. "Don't flatter yourself, love. If you'd actually bothered to talk to me, you'd know I was here to help Jules with her posters."

"Sorry that I thought that you couldn't leave me alone for two minutes," she said with a bitter smile. "It's like you don't even know how to function without me in your life."

I clenched my fists with frustration. "Wow, Leigh, big-headed much?"

She laughed dryly, shaking her head. "I kiss you once and now you won't leave me the hell alone!"

Leigh and I had been in so many arguments before this one – it's like they were inevitable with her – but I'd put up with them. I'd let her yell and call me names and treat me like shit because I knew she didn't mean it, it was a heat of the moment thing. But something was different this time. Her words stung a lot more than they should have, especially when they were delivered by somebody I thought I was in love with.

I unclenched my fists and scowled at her. "Go fuck yourself."

Not bothering to wait for her response, I ignored the way her expression changed into one of regret and guilt. I ignored her as she tried to tell me to wait. And I ignored her as her she knocked on my window when I got into the car. I didn't spare her a glance as I drove away, feeling tears prick the corner of my eyes.

Leigh Shaw could be such a bitch sometimes.

—

"Y/N, you've got a–"

"Whatever it is, I'll sort it," I reassured my new assistant. Ever since my promotion, it felt strange to have somebody work for me, but I was slowly getting used to. "Go have your break, Taylor! You've not moved from this seat all day."

Taylor smiled bashfully but nodded. "Okay. Thanks a lot."

I gave her a reassuring smile as I watched her leave. I'd just finished a long meeting with a client and couldn't wait to get to my office and procrastinate for a bit before getting on with some work. Only, when I opened the door, I was surprised to find someone sat in the seat in front of my desk. Maybe that's what Taylor was trying to tell me.

"Hello, can I help you?" I called politely, closing the door and stepping inside.

"I like the new digs."

I froze, smile fading when the stranger stood up and turned around. It was Leigh and I wasn't sure how she'd gotten here, but I wasn't dealing with her right now.

it had been a few days since we'd argued and she'd been trying to get in touch, but I completely blocked her number. It wasn't a permanent decision, but rather a temporary solution to a problem I wasn't in the headspace to deal with right now.

Every time I thought about Leigh or what she'd said, I felt so angry and fed up. She had no right to treat me how she did or make me feel like this when it was her fault. Blocking her was the easiest bet until I decided how to deal with everything. Clearly she hadn't gotten the hint though, since she was waiting for me in my office.

"How did you get in here?" I asked through gritted teeth, trying not to roll my eyes at the stupid smile on her face.

"Your new assistant let me in," she said as I headed to my desk, before adding comically, "She definitely has a crush on you by the way."

I narrowed my eyes at her from across the desk. "You need to leave."

Her humour disappeared, as did her smile, when she met my gaze with remorseful eyes. "I just want to talk."

I shook my head, looking down. "No, this isn't the place for this. And I've heard everything you had to say, Leigh."

"Y/N, please," she pleaded, stepping forward. "I want to apologise."

With a stern stare, I said, "Go."

"Please, just hear me–"

"No!" I erupted with anger, making her jump at the volume of my voice. "You don't get to do this! Not now, not here!" Swallowing the lump in my throat and trying to hide the hurt in my voice, I nodded to the door. "Just get out. After all, I wouldn't want you thinking I'm obsessed with you."

She pressed her lips together and looked down to her fumbling hands with guilt. It was quiet, though the air between us screamed with unspoken words. I hated this so much, the arguing, the anger, the resentment. But I wasn't giving in this time. She'd gone too far and she had to learn that her actions had consequences. She couldn't just get away with it. She had to respect my space.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, looking up with a genuine expression.

I clenched my jaw and said nothing as I waited for her to leave. Finally, she pursed her lips before turning around and going. When the door closed behind her, I let out a breath and sank into my chair, feeling exhausted at the short conversation. I wasn't ready to talk to her yet and I wished she'd just respect that.

Following that, I made sure to tell Taylor when she came back from her break to not let Leigh into my office until further notice. Or rather, not let her upstairs until further notice. She wasn't allowed to bother me in my workplace just because she felt bad.

Of course, not letting her in only meant I received more calls. Especially since I blocked her number, so she deemed it appropriate to call my work phone. Every time Taylor came into my office to let me know it was Leigh, I had to tell her to tell Leigh I was busy and end the call. And the times when I wasn't there, I had several messages from Leigh to reply to. It got to a point where I had to temporarily block her number from work, too. It was the only way to have some space without completely flipping out on Leigh.

One day though, Leigh decided to pay me a visit. She was resilient, I'd give her that much.

Taylor asked me what I wanted for lunch when I said I was in the mood to go out and eat and she could join me if she wanted to. She agreed and we both made our way to the bottom floor before leaving the building. But then I saw Leigh hovering about outside the front door, approaching me as soon as she spotted me.

Already rolling my eyes, I tried to sidestep her, but she was adamant on being a pain in my arse.

"Leave me alone, Leigh," I told her tiredly.

"They won't let me in and you've been avoiding my calls," she said, a little peeved. "What were you expecting?" Her eyes flickered to Taylor, who seemed awkwardly stuck between our bickering. Rather rudely, she asked, "Can I help you?"

Taylor didn't know what to say as I glared at Leigh harshly.

"Don't be a bitch just because you're pissed at me," I insulted, before looking Taylor apologetically. "D'you think you can give us a minute, Taylor? This won't take long."

Taylor nodded, glancing between Leigh and I. Leigh had her arms crossed, focusing a hard stare on Taylor as she walked away. When she was out of earshot, I lightly poked Leigh in the shoulder to get her attention.

"That's not fair," I muttered angrily. "She didn't do anything to you."

Leigh glanced towards her again before looking to me questioningly. "Where are you even going with her?"

I squinted at her judgementally. "If you must know, we're getting lunch. It's that time of the day in case you couldn't tell."

Leigh uncrossed her arms and straightened up. "So, what? This is a date?"

I furrowed my brows. "What? No! What are you–?" I glared at her. "This is none of your business!"

"Well, if it's not, you're definitely gonna give her the wrong impression," Leigh stated with a shrug. "She has a crush on you. Is that even allowed since you're her superior an' all?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose to contain my frustration, before meeting her spiteful green stare.

"If you came here to give me your unsolicited opinions, I don't want them," I said under my breath, making sure passers-by on the street couldn't hear us. "Now, leave me alone."

Her spite dispersed and was replaced with guilt. "Wait, no, I–"

"No, Leigh," I told her firmly, eyes silently pleading for her to give me some space. "You have to stop this."

Green eyes searched mine desperately, but I didn't have time for this, so I left her standing there as I rejoined Taylor and hoped lunch would help me forget about Leigh and her impatience.

"Sorry about that," I said to Taylor when I rejoined her side.

Taylor smiled reassuringly as we began to walk. "It's okay, don't worry about it." It was quiet, before she spoke up again. "Do you mind if I say something a little out of place?"

I looked to her curiously. "Er, sure?"

"I obviously don't know the specifics of what happened between you and your girlfriend, but–"

"Girlfriend?" I interrupted with raised brows. "Taylor, Leigh and I– we aren't–"

She seemed to catch on, eyes wide with embarrassment. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I just thought– well, she's very persistent and I thought that maybe you were together and in a lover's spout or something."

Heat crept up my neck as I loosened my collar. "No, nothing like that. She's just a friend."

Breathing out, Taylor said, "Oh. Well, I mean, I guess my advice still applies. She seems to really care about you."

I snorted. "She has a funny way of showing it."

Taylor smiled. "I know. My boyfriend is the same. We once had an argument and he did the same thing your Leigh is doing. Wouldn't stop bothering me. At home. At work. I let my stubbornness get to me and didn't want to hear him out."

I pursed my lips, glancing at her. "What did you do?"

She laughed like it was obvious. "I heard him out."

That didn't sound like an option for me right now.

"She doesn't respect my personal space," I explained to Taylor, glad to have someone to vent to. "She did some... hurtful things. I'm not making it easy for her."

"Clearly," Taylor noted with amusement. "Look, that's just my experience. But all I'm saying is that your friend Leigh seems to care about you a lot. To the point that she'd glare daggers at your very unavailable assistant."

Goddamn Leigh and her ability to embarrass me even when she wasn't here.

"Thanks, Taylor," I said appreciatively. "I'll have a think about it."

She nodded knowingly. "Anytime."

I definitely wasn’t ready to hear Leigh out yet, I knew that much.

#leigh shaw x you #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw imagine #leigh shaw #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #sorry for your loss imagine #sorry for your loss

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

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Happy birthday, Finnegan.

I was writing this in the office at work the other day and my manager asked what I was doing and I answered that I was writing a story for my friend for their birthday because I didn't want to tell her I was writing fanfic. So, in true being friends with Lucy style, this is two days late. Sorry! No matter what, the creation of this character deserves to be celebrated.

This is set in an AU universe where the cubs are out.

CW: Food talk and a brief mention of alcohol

Rating: G

Please message me if I missed any content warnings or you think I need to change the ratings.

All characters (except Bailey, she's mine) belong to @lumosinlove.

“Friday night and the lights are lowwww, Looking out for a place to goooo,” Finn spun around the island, the wooden spoon at his lips providing the perfect microphone for his rendition. He halted in front of Logan, laughing at what he could tell was a disgruntled expression despite most of his face being covered by the hoodie he’d pulled tight around it, his hands covering the bottom half. “It’s my birthday, come and dance with me,” Finn pleaded, tugging at the overhang of Logan’s sleeve.

“Non, it is too early,” Logan grumbled. “Dance with Knutty.”

“Knutty is busy.” Finn threw a glance over his shoulder at Leo, smiling at the sight of his boyfriend humming to himself as he moved gracefully at the stove. Leo turned to meet his gaze, his damp hair forming golden curls that Finn thought made him look like a cherub.

“Here,” Leo tipped his head at the freshly prepared coffee. “Coffee’s ready, you can caffeinate him. Just needs sugar.”

Finn pressed his lips to Logan's forehead. "If bring you coffee will you dance with me after?" Logan huffed but nodded, pushing his hands through the holes in his sleeves to receive the steaming cup.

"Okay, deal, but I'm starting the song again." Finn's grin was met with a low groan. After drawing the drink out as long as he could, technically, Logan did fulfil his promise, standing to reluctantly move his body to the music.

Finn saw the exact moment Logan chose mischief, his bright green eyes lighting up even more than usual. "Catch me and I'll dance with you properly."

Finn raised an eyebrow, matching Logan's fast walk around the island. He was the first to risk Leo's wrath, picking up the speed to a jog, and took advantage of his longer arms to close the gap.

"Got' cha," Finn grasped Logan around the waist, Logan's head tipping back in an uncharacteristically bright laugh as Finn reeled him in. "You are the dancing queen, young and sweet," Finn sang loudly, spinning Logan away from him and pulling him back when their fingertips threatened to split.

Logan placed his palm on Finn's chest, letting himself be rocked to the music. "You should be singing this to Leo, not me."

Finn glanced down at Logan and despite the fact no words were vocalised in that moment, their eyes said a lot. In an almost synchronised moment they turned their gaze to Leo.

"Nutter butter," Finn said. "It's your turn to be serenaded."

"Oh no, what a shame, breakfast is ready," Leo smirked, pouring a generous helping of maple syrup over one of the bagel stacks; Logan's. Finn considered protesting, but the sight of his own plate was too tempting.

"The serenading will recommence at a later time," Finn insisted, grabbing one of the plates and carrying it through to the dining table. They didn't eat here often, preferring either the island or the sofa, but today it had been decorated with balloons and presents had been piled at the end.

***

"That was amazing, thanks Le." Finn already missed the stack of bagels; bacon and a poached egg layered between them, and dripping with hollandaise sauce. "Can I know what you've got planned now?"

"No problem, anything for the birthday boy." Leo swallowed a bite, sliding one of the wrapped boxes towards Finn. "We told you, it's a surprise. You can open presents though."

Finn worked his way through the gifts, too many of them from Leo and Logan. There was nothing extravagant but they seemed endless and each one reminded him how much they knew him. His favourite chapstick. A crate of beer from a craft supplier he really enjoyed. A set of massage oils and a promise to help him use them. Some monogrammed golf balls. And his favourite, a handwritten letter from the both of them that he would treasure forever. He read the cards from the rest of the team through damp eyes.

“Can you tell me the plan now?” Finn asked the question again once he’d worked his way through the gifts and the cards. Logan dragged his lips against his teeth, as if he was physically keeping the words from spilling from his mouth.

“Don’t give us those bambi eyes,” Leo shook his head, throwing a balled up napkin in Logan’s direction, the item hitting him square in the forehead. “Don’t you dare tell him.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“I can tell you want to,” Leo retorted. “We have to clear up first. Put the music back on. I want to dance now.” It was much later that Finn came to recognise this for the distraction technique that it was, hence the three of them were arguing over the lyrics to Montero when the sound of the doorbell rang through the apartment.

Finn opened the door, a bounce still in his step and swaying his hips to an imaginary beat. He blinked at the figure in front of him, closing the door for a second before opening again. “Alex!” Finn pulled his brother into a tight hug, slapping his hand on the broad of his back. “Sorry, I thought I was hallucinating. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see my baby brother on his birthday, obviously,” Alex laughed, squeezing Finn back until he struggled out of his hold.

“But,” Finn spluttered. “You were in Florida yesterday? I saw your Insta story.”

“I caught the first flight this morning, I’ve got to be back tomorrow for a photoshoot.”

“That’s crazy,” Finn said, shaking his head. “You’re crazy.” He tugged Alex inside, leading him down the hall into the kitchen. “Look who’s here!”

“Hey Alex,” Logan thrust his fist for Alex to bump his fist against. Finn looked between Leo and Logan, both of their faces showing no sign of surprise.

“Did you know?!”

***

It took a while for Leo and Logan to convince Finn they didn’t need to come along and he should spend time with Alex, but now they were alone, he was realising exactly how much he had missed his brother. The conversation flowed easily, Alex having almost an entire lifetime of practise at following Finn’s leaps in topics.

“So, I booked us in for a pottery class,” Alex glanced at Finn briefly before setting his eyes back on the road. “I thought you’d like that. It’s very tactile, y’know?”

“Nice,” Finn grinned. “I’ve always wanted to do that. I hope you brought spare clothes with you, because things are about to get messy.”

It was true. Finn had binge watched The Great Pottery Throw Down, so he knew learning to make even the simplest of things would be more difficult than it looked, but somehow the two of them managed to get the clay everywhere.

“Alex, that's too fast!” Bailey, the instructor warned, but it was too late. The clay sloped to the side, thinning out as it flew off the wheel and hit Finn on the cheek.

“Oops,” Alex grimaced. “Sorry, bud.”

Finn sent a mock scowl in his brother’s direction as he peeled the clay from his skin, dumping it back on Alex’s wheel. However, O’Hara’s were nothing if not perfectionists, and the two of them were determined to create something good. Neither of their first bowls came out right; Finn’s was too tall and thin, Alex’s was short and thick. When they tried again, Finn overcorrected, creating something that resembled Alex’s first. Alex’s second attempt was going well until it spontaneously collapsed.

“Third time’s the charm,” Alex huffed, manipulating his clay back into a lump to try again. He was right, giving a triumphant smile as he watched the grey ball transform. His work wasn’t as good as the ones filling the shelves opposite, their price tags indicative of the skill that had gone into them, but it was relatively smooth and definitely a bowl.

Finn whistled through his teeth, admiring Alex’s work. He laughed as he looked down at his own third endeavour, a small stumpy thing that could perhaps hold five Cheetos. “I tried.”

“Hey, no,” Alex argued. “Give it another go if you want. You’re nearly there.”

Finn rolled his shoulders back, pursuing his lips with determination. Alex watched Finn push his foot on the pedal again, his elbows tucked into his torso as he worked the clay.

“That’s it, apply a little more pressure on the bottom than the top.” Alex encouraged him. Finn smiled, his brother was always his biggest supporter. It reminded him of the time Alex had watched him tie and re-tie his shoelaces over and over again until he’d finally mastered it and could prove to their parents that he was ready for that new pair of sneakers.

“I guess I’m not needed here,” Bailey joked. “ You’re looking good, Finn. How about you two wash up and I’ll get those mugs you wanted to paint. We’ll get these in the kiln later and they’ll be ready for collection in a few days.”

Painting the mugs was a much more relaxing process, both Finn and Alex decorating two mugs each, one for each of their partners. Bailey sat with them and Finn watched in awe as she quickly made stencils whenever they needed assistance getting the designs in their heads onto the ceramic. By the time they’d finished, the three of them had come up with an elaborate plan for Alex to get back at his team mate for filling his hotel room with balloons and Finn concluded that Bailey was the coolest person ever.

“Damn,” Alex glanced at his phone. “It’s nearly 4. Let’s get you back to your boys before I start getting threatening messages from Tremblay.”

“Trust me,” Finn snorted. “It’s Knutty you need to be scared of.”

“Crazy goalies, am I right?”

***

“Wait, why are we at the aquarium?”

“You’ll see.” Alex’s smirk was infuriating. Finn craned his head forward, excitement bubbling inside him. Alex rolled his eyes as the engine rumbled to a stop. “Go on then,” he said, tilting his head towards a modern looking building, all glass and sharp angles.

“You’re coming as well?” Finn asked when Alex slid out the car too, locking the sleek black rental behind him. “Not that I mind.I just thought you had a flight to get?”

Alex shook his head. “ No, I’m not staying for long. I want to see your reaction though.”

“My reaction to what? We all know I love the aquarium but I’m not going to explode or anything.”

“I told you, you’ll see.” There was that smirk again.

Finn held in the urge to stamp his foot. “Urgh! You’re so annoying.”

“Love you too,” Alex laughed, pushing through a set of tall glass doors. A sarcastic quip rested on Finn’s tongue, but it shattered as he looked up to see Leo and Logan waiting in the entrance, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

“Lo! Knutty!” Finn jogged the short distance, “I missed you.”

“Glad to know I’m such good company,” Alex deadpanned.

“It’s only been a few hours,” Leo chuckled, accepting Finn’s hug. Finn smiled, lifting his head for Leo to place a soft kiss on his lips. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, we went to this pottery studio, and then we got burgers and shakes like we used to when we were kids,” Finn nodded. Oh! I made you something.” He turned to Alex who had stepped into place beside him, holding his hands out. Alex grunted, but pulled the tote bag from his shoulder, placing two carefully wrapped items into his hands. “Open it!”

“Alright, give us a chance, Harz,” Logan laughed, tearing at the delicate tissue. Leo was much more methodical, peeling back the layers neatly enough the paper could probably be re-used.

“Did you do this?” Leo looked between the mug and Finn. He ran his fingers over the shiny glaze, a dark blue with tiny white stars scattered over. Inside, a moon phase created a border around the rim.

“I didn’t make the mug. We made bowls, but they won’t be ready for collection for a few days. I did paint it though. With some help from stencils. There’s a little note in the paper somewhere.”

“I couldn’t bring you the real ones, but hopefully these will do,” Leo read, his voice cracking slightly towards the end of the sentence. “Finn.”

Logan whined, the sound curling in the back of his throat. “It’s your birthday, you’re not supposed to give us things.” The mug he held had been painted white and the words ‘sweet like honey’ written over it in Finn’s neatest attempt at cursive along with several bees.

“Do you like it?” Finn rocked on his feet and Alex knocked their shoulders together, a small gesture of reassurance. “Look it’s you,” he pointed out a bee that had a small red cap on its head. The French left Logan’s mouth so quickly Finn couldn’t even begin to parse the words, let alone make any sort of effort to translate them.

“He’s mad that you are making him emotional in public,” Leo provided at Finn’s distressed frown.

“Aww, you do like it,” Finn grinned, wrapping his arms around Logan.

“Be careful! You’re going to break it.”

Alex cleared his throat. “As beautiful as this is, I’m going to have to go soon, so if we could do the big reveal?”

“Alex,” Finn almost growled. “I swear I will phone Nat - wait, what big reveal?”

Leo swung a backpack off his shoulder. Finn only now realised he was carrying two, one of which belonged to Finn. “We’re staying at the aquarium!”

“Well, yeah? Why else would we be here?”

“Non, Harzy, “ Logan laughed. “We’re sleeping at the aquarium. Overnight. Under the shark tunnel to be precise.”

“Oh my fucking God!” Finn couldn’t contain his grin as pulled Leo into the hug too, “Is this a joke? This better not be a joke.”

“Fish, there are children around,” Leo scolded. “And no, it’s not a joke. That would be mean.”

Finn let his boyfriends go, spinning around to face Alex. “Al, are you sure you don’t want to stay? This is going to be so cool!”

“I really have got to go soon,” Alex shrugged, a soft smile on his lips. He jerked his head in Logan’s direction. “Somebody count how many times Finn screams though, please.”

***

“Look!” Finn gasped, pointing up at the glass tunnel above where the three of them lay in their sleeping bags. “It’s a nurse shark.”

Logan rolled over, propping himself on his elbow and looking at Leo. “We’re not getting any sleep tonight are we?”

“I don’t think so.” Leo chuckled, shaking his head. He pointed to the tunnel. “What’s the weird looking one, Fish?”

“That’s a wobbegong, they blend into the sand,” Finn answered, curling into Leo’s side. Logan lay back down behind him, having offered Finn the middle spot for tonight. “This has been the best birthday,” he sighed happily.

“Happy birthday, Harzy,” Logan squeezed his hand through the layers of their bags. “Tell us more about the sharks.”

#finn o'hara #alex o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #lumos in love #rating: g #cw: food #cw: alcohol

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bookstantrash · 3 years

Text

A/N: Huge shoutout to the lovely @perseusannabeth who obsess over Pride & Prejudice as much as me. After very politely threatening asking me to write more of Nessian as P&P (I’m so glad Sarah made it canon that Nessian’s relationship is Darcy and Lizzie’s) she told me about THE lake scene in the BBC version. I watched all six episodes and fell in love, so I highly suggest you all watch it too.

Also, huge shoutout to @firebirdofscythia (I stole your Azriel line lmao) and the rest of the gc for being so supportive!! Enjoy

Pemberley’s Lake

Cassian was so tired it was a wonder he had not fallen from his horse, which made him realise that Azriel may have been partially right in telling him to take a break and go back to his state to rest.

Although he suspected that Azriel kicking him out of his office and practically throwing him in a carriage to Pemberley had more to do with the fact that Azriel had gotten sick of his mopey mood more than anything else.

“I shall never show my face in society again” Cassian had told a bored looking Azriel one afternoon, laying on his office’s floor as if it was the end of the world “I shall work until my eyes grow tired and my beard and hair are so long they reach the ground.”

“Stop with the theatrics brother. It is not becoming of you.” Azriel had answered as he shuffled a deck of cards.

“Theatrics!! Azriel for Cauldron’ sake I have no idea how I can keep on living after that refusal” he sighed from his place on the carpeted floor “There is not another woman alive who could hold my heart. It's lost forever. And now I shall live in regret and shame of not being enough for her.”

Azriel rolled his eyes so hard at his brother’s words it was a wonder they did not stay permanently like that.

“I shall grow old and drown my sorrows in the finest beers and wines, turning fat and bald. And after I have passed, my cursed ghost shall roam our country crying in despair over my terrible life”

That had been enough to make Azriel pack Cassian’s belongings and get his brother the fastest horse available.

“If it were not for the laws of this land” Azriel had mumbled after he had bid his brother farewell, wishing a good trip and forbidding him to appear in his office again until he had fixed that mood of his.

Breathing in the clear and fresh air of his home, Cassian was able to momentarily forget his troubled heart. But one look at the blue sky and he was reminded of the gray-blue eyes belonging to the lady who had made him, General Commander of the British Army, who had enough condecorations to fill his whole coat and who had made enemies tremble in fear when faced against him, wallow in self pity and misery.

Lady Nesta Archeron.

Her name alone was enough to make his chest tighten in longing.

Feyre’s oldest and most notorious sister, if not by her breathtaking beauty and intellect but by her ruthless and dismissive regard to the oposite sex. Whereas Feyre had surprised society by marrying before her older sisters — and securing herself the best of matches of the season at that with his brother Rhysand, which was nothing but a Duke — and Elain had enough suitors to fill a ballroom, the oldest Archeron did not seem inclined to marry at all. Oh she did catch the eyes of more than one gentleman — Cassian could vaguely reckon that she had had a long courting with Sir Thomas Mandray, although it had ended rather abruptly — but no one had been able to snare her heart.

That had been what had initially peaked his interest. He had briefly seen her at Rhysand’s wedding, attempting some small talk that was easily and diplomatically dismissed by her. He had then relentlessly engaged in conversation with her in any opportunity he could find, being it from the few occasions in which she frequented Feyre’ small reunions over tea or when he coincidentally met her during her daily walks around town to visit Lady Emerie, a modice whose popularity was raising tremendously after Feyre’s bridal trousseau and wedding dress were all designed by her.

It was not until Feyre’s first official gathering as Duchess that Cassian realised the depths of his feelings for the sharp eyed lady.

He had been watching the ballroom from the sidelines, trying to escape the mob of scary mamas who wanted to throw their daughters at him, a glass of champagne in his hand.

Rhysand and Feyre had already danced the opening song, so the floor was now free to hold more partners. Both Cassian and Azriel had danced once with Morrigan — Rhysand’s cousin and a dear friend of theirs — and Elain had enough names on her card that they’d have to wait a fortnight to dance with her. Nesta on the other hand…. she had refused all invitations, although one could not help but wonder why by the way she seemed to glow whenever a new song was played.

“Lady Archeron” Cassian had greeted, bowing deeply and throwing at her his best smile, one that usually had young ladies fainting and old ones blushing.

But not Nesta Archeron. No, she had only deigned to make a polite bow and look ahead.

“I could not help but take notice of how entranced by the music you appear to be, my Lady” he had offered her his hand “Would you do me the honour of allowing one dance?”

That had caught Nesta’s attention, and she turned towards him, her gray-blue eyes finally meeting his hazel ones.

“I do not think why I should. I am perfectly satisfied to watch from the sidelines” she raised a perfect manicured eyebrow, glancing in the corner where the mamas and their daughters were “I am sure many other young ladies would rather have my place”

Cassian knew she was lying. Knew she desperately wanted to dance, but something was holding her back.

“It is said that dancing is the best way to encourage affection. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable” he had nonchalantly said

“I beg your pardon” Nesta had exclaimed

“The lady has nothing to fear. I will not let you suffer ridicule because of your poor dancing” he had said in a patronizing tone, if only to see that fire in her eyes ignite.

And to see her accepting his offer with a murderous intent.

They had moved to the center of the ballroom, shocked faces all around them, both from the fact that Nesta was joining the dance floor and her partner being him of all gentlemen.

Cassian had never been proved more wrong once the first string from the violin was drawn and Nesta moved. He had been sure she knew how to dance, had only said those words to get a rise from her. But to see Nesta Archeron actually dancing… it was something straight out of a dream.

Cassian knew the waltz. His mother had insisted that all three sons have the same education, even though only Rhysand was set to inherit the duchy.

However, when paired with Nesta Archeron one could not be called nothing but a simple object to display her talents. Even the most notorious dancer would pale in comparison to her.

And Cauldron, she knew that. Nesta knew she was Terpsikhore, greek Muse of music, song and dance.

What a fool he had been, what a complete and utter fool he had made of himself. His only consolation was that some good had come out of his childish behaviour.

Nesta Archeron was dancing, and when she danced she threatened to bring empires to their knees, for her beauty got inhumanly enhanced, her delighted smile sending an arrow straight to his chest.

Cassian realised he had fallen hopelessly in love with Nesta Archeron. If he was to be true with himself, he had been for quite some time, since their first exchange of words when she had all but dismissed him as a pesky bug.

And as the last note was drawn, as the whole ballroom breathlessly took in Nesta, in complete awe of her, Cassian decided he was going to marry her.

Was going to propose to Nesta Archeron right at that moment.

Using the excuse of getting some fresh air after the tiring dance, he walked them to Rhysand’s extensive and well lit garden, quiet enough that they would not be interrupted but not so isolated as to risk her reputation.

They had walked only a few minutes in the garden when Cassian declared his feelings. He all but tripped with his words, hoping Nesta could see past his fool’s act.

She had not.

She had refused his hand in the most brutal way, her words so articulately poisoned that Cassian felt himself a young boy again, desperately trying to achieve perfection so his father would dare to spare him more than a passing glance. Would not regret having adopted him into his household and given him a home.

He had uttered an apology, saying how sorry he was that his feelings had caused her such pain and disgust, reigning his temper enough to walk her back to the ballroom.

Cassian left town the same night, and had stayed in his office and headquarters training the new milicia since then, burying himself with work until Azriel grew tired of his awful mood.

Sighing, Cassian brushed his horse’s neck, eyeing the lake.

Maybe a dive in the cold waters of Pemperley would help clear his mind.

~•~

Pemberley was, in Nesta’s opinion, the most beautiful state she had ever seen. Even more than her newly married sister’s dukedom.

“However this house’s lady is, she sure is happy” Emerie commented as the head maid showed them to the music room.

“As if someone could be unhappy with this much money” Gwyn whispered back, eyeing the grand piano.

Nesta was inclined to agree, even more after having seen the library. She could not help but envy the lady. Her husband must be a very cultured gentleman.

“May I show you the external grounds? I am sure the gentleman will find it quite delightful” the head maid said, looking at Balthazar, the only men among their group of four.

“I am most grateful for your hospitality” he answered, and they promptly moved outdoors.

Their party of four had been travelling through the countryside for almost two weeks. It was as much as a vacation for Emerie and Balthazar — with Emerie’s shop the season’s current sensation and Balthazar being her current business partner — as a time out from the ton, which Gwyn — the most required opera singer of the season — had announced to be in desperately need of a vacation from.

As for Nesta, she had always wanted to travel, but as a single woman of marriageable age without a male relative to escort her, it would have been a nearly impossible feat to accomplish.

When Balthazar had offered to escort both her and her friends Nesta had wanted to shout in delight.

Secretly, she also wished to avoid a certain gentleman, one whose heart she had mercilessly and regretfully broken.

Nesta shook her head as she walked through the garden, distancing herself from her party to think and remember.

Remember how she had enjoyed dancing with Lord Cassian.

How her body had sung and heated where his skin touched hers.

How she had found herself smiling and agreeing to take a stroll with him, using the excuse of feeling overwhelmed in the crowded ballroom.

How his smile had faded once she tore at him, throwing every hateful word his way to refuse his proposal.

Nesta had not seen Cassian since her sister’s ball, but she did not want to risk an encounter.

That trip could not have been more well timed.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice her hair getting caught in a low tree branch, ruining her intricate updo.

“No one is around” she muttered to herself as she took off the pins holding it in place “A few minutes with my hair down will not hurt”

So Nesta took each pin off, massaging her scalp as she walked in the direction of the state’s lake, the sun shining over its clear waters.

And that is when she spotted him.

Cassian.

Cassian was at the lake.

Cassian was shirtless, dripping wet by the lake’ shore.

Nesta knew she should turn around and forget what she was currently seeing.

But she could not take her eyes off of him.

Seeing a shirtless man in person was indeed a far cry from what her imagination conjured when reading romance novels.

Especially the way the water was running down Cassian’s tanned and hard torso, all the way down his pecs and stomach — was that a six pack or were her eyes playing tricks on her? — until it collided with his pants, which were hanging so low on his hips that Nesta could not help but feel a weird sensation low in her stomach.

Her legs stopped obeying her, and she swore her knees got weak when Cassian noticed he had company.

“Lady Archeron?” he exclaimed, as if he could not believe his eyes.

“Sir!” was all she could say, feeling her cheeks warming.

Cauldron what was wrong with her? It was just a body. A very nice, very wet muscled body and—

“What may you be doing here?” Nesta quickly inquired, cutting her errand thoughts.

“I am the owner” he simply answered

“Of the lake?”

She wanted to smack herself. How could have she blurted such a stupid and rude question?

“Yes, of the lake. And of Pemberley” he answered, amusement lacing his words.

“I didn’t know. The head maid said all the family was not home— we should not have presumed—”

“I returned without prior notice”

“Excuse me, are you and your sisters in good health?” Cassian added, and Nesta dared to think that he sounded a bit nervous.

“Yes. Yes they are. Thank you, sir” she managed to answer, her eyes firmly placed upon his face and not anywhere else.

“I am glad to hear that” he licked his lips and Nesta could not help but wonder if they would be cold due to the lake’s water or if Cassian’s unbothered face meant he was not cold at all.

Was she really inquiring of how his lips would feel against hers? Against her skin? If kissing Cassian would feel as dreamily as her novel's kiss appeared to be?

Nesta hated him.

Did she not?

“I had never seen you with your hair down”

Cassian’s words took her out of her reverie, and Nesta suddenly felt self conscious.

“Do excuse me for showing myself in front of you with such an unsightly appearance” she felt mortified. To have Cassian of all people seeing her like that, hair in complete disarray….

Nesta quickly turned around, fumbling with the hair pins in a vain and desperately attempt of redoing her hair.

“It’s beautiful” she heard Cassian saying in a breathless voice, and thanked the Cauldron her back was turned so he would not see how her face warmed considerably, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Let me help you” he quietly added, and she gasped at the proximity of wet, shirtless Cassian, who touched her hair softly.

“How come a gentleman such as you knows how to hairstyle a lady’s hair?” Nesta asked, feeling his warmth on her back, a tingly sensation between her legs when his fingers brushed her neck.

“I frequently helped my younger sister, Georgiana, fix her own hair in the occasions she played a little too far from what would be deemed proper for a young lady” she felt his hot breath against her neck as Cassian laughed “She favours outdoors activities such as horseback riding, although she’s quite accomplished in arts and music.”

“Your sister sounds lovely” Nesta said, turning to face him once she felt he was done fixing her hair.

“She is my brothers’ and mine whole world. There’s nothing we would not do for Georgiana”

Nesta felt her heart warming at his words, at his devotion and love towards his family. She wondered if he would do the same with his wife.

If he would have acted the same way towards her had she accepted his proposal.

Unbeknown to her, Cassian was imagining the same thing.

He was picturing how he could have helped her every morning with her hair if she had agreed to marry him. Instead, he would have to live with this one memory forever.

He was lost in her eyes, their bodies so close they were sharing breaths and Cassian was holding back by a sliver thread of self control to not hold her against him.

If it were not for the appearance of three people — Cassian supposed them to be Nesta’s companions — he very well could have done that.

“Excuse me” Cassian abruptly said, bowing deeply and leaving Nesta alone.

Although soon her friends joined her, Gywn and Emerie bombarding her with questions seeing her ruffled state.

Their party was getting ready to depart when Cassian appeared again, having ran inside to get changed and appropriate.

“Lady Nesta!” he called before she could get inside the carriage “Please allow me to apologise for not receiving you properly just now. You are not leaving?”

“We were, sir. We have already imposed too much” she said, spine straight and looking every bit the regal queen she was.

What he did not know was that was her way of maintaining a cool exterior and not blush remembering his naked figure.

“You are not displeased with Pemberley, are you?” Cassian asked, anxiously brushing his hair back.

“No. Not at all”

“And you approve of it?”

“Very much” Nesta said softly, a dreamy smile on her face as she remembered the library “A few would not approve”

“But your good opinion is rarely bestowed and therefore more worth earning” he said, and his smile was enough to make Nesta’s heart skip a beat.

Why was she feeling in such a way, she wondered. Why did her body feel hot and strange all over whenever Cassian was involved?

“Thank you. That is very kind of you”

“I shall not hold you back any longer” he said, helping her in the carriage, his calloused hand a stark contrast against her soft one “I will call on you and I hope you can introduce me to your companions. Perhaps we may go fishing tomorrow? My property is blessed with an abundance of them”

“We would be delighted to. Thank you, sir’

After the farewells were bid and Nesta’s carriage was only a distant dot in the horizon, Cassian got inside, smiling broadly at his head maid and butler.

“You are very chipper, sir'' the old woman said with a knowing smile, the butler agreeing with her. Their lord had been mopey for quite some time now, so it brought joy to their hearts to see his mood so high.

“I had a very good evening Mrs.Pots” he declared, thinking about how he should swim more frequently in the lake.

A few miles from Pemberley, Nesta stared at the scenery lost in thought, Cassian’s touch lingering in her hand all the way back to the inn.

•

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#nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #pride and prejudice AU #BBC version lake scene #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

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shortiedreams · 3 years

Text

Nobles in the night

Requested by @jwxei

Pairing: Bakugo x (fem) Reader

Synopsis: You’re a princess set out to kill the king of your nation. Will you succeed?

Word count: 1,821

CW: Attempted murder

A/N: Played ‘Phantom of the Opera’ soundtracks whilst writing this. Dying right now ✌️

“The hour of the ball has transpired.” a hushed voice came from behind the entrance.

With the help of his usual dynamic tone, Bakugo immediately recognises the familiar voice of his fidus Achates, Kirishima Eijiro.

“Very well.” he sighs, and Kirishima could almost hear a frown through his raspy voice.

None of this was going the way Bakugo wanted it to, yet he couldn’t back out anymore; it was simply too late.

“I’ll be taking my leave then, your majesty.” Kirishima reports.

“Please do.”

Bakugo examines his profile in the gilded mirror. He glowers at his own reflection, how outlandish he looked in his formal attire. Even short of the mantle cloak he was supposed to wear tonight, everything about what he’s dressed himself was far too extravagant for his liking.

He poses again with several new angles as if his judgements will change in one swift movement, but of course, it still feels improper.

He drops his eyes in defeat, succumbing to the unadorned fact that he was going to have to get used to the policies of being king.

He has no idea why everyone worshipped the throne. All he ever wanted was to live a secluded life with his family and friends.

In actuality, that was what he had before the Mediterranean War a year prior to the present, wiping out the entirety of his family, ergo his newfound entitlement: the king. Kirishima was the only part of his childhood that remained, the only part of his childhood he still had physical contact with. It wasn’t surprising to say that he was very attached to the man, granting him the chancellor’s position.

Which is why with Kirishima and his family’s former support, it was impossible for him to deny the tradition of the annual ball no matter how much he opposes it. He hates the notion of prattling aristocrats shattering his peace and quietness. Even more so of his invitation to you, the Princess of Agathinos, under the monarchy’s recommendation. This would be the first time a guest with royal blood would visit the palace ever since his family’s death.

As always, Bakugo initially wanted to decline, but Kirishima advised him that he should accept it since it was ‘time’ for him to start courting. He thought Kirishima was being a nuisance, then again he also didn’t want to be looked down on by the aristocrats. He already knows there are rumours of him, calling him all sorts of names like ‘boorish to women’ or ‘ a critter of another nation’.

Bakugo was a smart man, so it didn’t take him much to realise that if he really terminated these accustomed traditions, the public would cause unnecessary commotions. Therefore, for the sake of his future peace and his reputation, the ball is set to commence tonight.

Bakugo snaps out of his sombre daze as he reaches the doors to his chamberlains. He fixes himself, coughs a little, before the doors open and he’s now striding out into the hallway.

Two handmaids are waiting outside his chambers on cue, guiding him to the ballroom. Bakugo glances around the normally dimmed hall, spotting the marshals line-up in armour and the walls decorated with large candles and Renaissance artifacts. He could hear the distant melodies of the orchestra, currently playing some melodramatic composition. Amidst the lively energy of the hall, Bakugo thought that these attributes only made the area more inhumane.

Bakugo soon enters the top of the stairway, where he adjusts himself as he sits on his throne. He doesn’t even get a few seconds to himself and the guests are already flooding into the ballroom, producing a discord between the music and the chatters.

“Just great.” he grumbles to himself, resting his chin atop a fisted hand.

“For the stead of my parents and the kingdom.” you remind yourself.

You too were sitting in front of your vanity mirror, questioning yourself of your affairs.

You stare into the mirror long and hard. The dress you were currently wearing is the embodiment of an icy blue oasis. The crystal embroidery embellished on the outermost tulle of the skirt was your definition of a wintery wonderland. The rest of your body was touched up with matching accessories too: diamond earrings, silk gloves and silver hair ornaments. Everything about your outfit shone under the moonlight, but you didn’t, you merely blended in with the dark. Especially with the expression you were holding, no one was going to see you as a ‘princess’.

The reason for your morose mien was your parents, who weren’t attending the ball alongside you as they were busied with engagements arranged overseas.

The only thing they left behind for you was the invitation card, and a letter explicitly telling you to the murder the king.

At the time you read the letter, you were shocked at how your parents could possibly craft up an assassination plot with such detail. You weren’t oblivious to your parents being megalomaniacs; it was why they were away most of the time, focus directed towards any other royalty overseas rather than their own daughter back at home.

Another reason why they never really bothered with you was because you were a daughter. Although you were an only child, you understood that society’s misogynistic ways definitely influenced their lack of attention towards you.

It's not like you and your family had a bad relationship but you weren’t exactly close either, therefore you didn’t have enough memories to form any opinions on them. Well that is up until now, when the confidential letter telling you the kill the king ceaselessly echoes through your mind.

Brazen of you, but you wanted to get some of your family’s attention for once. In a sense, you inherited their selfishness.

You temporarily shake off your thoughts, and with the minimal amount of dignity left in you, tread along to where your chauffeur was, waiting to escort you to the plaza - the location of the castle.

Inside the privacy of your cart, the thoughts of how the assassination will go runs through your mind as you fiddle nervously on the holster underneath your dress.

You just hope you’ll manage to come out in one piece.

The moment you make your ‘grand’ entrance at the ball, strangers are already gushing at you as a peculiar redhead announces your status.

You realise that this was probably your first official appearance in public as your parents never let you out, contradicting their own actions.

You waste no time to ask around for the location of the lavatories. Luckily, the same redhead fills you in on the information you need, and you manage to make a quick escape to the toilets.

You shut the doors behind you, puffing in pure relief. You were never good with crowds since you haven’t even been outside after all, so the comfort of this cloistered space warms you a little.

Anyway, you’re here to collect yourself before you even dare to think about killing anyone.

It takes you a while to calm your breathing as the plan continues to play through your mind for what feels like an eternity. Killing really is all that disturbing.

When you finally muster up enough courage, you step out of the lavatory with undeveloped confidence. Flushing, you look down at your feet as you attempt to make your way back into the ballroom, not even noticing the man standing straight ahead. You stumble into him ungraciously, earning you a merited knock on the head.

“Ouch.” you wince in pain.

Your eyes drift up to meet with a prepossessing blonde who gazes down at you with an amused guise. He was dressed in haute couture, a form-fitting navy suit pinned with the golden emblem of the Bakugo’s: a griffin.

Without a second glance, you instantly note that he’s the king.

“Careful, Princess of Agathinos.” he alerts, his voice suiting as the most soothing cord of notes you’ve heard pour out of a mouth in a while.

How did he recognise you?

“You dropped something, princess.” Stupefied, you watch in awe as he bends down to pick up your possession.

Moments later, you finally knock yourself out to check what’s fallen off your outfit. In vain, you find all your accessories precisely in their designated locations.

Wait.

“A dagger?” he taunts, raising a brow in your way, “Mind explaining why you need this in a clearly guarded place?”

“My King, I-”

“Don’t have anything to defend yourself with?” Your eyes widen at his accurate observation.

Unnerved, you flee from his light grasp and begin pacing in the opposite direction witlessly.

“Running away from me in my premises. How fatuous.” he chuckles to himself, inspecting the dagger that played in his hands.

You dash tirelessly past the postern and into what appears to be a garden. You don’t give a second thought as you bolt through a vineyard, the chiffon fabric tufting together under the remiss handling of your silk gloves.

Reaching the mouth of an inviting forest, you feel a pair of arms repelling you from going any further. Your eyes widen once more, not being able to tell if you were gratified or terrified, or a genuine mixture of both.

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you.” the flattery music blows into your ear.

Absent from warnings, two strong arms spin your waist around to engage you with a handsome physique under the moonlight. You shudder at the enchanting sight of the king.

If he’s run all the way here for you unaccompanied, it is only alright for you to assume that he doesn’t care about the incident back there.

He seems to be more interested in you, like you are with him.

“Please don’t run, princess. I’m not the beast that everyone deems me to be.”

You show no apparent reaction to his comment, still fazed.

“Don’t be afraid.” he adds, sounding ever so sincere.

“Oh, I won’t.” you promise. It was the only thing you could say after being completely infatuated by him.

“If you’re saying that on account of me releasing you, then you’re wrong, princess.”

“I mean it, your majesty.” you clarify challengingly.

He hums, palpably entertained, “Will you allow me to try something?”

Was the king seriously asking you for permission even after he knew you were a threat?

Oh lord.

“S-sure.” you stutter, making a downright fool out of yourself.

“Well then, forgive me for my bold deed.”

Before you could even say anything, you feel the sensation of his soft lips pressing against yours, juxtaposing to his unyielding image beneath the moonlight. It sent butterflies fluttering down your back impetuously.

Slowly pulling away for air, a silence hovers above the both of you, utterly enraptured by each other.

“Bewitching.” he comments as he leans in for another kiss. This time you lid your eyes, prepared to devote yourself to your king, Bakugo Katsuki.

#bakugou x you #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha fluff #bakugo fluff #fluff ahoy #fluff

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justkeeptrekkin · 3 years

Text

@ariaste thank you for the Object Permanence prompt!

Meng Yao is only seconds away from snapping the pencil in his hand when the delivery arrives. He’s been sat on the phone trying to negotiate with the totally useless manager of a catering company; it’s really quite important that they get a good deal out of them, considering that this is for their biggest event yet. A charity event, no less, and so they have less money to work with (and yet, somehow, more morons to deal with).

And so, as he leans back in his desk chair and holds the phone to his ear with a pursed smile, the only thing that stops him from calmly breaking both the pencil in his hand and his phone is the distraction of the delivery man in the elevator doorway.

“Delivery for…” the postman winces as he looks at the name on the cardboard box in his hands. “Meng Yao?”

Meng Yao raises a finger to show he’s present, but remains on the phone as the catering company manager waffles on the other end.

“Ooh,” says MianMian. She stands up from her desk and rolls up her jacket sleeves before signing. “Thank you. Your timing could not be better.”

Su She is pretending not to be interested. He’s hidden behind his desktop, and is slowly to angling around the screen to view the cardboard box. Their office space is small and sparse, white walls and desks and very little else; Meng Yao watches MianMian’s short commute from the elevator doors to his desk, carrying the box with raised brows and a curious smile. She deposits it quietly on his desk and backs away.

“I understand that we hadn’t previously discussed the potential for extra guests, but as I’m sure you’re aware from your many years of experience, these things often change.” Meng Yao speaks down the phone and stands up, peering down at the top of the cardboard box. He can feel MianMian and Su She sending furtive glances in his direction. They don’t get deliveries often, and when they do, it’s either one of them who’s ordered it in for the office. “Customers change their minds regularly.”

Meng Yao takes a pair of scissors from his desk drawer. He presses his phone between his shoulder and cheek as he cuts through the brown tape. Had he ordered something for the office and forgotten about it? That feels very unlikely.

“Yes. Yes. I understand.” Meng Yao restrains a sigh and purses his lips. He suddenly feels a lot more dangerous with a pair of scissors in his hands. (There is a picture of Jin Guangshan’s face on a dartboard on the other end of their postage-stamp office. He could very easily hit bullseye from here.) “You’ll recall that this is for a charity event -- any reduction in price will not only be appreciated by the customer but also will reflect very well on you. I anticipate that we’ll be working with them often in the future. You would gain a lot of recognition from this if you were to agree.”

The whining voice on the end of the phone continues. Meng Yao opens the box and frowns at its contents. Plunging his hands inside, he pulls out from a cloud of packing peanuts a bouquet. A bouquet? No-- these aren’t flowers.

“That’s excellent news. It’s more appreciated than we can say,” Meng Yao consoles. “I know how much of a stress this is. Yes. I understand--”

It’s stationary. It’s a basket of stationary, arranged like a bouquet of flowers. And it isn’t ordinary stationary, either -- it’s artfully designed fountain pens; tastefully coloured highlighters that don’t immediately take him back to his university days of bright yellow ink leaking all over his hands; post-it notes with daily quotes on them; rose gold paperclips; fine ballpoint pens and file labels.

It’s so organised.

It’s Meng Yao’s idea of heaven.

For the first time that day, he finds himself smiling, despite the reluctant whinging going on in his ear. It’s a smile that makes his cheeks warm and his chest warm and the tips of his ears warm. “I’m so pleased we could agree on this. I’ll let the customers know. They’ll be very pleased. Yes. You too. Yes. Yes. Of course. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Meng Yao puts his work phone on the table and looks down at the basket of stationary.

“That’s so sweet,” Su She says. It sounds more jealous than anything. He’s eyeing the gift with his chin in his hands and a wrinkled brow.

“I personally find it offensive that we didn’t each get one,” MianMian announces, leaning back in her swivel chair. “Here we are, all working like dogs, and Meng Yao’s boyfriend leaves us out on the stationary deliveries.”

Meng Yao doesn’t deign to give either of them a response. Instead, he dips his hand into the packing peanuts and searches for a note. He pulls out a little card.

This seemed more useful than flowers. :) Love, Lan Huan.

Fucking hell, he knows him too well.

***

The day didn’t get much better after that. In fact, he received several more phone calls which seriously challenged his patience whilst dealing with morons quota-- which is saying something, since he’d thought that quota was endless. It was made somewhat more bearable, knowing what waits for him at home.

Meng Yao lets himself into their house. It’s still in the middle of being unpacked. By the looks of it, Lan Xichen has done a fair bit today whilst working from home; the living room is almost entirely finished, except for Meng Yao’s books, which he had wanted to arrange himself. There’s the smell of something familiar and warm the moment he steps through the door.

There’s Lan Xichen, too, on the sofa with a laptop. He turns and looks over his shoulder when Meng Yao comes in. “Welcome home,” he says with that slow smile. “How was today?”

There are so many answers Meng Yao could come up with. He sorts through them, finds the one that fits best, as if he’s trying on a pair of gloves. “Oh,” he sighs, hanging up his coat, “it was fine, thank you. Busy and somewhat grating, but fine.”

“Oh dear.” Lan Xichen sits up straighter and puts his laptop on the coffee table. He views Meng Yao with a wrinkle in his brow. “Grating?”

Meng Yao comes round to his side of the sofa slowly. He looks down at Lan Xichen with a tilted head. “Nothing too challenging.” He steps towards him, leans a knee on the sofa beside Lan Xichen. “Is A-Xing asleep?”

Lan Xichen’s hand reaches to take Meng Yao’s. He’s looking up at him in gentle surprise. “Yes.”

Right, then. Meng Yao smiles, swings his leg over Lan Xichen and settles in his lap, a hand on either side of his face. Lan Xichen manages to smile back before Meng Yao leans in and kisses him. It’s the kind of kissing that they don’t often have the chance to indulge in and that he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of: thoughtless and tangled up in each other. It makes him warm and heavy. It makes him want to go on forever -- kissing like teenagers, wrapped up on the sofa.

“I’ve always preferred practicality over sentiment.”

Parting for a moment to speak. “Your present made my day a lot better.”

Lan Xichen smiles against his lips. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Lan Xichen rests his hands on his hips, leaves a small kiss. “Mm. I’m not sure if that’s true.”

He kisses back. “Oh?”

“Mm.” Another small kiss. “You’re more of a romantic than you realise.”

Meng Yao goes to nuzzle his neck. He kisses him there. He lets himself smile and take fistfuls of Lan Xichen’s shirt. “I’ll take your word for it.”

#my writing #Object Permanence Prompts #jgy #lxc #xiyao #mdzs

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

Peach and Pear

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: So I woke up the other morning and wrote this story before getting up for the day. It’s set in a place here in New Zealand and I’m really proud of this little world I randomly created.

Word count: 2945

Once upon a time, there was a little peach that lost his way for the first time. The peach had always been a very successful fruit, doing many things each day to become one of the best peaches around. He was strong and healthy and he was full of talents. A lot of the other fruit admired him a great deal--

“Then why did he get lost?” a curious, high-pitched voice asked, and before you could continue with the story, someone else did for you.

“He woke up and realised he was tired of being successful because he did so much each day,” your husband Jinyoung answered, walking over to you and your daughter, who scooted out from under the blankets you had just tucked her under to reach out her little limbs towards her father. Sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from you, Jinyoung pulled her into his arms, planting a kiss on the top of her crown affectionately.

“You know this story too, Daddy?!”

“Oh yes,” he replied, shooting you a look. “Who do you think told Mummy about it?”

“I want to hear what the peach did next!” she exclaimed and you cleared your throat to continue the story.

Jinyoung laid there, unmoving, as the alarm continued to shrill around the room. Normally he would turn it off and roll back over, knowing he had a second one set for when he truly had to be out of his bed. Yet, when that one sounded as well after the first one had gone on for too long and given up, he still didn’t rush out from under the blankets.

For the first time in a long while, he felt unmotivated.

He had business meetings and English lessons to attend today. Not to mention, his daily swimming practice was waiting for him to start the day. He would then head into the office, working until six precisely, where he would go out for dinner with a client who was investing more into his company. Afterwards, he was expected to hit up the gym for leg day, and finally wind up back here, finalising any paperwork before reading another chapter in a self-improvement book and go to bed by eleven.

And then the day would repeat, usually with some variation to the workday, but still with the continued structure that he expected from himself each day.

Today, however, he didn’t care for any of it.

Jinyoung wanted a break. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t follow the same continuous pattern that all around him had come to rely on. He was too predictable now, twenty-six and thriving as a businessman, successful enough to have his name in the tabloids often as a measure that many others in the industry strived to match. No one had expected the handsome man to create such a storm at his age, let alone at all. Yet the proof was in the pudding, or in Jinyoung’s case, his relentless endeavour to create a stable and solid life plan for him and his company.

Whilst he had worked tirelessly on building the foundation of his business, his university pals were off taking in the world. Mark had gone snowboarding at every well-known skiing resort, and Jackson was in America promoting Team Wang whilst collaborating with top names on every country’s celebrity list. Jaebum had travelled to Europe to learn more about the way music was produced there and BamBam was never in the same continent for too long, having fun being young and rich. Even Youngjae and Yugyeom had found themselves leaving this place to find better horizons. Only Jinyoung had stayed.

He wasn’t bitter that he had chosen to, but it did mean his youth was spent grinding each day and not truly lived. As he laid in his bed, still uncaring that the second alarm had come and gone, he realised he craved reaching out for what he had missed out on. He wanted to explore a foreign place and do so without much planning.

He was usually the research and implement type of guy, but today, he simply packed a small suitcase with the necessities for travel and climbed into his car, heading towards the airport.

With passport in hand, he watched the departure board for one of the places to stand out to him. Many flights were heading out within the next couple of hours, though there was one about to leave in forty minutes. Striding towards a desk, he smiled at the clerk and asked to buy a ticket to that destination.

“Sir, are you sure?” she asked, slightly perplexed by the sudden passenger request. Jinyoung nodded and she cringed. “There’s no business class left and it will take-”

“I’ll take it,” he confirmed, sliding his credit card across the tabletop towards her.

And that was how Jinyoung found himself in the back row of a twelve-hour plane ride to New Zealand.

“Wow!” exclaimed your daughter, eyes round with the adventure. “The little peach travelled all the way here! Did he make any friends?”

“Well,” you said, glancing at your husband before nodding once. “He turned up unexpectedly and asked to stay at a pear’s broken down bed and breakfast.”

“Which was basically in the middle of nowhere,” Jinyoung added on with a smile, glancing over at you fondly. “And it didn’t have any central heating.”

“That was because the pear herself hadn’t quite found out how to fix that problem, and the peach had chosen to get on a plane without checking that New Zealand was in the middle of winter.”

Jinyoung laughed, placing his daughter back under the blankets before continuing the story.

You blinked at the man standing upon your porch, shivering in his thin coat, the snow that was falling outside having covered his dark hair. And when you realised you weren’t hallucinating, you gasped, jerking open the old door across the wooden floors and stepped aside.

The foreign man dove inside out of the howling wind, and you shut it out with some effort in closing the door before stepping in front of him.

“How did you… I mean, it’s freezing out and you’re barely layered up. Please, follow me to the fireplace, you need to warm up.”

Once he was positioned as close to the fire as he could get, the man unravelled his arms around his waist and outstretched them towards the embers to thaw out. You left him there and dashed down to the kitchen, flicked on the jug and waited for it to boil.

Just who was this strange man? And how had he stumbled across your place at this time of night?

When your uncle died earlier in the year, his estate had been left to you. Your father, and his brother, had passed away some years prior and since your parents had been separated, what your uncle owned had been rightfully designated as yours.

“An inn?!” you echoed the words the lawyer had just read out, sitting up further in your chair. “My estranged uncle owned an inn?!”

“I wouldn’t be too excited, the place hasn’t had any guests in years,” the lawyer remarked, but you were already looking at the photos of the charming building, imagining what a bit of paint and gardening could do for the place.

So that’s how you wound up leaving the city life for the small township in the Buller district that had less than 1000 people living there. And, it was definitely going to take more than paint and some gardening to fix this place.

“You’re as crazy as your uncle was for trying to do up that house,” Katie, the owner of the only tearooms in Reefton, mentioned when you came in for lunch earlier in the day. “It’s got more problems than the number of people living here.”

You smiled grimly. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“Why not sell it and go back to where you came from, Y/N? The land would be worth some. I’m sure a farmer around here would happily bulldoze down that eyesore of a home and run his sheep or cattle over it just fine. In fact, I think Bill was-”

Imagining the crumbling building no longer existing didn’t make you feel any better. Glancing up at Katie, you shook your head. “It’s Reefton Estate. You can’t just go tearing down history like that.”

“There’s history, Y/N and then there’s money traps. Sure, in its heyday that place must have been spectacular and full of guests all the time with the gold rush and all. But this isn’t the eighteen hundreds. There’s only the novelty of finding gold at Shanty Town if you’re a tourist these days.”

“I don’t need gold, and I can’t just sell up.”

So you got stuck in with what you could do. You hired a contractor from Greymouth to come and look at your home, and with an extremely long list of projects thereafter, you started tackling them one by one. The place was liveable, but it still had a long way to go to be back to its former glory.

And you certainly were slower than most, being a one-woman team, with a trickle of funds available. As a joke, you placed an advert up online looking for volunteers to help lovingly restore the estate.

Of course, no one had come, until now.

Handing the stranger a mug of tea, you sat down beside him and smiled gently. “Did you mean to come here?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, smiling weakly. “I’m Jinyoung and you are?”

“Y/N,” you replied, holding out your hand in greeting. He took it, and your eyes nearly popped out of your head with how cold he still was. Rubbing it repeatedly, you tried to warm him up until Jinyoung gripped at your wrist and eyed you warily.

You balked and let him go. “Sorry, it’s just that you’re so cold. Not many people venture out at night around here without thermals on.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he mentioned with a soft smile, nodding once. “Thank you for the tea.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Before the night wore out, Jinyoung had told you of his rash plan. He had left Korea and come to New Zealand on a whim, and again, chose his next destination in the same way as he had his last.

You gasped. “Of all the places to choose in New Zealand, you ended up in Greymouth?!”

“To be fair, I wasn’t really aware. I thought it would be bigger and have more people,” he admitted and you laughed.

“The coast has people; just they tend to know each other. Oh boy. It won’t be long until word spreads about you coming here either.”

“How will that happen when it’s just us two here?” Jinyoung asked and you sighed.

You didn’t want to have to explain it tonight. When you had arrived from Christchurch, it was as if you had a giant beacon on your head that every resident of Reefton could see from their homes. You had been inundated with visitors both very friendly and extremely nosy for an entire week before you felt that you had met almost everyone. And although you got used to the gossiping nature of the place, you still didn’t quite like it either.

You somehow felt protective of Jinyoung. Besides, when the light arrived in the morning, you were certain he would climb into his hired vehicle and continue on his sightseeing ways.

However, you found him merely staring at your entryway, aghast.

“Morning,” you called and he whipped around, trying to wipe the perturbed look off his face. Clearing his throat, you shook your head to stop him. “I know, it needs a lot of attention.”

“Only one fireplace works, the rooms are freezing even with the space heater you gave me and you have a hole in the ceiling above me.”

“There’s also the west wing that has two inaccessible rooms, one of the bathrooms upstairs is blocked and there’s no way anyone will be able to stay here in the next few years to produce any revenue,” you added on with a smile, handing Jinyoung the coffee you had made him. He thanked you silently, before allowing his gaze to travel up the walls again. “It would probably make nice firewood to some farmer who tore it down for the land to run his animals over-”

“It has charm,” Jinyoung said then, cutting you off. You merely stared at him, wondering who he really was. He was the only person you had met since inheriting this place that had said those words to you. “It has a lot of potential to become something amazing, after a lot of work, of course.”

“I think so too.”

“Do you have the blueprints at all?” he asked and you cocked your head to the side.

“Thought you were sightseeing?”

“Well, there certainly seems to be a lot to look at just within this house, don’t you think?”

Jinyoung said he would stay for two weeks, helping you with projects that could be started with a bit of manual labour. Two weeks turned into a month, with trips to Greymouth for further supplies. And after then, you stopped asking when he was going to go back to Korea and his company. Part of you didn’t want to know the answer, having grown attached to the man. He was more playful than you had expected, and you spent most of your days laughing and soon your nights curled up together in front of the fireplace.

Of course, the gossip mill ran wild. Jinyoung didn’t care, and after three months, he even held your hand as you walked downtown, allowing the nosy store owners to pick up their phones and ring around that you had found yourself a man.

“Did the peach ever return home?”

“He did, three times,” Jinyoung stated, holding up the right amount of fingers before counting them down as he spoke. “First, because he felt he had to go. But he had found he could run his company from New Zealand with relative success.”

“Especially once he invested in better internet connection at the inn,” you interjected with a knowing look and Jinyoung rolled his eyes before dropping another finger.

“He came back here because he couldn’t stop thinking about the house and worried that pear would end up hurting herself badly. Which, had he not gotten on that plane and walked through the door when he did, pear would have fallen off a ladder onto the ground.”

“Instead she fell on top of the peach,” you said with a laugh and Jinyoung nodded.

“And the third time he went back was to finalise the sale of his company and bring his parents back with him.”

Your daughter sat up eagerly again. “Why did his parents come?! Did he miss them?!”

“Of course. But there was another reason too,” Jinyoung said, glancing at you and reaching out for your hand. You took it and he rubbed the set of rings that lay over your left finger. “The peach and pear got married.”

“Wait a minute!” your daughter breathed, pointing at her father and then you repeatedly before clapping and squealing. “That’s you and Mummy!”

“And now we live in Reefton Estate together, don’t we?” you told her, and her little head bounced up and down.

“Which thankfully has heating.”

“And no more holes in the ceilings.”

“The west wing can be rented out to staying guests.”

“And the peach and pear lived happily ever after.”

“With their own little peachy-pear!” cried your daughter to end the story, which had you all laughing, hugging the sweet child.

And once she had finally drifted off to sleep, you stepped out into the hallway on tiptoes, trying not to make the floorboards creak and wake her back up.

Of course, the house had been repaired. But it still carried most of its original parts, and definitely needed more work. The floors were next on the list to replace.

For now, tiptoeing back to your room down the hall was the best option you had. And when Jinyoung shut the door behind you, he pulled you into his arms, resting his head on your shoulder. You leaned back into him, cherishing the moment.

Mostly for his warmth, and he knew it.

“We need to work on the heating in our room.”

“It made sense to do the guest rooms at the time so we could make money,” you reminded, spinning around softly so you could face him. “Besides, I remember you saying at the time that we had each other to keep warm with.”

“That’s how peachy-pear came along,” he pointed out with a low chuckle and you slapped his shoulder playfully.

“We should get that heating sorted quickly then in case we end up growing more fruit,” you teased but Jinyoung shook his head in answer, leaning down to capture your lips briefly.

“I don’t mind growing more fruit with you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s one way to keep us both warm, too.”

“Why did you turn up on my doorstep all those years ago?” you breathed out, staring at your husband lovingly. You still couldn’t quite believe your luck.

As if he read your mind, Jinyoung smiled. “It wasn’t luck that brought me here. It was a need to find my forever home.”

“You chose well in a broken-down inn,” you retorted, to which he chuckled again.

“It has its charm,” he said before nuzzling his nose into yours. “And it has you.”

_________________

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #got7creators #park jinyoung #park jinyoung fiction #park jinyoung fanfic #park jinyoung fluff #park jinyoung au #got7 #got7 fiction #got7 fanfic #got7 fluff #got7 au #jinyoung fiction #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung fluff #jinyoung au #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff

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sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, some mild smut.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: All I can say is: I’m sorry. My head is a strange place.

Chapter 29

“Marcus!! Oh, get that sweet tush over here and hug me, and you better make it a good one after you’ve neglected to visit my cave for longer than these magic hands care to remember.”

You already loved Velma.

“Hey, Vel. I’m sorry, I’ve been preoccupied.”

He did hug her, and properly too, as well as about 10s longer than what would be considered socially acceptable for mere friends, without either of them seeming to find it weird or awkward at all. You still loved her.

“Thank you, my darling. You’re forgiven. Now, tell me what you’ve brought me?”

He beamed at you. He really did love any opportunity to show you off, but he seemed especially pleased about this introduction.

“Velma, this is my fiancé. Hermosa, as you’ve undoubtedly gathered – this is the one and only Velma.”

“Your fi… You’re getting… And you’re here. You brought her to me! Are you…?”

“Yes. I am. On both counts.”

“YES!! Thank the Greek fucking Gods!! A wedding-dress, and for you, my darling, of all people! Thank you.”

“Well, technically it’s for her.”

“Oh, no, sugar. The dress is for the groom. The shoes – are for the bride.”

She finally set all of her glorious attention on you.

Velma was a drag-queen, and the most awe-inspiring individual you’d ever seen. Everything about her was superior. She was taller than anyone else in the room, helped by fucking spectacular plateau shoes, she was broad-shouldered and muscular to boot. She carried herself like an empress, with a kind of stillness and real elegance, despite having so much flare and finesse to her. And even though she was covered in colours and sparkles, she somehow looked like she would belong absolutely anywhere. And when she actually looked you in the eye, you could almost feel her read the pages of the book that was your life, and yet, there was nothing intimidating about it.

“Well, now. There’s a lot of story here, isn’t there?”

“A bit. Yeah.”

“Mm. Alright then, come with me, darling. I demand to know every little detail about the woman my Marcus has chosen.”

She turned dramatically, and headed for a side-door in the studio workshop where you were, and you looked at Marcus with a wide grin.

“She’s coming to the wedding.”

“Don’t worry – she’s on the list.”

“I don’t care about any list. She’s coming. I need that amount of sparkle at my wedding. And I’m not just talking about the clothes.”

He chuckled happily as he watched you literally skip over to the open door, and disappear inside.

-----

Three weeks later, you finally got around to getting your house sold. It was a fairly quick sale since the neighbourhood was nice and the yard was bigger than most other properties on that street. And since you didn’t really need the extra money, you could give the young couple that fell in love with it, a kind price. You weren’t really particularly sorry to see it go, but you were very happy to see it fall into the hands of people who would appreciate it. For a long time, that house had been your refuge, your safe harbour when life got hard, and you wished that it could be the same for someone else. You put the bulk of the money in your savings-account, and ear-marked the rest for wedding-expenses. There still wasn’t really any actual planning going on, as far as dates and times and venues were concerned. But you and Marcus were still getting through a lot of the stuff that goes on around the actual day. You’d settled on what colours you wanted for the flowers, and what types they should be. You’d had an almost outrageously fun day last weekend, trying out the recipes for all the wedding-cakes you’d both found online. And after soiling literally every inch of the kitchen with flour, and tasting so many different cakes your taste-buds had eventually given up, you had managed to conclude that you wanted a lemon-flavoured one. Missy had tried to get you onto the chocolate-train, but you’d held your ground, with the promise that there would indeed be chocolate present, just not in the cake. You’d completed the guest-list, and chosen the invitation cards, but they were safely stowed away in a drawer, still unwritten. It wasn’t that you were stalling or didn’t feel ready. You were just genuinely enjoying the preparations, and not having that deadline made them feel like they were just fun things to do over a weekend, rather than things you had to do to be ready in time. Especially since Missy loved being a part of it too, it made the whole thing feel like a prolonged family event.

By now, the only thing that was still on the prep-list was Marcus’ suit, but you’d both agreed not to make any decisions on that until you’d seen what Velma did with your dress. You’d spent two whole days in her cave, getting your measurements taken and your skin-tone evaluated. There were about a hundred things about your body that she’d wanted to know, but you trusted her with your life already, so you’d happily complied. Plus; any excuse to spend time with her was a good one. Work was finally becoming manageable again, as you’d finally caught up on all the stuff that was trailing behind, and you were deliberately keeping any and all new projects firmly steered in other directions or delegating them onto other designers. You had enough on your plate with just getting through the already started ones, on top of the wedding-planning. Today had been a good day, so far, and you’d decided to go and find Marcus and see if he had time to join you for lunch. When you approached his office, his door was open and you could hear Tech talking. Not wanting to interrupt, you stopped outside and out of sight, while you waited for their conversation to finish. You picked up your phone to send an e-mail while you waited.

“I can’t believe that building was still standing after that.”

“Crushing lost control for three seconds. Let’s just be grateful it wasn’t longer.”

“Oh, I remember that time back in the beginning when he was out of it for like 20 seconds.”

“I think most of Colombia remembers that, too.”

“Probably.”

“Hey, um. Speaking of losing control…”

“What?”

“Well, there’s a certain office on the other side of the building that gets a fair bit of noise-complaints.”

You snapped out of your e-mailing and instinctively turned your head to listen closer.

“Stay out of it, Tech.”

“Hey, I’m not the filing them, and I never will. I’m all for healthy appetites. Just wondering if you’re aware of the fact that a lot of people are talking about you guys?”

“So? Let ‘em talk.”

“Sure. But they’re not talking about it being a nuisance or inappropriate. They’re talking about how the hell you can keep it up for three hours straight sometimes. Is that true, though?”

You weren’t sure if you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you, or if you wanted to go find these people and tell them to mind their own business. There was a brief pause before Marcus answered, and his voice was a bit lower than before.

“It is. I seriously can’t get enough of her. Ever. No matter how tired I get, I can always go another round.”

“That’s kind of amazing. How do you ever get anything done?”

“I have no idea.”

“Any idea when the knot-tying might be happening?”

“No. I’m dying to do it, to the point where I have to repeatedly tell myself not to just beg her to go to Vegas with me. But I also really wanna get it right, you know? Not necessarily perfect; just right. Right for us. And I want her to feel ready, so that she can just relax and enjoy that day, whenever it happens.”

Your heart swelled to an almost painful size behind your ribs.

“I am ready, honey.”

You stepped over the threshold and watched as his expression turned from confusion to realisation as he saw you.

“You wouldn’t have to beg. I’d go to Vegas with you right now if you asked. I’ve told you; I don’t really care how it happens. I’m enjoying the preparations and everything we’re doing together, but even if nothing ever got used, I wouldn’t feel like I missed out on anything. You’re the one that wanted the traditions, remember?”

Tech excused himself at that point, and closed the door behind him after he left.

“Do you still want all that, Marcus?”

He looked so torn.

“Damned it… Yes. I really do.”

“Then let’s pick a date. Let’s find a place that feels right and let’s make it happen.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you ready?”

He shot up from his chair and was suddenly holding your waist, staring into your eyes.

“Ah, mi novia, I’ve been ready for a long time.”

His hands migrated down to your ass, and you let him squeeze you to him. You were wearing a simple blue summer-dress today, and he quickly found his way underneath it, letting his hands run up your thighs and relieve you of your panties. Then he pulled you along to the sofas, sitting down and urging you to straddle him. It was almost strange how calm it was. The two of you were always so heated, so passionate whenever you came together, to the point where it was almost always beyond your control, or at least, on the very edge of it. But this time, there was no tearing at each other’s clothes. No hands desperately grasping, needing and demanding more. No burning heat that made you feel empty and aching until he entered you. The heat did come, but gradually. With each caress, each tender kiss and each movement of your bodies together, it slowly built from an ember to a flame. Your walls actually allowed him to move inside you this time, and as you rocked yourself over him, a completely different kind of pleasure to what you’d become used to with him, built inside your core and seemed to reach towards your heart, instead of your sex. After a while, he turned you both to the side so he could lay you down and settle himself on top of you, and that feeling that was creeping towards your chest, drastically intensified. He drove into you in long, strong thrusts that buried him as deep as your bodies would allow, each time, and his throat made involuntary little sounds of pleasure every time he returned into your wet and welcoming warmth. It took you nearly thirty minutes to build to a climax this time, and when it finally hit, it was strong in a completely different way than it ever had been before. Your bodies didn’t curl or clench in on themselves, there were no involuntary power-outbursts, no levitation. But it felt like you were underneath each other’s skin. Like your hearts actually melded into one through the intricate contact of your skin and nerves. It was utterly overwhelming and there were tears streaming from your eyes throughout the whole climax. And they didn’t stop, even after you’d come back down. There was no pain or sorrow anywhere inside you in that moment, so you concluded that these were tears of pure love and you made no effort to stop them. You just held him close and waited for the feeling to burn itself out. He burrowed his face into your neck while you laid there, feeling the tears as they passed over onto his cheek on their way down, but making no comment about them. He knew what they were, and it made him love them too.

You took a late lunch together, and since the pills were working perfectly and the lab had been able to produce several months-worth already, you could enjoy eating like a normal person these days. Marcus really did miss your stomach-bear, though, and he would occasionally drop comments like ‘this is one of those moments when mama bear would have roared’, and you felt a little bit sorry for him. It was like he’d lost a puppy. While you ate, you started discussing what places you thought might be nice for a venue.

“Churches are nice, but a bit… I hesitate to say ‘stuffy’.”

“Yeah. They feel so formal, like you’re not allowed to have fun, and I really want us and our guests to feel like we’re allowed to have fun.”

“Definitely. So, what about restaurants?”

“Not my thing, if I’m honest, hermosa.”

“I figured. Pavilion?”

“Now, we’re talking. A big one, with lots of decorations and a dance-floor!”

“You and your dancing.”

“Oh, no; you’re the dancer, remember?”

“And your foxtrot is adequate, but your waltz needs some work.”

“Thanks. So, do we know of any potentially available pavilions, or are we gonna have to build one?”

“Don’t you worry about that, sugar-plum, if it’s a pavilion you’re looking for – I know the perfect one.”

Velma approached your table, wearing an even more daring outfit than last time you’d seen her. As always, she made a show of eyeing Marcus up and down and making appreciative noises to showcase his hunky-ness. And, as always, Marcus just smiled and let her do her thing.

“Where is it?”

“Didn’t I just tell you not to worry? I’ll take you to see it later if you want, but for now – I need to borrow your little cherry, here. Time to dolly you up, hon.”

“It’s finished?”

“Literally seconds ago. I came to find you right away, I need to see it on you before I can definitively say that it’s done.”

Marcus beamed at you both while Velma slipped her arm through yours and led you back to her cave.

Somehow, you’d expected it to be difficult to get into, or at least require assistance, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big or flaunty thing, nor was it heavy or complicated in its design. And yet, there was something so special about it. It was snow-white with a hint of gold to the shimmer in the fabric, to match the rings. It was an off the shoulder style dress, with long sleeves in the most beautiful lace you’d ever seen, that carried over into the body of the dress as well, though it was purely ornamental there, as the actual body was made from satin. From the waist down, there was no lace, but tiny golden details had been sewn into the satin and it made the dress come alive somehow. The skirt was cleverly designed, so that it billowed out just a little, but without getting puffy, and it was still just two layers, making it easy to handle and comfortable to move in. There was no train, but she had made you a vail in the same exquisite lace, in case you decided that you wanted one.

“Oh, my. Honey… I thought it looked gorgeous on the mannequin, but damn! You make this dress.”

“It’s perfect, Velma. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

“Marcus is gonna swoooooon…”

“He’s gonna love it.”

“Well, just make sure to have someone strong standing next to him so they can catch him when he inevitably goes down.”

You just smiled at her.

“Oh, and thank you for the shoes. You’re right, I’m gonna love these a lot more than the dress before the night’s over.”

“You got that right, Cherie.”

You met up with Marcus as soon as you were done in the cave, and the smile that lit up his face when he saw you carrying the special box that housed the dress, shoes and vail, could have put the sparkles in Velma’s very short skirt to shame.

“You actually have it? It’s finished?”

“It’s right in here.”

He looked positively squirmy with anticipation.

“And it’s even more beautiful than anything you’ve imagined. Trust me.”

He chuckled.

“I do.”

Velma took you out to see the pavilion she’d mentioned, and it really was perfect. It sat on several acres of green lawns and meadows, with a large pond not too far from the structure. You could have the ceremony out on the grass, overlooking the water, and put up a canopy over the tables and chairs for the dinner and cake. And then move over to the pavilion for the dancing and fun-times. There were huge old oak-trees framing the entire area, giving the whole place a bit of a fairy-tale feeling.

“Marcus, we have to pick a date. We have to find out if this place is available for us.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, honey-bun. It’ll be available whenever you want it.”

Velma gave you this knowing look and you gawked at her.

“You own this place?”

“For a long time now. I only use it for very special occasions, and I don’t go blabbering about it to every Joe and Willy looking for a party-house. But for you, my turtle-doves, it’ll always be available.”

By the time you went to bed that day, you’d not only picked a date, but completed and sent all of the invitations as well. You were going to get married on the ten-month anniversary of when you first opened your eyes and saw him by your bedside, which gave you roughly a month to get everything ready. And since you had everything pretty much figured out already, that wasn’t going to be a hard deadline to keep.

Or, so you thought.

But the day before the wedding came at you like you’d somehow fallen asleep at the wheel going 200mph down the highway. Suddenly it was all happening. And while you were totally ready emotionally, you were also just not ready over-all, and you woke up that morning feeling sick. Actually sick. Marcus was too excited to get more than 4h of sleep per night in the week leading up to that day, but he didn’t want to disturb you, so he’d gotten up and left the bedroom some time earlier that morning. You walked into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face but it didn’t do much to alleviate the nausea, so you gave up and just got dressed instead.

“Hey, alma, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie, just feeling a little overwhelmed I guess.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. The wedding is happening, come hell or high water.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Marcus?”

“He got called in to work really early, some crisis with a blue-whale, I think.”

“Okay, well, then I’ll drive you to school.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t just take a sick-day?”

“I’m not gonna be helped by sitting here wringing my hands all day. Let’s go, Maid of Honour.”

She smiled at that, but then frowned.

“You’re not gonna have breakfast?”

“Kid, I’ll be happy if I can keep the damned pill down this morning.”

You dropped her off and went to work, intending to treat this like any other Friday. But when you stepped into your office, there was a weird smell that just set off all your senses, and you had to duck over the first available trashcan and vomit. Since your stomach was empty, all that came up was bile, and that somehow made you even more nauseas.

What the fuck was that smell?

You abandoned your office and headed for Marcus’ instead. It smelled fine, so you sat down at his computer and used your own login to access your files and get to work. But after about an hour you’d had to visit his bathroom three times as your stomach continued to try and cough up shit that wasn’t even there, and you gave up, and headed down to medical.

You had just intended to ask for some anti-nausea medication, but because of your medical history, they insisted on an exam to rule out any possible delayed complications.

You left medical in a daze, not even realising where you were going before you found yourself back in Marcus’ office. You sat down in one of the sofas and just waited. You didn’t dare to even try and feel anything without him there, because you were afraid that you might suddenly feel way too much, and you needed him to be there, to keep you calm if that happened. Some time later, Crushing ducked his head in and had to almost shout to get your attention.

“Huh… What?”

“I said, Marcus went home straight from the mission, two hours ago, he had something he wanted to get done for tomorrow. So, there’s no need to wait for him here.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

“Almost five.”

“Shit…”

“Hey, you okay?”

“I hope so. Yes. I mean, yes.”

“Want me to take you home?”

“No, I’ll be fine, thanks Crush.”

You drove home being almost ridiculously cautious and you laughed a little at yourself when you parked the car, next to Marcus’. You were surprised to find the front door locked. You never locked the door when you were home. They must have gone out on foot for some reason. Fishing your keys out of your bag, you unlocked it and stepped inside, and you were just about to call out to see if anyone was home, when you heard a sound that made every hair on your body stand straight up. It was a mechanical sound, a machine of some sort. You couldn’t identify it, but your body sure as hell remembered it. Walking into the living room, a fear unlike anything you’d ever felt before, flooded every cell inside of you. Your own blood rushing in your ears drowned out the sound of your keys and handbag falling to the floor, as you tried to take in what you were seeing.

Tubes… wires… computers… machines… bags of liquids… chairs that weren’t chairs but fucking instruments of torture. Two of them. One for Marcus… and one for Missy. And right in between them – Dr. Prince.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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nyotamalfoy · 3 years

Text

“Unexpected.” - Part 1 Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader

Requested by @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby

Summary: (Y/N) gets a chance to go to the sets of her favourite series, Peaky Blinders, but the day doesn’t go as planned.

Warning: mention of death

Part 2 can be found here

‘It’s just a birthday, he’s a busy man. He’ll come by later, I guess…’ (Y/N) tried to console herself as her uncle, Neil, hadn’t come to visit her on her birthday like he did every year.

Neil was her closest and only family after her parents died in a plane crash. She could always rely on him and talk to him about anything and everything. He was (Y/N)’s best friend. But, he was a costume designer and therefore, a very busy man. Neil had told her in a recent phone call that he wouldn’t be able to make it for her birthday because of work. Speaking of work, he had been hired as the costume designer for her favourite Netflix series of all times, Peaky Blinders.

(Y/N) had been ecstatic when she found out and almost begged him to let her come to the sets with him. She loved the cast and wanted a chance to meet them. In particular, she wanted to meet Cillian Murphy. She had been his fan since she saw him on Batman Begins. Actually, that would be an understatement, she was basically in love with him and had accepted the fact that it was just a celebrity crush which she could do nothing about.

Coming back to the point, (Y/N) was a bit sad when Neil said he couldn’t make it but was hurt when he didn’t even call. It wasn’t like him to miss her birthday. As she was laying on her bed, tired after a chaotic day of celebrating her turning a year older, she heard a creak from outside her room.

She shot up straight and got out of her bed, walking towards her door, grabbing one of her textbooks from her study table to use as a weapon on the way – great choice, (Y/N). A textbook? Seriously?

Opening her door as quietly as she could, she stepped out into the hallway, trembling, with the textbook held above her shoulder, ready to strike someone.

(Y/N) gasped as she felt someone poke her shoulder from behind and turned around, smashing the bundle of maths problems on the side of their face.

“Ah!” She heard a familiar voice wince as she fumbled around for the switch to turn on the lights.

“Uncle Neil?” (Y/N) called out, looking at him in surprise as the lights came on. “You scared me to death, you prat!” She grinned, walked up to him and slapped his upper arm before hugging him.

“Why a textbook, though?” He said, rubbing the side of his face as they pulled away. “A bloody heavy one too.” She felt a bit guilty, but he was the one that snuck in her house, so she laughed at his expense.

They both laughed and talked for a while, having walked into the kitchen, sitting on the barstools with cups of coffee and biscuits in front of them. He still hadn’t wished her ‘happy birthday’ but she let that slide knowing he was a bit absent minded at times and meant no ill-will. Just as she thought this, he suddenly stopped speaking and his eyes widened as he looked at her. “I almost forgot!” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a lanyard with an ID card attached. “Happy birthday!”

“Finally! I was beginning to think that you actually forgot.” She took the lanyard and hugged him saying a quiet but excited ‘thank you’ before sitting back.

(Y/N) looked at the lanyard confusedly at first but when she turned the ID card, her eyes widened as she read the words written on it, and she froze. She read it, then read it again just to confirm. On it, it said in bold print letters:

VISITOR’S PASS - PEAKY BLINDERS

“AHHHH!” She screamed in excitement and hugged a laughing Neil with such force that he would have definitely fallen if he was still sitting on the bar stool.

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“Do I look okay?”

“You look gorgeous, (Y/N). Let’s go now, we don’t want to be late now do we.” Neil urged her to get out of the house but couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he saw her skipping down the driveway in excitement.

After three hours of driving and Neil answering (Y/N)’s questions about the set and cast and everything in between, they finally reached.

“Let’s go!” (Y/N) pulled Neil to the entrance as they got out of the car. The guard standing in front of the door checked their identification and smiled when he saw (Y/N) grinning, flashing her visitor pass to him. Neil chuckled as he led her down to the sets.

He dropped off his gear in the room assigned to him and checked the time.

“Okay, they’ll be coming in any minute now,” Neil started and went on to tell her of all the rules and things she needed to take care of. She listened obediently even though she could barely contain her excitement.

Some minutes later, the actors and actresses arrived in short intervals of each other.

“Oh, hello! Who’s this pretty lady, Neil?”

“Helen, meet (Y/N), my niece, and (Y/N), this is-” Neil was cut off by (Y/N).

“Helen McCrory, I know, I’m a big fan, ma’am!” (Y/N) gushed about everything she loved about her acting without sounding too creepy or cringy and Neil was thankful for her staying composed and not jumping on her.

Helen found, for whatever reason, she was enjoying talking to (Y/N). They talked for a while before being interrupted by the Cole brothers. They were slowly joined by almost all the cast members including Paul and Tom but not Cillian, all of whom had taken a liking to (Y/N) immediately due to her friendly and excited demeanour. Neil watched on in amazement at how she managed to win all their hearts in less than 20 minutes and that thought couldn’t keep a smile off his face.

“What’s going on here?” A voice (Y/N) knew all too well made an appearance. She snapped her head to the source of the voice and froze. She was standing in the same vicinity of the man she had the biggest crush on, the one and only Cillian Murphy.

“Neil was just introducing his lovely niece here.” Sophie gestured to (Y/N) and smiled at her.

“We have work to do so can we focus on that, please.” As Cillian said this, he had an annoyed and frustrated expression on his face. “We don’t have time for visitors right now.”

The cast members looked at each other in surprise because Cillian never acted this way; he was always the nicest, most kind person on the set.

After (Y/N)’s initial shock dissipated, she had the biggest of smiles on her faces which was now tinged with hurt, hearing Cillian say that. The cast surrounding her looked at her and gave her sympathetic smiles, some hugs and promises to meet after shoot as they started walking away.

“You should leave before you break something or ruin a scene,” Cillian said before walking ahead of the everyone who had turned to look at them when they saw him approach (Y/N).

Everyone was shocked, to say the least. They could clearly see that something was troubling him but they sure as hell didn’t appreciate the way he was treating their new-found friend. Looking at (Y/N), they could see the hurt in her expression clearly with the way she was looking down, lips trembling.

(Y/N) had never felt such a sharp pain in her heart as she did now. Cillian’s words had cut through her like a hot knife, leaving her with no choice but to go as far away from him as possible.

So, once everyone had left to continue on with their work, with a heavy heart and tears threatening to fill her eyes, she ran. She left the sets and kept running until she felt sudden stabbing pain in her leg.

Great, this day is just going so well. She thought to herself as she sat on a nearby bench and pulled the sharp stone out of her sole which had pierced through her sandals, leaving her foot bloody. Her tears fell then, like white hot metal down her face.

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Neil felt like it was all his fault; he was the one that brought her here with the promise of her meeting her crush. He never would have imagined that Cillian would act the way he did. He went to his room on the sets, hoping to find (Y/N) there so he could speak to her.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Neil knocked on the door before opening it. He looked around for the familiar head of (Y/H/C) hair but dread filled him when he didn’t see anyone. Picking up his mobile phone, he dialled her number and a bit of relief touched him when he heard her familiar ringtone somewhere around the sets.

He walked out to where everyone else had gathered and looked around for (Y/N). His hopes quickly vanished when he saw her bag on the floor near a wall in which her phone was ringing.

“Has anyone seen (Y/N)?” Neil asked the cast members as they all turned to look at him with concerned expressions.

“Wasn’t she with you?” Helen inquired as she too looked around hoping to see a glimpse of her.

“No, she ran off. I thought she’d go to my room but there’s no one there.” Neil ran a hand through his hair, guilt coursing through his veins.

They asked the guard at the gate if he had seen (Y/N) and he told them that she had ran out about 2 hours ago.

As everyone spread out, some by foot, some by cars and bikes, Cillian was left alone with his thoughts.

Earlier that day, he’d gotten into a bad fight with his brother over some family issue. Then, he had to deal with idiots in the traffic while driving to the sets. Lastly, he had spilt his much-needed coffee on himself meaning that he had to go back home, change, buy another coffee and then come onto the set 20 minutes late. He’d had a very testing day but his patience broke when the producer met him at the entrance and told him off for being late to the set.

To add fuel to the fire, no one was even ready to shoot as they were all standing around someone happily chatting away. He snapped then. Telling off an unsuspecting fan, his good friend Neil’s cousin at that.

Cillian was almost 100% sure that he was the one that scared her away with his rude behaviour and that killed him as he realised this. She had looked so happy with that big grin on her face that he had successfully managed to wipe off with a few hurtful words.

He put his face in his hands as he sat on his chair. Cillian only had one string of thoughts going around his mind: This is my fault. I have to find her and apologise. She didn’t deserve this.

#cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders cast x reader #cillian murphy #fem!reader #tommy shelby

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xxsovereignsarayaxx · 3 years

Text

Fifty Shades of Mikaelson: Shade 2

Authors Note: Ok so my original plan was to release Shade 2 and Shade 3 after Shade 1 but then I realised that there bits in Shade 2 and 3 that could add to the upcoming chapters for the trilogy. Everything in this AU is connected so you’ll get even more of a story. Word Count: 1877 Warnings: None. Yet. Pairing: Kol X Reader

Fifty Shades Tag List: @xxwritemeastoryxx @tomarisela @akshi8278

Missed Shade 1? Catch up from the beginning chapters for all Shades will be updated in the upcoming weeks/months.

Richmond Virginia is the home to Mikaelson Enterprises, one of the largest companies in the US to date, with countless connections across the country and the world. After receiving the company from the untimely death of their parents and younger brother Henrik the six remaining siblings all took a share and equal role within the company.

The loss of their parents and younger brother was hard on the remaining family and became so tough on Freya and Finn that they ultimately took a step back from public eye of the company and became silent partners, this allowed Elijah, Niklaus, Kol and Rebekah to have a free rein on the company so to speak.

What made Mikaelson Enterprises different to all the others was the fact that it didn’t have one sole purpose. The company originally thrived at investing low market sales. Rather than take the risk and invest in the higher term stock markets each sibling took to different sectors and reaped the rewards of their own doing which allowed them to endeavour into other opportunities.

Each sibling was different, Rebekah stuck to fashion. Her aim was that she wanted people to look great whilst not breaking the bank and so she worked with a large team of designers to manufacture a line of clothing that was stylish while being at affordable prices. Kol and Niklaus went into business together to create the bourbon of bourbons, wanting to create a new brand and enjoying the odd glass or two led them to a likely partnership. Elijah was different compared to his other siblings rather than go out into the world and create a new product he used his studies and degree and built a highly respectable law firm. And each separate business venture was all under the same roof in the tallest building in the city.

Richmond was the also the home to Salvatore Industries and happened to be one of the biggest competitors to Mikaelson Enterprises and being the savvy independent business woman I was I often used their constant feud to my advantages, whilst they were always trying to outdo one another it often allowed me to swoop in and close whatever deal or buy out other small businesses they had been competing for, so I could add them to my small arsenal and ever growing empire. And for the majority of the time it worked. Much to the dismay of my rivals. But with me plucking opportunities from the sky showed both the Mikaelson’s and the Salvatore’s that I was not a woman to be messed with.

I ran my own distillery and bottling company, a much smaller one at that. But it was still able to compete with the high demand of the other much larger companies and I was able to keep up with distributing to bars in and around the city. I was always around alcohol as a child but that was because my parents ran their own bar and when I was old enough I worked part time to help pay for my studies at business school. By the young ripe age of twenty five I created my own brand of vodka, with its smoother taste and lighter afterburn it was an instant hit and by twenty six I bought my first distillery and opened up my office later in that year. Here I was months later enjoying the views from my office building. I often loved taking a step back and just observing others. There was just something about people-watching that was so satisfying and calming, and the best place to do that was from the large windows in the meeting room. As I took a sip of the ice cold water in my hand I heard the intercom buzz through.

“Y/N, your three o’clock is here.” Gia, my secretary informed me from the intercom.

Taking a step back from the window I turned and reached over and pressed the button to speak. “Thank you, Gia. Why don’t you finish early for the day? I can wrap things up here.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying?”

“No, no. Go home early today Gia, you’ve earned it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I replied to her in a sincere voice.

The glass doors to the meeting room opened and my eyes looked upwards at the man walking into the room.

“Kol.” I say playfully, as the door slowly closes shut.

“Now I thought you and your brother were coming to this meeting, I wanted to finally meet both of the brains behind Hybrid in person. But I must say I’m impressed, your burst onto the liquor scene seems to have lasted. Now what can I do for you?” I added, raising an eyebrow as I gestured for him to take a seat at the large table.

“Nik’s sources tell me that you recently purchased ‘The Compound Distillery’ from under our noses.” Kol starts as he takes a seat at the table.

“By Nik’s sources? You must mean Elijah. But it’s nice to see you too Kol. Regarding ‘The Compound’ you and your lawyers were taking far too long with the negotiations. I just so happened to arrive just in time to help speed the proceedings up.” I interrupted with a sly smile, fluttering my eyelashes I took another sip from my glass.

“Drinking on the job are we?” He asked, trying to change the subject teasing me as I walked around the room.

“Just water. I like to have a clear head especially when I have my business rivals enter through my door.”

“What did you offer them?” He asked, propping up his elbows.

“You’ve always been a curious one. Alright I’ll tell you. They wanted a quick sale but didn't get the asking price they wanted however, so in return for the lower price I just kept all of their employees so the lucky souls now all work for me.” I replied, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.

“I don’t mean to pry but what are you here for Kol? If you're here to ask questions then we could've easily had this meeting on the phone.”

“I’ve come to buy you out.” He stated.

“My my aren’t we feeling bold?” I replied with a laugh, eyeing him up and down. “But I’ll give you a simple answer. No.”

Flashing me a smile. “I thought you would say that.”

“Then why ask?”

“Simple psychology darling, because I now have a better chance of getting a yes with my next question.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” I asked tilting my head ever so slightly.

“Join me for dinner.”

“Why on earth would I say yes to that?” I asked, licking my bottom lip.

“I enjoy your company darling. And perhaps we could get better acquainted to strike up a deal for the future.” Kol replied, shifting in his seat.

“Don’t they teach you at business school to not mix business with pleasure?” I purred with a seductive tone.

“Whilst you were in that lecture I must have missed that one, so darling what do you say?”

“Alright you’ve convinced me. But it’s strictly business.”

“Course darling.”

Kol left the my meeting room shortly after but made sure to slide his business card over the desk his way of giving me his mobile number in the most subtle way possible, however Kol Mikaelson and subtle don’t go together one bit. Running a hand through my Y/H/C tugging on a few of the strands that had gotten knotted during the day. Whenever Kol called me ‘darling’ it did things to me that I would never admit to.

“He’s not changed since the day we met as business school.” I said to myself with a smile.

Leaving the meeting room and walking back to my office, I turned the phone to face me and picked up the receiver holding it in my hand whilst I used the other to dial a number.

“Hello, Salvatore Industries Elena speaking how can I help you?”

“Hi Elena it’s Y/N is it possible to speak with Damon please?” I asked.

“Of course I’ll put you through.”

“Eternal stud speaking.” Damon said as I was transferred to his line.

“It is really a good thing that you pay a whole lot more than to what Mason Lockwood offered me.”

“You love me really.” He teased.

“Sure it’s that and not the stacks of cash I get put into my account each month. Just checking you wanted double the amount sent over to the bar tomorrow.”

“It's the main thing I sell on student nights so I gotta keep up with the demand, any chance you’ll be doing different flavours in the future?” Damon asked.

“You’ll be the first person to know when I do, you can even be my taste tester.”

“Speaking of the delivery Bob-Bon will be signing for it tomorrow. Me and Elena have a OBGYN appointment.”

“I’ll be sure to let Ric know. But between working with your brother and owning a bar on the side I’m surprised how you even had the time to get Elena pregnant.” I replied with a giggle.

“I always find the time for those special business meetings, if you catch my drift.”

“And now I’m disgusted by you.” I said faking a gagging sound.

“C’mon Y/NN, thought you would have gotten used to my good looks, my style, my charm and my unflinching ability to listen to Taylor Swift.”

“Goodbye Damon.” I shouted and put the phone down and back in the base.

I moved the phone back in its usual spot on my desk and started to pack away my laptop and other bits I wanted to do at home, as I was looking for a marketing plan in my desk drawer I heard my office door open.

“What is the point of owning a phone if I can never reach you on it?”

I smiled as I saw my best friend in the doorway.

“Bekah...You know I have an empire to run.” I teased, grinning at her.

“And causing mayhem to where my brothers are concerned no less. You have no idea what I have to listen to especially when we have dinner each and every night.” She replied, crossing her arms.

“Well if they’re talking about me then I really must be making a name for myself, you should understand that being a woman in business isn’t as easy as it looks.” I told her, walking to her and bringing her into a hug.

As the two of us embraced in our hug, she pulled away. “Speaking of business. I have some exciting news.” She said excitedly.

“Your new line is ready?” I asked, sounding hopeful.

“Almost. But I wanted to get some promo shoots out for the public and I wanted you to be the model!”

I looked at her shocked. “Shut. Up.”

“I’m serious. You’re a strong woman in ever growing business, you earned everything you have today and what better person to have showcasing my line is you. We need to have a dinner date to celebrate!”

“Oh speaking of dinner. I have gossip, how about we take this to the nearest bar?”

Feedback makes me a better writer and encourages me to write more and often!

#fiftyshadesofmikealson #the vampire diaries #fifty shades spin off #50 shades of grey spin off #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #reader inserts #damon salvatore #Damon the eternal stud #Rebekah Mikealson

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ve1vetyoongi · 4 years

Text

better with you | ksj - 01

Chapters: index

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Genre: fake dating/arranged marriage!au, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 19k

Summary: A part time job as a chef at Paradise Resort seems like the perfect way to spend your summer and save up some spare cash to open your own restaurant back home. That is until you cross paths with the CEO’s son who threatens to fire you if you don’t help him inherit his trust-fund-baby-fortune. How? By making you his fiancé. Well, his pretend fiancé at least.

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, spanking, semi-public sex.

A/N: uwu hello and welcome to the first chapter of better with you, part of the paradise series! i hope you enjoy reading these characters as much as i enjoyed writing them because they’re some of my favourites 🥺💘 p.s. im honestly not happy with the pacing of this chapter, but i really wanted to share, so bare with me if it sucks!

Paradise Resort and the people in it are nothing like how you imagined them to be.

Sure, Paradise is a picturesque gated community with sparkling lake views surrounded by pear trees and sprawling green lawns and white stone fountains like the website described. And sure, everyone here drives foreign cars and loiters by the pool on weekdays and drinks bubbly for breakfast from fine China beneath chandeliers which glisten in the morning sun.

But you quickly realise there is something off; something that doesn't quite fit the expectations you had when you arrived here at the start of the summer, wide eyed and excited.

And that something is you.

You aren't one of the balding golfers leisurely steering carts across the perfectly pruned Paradise grass, flirting unashamedly with pretty young women in tennis skirts as they pass. And you aren't one of their wives, leaving lipstick stains on crystal wine glasses in wicker chairs on balconies as they giggle over finger food and afternoon tea and ignorance of their husband's infidelities.

And you certainly aren't the type of girl to spend her summer's horseback riding or wielding badminton bats or sipping copious amounts of white wine, paid for a la daddy's credit card.

No, because you are a culinary major. Nothing more nothing less. And lucky for you, Paradise was hiring - at least for the summer, anyway, and who better to work overtime in the kitchens at the expense of rich dudes other than broke students, right?

While most people came to Paradise to unwind and celebrate another year of prosperity, it was simply your job to watch from the kitchen window, grit your teeth and save enough cash to put towards opening your own restaurant back home.

Which is exactly how you find yourself slaving away over a plate of scallop sashimi on the stickiest day of August as the kitchen gets ready for the biggest event in Resort history — at least according to your fellow summer employee and designated dish washer duty-man Park Jimin, who seemed to be a constant fountain of gossip -- a trait which you secretly liked him for, despite feigning disinterest in his tittle-tattle.

"Do these people even know what good food is?" You frown at an underwhelmingly small plate of goat cheese salad as you wipe the edge of the plate with a cloth. "They can't seriously want to eat this. Don't they ever just, like, want a burger or something?"

"You're just noticing this place is bonkers?" Jimin snickers behind you, hoisting his weight onto the counter and pulling a grimace of his own when he lay eyes on the limp pile of lettuce leaves they dare to refer to as a meal here. "I saw someone order dessert for breakfast yesterday. Rich people have no rules, Y/N. Besides, it's not like we can serve burgers once Mr Kim arrives."

"Mr Kim?" You ask curiously. "Who's that?"

Jimin's eyebrows furrow, like he can't actually believe you're asking him such a question. Ever since you got here at the beginning of the summer he's been diligently keeping you up to date with the latest Paradise gossip, so you aren't sure why he's surprised you're as out of the loop as ever.

"Mr Kim. The founder of Paradise’s son?" You shrug, blinking at him cluelessly and Jimin shakes his head with a pained expression, lowering his voice like he's utterly appalled at your ignorance. "You haven't heard anything about the guy who is gonna take over this place once his father retires? Kim Seokjin?"

Ah, so that's who the infamous Seokjin is. His name has been buzzing through the kitchen for the last week, much to your confusion, and apparently he would be dining in the restaurant tonight.

You heard the senior chef's were working over time to perfect the cherry clafoutis he personally requested (despite not being an on-the-menu dish) and his impending inheritance of his father's dynasty seemed a topic of hot gossip, spreading in hushed whispers from the bar girls out front to the janitor, everyone seemingly desperate to get a glimpse at the Kim Seokjin. Meaning there are only two possible reasons as to why: he is rich or he is filthy rich.

"So what's the big deal with this guy. Is he some sort of celebrity or something?" You nudge Jimin in the ribs as you return to your station and start to sauté a fresh batch of onions.

"Nah, just filthy rich." Jimin indulges and you nod. Just as I thought. "And goddamn hot if I should say so myself." He adds, returning to his dish washing station with a sigh, wrinkling his nose when his hands plunge into the soapy suds.

"Still, I don't see why I need to work over time for him." You grumble. The clock had chimed five o clock ten minutes ago and usually you'd be on your way to have a shower and shampoo the smell of grease and garlic out of your hair but instead you were still on the clock, orders lining up for you to prepare and stat. "What’s so special about him dropping by for dinner. Everyone here is rich."

"Well I was talking to one of the big guys," Jimin nods towards the senior chefs. "And apparently his parents have been trying to get him to marry his girlfriend for, like, ever." Jimin's voice dips to a whisper. "But get this. He broke up with his girlfriend last week when his parents suggested they get married!"

You narrow your eyes. "Right. So I'm working over time because some rich dude decided to throw his toys out of the stroller?"

Jimin rips off his pink rubber gloves and shakes you by the shoulders, like he’s trying to knock some sense into you. "Just shut up for a second would you? We're working overtime because his parent's have set him up on a date!"

You slap a hand over mouth, letting out an exaggerated gasp. "Not a date!"

"I know right!" Jimin shakes his head as if this is the scandal of the century, not quite sharing your sarcasm. "Can you believe it?"

"Is he talking about Kim Seokjin, again?" Jungkook, one of the summer buss boys, emerges from the restaurant through the double doors in his familiar black uniform. Jimin quickly smoothes down his hair, mentally chastising himself when soap suds coat his blonde locks, face burning as red as the tomatoes you chop beside him. It's common knowledge that Jimin has the biggest, all consuming crush on the oblivious chestnut haired waiter who flashes you an ever cheeky bunny smile now as he scoops up the dish you prepared onto the tray balanced on his forearm.

He shoots Jimin an eye roll. "All he talks about is Kim Seokjin this, Kim Seokjin that." Jungkook shrugs. "I really don't see what the big deal is about this guy."

Jimin crosses his arms sulkily and you have to stifle a laugh at the pair. "The big deal is that this date has to go well - no, perfect - because Seokjin needs to marry someone "parent approved" or else his father will reject him as the heir of his dynasty."

You want to ask him about his impressive eavesdropping abilities but you have to admit, this is pretty big news - especially around here where the latest hot gossip was Han Seojin's husband's gambling problem when he hit up the casino after a few too many brandy's.

"So basically, the fate of the resort lies in his hands tonight." Jimin adds excitedly as he slams the dishwasher closed with a triumphant grin.

You roll your eyes. That is surely a bit dramatic. The guy was probably too blinded by the riches he would be inheriting to care about the poor girl he was getting hitched too. "You're invested in this, huh?"

Jimin nods eagerly. "Like I said. He's hot. Like sex on legs hot."

If you weren't watching carefully you may have missed Jungkook's eyes narrowing slightly or the way he tenses and puffs out his chest. "Pfft. He is not."

"So is!" Jimin pouts. "You're just jealous you're not as inhumanely gorgeous as he is." Jungkook raises a brow and Jimin rushes to smooth over his words. "Not that you're not gorgeous! No, that's not what I mean—"

The awkward moment is interrupted by the sound of a ladle banging against a frying pan, and you let out a groan when you hear the unmistakable yell of the head chef. "Attention everyone!"

"Speaking of crazy people." Jimin mutters with a roll of his eyes, rolling up his uniform sleeves and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as all the employees gather in the centre of the kitchen. "Looks like Hoseok got out of the wrong side of bed again."

You stifle a giggle when you find that Jimin is in fact correct, head chef Hoseok rounding the corner with an ever serious expression on his face. He has always been the stern type, mouth constantly fixed in a permanent frown as he criticises your dicing skills or catches you burning another steak, but you can see by the bluish bags under his eyes and the furrowed lines etched into his forehead that he means business today and a hush quickly falls over the kitchen apart from the gentle hiss of frying onions.

"As you all know, today is a big day for Paradise." He begins. "Each and every one of our future's here as employees depends on it. Mr. Kim has chosen us to cater for his dinner date and I need each and every one of you to do everything you can to make sure it goes smoothly. Capeesh?"

Dang. Is head chef Hoseok himself nervous? He's usually irritatingly confident in his cooking abilities. Maybe this was more serious than you thought...

"I'm counting on you guys to prove our worth, you hear me? It's already an honour that he picked us to host such an important event, and if we fumble who d'ya think he's gonna fire first once he takes over as CEO?" Hoseok interrupts your train of thought, waving a wooden spoon now like he's conducting an orchestra. "Which is why I expect zero funny business. I'm looking at you Jeon Jungkook! Now scram, we have customers to feed."

A unanimous groan fills the room as everyone gets back to work, and the kitchen falls into a state of turmoil as the clock ticks away, Seokjin due to arrive in a few hours and you haven’t even started on his appetizer yet.

"This better be worth it." You grumble to yourself, suppressing a smile when Jungkook bounds like a Labrador puppy into the restaurant fit with an armful of salads yelling "Rabbit food coming up, y'all!", despite the stern look Hoseok sends his way.

You turn to Jimin, rolling your eyes at the hearts in his eyes for Jungkook as he strains his neck to get a glimpse of the chestnut haired boy's ass through the kitchen's window. He blushes when he notices you looking, but not before he’s flashing you a grin.

"Just wait until you see him," Jimin calls cheekily as you rush to the stove you had abandoned earlier. "Then you'll be glad you worked over time."

As it turns out, you are not glad you worked overtime. Kim Seokjin is late. Unfashionably late. So late that you are considering eating the dish you slaved over for nearly an hour to perfect to his preferences only for him to let it go limp and cold.

At least you could add another trait to the list of what you now know about Kim Seokjin: filthy rich, (allegedy) goddamn hot, heir to the resort and most importantly douche bag who can't make it on time to the first date with his future wife.

To make matters worse, the level of unrest in the kitchens is unlike anything you have ever seen before as everyone nervously awaits his arrival. Jungkook has been out front to polish the wine glasses at the private table he set up and lovingly adorned with candles and a bottle of iced champagne of the expensive kind because it would "create sexy vibes" more times than you can count. Hoseok took extra care with the placement of the parsley on top of the steaks he grilled and you even saw Jimin fixing his hair in the reflection of a shiny pan.

When the clock ticked over to eight, everyone had gathered around the small kitchen window, eyes beadily trained to the door.

"He'll be here any minute now, I can feel it." Jimin whispers as he sidles up beside you, practically vibrating. His excitement for the date has started to rub off on you, a funny fuzzy feeling settling in your chest — all this Kim Seokjin talk has you itching to see the guy in the flesh, even if it is just from behind the kitchen window.

Sure enough, Jimin's Kim Seokjin senses must be somewhat accurate because a hurried hush falls across the kitchen as a black car pulls up outside, a unanimous gasp filling the room as you watch him emerge from behind the tinted glass windows in awe.

You were waiting for a tight lipped guy in a suit and tie to step inside; a younger clone of all the middle aged men who frequented the resort when their "model" children got busted bunking off from golf games or whatever rich kids did to rebel. Except the guy that strolls through the sliding doors like he has time to waste is so far from the average Paradise resident that you are almost sure you're hallucinating. Or have onion in your eyes. Surely you aren't seeing this clearly?

The guy who crosses the threshold and takes a seat at the table Jungkook graciously guides him to is clad in a vibrant Hawaiian shirt, the floral a stark contrast to the luxe interior of the resort. The garment is unbuttoned lazily and draped across his broad shoulders, a pair of round,humorously large sunglasses perched on the end of his nose, and if you weren't so shocked by his...impressionable entrance you might find the whole situation comical.

"This is Kim Seokjin?" You splutter, unable to stop the giggles that leave your lips at the sight of him bobbing his head unnecessarily hard to the monotonous classical tune that carries through the restaurant, blatantly ignoring whatever words Jungkook (who looked completely starstruck) was stuttering.

The situation becomes even more ridiculous when you see the disgruntled look on the pretty girl who traipses behind him awkwardly, dressed in a floor length gown and pearls, face turning sour when Seokjin neglects his manners and forces her to pull her own chair out to sit while he zones in on the bottle of alcohol in the centre of the table.

They look like characters out of two separate worlds. Jewels glitter on her fingers as she taps them agitatedly against the table, clearly as dumbfounded by the situation as you are, especially when she offers her glass to Seokjin to pour her a drink, only for him to thrust the entire bottle of wine in her face.

Your attention is drawn away from the unfolding scene momentarily when Jungkook flies back into the kitchen in typical Jungkook fashion, except this time with an extra bout of zealousness if the stars in his eyes weren't already obvious.

"I take it back!" He puffs, slipping his empty tray beneath his elbow, hands now free to swing Jimin around in circles. "He's the most beautiful human I've ever seen!"

You cross your arms with a sneer. "Looks like a goof to me. That shirt? Not a good look on anyone."

"But his face!"

"Yeah, his face, covered by those obnoxious glasses."

"You didn't see it." Jungkook whispers, pulling your hands into his own. "He could end mankind with that kind of face! And I bet he has a monster dong too-"

"Okay, jeez." You push him away, scrunching your nose in disgust. "No discussing customer's monster dongs in the kitchen."

"So you admit he probably has one?"

"Shush!" You hiss. The kitchen huddle lets out a synchronised gasp and you elbow your way back to the window, peering past a tall chef's hat to fix your attention on the scene which had somehow escalated ten fold since you'd left it.

Seokjin's body is wracked with laughter, hand slamming down ferociously against the table, making his date wince every time the fine china jumps on the table cloth. Her hands are placed carefully atop the napkin in her lap, food untouched as Seokjin takes the liberty to pour himself another glass of wine. He looks utterly uninterested in anything she has to say, and she seems embarrassed by his mannerless behaviour, glancing around anxiously. The tension between them is suffocating, even from your safe distance, and you swear you could cut it with one of the knives hanging from the utensil rack.

Then, Seokjin leans in towards her. He removes his glasses, carefully tucking them neatly into his shirt pocket before resting his chin in his palm to stare at her intently.

Maybe he was finally taking an interest in her? She seems to think the same thing, a small smile creeping onto her face despite her awkward demeanour.

Until it slips from her face nearly as fast as it appeared, replaced by an expression of pure appalled horror when Seokjin whispers something into her ear. You can only see the back of his head so lip reading is out of the question; but if the way her chin drops into her lap was anything to go by, you have a feeling whatever he said was not something you wanted to hear on a first date and probably not from your future husband, either.

Without further ado, the girl throws her cutlery down with a clash, gathering the fabric of her dress and storming out of the restaurant in a manner that suggests the date went badly to say the least.

A ruckus has broken out in the kitchen by this point; Jimin and Jungkook stopping mid monster dong debate to gawk, a rumble of chatter erupting as everyone processes the events you had just witnessed.

What did he say? Do you think it was the steak? What does this mean for Paradise? Is he still gonna marry her?

The last one came from Jungkook and you couldn't help but bite your lip in an attempt to smother the laughter that threatened to spill at his question. "Somehow I don't think he proposed to her just then, Kook."

Your eyes zone in on Seokjin again. He is slumped back in his seat now, knuckles pressed to his eyes. He looks exhausted, a sudden change in demeanour considering this is the same guy who was shooting finger guns at his date a few moments ago. Now he just seems defeated

For a moment you think he is going to get up and leave. That is until he twists in his seat, motioning towards the kitchen window with a crook of the finger. Dessert? He mouths.

The kitchen staff disperse hurriedly, a tinge of red creeping up Hoseok's neck at being caught spying, although it is clear by the smirk on Seokjin's face that he knew you were watching him all along. There is something in his eyes that even has you wiping the amused expression of your face, though. An authority.

"Could this night have gone any worse?" You ask Jimin, referring to Seokjin's debacle. Except Jungkook is quick to interject, thrusting two black bags in your face with a grin.

"For you, yes. Your turn to take out the trash."

You blink at him a few times before reluctantly taking the bags from his grip. They were heavy, nearly making you stumble. How had Jungkook held them so easily?

"Fine." You manage to get out between gritted teeth, struggling to balance with the extra weight in your arms. "But you owe me."

"Oh believe me," There is a glint in Jungkook's eyes that you can't quite put your finger on. What was he up to? "I'll make it up to you sooner than you think."

It's dimly lit when you stumble out back armed with a pile of trash bags, the only light source some fairy lights strung around the palm trees lining the restaurant. It takes all your strength and three tries to haul the heavy trash bags into the dark mouth of the dumpster and you're out of breath by the time you're finished.

Finally satisfied with your work, you wipe your hands on your apron and turn to stalk back inside and flick Jungkook's forehead - except a loud ringing from somewhere in the shadows stops you dead in your tracks.

You stiffen, hand reaching for the door handle as a precaution, head snapping towards the direction of the sound. You can't help the small gasp that leaves your lips when you take in the figure of a tall man leaning against the kitchen wall just a few meters away, the ringing ceasing when he lifts a phone to his ear with a frustrated groan.

Shit! As soon as you realise you're not alone and before you can think better of it you're scrambling behind the dumpster, crouching so that you're just out of view but still in earshot as the figure starts to murmur into the microphone.

"Yeah, dad, I know she flew all the way from Morocco to be here tonight. It's not my fault we weren't compatible!"

Huh? A voice squeaks on the other end of the line, and though you can't work out what they say exactly the frustrated sigh that leaves the man a few meters away tells you it wasn't exactly friendly.

"What makes you think you know what's best for me? I never wanted this stupid engagement in the first place!"

Intrigued and against your better judgement, you brace your hands on the edge of the dumpster and pull yourself on top of a cardboard box discarded beside it to get a better view of the scene. If you strain your neck you can just about see the shadow of a tall figure pacing back and forth just around the corner and you can't help but lean in a little closer to hear his harsh words more clearly, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Because it's my life! I'm sick of you and mom always telling me what to do with it." You raise an eyebrow, ever intrigued when the voice lifts from a hush to a yell. "Fine! I'll go on another date, but you'll see. I won't end up like you. You owe me big time for this, dad."

With that the phone call is cut off with a monotone beep and you see the shadow of the man pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing sharply, before the soles of his polished loafers crunch against the gravel in the direction of where you crouch, eavesdropping. You had enough experience with the residents here to know they wouldn't take this lightly — you had to sign a handful of NDA's before you even got the job, so naturally your eyes widen with panic when you realise you're about to get busted listening in on a confidential call. But before you can dive behind a trash bag and take cover, you lose your footing and find yourself hurtling head first into the dumpster, landing with a crash.

A few seconds pass, the footsteps ceasing as you squeeze your eyes shut and pray your beating heart doesn't give you away, before a voice calls out.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"No!" You squeak hurriedly, slapping a hand over your mouth when it's already too late and flushing a deep shade of red when you hear a sharp intake of breath and you realise you've blown your own cover

You silently hope the guy will give up and leave, but then you hear someone climbing the outside of the dumpster and you open your eyes to see a puzzled pair of eyes peering down at you from beneath a cocked eyebrow, followed my a loud snort. "You need some help down there, sweetheart?"

This guy might be a total stranger, but any questioning words die on your tongue when you look around and remember you're literally trapped inside a dumpster and your upper arm strength is definitely not enough to get you out of this thing alone and — hold up, there's probably rats in here, right?

You scramble to your feet, brushing your messy hair from your eyes with a nervous laugh. "Uh...yeah. I guess I do."

A steady hand emerges over the edge of the dumpster and with a weak and embarrassed smile you grasp it, suppressing a squeak when the guy unexpectedly launches you over his shoulder so that he can pull you out in one fell swoop and set you safely on the ground.

"Uh, thanks." You manage to get out when you find your balance, awkwardly brushing some dirt from your apron. "Good thing you walked by when you did..."

"Yeah, guess you could call me your knight in shining armor, huh?" The guy chuckles, long and smooth like velvet. A laugh you've heard before, just moments ago in fact. That's when you battle through your embarrassment to look up and face him for the first time, flushing at the involuntary gasp that passes your lips.

The man before you has the deepest eyes you've ever seen, sharp yet soft around the edges beneath the sparkle of the low light and you shiver when they finish looking you up and down to stare into yours directly. Your eyes slip down to the familiar Hawaiian shirt draped over his broad shoulders, eyes widening when you look between your bodies to find his fingers still clasping your own as he eyes you with a curious interest.

"S-Seokjin?" You splutter. He nods, letting out a deeper chuckle this time as though he could hold it back no longer. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question," He counters, letting you go so he can reach into his pocket to retrieve a half pack of cigarettes and a lighter, ironically just beneath the unmissable NO SMOKING sign. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here hauling trash at this hour?"

"I...work here."

He nods and you just stare at him like an open mouthed idiot. He must think it's because of the way he fiddles to spark a light at the end of his cigarette, drawing his eyes from the stick back to your surprised expression. "What? Oh these? I don't smoke. Stole these from my father's coat pocket." He shakes the box back and forth with a smug grin. "Nothing pisses him off more than loosing his Lucky Strikes. Besides, I own this place, I can do what I like."

You shrug. "Well, your father does." You are speaking too quickly, mentally pinching yourself for not being able to bite your own tongue. "He owns this place I mean. Right?"

A blush creeps up your neck under his gaze which narrows as he draws closer to you. His eyes are a deeper brown up close, like a pot of warm hot chocolate - soft at the edges where they crinkle into a smile at your rushed words. Nothing like the steely glares you usually got from residents here.

"Correct," The toe of his shoe kicks at the gravel beneath your soles while he strings together his next words carefully. "For now. I'll be proud owner of Paradise before the year is out, though."

"Ha." You can't help but snort under your breath, Seokjin's head simply tilting in response with an almost amused curiosity. "I don’t know about that. Didn't look like your fiance wanted to marry you very much."

"Word spreads quick around here, huh?" He lets out a dark laugh, grimacing at the cloud of nicotine that floats away into the nigh from the cigarette between his fingers that flutters to the gravel before it’s even reached his lips. You wince when he uses the toe of his Balenciaga’s to stub it out into a pile of smoldering ash before reaching for another one that he lights in the same way as before. "She wasn't my fiance, actually.To be honest, I hadn't even met her before tonight."

You let out an awkward laugh. "I take it the wedding's off then?"

"Ha ha," You practically hear the roll of his eyes. "At least one of us finds this funny, because my father sure as shit won't." His tone is suddenly chilly and for a moment you think you offended him, though a quick scan of his face reveals a turn up of the mouth that says otherwise. He kicks off from the wall, slinging his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and you swallow thickly as the safe distance between you grows ever smaller, so close you can smell his woody cologne. "It was never on, per se. And it never will be if I have anything to do with it."

You can't help but scoff at the way he tightens his jaw and throws his arms across his chest like a toddler in time out. Sure, you hardly knew the guy but something about his attitude rubs you the wrong way. This is the guy who has everything, yet he's trash talking his lavish lifestyle to a summer employee?

"You're kind of an asshole, huh?"

"Can't say I haven't heard that one before." Seokjin agrees with a smirk. "But you don't seem like much of an angel yourself. First I find you eavesdropping on me, save your ass from a dumpster and then you choose to insult me?"

You shift awkwardly under his intense gaze, worried you might have overstepped, mouth dry as you spit out a response. "I...I didn't mean it like that—"

"God, chill out would you? I’m kidding. You're so stiff it's stressing me out." His tongue snakes out to lick his lips thoughtfully. "You're different, y'know."

"Huh?"

"I can tell you're not like everyone else around here. You're honest." Seokjin explains, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt to allow him some more breathing room as he continues. "Everyone around here is either a liar or a cheat. Or both."

"You don't even know me." You huff.

"You don’t know me either, princess.” Seokjin smirks. “So what makes you so sure I'm an asshole?."

He blinks at you eagerly, and you realise he's serious when he arrogantly waves his hand for you to go ahead and indulge him, like he's somewhat amused.

Well damn. If this guy wanted honesty you'd sure as shit give it to him

"You want the truth?" You suck in a deep breath. "I don't know what I expected when I heard the buzz about you but it certainly wasn't a rich guy who wears hawaiian shirts and makes girls cry on first dates. I don’t need to know a single thing about you to know that you’re an ungrateful asshole, just like everyone else at this resort."

A few seconds pass, Seokjin's eyes widening in momentary surprise like he wasn't used to people telling him the truth, before his face breaks out into a beaming grin. "I have a feeling we're going to be good friends." He glances at your name tag. "Y/N, is it?"

You half nod before you register his words. "Friends, what do you mean—?"

Just then the phone in his grip starts to vibrate violently, and he holds it up so you can see the bold DAD that lights up the screen.

"Sorry to cut this short pretty, but I need to take this. Better get back to work before I cut your pay check, sweetheart." You must look visibly nervous because he bursts into laughter. "What? I'm kidding, remember?"

You roll your eyes, hiding the way your face heats up by spinning on your heels and storming back towards the kitchen, pausing briefly before you can turn the handle when you hear Seokjin call your name.

"Hey. Wait up! One piece of advice. Don't let this place, get to you, okay?" Seokjin calls with a smile. "I like your honesty, it's...refreshing."

And with that he lifts the phone to his ear, disappearing around the shadowy corner with an irritating smile and a finger salute.

For some funny reason, Seokjin's words ring out in your head for the rest of the night. I have a feeling we're going to be good friends. Something tells you that isn't the last time you're going to see Kim Seokjin, and you can't tell if the way your heart skips a beat is a good thing or not.

Much to your surprise, that isn't the last time you see Kim Seokjin.

The next night he returned equally as late and equally as eccentrically dressed and left his date, blonde this time, (though equally as pretty as the last one) flustered and red in the face as she stormed out of the restaurant with glassy eyes and crushed dreams

The night after that you spot him arguing a little too loudly with a feisty lady outside the restaurant, the way he doesn't even stay long enough to finish his champagne a clear indication that the date went less than perfect.

Night after night, the same scenario played out with different unimpressed women, until finally, they just stopped coming. No more girls. No more dates. No more of Seokjin's signature laughter permeating the entire restaurant. Sure, the guy was a complete asshole, that much was clear; but you his absence left the restaurant feeling even more lifeless than before.

Obviously Seokjin's fucked up dating life wasn’t anything to laugh about. But you had to admit his antics put a smile on your face, something which had been few and far between as of late. Even when Hoseok was working you overtime, you found yourself biting your lip to suppress a grin every time Seokjin waltzed through the door. And now he was gone, and with it your small escape from reality.

"Do you think his parents finally gave up?" Jimin sighs one late evening, shaking his wet hands in the face of Jungkook who bats him away playfully.

"Nah, he probably just found a girl he likes." Jungkook reasons. "Made his parents see things from his point of view."

You snort. "They don't sound like the type of parents who would give up that easy." After more dates than you could count on one hand with various suitors deemed good enough for their son, it was clear they were prepared for him to rebel. You doubted they would give in without a fight.

"You might be right..." Jungkook trails off, rushing to smush his face against the window. "Unless...wait! I think he's back!"

"He's back?" You breathe, elbowing Jungkook out of the way and ignoring his ow! of protest, your own breath fogging up the glass now as your eyes dart from table to table in search of a familiar face.

You let out a breathy laugh. Sure enough, there he is. Hair gelled back tonight you noted, bouncing his skinny jean clad knee beneath the table with an impatience you can't quite put your finger on.

Wait...

"Ha!" You almost do a double take. Seokjin is sat alone tonight. No nearly-crying-twenty-something across from him. Just Seokjin with a single flute of champagne in his hand opposite an utterly empty chair.

Well. This is new.

"I think he's been stood up!" You lower your voice to a whisper when your burst of laughter gains a few strange looks. "There's no girl with him this time."

"What?" Jimin splutters, standing on his tip toes in an attempt to see over your shoulder. "No girl?! Let me see!"

You budge over and Jimin lets out a gasp of surprise when he takes in the scene for himself. "The Kim Seokjin got stood up. I can't believe it!"

"Maybe he's getting a taste of his own medicine." You muse.

A mischievous look crosses Jungkook's features and then he is pulling on his black apron and scurrying towards the door. "Let's find out!"

"What? — Jungkook!"

You watch open mouthed as Jungkook approaches the lonely table, fingers quivering around the order notebook he clutches like a safety blanket, with nerves or excitement you can't quite tell; before he exchanges a few words with Seokjin who barely even glances up, lazily folding a napkin in his lap. Jungkook nods vigorously before he speed walks back to the kitchen like his life depends on it, a smug grin appearing on his lips as he thrusts the order slip towards you.

"Two orders of sirloin steak, medium! Pronto!"

"Two?" You and Jimin splutter in unison.

Jungkook looks amused. Too amused for your liking.

"Yup! And guess what?" Jimin is hanging off his every word, desperate pleas of what? making Jungkook chuckle harder. "He wants the chef to serve it."

You narrow your eyes. "Hoseok? Why?"

Jungkook scoffs as if you're being clueless on purpose. "Not Hoseok, idiot!"

"Then who?"

"You." Jungkook points a finger right at you.

"Me? Wait! Jeon Jungkook, you get back here!" Before you can ask questions he is already bounding into the restaurant like a labrador on crack.

"Have fun!" He yells over his shoulder with a wink. "You'll thank me later, Y/N."

Half an hour later and you're stood with two steaming plates balanced on your arm. Why are you so nervous? All you have to do is go out there and serve the food. It's not like he was asking you to kill someone.

But every time you muster up the courage to go out there you remember your encounter with Seokjin outside the kitchens, and you instantly feel weak at the knees.

You smooth down your apron one last time, filling your lungs with the stuffy kitchen air before Jimin's hands clamp onto your shoulders and steer you towards the door.

"What are you—?" One forceful push later and you're stumbling out into the restaurant. "Jimin!"

"You can do this!" You hear Jimin call, the exasperated look you send over your shoulder in response prompting a not so reassuring thumbs up. The way your eyes downturn into a dark glare makes him collapse into a fit of gasps and giggles as he nods for you to keep going.

I'm going to get him back for this...

The table Seokjin liked to frequent is closest to the window, view casting out over the lake which the resort surrounds like a half moon, terribly modern in all it's white pillared glory in contrast to the natural beauty of the clear blue water. The lake is darkened now with the reflection of the midnight blue sky, the soft glow of lanterns lighting up the path around it and illuminating the picture of weeping willows which ripples across the water's surface, disturbed only by canoeists tying up their boats for the evening.

Seokjin doesn't seem interested in the quiet goings on of the resort. He has probably seen them a hundred times before. His back is facing you but you can see how his eyes are transfixed on the sliding entrance doors in the windows reflection. It was late evening and most people would be returning to their suites for the night by now, but Seokjin's steely gaze remains unwavering, like he's expecting it to zip open any minute. Is he waiting for someone?

Some part of you feels sympathetic. It doesn't look like anyone is coming to join him any time soon. Poor guy is about to get a taste of his own medicine and look like a fool sat opposite an empty chair harbouring a plate of uneaten food.

Ha. It's exactly what he deserves, you think. Karma.

Every step towards him feels heavier than the last until eventually you find yourself stood with knees knocking right behind him, food probably going cold with every second you spend coaxing yourself to man up and face him. You silently pray he won't hear the pound of your heart over the low hum of chatter and scrapes of cutlery against china plates that seem to fall away to silence in this corner of the restaurant where it's just Seokjin and you.

You're debating spinning on your heels and making Jungkook do it instead when Seokjin's unrelenting stare at the door snaps up to meet yours in the window's reflection, the authority in his eyes enough to have you hiding behind your hair in shame at being caught dwindling like an idiot.

"I wasn't expecting you to actually come." His voice is a deep hum that makes you jolt and nearly drop the plates. A heat burns your cheeks when Seokjin swirls the champagne in his glass amusedly, facing you with his forearm on the back of his seat and beckoning for you to set the plates down with a nod of his head. An order.

You narrow your eyes, unable to curb the irritation that laces your sigh as you obey him. You set down the dishes, one in front of him and the other in front of the seat still empty of whomever he is expecting. "I wasn't exactly expecting to be serving you tonight either. I usually just prepare the food."

Seokjin doesn't miss the roll of your eyes, snorting at the shake of your hand that gives away the anxiety beneath your front when crystal beads of champagne splash onto the immaculate table cloth as you try to top up his glass.

"Yeah and here's a reason for that. You're a shit waitress."

The way you slam the bottle down onto the table top is a little too aggressive, the legs shaking violently and drawing the eyes of a few of the surrounding diners who wipe their mouths with a delicate astonishment and flash you dark looks at the disturbance.

"Are we done? If I'm so bad then why did you call me out here?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." His fingers fold the napkin in his lap carefully. He settles back into his chair with a grin laced with mischief while you practically hop from foot to foot with nerves. "Would you sit for a second?"

"I'm an employee." You raise a brow. "I don't think that's appropriate..."

"Please?" He rests his chin in his palms.

You hug your torso and self consciously glance side to side. With a roll of your eyes you sink down into the chair, if a little reluctantly, when you're sure the couple at the table directly opposite are too deep in conversation about the crème brûlée to notice the strange encounter happening beside them.

"Fine! But make it quick or Hoseok might actually shave my head."

Seokjin gets straight to the point. "I need you to do something for me."

There is a glint in his eye as he snatches up the glass intended for the rightful occupant of the leather cushion you perch on, pouring a small amount of champagne into the flute and pushing it towards you with an encouraging nod. You observe the fizzing liquid with caution, turning your nose up at the floral aroma. Was he trying to poison you with Veuve Clicquot?

"Okay, elaborate?"

"I'm going to need you to pretend to be my date." You wait for him to laugh but his lips are pressed together in a line that tell you he is being serious. "You up for it?"

"Excuse me?" An astonished laugh punctuates your widened eyes, voice raising incredulously at his request. "Your what?"

"Hear me out!" Seokjin hisses, holding a finger to his lip to quiet you down when you splutter on the air that feels like it's thickening in your throat. "I just need to get my father off my back. It'll be five minutes tops!"

By this point you are rendered speechless, pinching the inside of your thigh to check if you are trapped in some weirdly vivid nightmare.

You? His date? Oh god...why aren't you waking up?

Your lips curl around a single breathless word. "Why?"

"Hello, I'm Kim Seokjin? Dad owns the resort? Need to get married to inherit it? I thought we went over this the other day—"

Throwing your arms over your chest impatiently, you click your tongue. "I remember idiot! I mean why me?"

"For fucks sake — you want the truth?" He chuckles but it's devoid of any humour. "You're new around here so my father is less likely to recognise you, okay?" He downs the rest of his glass, picks up his fork and pokes the cold steak on his plate restlessly, hardly bothering to look you in the face even when you scoff in disbelief.

You bite your lip, voice quiet. "Is this some sort of game?"

You are no stranger to Seokjin's tricks — you watched them play out with your own eyes, more girls than you could count on one hand leaving the restaurant in tears or worse — and something feels funny in your stomach, an instinct that says he has an ulterior motive you just can't put your finger on.

From the corner of your eye you spot Hoseok poking his head into the dining area, eyes merciless as they scan the room in search of you, the tell tale tap of his foot against the ground a giveaway of his growing impatience which makes you duck out of view in fear.

"If this is just one of your sick jokes then congrats," You deadpan. "I could literally lose my job over this."

"What? No!" He seems genuinely surprised at your accusation, exasperated sigh sounding desperate while his eyes bore into yours with a look that says please. "I'll explain everything. Please?"

He winces when your chair scrapes loudly against the tile as you get to your feet with a disbelieving shake of your head. "Sorry but I have a job to do—"

Suddenly Seokjin lets out a gasp and you hear the automatic glass doors zip open. "Ah shit!"

Seokjin's eyes widen with panic but before you can twist to see who has arrived for yourself, you're being pulled back down into the seat opposite him roughly by the elbow.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Seokjin isn't listening, shrugging his jacket down his arms and wrapping the fabric around your shoulders hastily. "Cover your uniform, okay?"

The smell of his expensive cologne fills your senses and a warm hand squeezes your shoulder pleadingly, the glint in his eye replaced with desperation.

For a moment you falter and his face brightens, believing you to be finally convinced. Until you come back to your senses and slap his hand away. "Get off me!"

"Too late." Seokjin murmurs, but before you can shoot him a questioning glance a pair of polished black shoes stop beside you. Your entire body stiffens, aware of a pair of eyes probing the back of your head.

Oh no.

"Seokjin."

An unfamiliar deep voice rumbles beside you and when you dare to look up you're met with the peering face of an older man who you recognise from the Paradise website. There are traces of Seokjin visible in the curve of his mouth and the sharp edge of his jaw and he was probably considered good looking in his youth.

Ah. So this is Mr Kim?

"You lasted longer than fifteen minutes. This must be a new record, son."

Despite their likeness it's hard to believe they are father and son -- the stern frown keeping a pair of thin framed glasses balancing on Seokjin’s father’s nose along with his crisp tailored suit a far cry from the boy sat cross legged opposite you, wine colored shirt unbuttoned too far to be a mistake.

Seokjin plasters a false grin to his mouth and raises his glass towards Mr Kim, as if to toast. "I told you I would try didn't I?"

Mr Kim says nothing, averting his intimidating gaze to you instead. Your mouth dries when he addresses you directly. "What was your name again?"

Shit! Alarm bells sound in your head, instantly regretting coming out here in the first place and getting mixed up in Seokjin's mess.

You swallow thickly, hardly daring to look him in the eye. "It's — uh," Seokjin is signalling at you with an alarmed look, face falling into his palms with a muffled groan when you fail to catch on. "Y-Y/N. I'm Y/N."

"Is it now?" Mr Kim scratches his chin thoughtfully, humming to himself as he studies your face. Shit, does he recognise you from the kitchen? Are you about to get fired? Your pulse goes into overdrive when his eyes narrow. "I'm sure I remember it being something like—"

"Her middle name!" Seokjin quickly butts in, cutlery clattering onto his plate in his haste to gain his fathers attention. "She goes by her middle name. We were just talking about it actually. Right, Y/N?"

All eyes fall on you again, Seokjin sending you a pleading look, but you don't trust your voice not to waver so you just nod and hide your rosy cheeks by wrapping your lips around rim of the untouched champagne glass.

"Funny middle name." He shrugs, landing an audible slap to Seokjin's back who winces at the hard contact. Mr Kim's eyes seem kinder as they look between you. "I'm proud of you, son. I'm glad you could finally see things from our perspective."

"Sure, dad." Seokjin shrinks away from his fathers touch with a look of distaste. "Now would you do us a favor and leave us to discuss...marriage things?" You choke on your mouthful of bubbly, eyes watering as you try to hold back a spluttering cough.

Thankfully, Mr Kim is already losing interest, flashing Seokjin a thumbs up before striding over to one of the waiters holding a platter of coconut shrimp appetizers and taking a handful for himself.

Watching him gain a safe distance and disappear among a circle of business men at the bar, you finally feel safe to let out the shaky breath you were holding. Seokjin presses his knuckles to his eyes, the vein in his neck protruding with tension.

"What the fuck was that?" He seems to have forgotten your presence, lost in his own thoughts until you rip his jacket from where it sits around your shoulders and throw it into his lap with contempt. Your laugh of disbelief sounds foreign to your own ears, unable to comprehend what actually just happened.

"You're crazy!" You let out breathlessly. "I'm out of here."

Before you can storm off like you want to, Seokjin's hand closes around your wrist and pins you in place.

"Listen, I know you think this is ridiculous but I'm literally about to get on my knees and beg you here. Just do me one more favour." You shoot him a glare and for a second you think he might actually drop to the ground and grovel if you asked him to. "Just one!"

No matter how hard you try to pull away Seokjin is persistent. "Why should I?"

"Because you have a conscience?" He pleads. "The human desire to help others in need?"

"This is crazy—"

"I'll repay you!"

You pause. "How?"

"Undecided." His head tilts in thought. "You need money?"

Disgust courses through your veins. This guy thinks he can buy you? You have encountered some entitled rich guys at Paradise but this has to be the icing on the cake, an unbelievable disconnect from acceptable social discourse — though are you surprised? He doesn't exactly have a reputation for being a good conversation holder for fucks sake, just ask his other dates.

You scoff. "I don't accept bribes. I think we're done here. Good luck with your plan or...whatever."

"Y/N wait—" Something in his voice makes you stop dead this time. An authority. No longer pleading but commanding. "I'll fire you myself right here if you don't help me out just once."

Your heart twists. Part of you knows that whatever Seokjin has in mind will be batshit crazy, if his antics tonight were anything to judge by. It would pain you to do something so demeaning but...you need this job. The decision was practically made for you.

You swivel to face him. He is standing over you now, hands on hips as if he means business. "One favor! That's it!"

He punches the air triumphantly. "You want it in writing or something?" He teases, the glint in his eye back now and taunting as you practically vibrate with a combination of embarrassment and rage.

"Don't push it." You warn.

"Okay, jeez." He throws his hands up in defense. You are acutely aware of the hysterical giggles coming from the kitchen belonging to none other than Jungkook and Jimin and the way your face burns scarlet as you storm away from Seokjin with fists clenched. "I'll let you know when I need you, sweetheart."

09:04, from unknown: — 10 o clock. meet me outside the archery court. — go to locker 16, key will be in the lock. you'll find everything you need inside

The light of your phone stings your half-open eyes, slumber still clinging to your body as you rub away any remnants of sleep with your knuckles and re-read the strange text over and over again.

Archery? An accidental text to the wrong number, surely?

You glance at the clock next to your bed - the text was sent over twenty minutes ago by now. Whoever the recipient was supposed to be wouldn't have long to get ready.

09:26, you: — huh? who is this?

Before you can even set your phone down and swing your legs out of bed your phone pings, the sound enough to make you wince in your sleepy state.

09:26, unknown: — it's seokjin??? — you know, the guy you're supposed to be marrying?

Excuse you?

All remnants of sleep and/or inner peace are ripped away as soon as you see his name pop up on your homescreen.

"Seokjin?" You splutter out loud. A name you never thought you would have to see again, let alone at this time in the morning.

You scramble into a sitting position, back pressed to the headboard as you grip your bed hair in pure disbelief. The three little dots bounce menacingly at the bottom of the screen as you type and re-type a response. Eventually you settle on something simple and to the point:

09:28, you: — how the fuck did you get this number???

Ping ping. You resist a face palm as you gather the confidence to input your password and read whatever bullshit Seokjin responded with.

09:29, unknown: — i think you're forgetting i own this place — not to brag but ive got connections — anyway, you have half an hour to get your ass over here before my sister arrives.

As you thought - utter bullshit. His sister? It's almost as if Seokjin thinks you are actually dating - or even worse, actually getting hitched.

Wait...he doesn't...does he? You suppress a groan. Why else would he be dragging you out of your apartment to go and shoot arrows at targets with his sister instead of polishing his golf club collection or lounging with self made millionaires or whatever rich things rich guys do.

You are just here to get some culinary experience. To blend into the background like the rest of the employees at Paradise, to focus on making the lives of CEO's and retired business men as easy and as luxurious as possible. Why on earth is he even taking notice of you?

09:30, you: — your sister??

09:30, unknown: — yeah? who'd you think you were arching with? — i don't do sports. — count yourself lucky my mom had to take a rain check

Fuck. His mom?

"Get a grip!" You chastise yourself. You had barely spoken two words to each other before the other night, his existence unbeknownst to yours let alone yours to his; the exchange itself a glitch in the simulation and definitely not something which you wanted to make a habit - so why are you instilled with nerves at the thought of meeting this guy's family?

You don't have time to respond with a harsh reminder of your respective positions at Paradise and why this is absolutely a Bad Idea before Seokjin sends a series of reassuring follow up texts, almost as though he read your mind and all it's reluctant thoughts.

09:32, unknown: — don't worry so much this is just to make people think we're really seeing each ohter — other* — hurry, can't have people thinking my future wife isn't punctual — doesn't look good for the reputation 😎

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck!

This is actually happening. How did you manage to get roped into some rich dudes family drama and his consequent plan of deception? And why on earth you fly out of bed, desperately trying to pat down your fly away bed hair while simultaneously shrugging on a pair of jeans is utterly beyond you.

But deep down you know why. It's because you have a sympathy for Seokjin. A goddamn sympathy for the man who seemingly had everything and who every other resident at Paradise wished they could be.

You are increasingly aware of the way your heart hammers against your rib cage, pulse quickening with every tick of the clock that brings you closer to 10 o clock. Not because you're about to see Seokjin again, surely?

Pfft. Of course not! This is just a favour - a formality as an acquaintance if you could even call yourself that.

The clock ticks over to 09:40. No, you promise yourself as you scoop up your bag and your keys. It's doesn’t mean anything, it’s just because you hate being late.

You end up being late anyway, despite rushing to Paradise from your nearby apartment without so much as considering breakfast and somehow managing to gather the courage to open the door to the women's locker room.

Embarrassment pools in your stomach when you feel the quizzical eyes of Paradise regulars burning into your back over the edges of their martini glasses. It takes all your strength to pass by them with your eyes trained to your shoes, hoping to seem unbothered by their towel turbans and gossiping lips.

You’re unsure why you feel so out of place. It's not as if you are trespassing; they gave you a benefits card when you accepted the job, giving you access to some of the resort's facilities. Some would say it was generous, but it's not as if you ever had a chance to use them in between long kitchen shifts.

Luckily, you doubt there's a risk of them recognising you from the kitchen. The resort is mostly populated by younger club members and besides it's not as if they ever cared to study your face for long enough to commit it to memory.

Still, your casual sweater and jeans combo makes you stand out like a sore thumb in a room full of designer polo shirts and athletic wear and you can't suppress the sigh of relief that escapes you when you make it past a hoard of already merry day drinkers on their way to a hot yoga class in search of locker 16 as instructed by Seokjin.

Sure enough, a key sits snugly in the lock. When you open the metal door you find a tennis skirt with a matching polo shirt, both folded neatly beneath a pair of strikingly white sneakers.

You scoop the pile into your arms, surprised when a card flutters to the ground. You recognise the Paradise logo in the corner, an unfamiliar handwritten scrawl smudged across the front in black pen.

Put these on and meet me round the back of the range. I'll be waiting. - SJ

You roll your eyes. Would it kill him to say please? Not that he is used to asking nicely. Manners are few and far between when things are handed to you on a silver platter (or by an underpaid kid with a summer job). At least that's what you gathered from your observations since you got here.

You slip into the white ensemble, silently thanking the you from yesterday for shaving your legs when you notice just how uncomfortably short the skirt is. The fabric smells like one of those expensive perfumes you sprayed at the store once and you briefly wonder who these clothes belong to.

Fastening your hair into a high pony tail like you see the other girls here do, you take a deep breath and finally sidle up to the full body mirror.

Almost everyone has filtered out of the locker room by now, some to spa appointments, others to sports matches and you find yourself alone, nearly choking on the humid air when you take in your appearance for the first time.

You look like you belong here.

Collar popped around your neck, skirt falling in perfect pleats around your waist, hair falling against your cheekbones. Not a speck of dirt on the branded shoes cushioning your soles.

For a moment you feel a sense of pride fill your chest, head resting high on your shoulders as you bask in the confidence that washes over you until you feel giddy with belonging.

Until you remember what you really are. An imposter.

Despite your Paradise inspired appearance you are nothing but a fake. A smudge on one of the picture perfect Paradise postcard's in the gift shop.

Your shoulders deflate, the sudden urge to tug your sweater back on and run as fast as you can becoming overwhelming.

Your let yourself slump onto one of the plush couches, head falling into your hands. What are you doing here? Letting some guy dress you up like a doll and show you off to save his own ass?

Besides, his family would see through you as soon as you walked out there. After all a polished stone, although pretty, can never be a diamond. And these people know diamonds like the back of their hands.

Is it because he has the authority to fire you from the kitchen job you worked so hard to get? Or is it because somewhere deep inside you are curious to see what could be in this for you?

A vibration on the couch beside you draws you from your thoughts.

10:09, unknown: — where r u????? — you know where the range is right???

God, why didn't you just say no in the first place?

"Just get on with it," you tell yourself sternly. Meet his sister, smile politely and leave without owing Kim Seokjin a single thing.

You will save his ass, buy him the time he needs to convince his parents to get off his back. And then you can go back to your culinary uniform and back to serving up lobster to rich people and you can forget this ever happened and that he so much as exists.

With a shaky breath you get to your feet, throwing your familiar clothes into the locker along with your comfort zone and what feels like your entire identity.

If this is going to work you couldn't think like Y/N, you realise. You have to think like a Paradise country club member. And luckily for you, your careful observation of other residents from the kitchen gives you quite a lot of material to work with.

Before you can second guess yourself you're taking a deep breath and striding out of the locker room door and into the sunny resort grounds.

Oh god. I'm really doing this. You suddenly feel exposed as you pass the golf court, just managing to dodge a rattling cart before it flattened you.

A pair of girls stroll past with arms interlinked, tennis rackets swinging at their sides leisurely as they make their way to the course.

Oh god. They're gonna see through you. Oh god. Just smile!

You let the corners of your mouth curve up into the closest thing to a smile you can muster, pleased when you earn a friendly nod in greeting before they dive back into their conversation again.

Nobody is noticing. You hold your head high, telling your shoulders to relax and look natural. You can do this.

You reach the range but instead of following the group of middle aged men ahead of you up to the front entrance, you slip round the back. Your eyes land on him instantly; none other than Kim Seokjin, leaning impatiently against the wall, just like he said he would be.

His appearance is enough to have you faltering in your tracks. Unlike the last time you saw him when he donned a much less flattering eye sore of a Hawaiian shirt, he's put together from head to toe - white button up tucked into a pair of tailored trousers, brown loafers showing off his ankles, the whole outfit finished off by a knit sweater tied around his shoulders.

"Wow." You can't help it. You're starting to see why he had a reputation for being particularly easy on the eye.

You swallow thickly, shaking the stunned feeling from your head and ignoring the way your heart beats a little faster the closer you draw to him.

"Finally!" Seokjin hums as he lets out a frustrated huff, eyes glued to the Rolex on his wrist. "Where have you been-"

His breath hitches when he finally looks up and takes you in for the first time. You were surely imagining the way his eyes widen and look you up and down. Right?

"Well well," Seokjin regains his self control quickly, licking his lips. "Someone scrubs up well."

Smartass. "To my credit you've only ever seen me in my work clothes."

"Touché." He purses his lips. "Nobody could make those hats look good. Except me, obviously."

There is that glint in his eye again. As if he is messing with you to get you riled up again. If he wasn't the Kim Seokjin you'd mistake him as flirtatious.

You hug your torso, confidence dwindling with every second you stand beneath Seokjin's probing gaze, anxious to get out onto the range before it dissipates completely. "So? Are we just gonna stand here?"

"You turn up late and then have the audacity to order me around?" His eyebrows furrow and for a second you think he's going to warn you. Remind you who has the power here.

But then his face breaks out into an amused smirk and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. "Remember when I said I think you and I are going to get along just fine?"

Seokjin slings his hands into his pockets, striding towards the back door of the facility. He shakes the handle before using his key card to let you both into the archery equipment lodge.

You trail behind him. "Don't get too comfortable," You warn. "This is a one time thing."

Seokjin muses over a selection of crossbows in display cases before fishing in his pocket for a key, unlocking the glass and taking down two flashy ones. He grabs a quiver loaded with arrows from a stand and thrusts both into your arms without warning.

"Sure." He is slinging a quiver over his own shoulder now. He holds open the door to the archery range, gesturing for you to go first. So now he has manners? "If you say so."

The archery range is an expanse of perfectly pruned green grass, surrounded by the breathtaking scenery of fragrant rose bushes and trailing ivy that the resort boasts. And, as you're learning, an excuse for refreshments, as you find yourself now in a fancy veranda bar with high arching windows that overlook the distant targets, serving chilled lemonade and Prosecco and appetisers on fancy napkins.

"Pretty cool, right?" Seokjin asks, resting his elbows on the windowsill and smirking at your speechlessness and open mouthed expression. "But quit looking so surprised, yeah? You gotta make my sister think this is normal for you."

You don't have time to ask what he means before you are being spun around and engulfed in a hug. You freeze, sucking in a breath of surprise, the sickly smell of fancy shampoo engulfing your senses as your face is pushed into a head of perfect ringlets.

"You must be Y/N." The person, a woman, purrs into your ear. "It's good to finally meet you." The way she draws out the word makes you nervous.

This is Seokjin's sister?

Something about it doesn't feel how a hug is supposed to. Instead it feels like a silent interrogation. Are you good enough to be one of us? Nothing about it is warm. Instead it's sticky, your hands patting her back awkwardly, counting the seconds in your head until it is acceptable to pull away from her stiff hold.

When she lets go you are met with the tight lipped smile of a pretty twenty something, eyes scanning your face from beneath a sun visor. A customised hot pink quiver drapes across her shoulder and you notice the way she eyes your borrowed equipment distastefully.

"That would be me." You force a smile that ends up being a little too wide, glancing nervously at Seokjin who simply nods in encouragement. "It's good to...finally meet you too?"

She holds you at arms length, giving you a once over before speaking tightly. "Well aren't you a doll?"

You must look as terrified as you feel because her eyebrows raise triumphantly. Seokjin senses the tension. He looks between the two of you almost worriedly, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. For a second you think his concern is kind of sweet...No! Not allowed.

"No hug for me?" Seokjin swoops in and his sister's features harden at his sarcastic tone, a punch landing on his shoulder which he pretends to rub better, emitting a small ow!

"You're late."

"Sorry Hyejin, couldn't find my best shoes." Seokjin throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you from her grasp a little protectively and flashing an award winning smile that makes your heart flip...No! Definitely not allowed.

"Those are your best shoes?" She grimaces, shaking her head with an air of disappointment. "You left me waiting here for half an hour for those?" Her eyes narrow at you accusingly, as if she knows the truth and wants you to offer an apology.

Seokjin is quick to save you again. "Yup. All my fault. Shall we shoot?"

"Gladly." She smooths down a stray curl, studying her reflection in the glass windows. "I've been itching to see Y/N's aim since I got here. I hear you are a pro, no?"

You choke. A pro?

Luckily she's already stalking across the deck in her click-clacking wedges and out onto the damp green grass, missing the panicked glance shared between yourself and Seokjin.

"Uh-"

"Um-"

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. Think of something, he mouths.

She stops dead, shooting a puzzled glance over her shoulder. "Well are you?"

"Not exactly-" You start.

"I think you're thinking of one of the other...candidates, Hyejin." Seokjin says carefully. He places his palm at the small of your back. The gesture was probably just for show but it comforts you none the less.

"I'm sure she's just being modest." She says to Seokjin, but she's looking right at you. Her forefinger taps against her palm and you can almost see the puzzle pieces falling together in her head before her expression smooths out and you let out a sigh of relief. "So. Shall we?"

Seokjin nods sheepishly. Hyejin slings an arrow into her bow with the ease of an expert, Seokjin quickly following suit. And it is in that moment, as you watch them shoot equally as precise shots to the centre of their respective targets, that it dawns on you. You have never shot a bow and arrow in your life.

"Let's see just how good you are." Hyejin steps back, offering you the main stage. You squint at the targets in the far distance, the rings blurring into one. How on earth did they make hitting those things look so easy?

"Sure thing." You wince at the strain in your voice as you fumble to pull an arrow from your quiver, fingers shaking as you try to sling it into the bow.

You can do this..

You lift the bow, close your eyes and hope for the best when you let go of the arrow, watching as it flies a short distance before sticking upright in the dirt just short of the target.

Cheeks scarlet, you glance at Hyejin who looks positively horrified. "When you said not exactly good I wasn't expecting you to be so...inexperienced. No personal trainer?" She muses, eyeing you quizzically, to which you shoot her an embarrassed smile in confirmation. "Anybody would think it was your first time!" You sheepishly giggle along to the hearty chuckle she enjoys at the mere thought, spluttering when her face suddenly darkens "It's not right?"

You freeze. "Uhhh..."

"It's just nerves," Seokjin insists, palms clamping your shoulders and thrusting you forward again. "She's probably just shitting it because you're watching."

"Language!" Hyejin scolds, letting the roll of Seokjin's eyes slip when she sees you fiddling with another arrow.

This time you prepare the bow with ease, a bout of confidence washing over you as you make eye contact with Seokjin over the top of the bow you raise to your shoulder. His eyes soften slightly and he offers an encouraging nod as you squint at the target and shoot the arrow straight into the centre ring.

You're momentarily shocked at your own abilities before Seokjin is letting out a genuinely impressed hoot, his hand coming between you to offer a sly high five unbeknownst to Hyejin. A silent congratulations for not completely fucking up.

"Pretty good." Hyejin nods, looking genuinely impressed, and you give yourself a silent pat on the back.

Holy shit. This is really working! She believes you belong here!

"Although I'm not sure where father got the idea of professional from with that technique," She lowered her voice, clearly only intending for Seokjin to hear the last part despite you standing beside her. "I must admit her figure seems better suited to tennis anyway..."

Or not. Maybe you still have some work to do...

Hyejin seems in a hurry to get to the next target, and Seokjin hangs back to whisper in your ear before you follow.

"Congrats," He hums with a smirk. "You fit right in. Welcome to Paradise, Y/N."

The next forty five minutes pass quicker than you expect.

"— and I said, 'How could you seat the Jeon's next to the Jung's when you know they're feuding about the business contract'?" Hyejin exclaims. "Scandalous."

"Scandalous." You reply with a bored attempt at enthusiasm, raising your eyebrows at Seokjin over the rim of your glass as you sip cloudy lemonade through a straw. To his credit he looks equally as exhausted with Hyejin's spiel, shaking his knee impatiently as he itches for an opportunity to pounce.

As Hyejin continues to make mildly interrogative small talk and you find it increasingly easier to think on the spot when she asks about your family's (imaginary) dynasty and the university degree in economics you (supposedly) possess, you start to feel more comfortable. But Seokjin still refuses to loosen the arm resting around your shoulders keeping you planted by his side all afternoon, as if he is nervous his sister might swoop down like a bird and take you away at any moment, like a toddler with a toy.

That's why when she suggests a trip to the little girls room to powder your noses, Seokjin throws you a reluctant look. He protests at first when you readily agree (hoping to splash some cold water on your face to cool the constant burn that seems to have settled into your every pore) and he still looks concerned, knee bouncing nervously, when you peel yourself away from his body and disappear into the bar a few steps behind Hyejin who doesn't seem interested in side by side small talk.

In fact, you use the bathroom in silence and she doesn't speak another word until you catch her gaze in the mirror as she emerges from a cubicle behind you.

"You might have my little brother fooled but I see right through you, you know." She sets down her cosmetics bag on the sink, retrieving an expensive tube of lipstick and swiping the pinkish colour over her lips nonchalantly.

The tap stops running over your soaped up hands as you try to curb the nausea her words induce. Does she know who you are? Who you really are?

Despite the shake to your voice you try to play it cool. "W-what do you mean?"

Hyejin's laugh is small and tight, nothing about it humorous at all. Her eyes never leave her reflection, fluffing up her curls with an air of superiority. "I see through parasites like you straight away."

Your mouth falls agape with astonishment. "Parasites?"

"You should know that I have people all over this place who will find out exactly why you came here." For the first time she turns to look you dead in the eye, a bitter smile lacing her lips smugly. She is eye level but it feels like she is towering above you. "What is it you want? Money?"

"No I—"

"Just wait." Hyejin slings her bag over her shoulder triumphantly, voice getting smaller as her heels click across the tiles to the door. She pauses, poking her head back into the room as if burdened with an after thought. "You could do with some more mascara, by the way, darling. Would make you look much prettier."

And then she's gone, leaving you to watch her hips swaying into the distance with hands dripping dry onto the ground.

By the time you calm your nerves enough to emerge from the bathroom looking semi-confident, Hyejin is already ordering another drink and Seokjin is straining his neck to search for you anxiously.

Even from a few meters away you can see the way he sighs with relief when he spots you approaching. It didn't last for long though as he must notice the slightly reddened rings around yours eyes that weren't there before and before you can give him a watery smile in greeting, he is on his feet.

"What happened?"

You bite your lip. "Seokjin, I think I need to go."

"I knew this would happen. Did she try and get in your head?" You nod and his face darkens. "I was an idiot bringing you here."

"It's fine, I shouldn't have agreed, you stay and I'll just go—"

"Right!" Seokjin makes a show of slapping his palms to his knees, practically jumping to his feet and dragging you up with him by your elbow, only a hare away from spilling the drink in your hands. "Sorry to cut this short but I think it's time for Y/N and I to be going."

Hyejin looks positively furious at the suggestion of saying goodbye, gesturing towards the bucket of ice in the centre of the table you had inhabited after your arms began to hurt from holding the archery bow. "But we haven't even opened the Champagne yet, Jin-"

"Oh I don't day drink." You wave her off, biting your lip with instant regret when you see how her face hardens.

"Sorry Hyejin but there really just isn't enough time," Seokjin insists, reaching for your bag to save you the trouble, slinging it across your shoulder and pushing you by the shoulders towards the exit. It's not like you have a choice in the matter but you have to admit you are relieved the whole fiasco is finished. "Send my best wishes to Wonho and Minhye!"

"Minhyuk." Hyejin splutters as she staggers to her feet, chair scraping obscenely. "Your nephew's name is Minhyuk!"

"Good to know!" Seokjin calls over his shoulder, already speed walking into the lobby before you can make out her response.

When Seokjin decides there is enough distance between you and the range he drops his arm from where it drapes around your shoulders. You didn't realise it was there until it was already gone, a cold emptiness settling over you. Why had it felt so natural?

He lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Thank god that's over with. I thought she would never stop talking."

You snort in agreement. "I've never told so many lies in my life."

"I find that hard to believe." Seokjin smirks when you slap his arm playfully. "It came too easily to you."

"It's your fault! Your deceptive ways are rubbing off on me!"

"Deceptive ways?" Seokjin splutters, a genuine laugh spilling from his lips. Heartier and much different to the strained chuckles he's been giving Hyejin all day. You decide by the way your heart lurches that you like it much better. "I'll have you know I never lie."

"You're joking right?" Surely he is aware that it was him that roped you into this identity fraud master plan in the first place? The smirk on his face says yes. It's your turn to laugh, mimicking his earlier tone. "I find that hard to believe."

"Then ask me a question and I'll tell you the honest truth and nothing but the truth."

"Uhh okay?" You pause, mulling over all the questions you really want to ask. Why did you choose me? Does this make us friends? Are you gonna look through me again at the restaurant when this whole thing is over? Before you sheepishly settle on something more appropriate.

"How much is the resort worth? It must be a lot if you would go to all this...trouble."

"Five hundred."

"Five hundred thousand?"

"You're coy. Of course not." He chuckles. "Million."

Oh. Well now everything makes sense.

"Come on, ask me another." Seokjin bumps his shoulder against yours playfully, hair falling in his eyes that you’re desperate to push away. Your cheeks burn. "What's on your mind, kitchen girl?"

Don't say it...don't say it...

"D-did your sister hate me?"

Too late. The question slips out before you can stop it and you slap a hand over your mouth in shock.

He narrows his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

Why do you want to know? It's not like any of this really mattered - it wasn't real after all. So why does your stomach twist when you remember the spiteful way Hyejin spoke to you?

You flash a sheepish smile. "J-just interested."

Your ego was just bruised that's all. It was natural to feel bad when someone didn't like you, right?

"Then yes."

Oh.

Your chest clenches for no reason. Maybe he really never lies after all, huh?

Seokjin must notice the way you pout. "It's not personal! That's just how she is. Honestly, out of all the candidates so far you're the one she hated the least..."

You snort. "Good to know?"

You come to a stop outside the locker room doors. You don't know what to say - what is left? Goodbye? Thank you?

You're probably never going to speak to him again, true; but goodbye feels too formal. Too real. Instead you stay quiet, the sound of cicadas and balls hitting racquets filling the silence as Seokjin’s chocolate brown eyes make you weak at the knees when they darken, his body drawing ever closer to yours.

"Aren't you gonna ask how I plan on repaying you?"

Seokjin's fingers wrap around your elbow before you can slip away and you gasp at how his skin burns yours. You swallow thickly. The light bounces off his face dazzlingly and you have to admit he looks good right now, with his shirt unbuttoned lazily and his bitten lips inches from yours.

"I-I forgot about that." You admit. Sure you had been uptight about this whole idea initially but you couldn't deny the fact that today had been kinda fun. Did you really need a reward? Maybe you'd got a little lost in pretending to be someone else. So what?

"Well," Seokjin draws closer until your back presses against the wall, his breath hot next to your ear. "I have something in mind."

Your pulse quickens when you feel his hand rest upon your hip, the rise and fall of his chest so close that you get tingles down your spine.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "W-what is it?"

His chuckle is warm against your sensitive neck and you shudder when his lips ghost over your skin, so so close. "Can I show you?"

"Sure." You breathe.

And then he takes you by the chin, lining up your mouths and crashing them together in a hot tangle of tongue and teeth, his chapped lips moving against yours with an urgency. Your arms snake around his neck, tangling in the hair at his nape and pulling him into you with a thump.

Before your eyes can flutter shut and your heart can get lost in the feeling of his teeth pulling at your bottom lip and the taste of sour lemonade that still lingers on his tongue, Seokjin pulls back with a smirk, eyes dropping to your parted lips and then back to your blown out eyes with a satisfaction.

He runs a knuckle down your cheek. You feel your legs weaken. "I want you."

The huskiness in his voice makes your head spin, chest burning with the desire to connect your lips again. But you resist.

"Why?" You squeeze your eyes shut, head lolling back against the wall to avoid his gaze, embarrassed at how shaky your voice sounds after one kiss. God, you're weak. "Why me?"

"Like I said," Seokjin's fingers trace down your sides, eyes darkening when he notices the way the light touch makes you shiver under him. "I want you. Have since I first saw you."

He wants you? What about all those other girls, the ones he sent running? The ones who were much more suited to him than you would ever be?

"So what?" You scoff, biting your lip to stop a needy gasp when he presses a bold kiss to your jaw. "Want to add me to the list of girls who — mmf — w-who you seduced?"

He pauses, lips pressed against your burning skin for a little longer while he registers your words. "Maybe." He resumes his earlier actions, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "Is that so bad?"

"I can't do this." You bite your lip. This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't intending on letting Seokjin get to you, didn't mean to become a mark in his black book or a notch in his bed post.

"Why not?" He presses his forehead to yours. Your breath hitches and you will the warm tingle in your stomach to go away. "I saw you checking me out on the range."

The way he grins tells you that you hadn't been so subtle after all.

"And besides," Seokjin grips your ass through your skirt, making you gasp to his satisfaction. "This way, I get to pay you back and have some fun of my own."

"H-how?" You can feel yourself slipping. Into his touch, into his words.

"By making you cum." That had your panties damp and he knew it, the heat between your legs distracting you from the way he groans against your lips when your hips buck into him involuntarily.

It's like he knows what you need, slotting his leg between your own and putting pressure on the growing ache in your core. "I know you want this too."

He's right, the way the cotton of your panties has begun to cling to your folds a tell tale sign of your arousal. Seokjin knew exactly how to make you putty in his hands. Every teasing touch of his lips to your neck, every feather light trace of his fingers has him chuckling darkly when you melt into his body, unable to resist the way he makes your core ache needily for his touch.

"Come on, I can make you feel good." Your breath hitches when fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. "If I just lift this up..."

Oh god. If you don't stop now it'll be too late...

His hand slips beneath your skirt, pads of his fingers hooking your sodden panties to the side, the flash of cold air against your needy folds making you whine into the crook of his neck. "P-please."

You feel him smirk against your hair, speaking with a tone so sickly sweet you would've rolled your eyes if your clit wasn't already pulsating for his touch. "Please what?"

"Make me cum."

"I knew you would come round." He pulls back to face you, drinking in the expression on your face which you presume is utterly fucked out. You have to admit the way his own irises have darkened with what you recognise as lust makes your stomach leap in anticipation. "So desperate for me already hm?"

You whine, somewhat in confirmation, somewhat in frustration at his refusal to touch you even when you buck against his hand. "Please."

"I wouldn't have put you down as the begging type." His hand suddenly cups your heat, pads of his fingers circling your entrance teasingly. He lets out a choked groan when he feels your arousal. "This wet for me? Already?"

"What do you expect?" You stammer, squeezing his shoulders and holding back on the urge to buck against his palm again. "You've got your hand up my skirt."

"Mmm, I could just make you come undone right here." His eyes darken, tongue snaking out to wet his chapped lips hungrily. "Could easily fuck you out nice and slow with my fingers if I wanted to, hmm?" Seokjin has begun to circle your entrance teasingly, making you squirm every time he nearly slips inside.

"Fuck." Your eyes are squeezed shut, breathing already laboured despite him barely even touching you, just the thought of him filling you up getting you dangerously worked up. "I want you to."

"What was that?" Seokjin's lips curve up mischievously, one of his fingers nearly filling you up before he removes his hand and you groan with frustration. "Gotta use your words sweetheart."

Your heart thumps at the use of the pet name but you choose to ignore it, instead reaching between your bodies to clasp his wrist before it disappears completely. "Fuck me," you pant, eyes roaming his with desperation. His staunch gaze never falters. "Please, fuck me now."

Seokjin connects your swollen lips again, but not before mumbling against them gruffly. "Remember you asked for it."

Then, his free hand to spreads your legs, knee stopping them from closing as his other hand closes in on your aching core. The feeling of his digits running down your soaked slit has you panting and you feel your legs buckle when he pressed two of his lithe fingers into your heat without warning. You are dripping by now, hole accommodating the stretch and allowing his fingers to slip inside easily.

Your clit pulsates with need and you want to feel Seokjin everywhere, have him take you in any way he wants, momentarily lost to the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of your heat; until you remember that you have Seokjin's hand down your pants in broad daylight and anyone could walk by and see just how weak he makes you.

"Wait!" He halts his ministrations, raising a brow. "W-we can't, not here."

You mewl when his thumb ghosts across your swollen clit, touch light but enough to have you gasping into the crook of his neck.

"Let's take this inside, then." Before you can ask what he means his fingers disappear, leaving your hole clenching agonisingly around nothing again. He presses the arousal coated digits to your lips and you enjoy the way his jaw tightens as you eagerly take them into your hot mouth, humming when you taste yourself on your own tongue. "Fuck you'll drive me crazy if you keep this up."

You can tell you are getting to him, even if he is trying to hide it. The way his eyes roll back when you suck his fingers clean, how he bites his cheek to stop a lustful groan when his eyes dip between your bodies to your almost naked heat tells you all you needed to know.

He can't take it any longer.

Seokjin pulls his hand away with a wet pop, your throbbing heat protesting when he let your legs fall shut, linking his clammy hand with your own. "Come with me."

It takes a second to remember how to walk, letting him pull you behind him in your dizzy haze. His hand is warm in yours and your entire body aches to feel them on you again. It's already too late to hide your swollen lips and slightly mussed up hair before Seokjin drags you right into the men's locker room .

"Wait, we can't do it in here—"

"Everyone out!" Seokjin's voice bellows through the locker room, all its inhabitants pausing their ministrations to peer at you curiously.

You try to let go of Seokjin's hand to button up your shirt but he won't let you, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you hide behind him self consciously, knees knocking. "We need to use the locker room."

A groan erupts through the room, a chorus of again? permeating the sound of lockers slamming shut with frustration before one by one all the dudes in the locker room began to shuffle past you to the exit.

"Seokjin!" You hiss, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear angrily. "Now everyone knows!"

Seokjin's thumb rubs across your knuckles soothingly. "Who cares?"

You feel your cheeks flush hotly when a man you recognise from the restaurant, now wearing nothing but a towel, narrows his eyes in a knowing look. You willed the ground to swallow you up.

The sound of footsteps ceases, the door swings closed and finally you're alone.

"Better?" Seokjin turns to you expectantly.

"I can't believe you just did that!" You cover your face with your palms. "God how am I going to look any of them in the eyes again."

"They don't care." He soothes, your unamused expression not faltering still.

"Are you even allowed to do that? W-What if they tell someone—"

"They won't," Seokjin smirks. "They value their memberships here too much."

You bite your lip. "Maybe we shouldn't do this."

Seokjin rushes forward to cup your face in his palms reassuringly. The act feels a little too sincere and you nearly melt at the intimacy, resisting copying his motion by pinching your palm instead. "It's okay, seriously! They're just jealous that I get lucky more around here than any of the old bastards have in their entire lives."

"I don't believe you." Your words are muffled by his chest, his chuckle vibrating against your cheek.

"They're jealous because they'll never get this lucky."

"Huh?" Seokjin's hands slide down the small of your back to cup your ass, lifting your entire weight so that your legs wrap around his waist. You let out a giggle of surprise when his face comes into view, smirking up at you.

"Lucky enough to get someone as pretty as you underneath them."

There they are again, the butterflies in your stomach, the skip of a beat in your heart, a warmth spreading through your chest that feels too good to question right now. "Technically I'm above you." You mumble. "Besides they were all, like, fifty years old or something."

"Just shut up would you?" Seokjin stumbles forward, throwing you roughly onto one of the couches. The fabric feels like velvet when your nails clutch at it desperately, trying to hold on to whatever control you have left when Seokjin drops to his knees between your legs to hover over you. "And kiss me for fucks sake."

You oblige, pulling him by the collar to connect your lips in a kiss even more heated than before if that was even possible. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you sigh contentedly into the kiss when he pulls your face even closer with his palms.

"F-fuck." He pulls back with a pop, hands roaming along the tops of your thighs too teasingly for you to handle. By now you're so worked up that you just needed him to take you roughly, the thought of his cock pounding in and out of you making you moan when you feel his bulge brush your leg. God you want him more than you knew it was possible, the way your clit pulses at the thought of how good it would feel to come around him or better yet feel him come inside you overwhelming.

"Seokjin, p-please fuck me." You practically whine, letting your head fall against the couch cushion when his thumbs fiddle with the lace of your panties. "Wanna feel you inside me."

The sound that comes from his throat seems strangled. "Fuck, what did I say about driving me crazy?"

"Need you so bad," You rotate your hips to emphasise your desperation, the action providing you with no relief when his steel like grip prevents you from putting any pressure on your dripping folds. "Wanna cum for you."

You blink up at him through your lashes and you swear you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows a moan. He liked it when you provoked him, you could tell. His resolve is crumbling with every word out of your mouth.

"Please, I'm so wet." Fuck, you are. You can feel it dripping down your ass, probably making a mess of the couch below you. You hope it can be dry cleaned. "Just fuck me now—mmf!"

Seokjin shuts you up with a hard press of his lips to yours, the action conveying he's just as desperate as you, the way his hands trembled telling you he isn't as unaffected as he wants to appear.

His breathing is nearly as ragged as yours now. "You like riling me up don't you?"

He runs a shaky hand through his hair exasperatedly and you look up at him hopeful, willing him to touch you, kiss you, anything.

"I'm not going to fuck you."

Oh.

You stiffen beneath him, his words shocking you still.

He doesn't want you. Simple as that.

This was just another one of his games and you fell straight into it. You close your eyes and braced for him to start laughing. To point his finger and tell you how lame you are for ever thinking that someone like him could want someone like you.

Except nothing comes. Just the sound of your shaky breaths and a shower running nearby.

"Why?" Your voice is small now and you draw your knees to your chest, trying to hide as much from him as possible. "You don't want to?"

He looks dismayed at your suggestion, palms shooting out to push you back down and pull you back into his hold again.

"It's not that, Y/N." You let out a relieved breath, not fighting Seokjin when his forehead falls against your chest in defeat, heavy breaths ghosting across the tops of your breasts. You're sure he can feel the way your heart beats uncontrollably in your chest.

"Then why?" You bite your lip. You sound too needy, to whiny. Why do you even care if he wants you or not? This is a one off anyway.

"God, I want nothing more than to strip you and see you bounce on my cock right here"

Oh.

Seokjin's lips attach to your neck, sucking harshly like a man deprived, as though he can't hold back any longer. His hands roam everywhere they can reach, rubbing your breasts over your shirt before his fingers work on the buttons eagerly.

"S-Seokjin..."

"Would give anything to see you come undone on my cock. Bet you'd moan so pretty when I pound you, yeah?"

Truth be told you'd let him right now if he said the word, the thought of him stretching you out making you see stars before he has even properly touched you. Your core is hot and sticky against your panties while you clench around nothing while his every word makes you writhe to be filled. "Then w-why don't you?"

"Because there's plenty of time for that, princess." He flashes you a smile. Plenty of time? Why did he make it sound as if this wasn't a one time thing? As if you'd be back for more? "This is for you remember? Gotta pay you back."

You yelp when Seokjin lifts your ass, thumbs finally dragging your panties down your legs and throwing them behind him before he spreads your legs with a hunger. "Let me taste you, hm?"

Seokjin pushes your skirt around your waist, exposing your core to his hungry eyes, drinking in how you look all spread out for him. Just the sight of him so close to your dripping heat makes the coil in your stomach tighten and you're sure you could cum just from the way his lips part in anticipation.

He looks up at you for confirmation, smirking when you nod your head before falling back against the couch weakly when he drags a finger down your slit teasingly, licking his lips when you mewl at the brief contact with your clit. "So pretty."

He sinks back against his heels, cheek warm against your inner thigh, hot breath caressing your clit. A moan escapes you at the feeling much to his amusement, his bruising grip on your thighs stopping you from bucking up. "Hurry up — mmf — please."

For the first time he listens to your request, skipping the teasing to run a long stripe up your soaking slit. Seokjin groans against your clit and you quiver, his staggered breaths hot against your dripping folds. "Taste so good, sweetheart."

"S-Seokjin," Hands spread your legs as far as they cN go and then plump lips engulf your clit, sucking with a perfect harshness that makes your legs shake and your head fall back with a gasp, hands tangling in his blonde locks tightly enough to have him groaning blissfully. "Fingers!"

The breathiness of your voice makes him chuckle against your heat, vibrations enough to have your knees straining to close around his head, the pressure between them almost too much. "What was that?"

"Fingers," You reiterate, aware of how fucked out you soundjust from feeling his tongue on your clit, every teasing flick making your entrance pulse. "Inside me, now."

"No please?" The drag of Seokjin's flat tongue down your slit to prod at your hole is sinful, the way he took to fucking you with his tongue teasingly drawing small whimpers from your lips. It's mesmerising how he knows just how to make you fall apart.

"P-please!"

The gentle brush of his nose against your clit nearly has you coming on the spot. "Turn over." He growls against your mound. An arm wraps around your waist and before you can protest his mouth leaving your heat, you are being flipped onto your hands and knees, Seokjin's palm pushing your head down against your forearms so that your ass comes up for his viewing pleasure. "That's more like it."

"F-fuck." It feels dirty being on display for him like this, dripping wet and wiggling your hips, desperate for friction against your spread folds. Pressing your cheek to the couch, you catch a glimpse of Seokjin's expression as he takes you in, eyes black with desire, lips still coated in your sticky arousal.

"Shit." His breath hitches. "Such a pretty pussy, hm?"

It's your turn to take a shaky inhale when a single finger circles your entrance, Seokjin humming approvingly when you clench hopelessly around nothing. Knowing you are so close to being filled even with a single finger gets you panting, circling your hips and trying to sink down onto the digit that smears your wetness through your folds lewdly. Seokjin pulls his hand away with a click of his tongue.

"That desperate to be filled, baby?" His tone is taunting, followed by a chuckle when you whine at the way his words make your clit throb. "Fuck, such a slut, dripping wet for just my fingers."

He reaches around to press the pad of his finger against your lips and you suck it instinctively, humming when you taste yourself, some of your sticky arousal smearing on your chin. Seokjin's head rolls back, the visual practically sending him into sensory overload.

"Such a slut," A loud slap fills the room, a palm landing flat against your upturned ass, the sensation making you cry out in surprise. His breath is hot and ragged against your ear. "You like that?"

Despite the embarrassed shake of your head another smack lands to the flesh of your other cheek with enough force to leave a mark this time. It stings when he rubs his calloused hands over the reddening skin that is now burning hot where it collided with his palm but the pain quickly dissipates to pleasure and you bite your hand to stop from moaning out too lewdly. "Use your words, princess."

"Seokjin!" You can't hold back from whining his name when his palm lands straight on your heat, the sharp pain a somehow welcome relief when he instantly rubbed a few soothing circles into your folds with the pads of his fingers, each graze of your clit making your legs shake uncontrollably. "I-I need more."

"This?" Without warning he presses two fingers into your pussy, entrance squeezing around him wildly at the pleasant stretch. Every flick of his wrist permeates through the locker room with a loud squelch, testament of just how worked up you were.

"Ugh!" Every drag of his fingers against your velvety walls has your eyes rolling back, the way he curls the digits with every thrust hitting your sweet spot perfectly, like he knew exactly how to drive you crazy. "S-so good."

You are starting to get out of breath, meeting his thrusts by rocking back against his hand and this time he doesn't protest, encouraging you by kneading the flesh of your ass and groaning in time with the sharp gasps leaving your lips each time the heel of his hand brushes your swollen clit.

"Think you can cum again with just my fingers, baby?" The way you clench around around his digits is a tell tale sign that your second high is close. Just his words alone nearly make you fall over the edge, words slurred as you try to focus on anything other than the unrelenting pulse between your legs.

"N-need more." You sound utterly fucked out, eyes squeezed shut and lost to the feeling of being filled but the stretch isn't quite enough and you need more to tip you over the edge. "Another one."

Seokjin lines up a third finger with your entrance, the ring on his finger cold against your hot walls as he slides it in beside the others at an agonisingly slow pace; to allow you to adjust to the stretch or to taunt you can't tell. By the time he gets to his knuckles your body is wracked with laboured breaths, quivering knees barely able to hold your weight as you bite the inside of your cheeks to curb a string of whines at being finally filled.

Of course, his fingers weren't as good as the real thing and you wonder how he is able to control himself when your mouth waters at the thought of feeling him inside of you instead of his hand.

The room is still a little humid from the showers, a layer of sweat glistening across your skin as you chase your high with determination, the stickiness between your legs dripping down Seokjin's wrist and making him tut, the click of his tongue heightening the sensation.

"That's it, cum for me." The authority lacing his tone tips you over the edge, another smack stinging your ass as you bury your face in the couch with a cry, the feeling of his fingers pumping you through your high almost too much to bare but as soon as they are ripped away and you're left clenching around nothing you miss the feeling of being full.

"So pretty when you cum." Seokjin murmurs. Under normal circumstances you would have been embarrassed, self conscious even with your ass up for anyone to see, release leaking on to the couch, but you're too fucked out to care about anything m, barely able to register Seokjin's new found gentleness as he flips you onto your back and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear while you focus on returning your breathing back to a normal pace.

"Holy shit." The beat of your heart seemsdeafening in your ears, the only other sound you can comprehend being Seokjin's own ragged breathing.

"Fuck, I nearly just came in my pants." When you manage to turn your head he is staring straight at you with disbelief, eyes travelling to your swollen lips. "I'm going to jerk off to this image forever."

"Me too." You murmur honestly.

Your lids fall shut in post orgasm bliss, not expecting the incoming peck Seokjin presses to your parted lips. It is barely a kiss, plump flesh of his lips brushing yours for less than a second but a funny warmth spreads through your chest at the gesture. Seokjin seems as surprised as you, as if he can't quite believe he just did that, shuffling to the other side of the couch to put some distance between you.

"You should uh, get dressed." He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly and turning away to give you some privacy, as if he hadn't just had his head between your legs just a moment ago.

His behaviour, albeit kind of strange, makes you smirk and you decide it won't hurt to tease. "Well, at least now we're even."

Seokjin bites his lip when he turns around to find your skirt back around your thighs, overcome with a new confidence, sauntering over and palming your ass like he owns it. "Nope, not getting away that easily. I think you'll find I made you cum twice. So now you owe me. Again."

"And what do I owe you this time, Kim Seokjin?" You place your hands on his chest, no instinct to push him away for some reason. "Golfing with your brother up next?"

"No," He scoffs. "My brother wouldn't be caught dead with a club."

"Then what?"

You notice the glint in his eye again, the one you are starting to crave. "Let me get to know you."

"Isn't that what you did today?"

He shakes his head. "The real you."

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin imagine #seokjin scenario #jin imagine #jin scenario #bts fanfiction #bts fic #fic: better with you

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nxrthmizu · 4 years

Text

[Broken Hearts and Empty Ones]- Daminette Songfic: ‘The Only Exception’, ft. Paramore

---

When I was younger

I saw my daddy cry

And curse at the wind

Damian crouched outside the door of the office, hearing Bruce’s muffled sobs echoing softly in the secluded area of the manor. The fact that Bruce was crying was nerve-wracking enough- But crying over a woman? That was something else- Especially since that woman was his mother.

He broke his own heart

And I watched

As he tried to reassemble it

Damian watched as his father kept a straight face at breakfast the next morning, the cries and tears of last night only a distant memory- Perhaps even a dream. He watched the way Bruce looked at Tim and Stephanie with that wistful spark in his eyes. He watched the way tears- Not happy tears, but broken-hearted tears- Gathered in his father’s eyes when Dick and Barbara got married.

And my momma swore

That she would never let herself forget

When Damian was still young, he remembered how his mother would put on the cold, uncaring expression on despite the fact she just caught the title of ‘Gotham Playboy Bruce Wayne Caught With (---)’ on the first page of the latest news.

She raised him, telling him that no one was trustable, that giving out his heart would only result in it getting broken.

And that was the day that I promised

I'd never sing of love

If it does not exist,

She’d made him promise, she said: “Don’t you ever let love be your weakness.” and Damian had swore, Damian had squeezed every ounce of affection out of his system, had made sure he’d never develop a crush on anyone.

but darlin'

You are, the only exception

The first day he’d met her in college, he’d scoffed at the sight of a weak, frail girl- Clearly, this was someone who gave her heart away too easily- And got it returned, broken.

You are, the only exception

But the next day, she’d brought him a paper bag of macarons and she’d told him to eat up. And then, out of sheer curiosity, he asked why she’d let her heart get broken. She took one look at him, and told him that his heart was as empty as hers was broken, and then pushed the paper bag closer to him.

You are, the only exception

He’d been offended at first, and refused to talk to her. He’d given her the cold shoulder, telling himself it was better to have an empty heart than a broken one. But even though he’d ignored her, brushed her aside, and spat at her about keeping to her own business, without fail, everyday, he’d have a bag of fresh macarons on his table.

There was even one day when he thought she’d stopped making macarons, but later, when he was at the library, studying, she’d dropped by, setting a bag of macarons on his table, walking away without another word. And although he didn’t want to admit it, he ate all of the macarons (Only because they were good and it was a pity to throw them away).

You are, the only exception

Then, after that, he’d find a bag of fresh, toasty macarons inside the mailbox of his hostel, everyday. But on a faithful Friday, two weeks after she’d told him his heart was empty- He found a sticky note on his bag of macarons. It read: Broken hearts take time to fix, but an empty heart takes affection to mend.

One part of him scoffed at how cringey it was, how naive she was. But another part of him pocketed the note, another part of him held the note to his heart in the dark, and smiled like a teenager in love.

---

Maybe I know, somewhere

Deep in my soul

That love never lasts

If she was being honest, Marinette saw it coming. From the day she’d asked him out, to the day he broke it off, she’d always knew that he was too good for her, and that her love would never be enough to tie him down.

And we've got to find other ways

To make it alone

But keep a straight face

She’d refused to be the girl who spent hours crying over her breakup, but that didn’t mean she didn’t shed a few tears while watching romantic movies, all alone in the apartment that she had spent so much time in with him.

And I've always lived like this “You can keep it,” He said, tossing the keys of their apartment to her, his arm around his new, smirking girlfriend, who looked as proud as the cat who got the canary.

She’d caught the keys with shaking hands, dripping tears, and a broken heart. Keeping a comfortable, distance After one week of mourning the silence in the apartment, she got herself together. She made designs, she listened to breakup songs, she attended college while earning money off commissions.

And up until now

Once in a while, she’d find something that was his, and then think: Wow, he’s been gone for three months now.

I had sworn to myself

“I’m happy,” She said, a sad smile on her face as her friends got engaged, one by one.

that I'm content

“I’m happy,” She told her parents, a bright smile on her lips, a heavy weight jerking on her chest as she glanced at her mother’s wedding ring.

With loneliness “I’m happy,” She whispered, sitting alone in a quiet apartment, knowing that the rest of her friends were shopping for wedding gowns.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

She cried and screamed when she found a framed photo of her and him, six months ago, his arm around her waist and matching, in-love smiles on their faces.

But, you are, the only exception

When she looked at him, the new boy in her college class, she saw- Nothing. There was no love, no hate, no joy, no despair. And for some reason, a voice in her head told her that yes, she was going to help him.

You are, the only exception

She picked up the spatula, hesitating, remembering all the times she baked home-made pastries for him until the day that she found the pastries she’d packed for him to eat at work in the trash can, all of them untouched. She shook her head, and told herself no, she would never again associate the thought of baking with him.

You are, the only exception

Everyday, without fail, she packed macarons for him, and everyday, she found her heart slowly, slowly piecing itself back together. And every morning, she found herself waking up with a smile, getting up to gather her ingredients and make more fresh macarons for him.

You are, the only exception

It went to the point where she gained the courage to put a sticky note on his bag of macarons, and as she was writing, she glanced up, catching view of herself in the mirror. Her eyes had stopped being sunken; The dark circles beneath were gone; And most of all- A soft, genuine smile was stretched across her lips.

---

I've got a tight grip on reality

Damian decided enough was enough. He asked around for her apartment address, and on a Saturday morning, he waited for her, right outside her door.

But I can't let go of what's in front of me here

Oh, she’d been surprised, alright. Once the shock wore off, she’d smiled sweetly at him, and then Damian realised, as he looked at her, that she’d mended her heart. Sure, you could still see the little flaws and cracks in her once-full heart, but somehow, she’d gathered the million shatters of her heart and then stuck them back together.

“Hey...?” She greeted unsurely, and he noted the recycled bags in her hand. “Good morning.”

He nodded in response, his tongue absolutely tied. He fiddled with her sticky note inside his pocket, and gestured with his other hand for her to go on with her day. He was grateful that she didn’t ask any questions about why he was following her. The two walked to the subway, took three stops down, and emerged on a busy street. After another bit of a walk, they stopped at the grocery store.

“So, why did you follow me to the grocery store?” She asked, arms crossed.

He only shrugged and gestured for her to go on. He carried the basket as she picked up her usual ingredients, eyeing Damian with a wary glance. Flour, almond ground, meringue. When she was done, she went over to take the basket from him, but he held on firmly. She raised an eyebrow but never said anything as they made their way to the paying counter. When she was about to take out her purse to pay, he gave the cashier his credit card.

When she protested, he had said: “The least I can do is pay for the ingredients.” She went quiet, and then everything made sense.

On the way back to the subway station, he had insisted on carrying the bags like the gentleman he was. Sure- He might’ve never had a crush on a girl before, but Bruce and Alfred made sure he was raised right.

I know you’re leaving in the morning, when you wake up

“You know, you’re really incredible.” He said, smiling at her.

“Oh?” The corner of her mouth lifted. “How so?”

Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream, oh

He took out the sticky note from his pocket, and the shock on her face was something he would never forget. “Remember this?” The note was wrinkled and stained- It was pretty obvious that he had opened it and re-folded it many, many times. “You said ‘A broken heart takes time to fix, but an empty heart takes affection to mend’.”

She nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going. “You’re really incredible, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” He repeated. “In under two weeks, you managed to fix both a broken heart and an empty one.”

They stopped walking, and she stared at him.

You are, the only exception

”You actually listened to what I said.” She said, finally. “I didn’t think you would.”

You are, the only exception

He shrugged. “I thought I’d never fall in love, either, but look where I am now.” He smiled softly. “You really are something else.”

You are, the only exception

She blushed.

You are, the only exception

“You have to promise me something, though.” He put on a serious face. “Promise me you’ll never stop making macarons for me.”

She hit him playfully, and then Damian knew in that instant, his empty heart had been mended.

You are, the only exception

On a Friday evening, as she returned from the campus library, Marinette glimpsed something sticking out of her apartment mailbox. She opened it cautiously, afraid that it was a prank. A paper bag sat quietly inside, a little letter lying next to it. She peered into the paper bag, letting out a delighted squeal when she spied a container with disfigured-looking cream puffs.

You are, the only exception

The letter, which she opened later in her apartment, read: This was my first attempt at making cream puffs. I know they probably aren’t the best payment to you, especially since your macarons always look perfect and let’s not mention you fixed my ‘empty heart’ (Your words, not mine). So... If the cream puffs aren’t good enough of a repayment, could I possibly make it up to you with a date? Tomorrow night, 6pm? Sincerely, your-once-empty-hearted-boy, Damian Wayne.

You are, the only exception

Three months later, she’d decided that the apartment was still a little painful to live in, and after selling it off, both she and Damian had put together the money that they had from doing commissions and working at a cafe respectively, and they’d bought a little apartment not too far from the college.

You are, the only exception

One evening, two years after they’d graduated- She’d dressed up nicely to go on a date- He’d said ‘dress extra nice’ in his text, then added: ‘don’t worry too much, you’d look good in whatever you pick’. Once the taxi had dropped her off, she looked around the lavender field that Damian had instructed her to go to- face brightening when she saw her beloved once-empty-hearted boy.

It was difficult not to squeal as he got on one knee, taking a velvet box out of his back pocket. Both of them were shaking with emotions, and Damian hadn’t even gotten the first word out and he was already getting teary. Marinette was seconds from sobbing out of happiness.

“Marinette,” He took her hand, his voice shaking. “When we first met, you told me I was as empty-hearted as your were broken.” Damian swallowed. “And even after I snapped at you, brushed you off, you still made those macarons for me.” Both of them shared a teary laugh. “And under two weeks, you fixed both your broken heart and my empty one. So,” He choked, his heart nearly bursting from the pressure. “Will you let me be your once-empty-hearted-boy forever, and let me marry you?”

“Yes,” Marinette laughed, tears dripping down her cheeks. “A thousand times yes!”

And I'm on my way to believing

Damian, standing at the altar with his father and brothers next to him, couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Just because this one girl in his college class had looked at him and decided that she was going to help fix his heart, he was getting married. Bruce, for once, didn’t look broken-hearted at a wedding as Selina smiled proudly from the front row seat.

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.

Marinette, in her beautiful, white ballgown, arm-in-arm with her father, bit her lip, trying not to cry and ruin her makeup. In their relationship, Damian was wrong about one thing- Marinette didn’t fix her broken heart on her own. Damian was the one who mended her broken heart- The thought of Damian eating her macarons- And when he told her to promise to make those macarons for him for the rest of their lives- That, was the very moment that Marinette’s heart blossomed again.

They were each other’s exceptions.

---

I am not kidding you I CRIED WHILE REREADING THIS that is how emotional i am people and whoop am i getting a hold of my procrastination! I wrote a chapter of lord bug robin and kitty noir- And it was a mighty long chapter, too, and then i wrote this. Whoaaaaa i did a lot of writing for one day~ I’ve been writing since like, after lunch, and now, it’s almost six (Where i’m from it’s almost six) and i’ve been writing for like... Six hours. *claps self on back and gives self reward sticker* and if i tagged you and you didn’t want to be tagged I'm sowy :( i just copied the tag lists from my lord bug and hogwarts au... Sowy if you didn’t want to be tagged... And I'm a hundred percent sure that some people were tagged twice... Anyways love y’all <3

(Tag list! @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog@constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384@mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23 @seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume @graduatedmelon@thebookwormfairy@crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu @screamingtofillthevoid@serenacross200@zestyzealot@redscarlet95 @roseinbloom02 @beautym3@resignedcatservant@sizzling-fairy-oil @tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry@lunar-wolf-warrior@northernbluetongue @dannyelric301 @daminett4life@loysydark @sparkle9510@erick-rose99-stuff @nataladriana9 @maya-custodios-dionach @myazael @sassakitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @emootaku-666)

Tag list: @kceedraws @constancetruggle @ellerahs @2sunchild2 @mystery-5-5 @ki117h3dr4g0n @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @tbehartoo @resignedcatservant @im-here-for-the-content @mooshoon @darkened-flame @spicybelladonna @whomthefyck @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @xxmadamjinxx @rhub4rb @a-marlene-s @mochinek0 @zalladane @t-nikki10 @angelicbookfangirl @politelyvicious @mikantsume @iggy-of-fans @shizukiryuu @littleredrobinhoodlum @thebananathatwrites @my-name-is-michell @7-sage-7 @linnyalou @ladylb @particularlygeeky @vivilakitty @iglowinggemma28 @alexzandria-747 @luciferge @lunar-wolf-warrior @aurordraws @urbanpineapplefarmer @clumsy-owl-4178 @creator-josie @driftingmoonlitpetals @fiendsangelical @mjisntme @two-faced-biatch @thecatnipmademedoit @northernbluetongue

#damian wayne mlbdc #marinette dupaincheng mlbdc #i nearly cried writing this btw if anyone was wondering #the only exception #paramore #mlbdc #mlb x dc #miraculous ladybug x dc #daminette #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne mlbdc #poor baby bruce #talia al ghul mlbdc #I'm crying guys

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

a million yrs ago i drew an art with the wheel. and there was a fic for an au and i was like theres another part thats not au

i never got around to it - didn’t really know how to go about it really

and then the other night this idea came to flirt with me and it had more banter but i still dont know how to plug my brain into a word doc so that convos that play in my head can happen on “paper”

anyways; yes i over use same themes over and over and over again :)

Ferris Wheel Summer 2021+

“So,” Edward started as they rounded the corner and had a clear view of the Ferris wheel, “How many times have you been on it since it opened?” He asked his boyfriend, joking tone and all. It was a bright sunny summer day and a walk around town had inevitably led them into the Old Port.

“Honestly? Probably a lot less than you think – I’ve only been on it once,” Étienne told him with a shrug.

“You got me; that is less than I thought, but you mean to tell me that you haven’t taken any of your hot dates on a romantic ride on the Ferris wheel?” Edward waggled his eyebrows for show and Étienne laughed, but crinkled his nose at the thought of doing such a thing.

“Nah – it’s too much for a casual thing – too loaded. The whole get to the top and stop, romantic vibes abound and such. Ferris wheel is either for families, tourists or couples. Maybe a group of friends, but it depends.” He declared as though a study had been made on the fact and he had spent hours studying these factors.

“All right, so you’re not a tourist, I doubt you came here with your brothers, last I heard you’re not in a relationship with anyone else – who’d you come with?”

“You’re right on all accounts, but you forgot I have a sister. El and I came on opening day,” He admitted, if a little sheepish.

“Of course you were here on opening day,” Edward said with a roll of his eyes. How silly of him to think that the Maisonneuve twins wouldn’t have been here on the inauguration of the wheel, when they were known to be at every opening of every new thing in the city – especially new, in vogue things. “But also, that’s sweet.” He added. He’d always thought it was nice how close Étienne and Élyse were and how even though they didn’t always agree and had different opinions on literally everything; their love for their city prevailed and they found time to enjoy it together. Edward tried to picture himself doing something of the likes with his own sister and nearly laughed. This would not have been the type of thing he and Edith would have done together, but then again, their relationship was different. Maybe it was a twin thing.

They fell quiet and kept walking closer to the wheel, strolling down the boardwalk in front of it. It was nice to see the waterfront busy again and filled with locals and tourists alike after the emptiness that had befallen it in recent years due to the pandemic. In a sense, it reassured Edward that if anything, this part of the city was recovering and that Étienne would still have this.

They stopped at a clearing and leaned against the railing to observe the wheel and the small plaza around it and it was nice to listen to the bird song and the excited chatter of the people around them, while below, others peddled on rented pedal boats.

“We should go,” Edward said after a while, breaking the silence.

“Now?” Étienne asked to be sure he was hearing right, surprised, really, that Edward would suggest going.

“No, next Tuesday – yes now, come on. We’re here, I’ve never been, and I can tell you’d want to go on it again.”

Edward smirked and Étienne closed his mouth, letting his comment die at his lips. His boyfriend had a point. He did actually want to go on it again, but going on it alone seemed a little silly and Emma hadn’t really wanted to ride the wheel. Bringing a fling had seemed like too much – as though he was trying to impress when really, they were both in it for something much different and less lasting. However, Edward was his boyfriend and – he had thought of bringing him out here. On more than one occasion. (But there had been a pandemic and then they had done other things on Edward’s last visit and there hadn’t been time for this.)

Now, however...

Edward grabbed Étienne’s hand and led him over the footbridge and to the small line. Étienne tried hard not to trip over the fact that Edward had willingly and without prompting reached out for his hand and then reverted to his usual “tour guide” information dump as he blabbered on about the finer points of the wheel, the design, the great features about it and the overall charm it had in this location. Edward thought it was utterly endearing and loved it when his boyfriend went into his excited chatter about different aspects of his city. He could hear the passion and love Étienne had for his home and it made some part of his heart melt. He’d missed this, over their break – missed the palatable excitement Étienne had and could have – the way his face lit up and his hands moved around as he gesticulated.

“Bonjour, deux billets s’il-vous-plait.”

Étienne blinked and realised that he’d been distracted with his ramble to the point where Edward had snuck ahead of him and had now taken out his wallet to pay for the tickets.

“Édouard.” Étienne cautioned, “What are you doing?” He wasn’t about to have his boyfriend pay, not when this was an extremely splurgy thing and highly unnecessary.

“Buying our tickets, move over,” He nudged Étienne out of the way and managed to extract his credit card from his wallet, without Étienne ripping it out of his hands.

“What – no, let me. We’re in Montreal. I pay for things in Montreal.”

Edward looked him dead in the eyes as he tapped his card on the terminal, much to Étienne’s horror and shock. This was betrayal of the highest degree.

“This is not part of our deal!”

“Curly, we have no such deal.” Edward replied calmly as he took the tickets from the teller and thanked them, “Now, come along, you can pay for ice cream later.” Edward put his wallet away and then moved ahead, pleased with his little plan.

“Who said anything about ice cream?” Étienne squawked as he followed Edward to the next line to get onto the Ferris wheel.

“I did – you can take me afterwards.”

Étienne tried to protest, but Edward took his hand again and led him to the railing to get to their Ferris wheel gondola. Étienne tried to pout and be annoyed, but his giddiness over being here with Edward quickly won out as they took their seats side by side.

“See, these are high tech gondolas. You can fix your own temperature and either put the AC or the heating on, weather depending, and you get really nice views once you’ve gained some height.” His previous annoyance was quickly forgotten and Edward silently congratulated himself as Étienne’s previous mood returned.

“Shall we put the heating on?” Edward teased as the doors closed and the gondola started moving quietly.

Étienne rolled his eyes, “It’s summer; I’m good. We can put the AC on if it’s too hot for you. Wouldn’t want you to melt.”

“We can compromise,” Edward said, rolling his eyes, fond, as he adjusted the dials so that they would both be comfortable, but if it was a degree or two on the cold side so that Étienne had an extra excuse to sit close to Edward, well, that was between them.

They settled in afterwards and Edward took in the multiple angles of the view. “Are we supposed to make-out when we get inevitably stuck on the top, or...?” He asked as the wheel quietly turned, a gentle seamless whirring in the background.

“Only if you want and you don’t think it’s too cliché.”

Edward studied him for a moment as Étienne looked at him and then busied himself with the window. Even after knowing him for so long, Étienne could still be an enigma, but Edward liked to think that he had gotten quite good at deciphering him. For as much as his boyfriend claimed he didn’t do romance, Edward had finally found out that it had been a cover – to protect himself from his own difference – from his own way he felt and reacted to romantic attraction. It made sense now, retrospectively, and they’d talked about it, but knowing that and now knowing how it was Étienne felt about him, Edward could tell that there were certain “typical things” Étienne still wanted to do with him – even if they were considered to be a “cliché”.

If anything, Edward thought it was endearing and even if he wasn’t the most outward of people when it came to expressing his emotions and love, he didn’t mind the idea of a kiss or two at the top of the wheel. There was no one else around them anyways. They never needed to tell anyone, if they so desired.

But those were thoughts for later and for now, Edward focused on the view surrounding him.

Étienne hadn’t been lying (not that he would have expected him to); the views were stunning. The canal hugged one side of the island, cradled it close and separated it from the two manmade islands that had been the crown jewels of Expo. Edward remembered that time fondly, even if it still seemed like a hectic fever dream, but there had been a bustle in the air of the city that had left everyone dreaming and hungering for a better future. They had been exciting times full of promise, somehow, and looking back, he thought he could still feel the remnants of that frenzy – still lingering in the air, caught in small glimpses on occasions. Now there were only a few buildings left, prestigious in their own ways, and they added to the charm and attraction of the city, nestled safely in their own spots of the picturesque postcard view.

Behind, the Clock Tower stood proud and erect, a beacon of the past that guided tourists and city folk alike to come and admire its beauty. Further away still, if Edward turned on his seat, the Jacques Cartier bridge connected Montreal to the South shore, while it looked over the brilliant turquoise greens of the water on a sunny day. Sometimes, if the light hit just right, Edward could swear he saw a mirrored image in Étienne’s own eyes and he would feel pulled in – lured in and he’d willingly go – every time.

The wheel completed its first turn and there was still much he hadn’t properly looked at. The Old Port came into view and then panned out as the wheel gained height once more. From above, he could see how the original village – the original city of Montreal had fought floods, fires and winters alike to survive and expand. The original building blocks may have been safely buried underneath their feet and preserved lovingly in Pointe-à-Callière, but the true spirit of the city – the heart of it really – of what it had been and had become lay further ahead, ensconced and treasured in the heart of the mountain that had guided and sheltered many for so long. There, really, was the essence, he believed.

It happened on the third turn. The wheel came to a gentle stop at the top and Étienne leaned closer to one of the sides to get a better look at the waterfront, the bridge, the Biosphere in the back and the bustle of activity below them, mesmerised in what he saw. “It’s really something from this angle...” He murmured, almost as if to himself.

And Edward had to take a small step back to take in the fuller picture before him. The gentle smile splayed out on Étienne’s face was a sight to behold on itself and the way his boyfriend’s face relaxed as he took in the scenery pulled at his heart. Edward could read, even from here, the pride and joy Étienne felt in seeing his own people mingling about and how that tiny little village from before had evolved over the centuries – had thrived despite all odds. Here was where one part of the story had started and further ahead was its origin point, but Étienne was all of that – the element that brought it all together.

It hadn’t always been easy and Edward knew of the struggles Étienne had gone through, but the soft look on his face was worth it and a look he hoped Étienne could carry more often than not. He wordlessly reached for his boyfriend’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as they both quietly took in their own different views.

“It really is,” He agreed, “It really is,” He repeated, softer.

Étienne did the mistake of turning to look back at him and Edward was left speechless by the depth of green he saw in Étienne’s eyes; lured and pulled in once more, like always. Étienne gave him the softest of smiles and Edward swore that the butterflies he felt in his stomach were real; that the swooping feeling he always got when Étienne smiled at him was here to stay.

He tugged himself closer, pulled gently on Étienne’s hand until they were closer and then caressed his boyfriend’s cheek. Edward’s hand was certain and warm, and Étienne leaned closer to him still, holding him, not wanting to let go just yet.

“I love you,” Edward thought, pressing his lips to Étienne’s as the Ferris wheel started its descent. And maybe Étienne heard his thoughts, for the look on his face when they pulled away was open and loving. He looped his arms around Edward’s neck, laughing softly, before going for another kiss and then a third and a fourth.

He didn’t know what it was about the circular form of the gondola – the safety of the bubble that gave them both an illusion of being in a safe enclosure, but it made Edward just a little more daring as he chased a kiss across his boyfriend’s lips and it made Étienne cherish the moment even more.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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calypsoff · 3 years

Text

Fifty Four.

I am actually glad I stayed behind, after all the panicking that Robyn was leaving I am happy I stayed. I have been really busy trying to get a team together, I’ve just had the biggest dealing with Brooklyn Projects, and I am so blessed for it, Dom is a good guy, and I couldn’t be happier for what he has blessed me with. He pushed me to get a spot at the Agenda Show and I did it, I got a spot there which will be in a weeks’ time. I have been busy trying to find a supplier and I did it, I have found it and there will be no let down. I need to start releasing new designs which I am working on, these past two weeks has been hectic trying to find the supplier to fulfil Dom’ order, I was worried I wouldn’t and then I realised it’s Robyn’ birthday coming up which is near the Agenda Show but I assumed Robyn would be back but she won’t and her scan, her twelve week scan is coming up but she needs more time in London but luckily I am busy here so it doesn’t bug me but I would like to see her, so because she will be in London for her birthday I may need to jump on a flight to her, I mean what am I saying, of course I will “get that for me!” I shouted from the office; I have taken over this office space now. The buzzer is going off like it’s nothing, whoever that is “got it” TJ said, I am trying to employ a social media team. I can’t be dealing with service side of things, ok we started small, but we will get big, my phone pinged. Looking over at my phone, it’s Robyn so I need to look at it.

From: Robyn

To: Chris

Can we Skype call? I need to show you some things so let me know?

I wonder what it is, am I in trouble or is she going to tell me she will be there for another month. Texting Robyn back.

From: Chris

To: Robyn

Yeah we can in 10

Texting back and locking my phone “you got a package, shit is a little big” TJ said, raising an eyebrow shocked “for me? Open it, let me know” I mean who the hell knows where I live, I am fairly new so who the hell sent me anything, I shouldn’t think like that. I get in my own thoughts and think stupid “anyways” I need to get back to this, why is it I keep getting women to employ. It’s women that really be in my messages saying they can do things for me, and they can, they be having degrees and shit, they are pretty too “ayo, it’s from Dom” TJ made his way over to me with a card in hand, taking the card from him “To Chris, welcome to the Brooklyn Projects team, I can’t wait to see what we can do together. Please accept this gift of a BMX, my good friend spray painted it for you, Dom” I gasped “oh shit, let me see. You seen it” placing the card down as I got up from the chair, this is so exciting for me. This is my first gift; this has been gifted to me and I can’t believe it that people want to do that for me. I grinned wide, unwrapping the BMX with the biggest smile on my face “oh shit, no way it says Breezy on there. Oh my god, this guy knows me” I stepped back “yo, I am so hype” I jumped up and down “yes!” I spat, this is so dope “let me get my phone” walking off to the office, I am so happy about this. I can’t believe people give gifts like this just for free, grabbing the phone from office desk. Walking back out “do I look good?” I asked TJ “yeah you always do bro” he laughed; You can take a picture of me now. Holding my phone out to TJ to take it for me, walking over to the BMX “this shit is so dope, I am so happy” moving it away from the mess “oh actually take it here cause of that picture, Robyn and her love for the wedding pictures” sitting on the BMX, nobody understands how impressed I am of this.

TJ is my photographer, he takes good pictures “where is Barry?” uploading to two pictures, one of me on the BMX and the other just with it on its own “I don’t know, out” adding the caption ‘Thank you so much @brooklynprojects. for the BMX and adding the extra detail too, thank you. I appreciate brother’ pressing send on the post, I am not even going to front but I look good as hell in that picture “your cheekbones are looking crazy in that” TJ spat, he isn’t wrong though my cheekbones are looking good “so tell me where is Barry? Did he even come back in after you both went out” TJ shook his head, hearing the skype call “oh shit, I got a skype call with Robyn” rushing back into the office, closing the door behind me because this is private because you never know. Sitting on the chair pushing myself in and answering the call on my laptop “took your time and your out of breath, where is the bitch?” I chuckled, Robyn is always dramatic “wow, wait a minute” looking at the door for nothing just to annoy Robyn “tell her to leave, Rihanna is on the call” Robyn gasped “Chris, you better be playing” shaking my head laughing “there is nobody here, don’t worry. How is my twin?” biting my bottom lip staring at her, she seems to be in an office “busy, busy poppa. I miss you so much, I am so sorry that I am not coming back in time for my birthday, but you seem to be busy anyways, I am so happy for you Chris. See what I told you? I believed in you, but I rescheduled the twelve week scan appointment” nodding my head “well you know if I wasn’t busy I would be bugging you, but the Agenda Show is around the same time as your birthday so yeah, I guess we going to skype birthday” Robyn poked her lips out “you can make it up to me right?” shaking my head “mhmm nah not really but guess what, I got my first gift! Dom sent me a BMX, I am so excited” Robyn cooed out “I saw poppa, I got the notification” Robyn is such a stalker.

Jay Brown entered the skype call, his bald headed ass just here. I assumed he would be in London but no “hi everyone, I called this meeting” he said, sitting back in the chair “yeah, Robyn didn’t say what was happening so yeah” he chuckled “ok that is fine, so are you both ready. I have the very first copy of your Vogue cover, this is why I bought you both together. I wanted you to both see it together; it came into the office. Special delivery, we couldn’t let this leak out. I opened the magazine, and I am blown away, the interview was so good, it felt so real, and the pictures are amazing” licking my top lip smiling “already? I mean actually they took their time, when is it being released?” I asked “the date for this release is on Robyn’ birthday but we are releasing the cover, this what I wanted to discuss. We need to timely release images that aren’t in the magazine, once Vogue post it I need you both to do the same. We are going to tease the audience; Vogue has mentioned they are releasing the cover but not the inside content until the release. They are printing more then they usually do too but are you both ready” I feel a little excited “I am nervous, maybe it’s the baby I don’t know. Do we look good?” Robyn said “it looks so good, they did a double print picture, and I have to tell you both look so well” it may be the picture the lady chose of us walking the lobby “well here you are, Mr and Mrs Fenty-Brown” Jay Brown bought the cover to the camera, I gasped and that is not like me “oh my god” I said, that is really Vogue magazine and I am there “oh shit that looks amazing, so they used the picture of us walking down the steps, nah. I like that because it shows off her ring too, I look elegant as fuck there with Robyn” that is crazy “I am really proud of you both” Jay Brown said, I am mind blown.

I can’t believe this shit “man” Jay Brown left the skype call “I am mind blown Robyn, how crazy is that. I am on that cover with you!? How is this even real, I am getting gifts too” Robyn is just looking in awe “Chris your life is about to change in a big way, you need to be ready for this. You maybe not ready but you need to be, once this comes out your life will be officially changed. You think your life is different now? This is nothing Chris, I want you to be grateful and enjoy yourself. So when you go to the Agenda Show, you might have some fans. No female picture taking” I chuckled “oh yeah about that, I didn’t really get to mention it because it left my mind but, the girl I was working with and messaging that you disliked is fired thanks to the fact you complained to Mel and she told Barry, the people I am speaking too are women and I am trying to get a team together for my business but I can’t have this thing of you don’t like it because they are females. I wasn’t happy when I found out because it’s wrong, you deal with men, but I don’t complain so yeah. Honestly I feel like I am running this shit on my own now so I need the help so yeah” Robyn doesn’t seem to care “that is nice to know she has gone but ok fine, I do trust you” Robyn will complain about something, she will not like any female near me.

I am so happy, I can’t believe on the front cover of Vogue with my wife, this is wild to me. Walking out of the office with my phone to ear to ring my mom, I mean of course I am ringing my mom, I need to tell her this. At first I was like ok whatever but seeing the cover just there, the shit is real and it’s actually happening “you are finally taking calls now?” my mother said down the phone “I think you see I called you, since when did you call me mom?” she is a liar “well I did a few days ago and you said not now” letting out an oh “I did, sorry but listen to this mom. I am going to be on the front cover of Vogue with Robyn! I saw the cover!” I shouted; I am so fucking hyper “baby what? You mentioned it but I thought you was joking, oh my god. Do you know how much of a big deal this is? Your sister reads those magazines, oh my god. So I can buy this in the store, my baby on the cover of Vogue. Christopher I am so proud of you, I want you to know this. Me and your dad love you so much and are very proud of you, I will buying that magazine. Christopher I also wanted to mention, please come and visit us, we miss you. Your dad seems to be missing you the most so please come home sometime” sitting down on the couch “missing me that much? I will mom, sooner then you think” I need to get the home for them.

My bump is beginning to take shape, it is so amazing to see how pregnancy be changing your body just like that. Right now the bump is small, but it is there, and you can tell what it is if I wear tight clothing, I just love placing my hand over my bump when I lay down but everyday seems to be different to me, my body is always changing. I am ever so careful with myself while being in London, I just really go to my meetings and come back to my hotel room, I wear extremely baggy clothing here too. Only my team know about the baby, I haven’t let anyone else know about it, but I have been so lazy for the past few days, this is what put me back. I was in bed just not wanting to do anything so that alone put me back, when I feel like that I actually give myself time off. I would never do what I did last time, so if I don’t feel like working then I don’t feel like it so I have rest days, so this is what is putting me back with things, but I don’t care, I rather not push myself when my body is telling me no, never doing that again. I come first in this “are you finished on the skype call?” Tina asked, nodding my head stifling out a yawn “I got you some lunch, a footlong for you” thank heavens “good, I am so hungry” waving her over “you just ate like an hour ago” side eyeing Tina “do not judge me bitch, you can tell everyone they can come back in now” she bought me my food so I will be silent for a few minutes.

Mel touched the prototype of the slides “I have a feeling this is going to sell, you know if these sell how I think, are we going to have Fenty fashion” I smiled with my mouth full of food “this bitch is too into her food right now but I see Fenty fashion being a thing, this Puma thing is going to elevate you” swallowing my food “I am so excited but I am going to push for Fenty Beauty first, makeup as always been so important to me so yes, Fenty Beauty first” I think that is the way forward “you about to make a name for yourself, so what was the skype call for with your husband?” Mel asked “oh, Jay Brown revealed to us the front cover of Vogue, oh my god. It looks so amazing oh by the way, Chris got a little moody because Barry had fired the bitch that was getting a little too friendly in his messages, you know that?” Mel shook her head “all I did was say it to Barry, not my problem. I never said fire anyone” I am glad she fired anyways, I didn’t like the bird so there is that but nobody told anyone to fire the girl.

#chrianna ff #chrianna #chrianna fanfiction #fanfiction #chriannaff #fanfic

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beyondconfessor · 3 years

Text

Principle Decisions [2/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: “On your knees,” she said, not unlike a school teaching asking the class to sit down in their seats.

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

Classes for the week had been exhausting. Every time that Zelda taught the first year undergrads, she was reminded as to why she loathed teaching them in the first place. Many of them avoided class, or worse, turned up stinking of cheap vodka and pot as they made their way to the back of the classroom with a heavy set of sunglasses––as if she didn’t know what a hungover teenager looked like. Please.

If she was going to teach, she wanted her class to be engaged. She especially preferred to have her students respond to the questions she asked rather than staring blankly back at her. Her third year students were used to her way of teaching, having completed her second year subjects, so they knew how to conduct themselves in her classroom, reminding Zelda of why she continued to teach, despite how much of a headache it gave her.

But the first years.

Zelda drew herself taught in her chair, hands curling into fists. Never again, she vowed, knowing that Faustus would somehow manage to convince her to take up the classes again next year, threatening to cut her course entirely because there was no one else available.

Well, there was Shirley. But Shirley usually taught religion and whenever her grubby hands taught the first years, Zelda was left trying to un-teach them everything they learnt.

Educating the first years herself was just the lesser of two evils, in a way.

She needed a drink.

No, she didn’t. What she wanted was a cigarette, but she’d have to leave her office for that and currently she was on open hours for any student to come meandering through her doors to beg for extra credit because they realised they were failing her course.

She looked to the clock that hung on the wall and felt the itch grow under her skin. Fuck it. She needed a smoke and there was only fifteen minutes left of her office hours.

Opening her drawer, she went to pull out her cigarette case, when she stopped at the sight of the red business card.

Lilith.

She swallowed, picking up the card.

What she needed was relief. It didn’t have to be sex, it just needed to be…something. Intimacy with another human being.

Last night she’d drained the batteries of her favoured vibrator and despite rolling through three orgasms, there was still an arousal pricking under her skin.

Before she could even come to terms with what she was doing, she’d always picked up her phone and typed in the number. If it was a student, she’d be able to cancel the line immediately––and given that her office line was private, they wouldn’t be able to call her back.

The phone line rang and suddenly an anxiety built. Was this really a good idea? To engage in the services of a dominatrix? Wouldn’t it be better to drive up to the city and just pick up some––

“Good Afternoon, how can I be of service?”

Zelda paused, feeling her mouth become dry. The voice was new, unrecognisable from anyone she recalled teaching. Or knowing at all, for that matter.

“Hello?” the woman said, an annoyance frosting over the words.

“I––“ she paused, biting her lip. “Found your business card.”

“Oh? And which business card is this?”

Zelda paused. Which business card? She supposed that although they were a twin-town, neither Riverdale nor Greendale probably held the population to frequent the services of a dominatrix. Likely the woman had a second job that paid the bills, like a graphic designer perhaps, or…

“The red card.”

“Mm. Remind me again of what the exact service of that is?” the woman asked, her voice a purr as she laughed into the receiver.

Zelda shivered, her eyes flicking to the door of her office, ensuring it was closed. “You know perfectly well.”

“I do, but I need to hear you say it.”

“And why do you need that?”

“If you really want the service, you need to be able to say the word.” There was logic to it and yet Zelda tugged at her skirt, adjusting herself in the chair. “Come on, use your big girl words and I promise to stop teasing.”

Zelda swallowed, shutting her eyes. “Dominatrix,” she said, lowering her voice in case any student was out wondering the hall.

Panic filled her once the word was spoken. She shouldn’t have done this. She should have done it in her car, or at home, or not at all. What did she need a dominatrix for? She should have just picked up new batteries, instead of even thinking about dialling this number. What if it was a student, or worse, a––

“Well you’ve called the right woman. I have an opening for tomorrow evening. Say…six o’clock?”

“Six?”

“And do be on time. I don’t approve of tardiness.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. She’d never been late in her life. “I’ll be on time,” she scoffed.

“Good girl. Now, I’ll just need a name for the booking.”

“…a name?” Of course she did. A hundred names filled her head, and yet the consequences of using any of them seemed to fill her with dread.

“Just a first name. You don’t need to worry, I promise absolute discretion.”

“Zelda,” she answered, feeling her heart beat fast. Perhaps she should have chosen a pseudonym.

“Zelda,” the woman echoed, drawing out her name on the tongue. “Do you know the address?”

“No, I do not.”

The woman, presumably Lilith, provided the address and a confirmation of the pricing for a forty-five minute session. “But given that this is your first session with me, expect that it will go for about an hour so we can run through some housekeeping.”

“And what sort of housekeeping should I expect?”

“Just a few ground rules so this is enjoyable for us both. The only one I advise before hand is that I don’t allow my customers to be intoxicated before arrival. It tends to dull things and I need you wide-awake.”

“That’s the only rule?”

“Well, I expect you to be showered before you arrived, but I assumed that was common curtsey. I do have facilities, however. In case you need to clean-up before you leave.”

Zelda felt her thighs press tighter together as her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth. They were barely discussing it and already she felt anticipation growing inside of her. “Wonderful,” she said, because a response was needed and she didn’t want the woman to know the effect she had on her already.

And yet, the woman made a humming noise, as if she was amused. “Well, I need to run off, but I look forward to meeting you tomorrow, Zelda. I can’t wait to play with you.” The receiver clicked off and Zelda looked down at the phone.

It was booked. She was booked for tomorrow.

What the fuck was she going to do?

The answer was agonise over her choice of clothes. Should she wear something formal or informal? Should she…dress up in leather and lace? Did it even matter what her choice of attire was, so as long as her lingerie was acceptable? Did that even matter? Zelda had never engaged in any sex work. She’d been to informally organised orgies, and attended a few sex parties, but this was different, and…it was exciting, if she was being honest. It’d been a long time since she’d felt butterflies fill her stomach.

All of Saturday morning, she found herself looking to the clock on the wall, checking the time and watching it tick from eight in the morning, to nine, to ten…and so on as she finished the last of her paperwork for the weekend and found herself preparing to leave by five.

“A rather late meeting,” Hilda said as Zelda drew her coat over her shoulders. “You know, if it is a date, you can tell me.”

“It’s certainly not a date,” Zelda said, ensuring that line was firm. The last thing she needed was her sister’s curiosity piqued. “I’ll be home sometime after seven.”

“Alright, well, shall I have dinner set for seven thirty then?”

“If you wish.” She gave her an appearance a last check before taking her handbag from the table. All she needed was her phone, wallet and her make-up so she could fix it up before her return to the home (and to cover any marks the woman made). “But don’t hold up for me.”

She passed Sabrina in the foyer and paused, watching as niece’s expression shifted to something neutral. “You’re going out?” Sabrina asked.

“A meeting regarding some funding, I’m afraid. I’ll be home for dinner.”

Sabrina gave a short nod, her fingers tapping at her sides as she swayed from side-to-side, seeming to hold onto a thought.

“Was there something else?” she asked, feeling a familiar tightness grow. She loathed when Sabrina danced around a topic.

“Roz and Theo are having a sleepover tomorrow. Could I stay over? Mr Walker will take us to school the next day.”

Zelda’s lips pursed, suspecting that this was likely her niece trying to dance around the fact that she was going to wander off and see Mr Kinkle. And yet, did she actually care? Zelda, herself, had snuck out at the age of sixteen. At least Sabrina wasn’t climbing out of the bedroom window and crawling down the old willow tree. “If you have your homework done by then.”

Sabrina beamed, nodding. “I will,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

Zelda waived a hand dismissively. A part of her considered gently reminding her niece to take protection, before she decided against it. Zelda had purchased a set of condoms for Sabrina once she’d begun dating Mr Kinkle (much to Sabrina’s embarrassment) and had revisited the sex talk, ensuring Sabrina understood consent and equality in sex. The last thing she ever wanted her niece to go through was shame or a selfish partner.

Sabrina knew that she could come forward if need-be. But more importantly, she had a clever head on her shoulders. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Enjoy your meeting,” Sabrina said, before wandering away, a skip in her step.

Zelda exited the house, going to where her car was and climbing in. She sat in driver’s seat, taking a minute to consider her own wants. There was a flutter in her stomach as she buckled her seat belt and placed the car into drive, driving down the gravel road of the land, down to the main road.

The address that Lilith provided her lead to the warehouse district. There was a brief concern as she pulled up her car on the empty road that she was being conned in someway. Only a lone truck passed her, seeming to make its way through the town to the highway. But at the same time, she doubted it’d be a viable business––far easier to just rob someone at the ATM.

She looked into the rear view mirror, fixing her hair before she stepped out, taking her handbag with her.

The building was a small brick building, two stories high with ivy climbing its walls. It was nestled in between what appeared to be a garage and a mattress repair store, both of which appeared to be closed. Thank God.

The lights were on upstairs of the building, and Zelda could see movement in the upper window, like someone was walking around in the room (though a curtain blocked any clear view of who they were).

She was fifteen minutes early, which really meant she was right on time as she locked the car and walked up to the front step. A hesitation pulled at her as she was sharply reminded of what she was doing. Earlier today she’d pulled out a week’s groceries worth of cash, and now she was on the top step of the woman’s business, anticipating prickling down her spine.

She stepped forward and rang the doorbell before she could stop herself.

A light flickered on the lower level, shadows flickering through the opaque glass, and then the door was being opened.

The woman’s eyes drew over her, a smile breaking out over her red lips. “Oh, aren’t you just divine.”

Zelda drew in a breath, taking in the woman. She was more than she had dared to expect. When she’d thought of a dominatrix, she’d fantasied about a great many women from movies, before settling on the fantasy of a plain woman wearing red lipstick, and while the woman was definitely wearing red lipstick, she was by no definition plain. If anything, Zelda felt a visceral reaction as she gazed upon her.

She had assumed that Lilith would be dressed in pvc or a great array of leather. Instead the woman wore a burgundy blouse, and a pencil skirt. Her hair was out, drawing down her back, and the longer she stared at her, the more intense of an urge Zelda had to draw her fingers through it as she was pressed against the door frame.

Lilith’s eyes sparkled as she let out a short laugh, as if knowing where her thoughts were sinking to. “Usually I’d make some snide comment about where my eyes were, but I like you.”

Zelda straightened up, trying to mask her embarrassment as she reached into her handbag. “Lilith, I take it?” she asked, pulling out the card. “I found this in a book.”

Lilith’s grin only widened and Zelda had the sudden feeling of being a mouse in the sights of a cat as the woman’s fingers came out and plucked the business card from her hand. “I had a feeling someone special would find this. Well…come inside,” she said, pushing the door open wider before gesturing for Zelda to enter. “I’ll give you a tour.”

Zelda stepped inside, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor as the door was closed behind (but not locked, she noted). Lilith led her away from the stairs, down a hall to begin with. The walls contained modern artwork, scrawled with unfamiliar artist names in their corners. “We have the kitchen,” Lilith begun. Zelda tore her eyes away from the art to listen attentively. “After a session, I like to set you here with a cup of tea until I’m certain you’re safe to drive home. Then there’s the garden if you would like to do any outdoor sessions,” she said before flicking the outdoor light on.

Soft lights flickered on, enough to show a small, well-maintained garden with high brick walls to prevent any nosy neighbour from overlooking. There was a tall, old tree in one corner that hung its branches over the grassed section. If Zelda didn’t know exactly what this place was, she would have been impressed over the garden’s selection of flowers.

“There’s an outdoor shower too,” Lilith said, pointing to the side of the house.

Zelda looked around, nodding shortly, uncertain if she should say that she wasn’t comfortable in an outdoor setting. But before she could even open her mouth, Lilith had flicked off the lights and was raising her eyes brows playfully at her. “Follow me,” she said, before leading her back down the hall, up the narrow stairs.

At the top of the stairs, the woman paused and looked over her shoulder. “Now, I ask all phones be switched off before we begin.”

“Of course,” Zelda agreed, pausing to pull out her phone in her handbag and ensuring it was switched off.

“While I don’t mind a photo sessions, I do request that they’re negotiated before hand,” Lilith said, as she continued to lead her up to the higher levels.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Lilith ignored her comment, instead showing her where the bathroom was (a grey towel already laid out), before leading her to the bedroom.

As the door was opened, Zelda felt her stomach tighten, and then unknot as she looked around at the expanse of the room.

She wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected (maybe something more dungeon like with shades of black and red) but the bedroom was warm. Almost straight out of a furniture catalogue nice, but with a bit of home comfort to it. It had ambient light, a queen sized four-poster bed, and more modern artwork on the wall. There was a dresser under the window (with which the curtains were closed), and a floor length mirror to one corner.

There was even a sheepskin laid out on the floor.

If it wasn’t for the hook hanging from the ceiling, and the fact that the wardrobe to the other side of the room was partially open, showing an array of kink tools, she would have thought that this was the woman’s actual home.

“How does this work?” Zelda enquired. “Forgive me for being candid, but this is the first time in engaging in any such services of…this profession.”

“No need to ask forgiveness so soon,” Lilith said, moving to take a casual step closer. “To begin, we’ll negotiate what you want versus what I’m comfortable with doing, I’ll confirm a few safety things with yourself and then we’ll begin.”

Simple enough.

“Do you know what you want?”

Zelda paused, her eyes drawing away from the woman’s face to look over the room. This was not the time to be coy, and despite a hesitation in her, wanting to play demure, she swallowed it back. “Submission, mostly. I like bondage and…” she thought of the riding crop she’d seen, hanging from the wardrobe. “Being struck…consensually.”

“Impact play,” Lilith said, showing her teeth in the wide grin she bore. “Barehanded or with a tool?”

Zelda swallowed at the words, feeling her nerves alight as she watched Lilith made another step closer to her. She was barely a yard away now and Zelda couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be thrown over her lap. “I have a selection of devices that we can play with. Given that you’re the client, it’s entirely up to you in how we do this.”

“I don’t mind,” Zelda said, feeling the words stick in her throat. She wasn’t sure how she wanted to ask, but the idea of laying things out seemed…too clinical.

“Did you want me to lead you in a scene, so you’re not quite sure what would occur?”

Zelda nodded, feeling the heat crawl up her chest. “That would be satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory,” the woman teased, and now she was walking around her in a circle, close enough that Zelda could reach out and touch her if she so desired it. “I’ll demand the utmost obedience if you want submission. Are you prepared to obey?”

A shiver ran down her spine, and Zelda drew herself up taller as the woman came to stand before her again, a foot away. She could kiss her. “If you’re as good as you seemed to think you are.”

Lilith’s laughed. “I think we’re both going to enjoy this.” She drew in a breath and paused, running her eyes down Zelda’s body, seeming to inspect certain sections before drawing her eyes back up to hers. “If we’re to do some domination with impact play, is there any thing specifically off limits?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I keep to all the lovely fleshy areas, away from anything that might do any serious damage. But…there are a few areas that fit that description that some people aren’t comfortable with.”

Zelda swallowed, realising what she meant. Her voice was hoarse when she responded, “I don’t mind.”

Lilith smiled. “This is very new for you, isn’t it?”

Hissing in a breath, Zelda folded her arms, “I’ve engaged in plenty of things during my time. I’m hardly some twenty-year-old virgin looking to get their cherry popped.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have. I’m sure you’ve played with spanking and handcuffs and thought they were delightful. It’s where we all begin,” she smiled at Zelda in a way that seemed to strip Zelda bare of any retort. “How about I show you a standard play and at any time you find your self uncomfortable or even if you stop enjoying yourself, we’ll stop?”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Good. Not that’s out of the way, before we begin, I need to run through a few things with you.”

“Housekeeping?” Zelda asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Ah, so you do listen, that’ll make things easier. I’ll be direct then, I don’t engage in sex in the first session, no matter how…lovely the client is,” Lilith’s seemed to pause, drinking her in as she bit her lip. “I’ll need you to get tested first.”

“Tested? I assure you––“

“Assurances are all well and good, but I don’t know you and you don’t know me. We don’t have to engage in sex if you don’t wish to disclose that, but those are my rules if you do.”

“And how will I know about your history?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Lilith said, giving a sharp smile.

Zelda bit her tongue and nodded. She didn’t even know if she did want to engage in sex, or even if she would do a repeat session, so it wasn’t worth discussing any further than that.

“Now, is there anything I should know? Any triggers or fears that I should be mindful of?”

“No,” Zelda said with as much honesty as she could manage. There was nothing she could think of worth bringing up that would come into play.

“Do you know your limits?”

“I do.”

Lilith tilted her head as she crossed her arms underneath her chest. The way her eyes narrowed, Zelda had the feeling that she was reading into the phrasing before she gave a short nod. “And what’s your safe word?”

Zelda frowned. “Stop isn’t sufficient?”

“No. And don’t choose mercy either, I quite enjoy begging and you’ll enjoy doing it on your knees.”

Zelda hissed in a breath at the words, blinking at the woman. Begging? She hadn’t begged for a single thing in her life.

Lilith grinned at her, and despite how utterly frustrating the woman’s cockiness was, Zelda couldn’t help but feel arousal tightening low in her belly, making her all the more aware of the lace she wore underneath her garter belt.

“I recommend a word that’s two to three syllables long that you can say through a gag––so probably avoid your plosives and fricative constants. And you might want to look at something that’s jarring if said in the context of any role-play you may be inclined to engage in.”

Zelda looked around the room, and then unsatisfied with anything she saw, racked her own brain for an idea. “Fine, what about music box?”

“Suitable choice.” Lilith said, and then expression softened. She stepped forward, asking, “Now, final question, what are you hoping to get out of this?”

Zelda’s mouth parted, but whatever lie she had prepared didn’t come out, instead she found herself looking into the depths of Lilith’s blue eyes, and responding honestly. “To let go.” It was a vague answer, but Lilith nodded as if she understood completely.

“I’ll need you to remain honest with me about your current state. Any time you feel unwell or you stop enjoying the scene, you need to let me know.”

Lilith stepped away from her and walked over to a dresser, she bent forward casually, as if it wasn’t a performance (though Zelda wasn’t fooled) and opened one of the lower drawers.

Zelda watched as she picked up what looked to be a length of rope and a blindfold, before closing the drawer. She then stood up and walked over to the wardrobe, opening it up wide for Zelda’s view.

Her hands drew over different items, fingering tools and toys individually before she seemed to pause over the riding crop, Zelda stood up taller, and then watched as her fingers passed it. Sighing, she looked away, trying to not be overly concerned. This was a woman well versed in her own play, she needed to trust her.

The doors shut, the items were placed on the bed and then Lilith was walking over to her, and Zelda noticed with distinct pleasure, she had a riding crop in grip. “Do you have any questions or concerns before we begin?” she asked.

“You will be discreet. This won’t come back on me?”

“So as long as you assure the same thing, I swear to you that I will never speak a word of what happens between us to another soul.”

“Good, because I have excellent lawyers.”

Lilith laughed, “As do I. Now that those needless threats are out of the way,” she said as she stepped back, drawing her eyes over Zelda again. And then the visage changed and the woman seemed to grow taller in her heels. She turned and lifted up the lid of the ottoman bench, showing the empty storage. “You can place your bag, jacket and your dress in here.”

“My dress?”

Lilith stared at her, as if waiting for Zelda to say something further. Perhaps protest.

Zelda drew a breath and stepped forward, placing her bag onto one side of it, before removing her coat and setting that in the ottoman, too. Then it was just completing her last request.

Lilith stepped closer as she hesitated, standing behind her to reach up and draw Zelda’s hair over her shoulder, before she unclasped the top of the dress and then slowly drew the zipper down so Zelda could feel the material part, cool air brushing over her skin.

The dress was tugged down her arms, down her waist and hips, and then she was stepping out of it, thankful for the comfort of the slip.

“You can keep your heels on.”

Zelda bent, picking up the material before placing it into the ottoman. She stood up tall again, watching as Lilith closed the ottoman lid.

Now what? She wanted to ask as her eyes flicked to the items on the bed.

Lilith moved, setting herself on the side of mattress, next to the items, before she crossed her legs. “Stand here,” she directed before her.

Zelda moved, standing before. So far, it seemed to be a game of patience and although they were getting closer and closer, she felt an anticipation rise in her, wishing the woman would just get to it.

“On your knees,” she said, not unlike a school teaching asking the class to sit down in their seats.

Zelda swallowed, and bent down, adjusting to kneel before her. Her hands clenched at her sides, and then stretched out. Lilith stared at her blankly, her eyes staring deep into her own. “And now?” Zelda asked.

“And now, until I say otherwise, you may only speak when spoken to. You are my servant and I am your Queen. You will obey implicitly,” she paused then, cocking her brow as if to dare Zelda to say otherwise. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, my queen,” she corrected.

“Yes, my queen,” Zelda affirmed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the words, and yet my queen sounded easier on the tongue than mistress.

“Hands forward.”

Zelda obeyed, setting them out before her, palm facing forward. Lilith adjusted them, turning them so her wrists faced each other, a few inches apart as she took the length of rope and began coiling over one forearm.

And then like a parlour trick, she was knotting and twisting the rope, and before Zelda could think about squirming away, both of her wrists bound before her in an elegant design. In all honesty, Zelda was impressed, watching as Lilith’s fingers slid between the bindings of rope, ensuring their comfort and tightness against the skin.

“Does it pinch?” she asked.

“No, my queen,” Zelda answered as she dropped her bound wrists down.

The riding crop hit her bare shoulder, a sharp smack ringing over skin. Zelda’s face looked up at the woman––both with surprise in how fast she’d managed to grab the crop, and in confusion as to what the hit had been for.

“Did I tell you that you could drop your hands?”

“No,” she said, lifting her hands again.

The crop hit her again, this time on the other shoulder and Zelda hissed in a breath, feeling the pleasure of the pain rush across her nerves.

“Do you know what you did wrong that time?”

Zelda blinked, in all honestly, she was still reeling from the hit. Swallowing, she found herself hoarsely whispering, “no.”

She watched as the riding crop was placed down on the bed and Lilith’s hand drew up, touching over where the mark was on her shoulder. The sensory shivered across her skin, and without intending to, she found herself leaning into the touch. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘yes, my queen’ or ‘no, my queen’, every time, without hesitation or question. Can you do that for me?”

There was such condescension in the words, that Zelda gritted her teeth.“Yes,” watching as Lilith’s eyebrow arched as she reached for the crop. “My queen,” Zelda added, though she looked to the crop, watching as Lilith hand fingered over the leather handle, as if considering striking her for the insolence.

But the hand pulled away and Lilith’s expression pulled into a smile. “Good girl,” she purred. Reaching beside her, she took the blindfold. Zelda shut her eyes, feeling the leather placed on and done-up on the back of her head. There was movement, seeming to be Lilith standing up and moving around her, and then she felt fingers in her hair, combing through it.

Lilith’s hands settled on her shoulders and Zelda waited, feeling her hands grow tired at holding them in position.

There was a warmth that tickled her ear and Zelda felt her chest in-take with a small gasp as the woman spoke in low whisper into her ear, “Move forward until you feel the bed press against you here.” Her fingers drew over Zelda’s body, touching under her ribs.

Drawing in a breath, Zelda felt the hands hold over her firmly before slipping away. Taking that as the direction, Zelda moved slowly on her knees, and then felt her hands touch over the mattress. She shuffled further and when the frame pressed against her stomach, she stopped. Nothing followed. No order, no words and she found herself slowly drawing a breath, anticipating the riding crop to hit her.

Behind her, there was the sound of a drawer opening (the dresser?) and then it slid back. Lilith had rummaged for something and whatever it was, Zelda felt heartbeat go quick. Was it another tool, a cane? Or perhaps a gag to keep her quiet?

“Look at you, keeping perfectly still,” Lilith said as she seemed to settle behind her, fingers drawing over her shoulders, nails bluntly running down her forearms as she pressed against her back. “So obedient.”

Zelda bristled at the comment, and yet as her jaw clenched she found herself holding back from saying anything.

“I can’t wait to watch you come undone,” Lilith said, before standing up, drawing Zelda’s arms up, above her head. She could feel the woman set her heels on either side of her calves, her skirt brushing against the back of her head as she seemed fiddle high above her with the bed frame.

Zelda could hear the noise of fibres zipping against something, and then the feeling of the rope bindings being fiddled with, a vibration running through it, before it was tugged, hoisting her arms a little higher until they were stretched above her head, causing her to sit up tall. And then Lilith’s hand were drawing down her forearms again, checking the restraints.

Her fingers were warm against the coolness of the air, nails blunt as they slid under the rope. It was strangely intimate, in a way that had Zelda feeling all the more aware of her state of undress.

“Do you remember your safe word?” Lilith asked as she once again began drawing her fingers through her hair, seeming to brush them over her shoulder and off from her back. It was gentle and soothing, but it had Zelda wanting to press harder against the nails.

“Yes, my queen,” she said, feeling a flutter low in her belly.

“And, what’s your safe word?”

“Music box…my queen,” she said.

Lilith stepped away, and then there was nothing. A quiet pressed over her again and Zelda could feel how high her chest rose and fell, the way her heart was pounding loud in her ears as she stretched her fingers in the restraints.

And then something cold touched her back, sliding from the bare skin, down, over the slip before sliding down her back. She shivered at the touch, feeling it drag against the length of her spine before it lifted away.

That was her warning.

The crop snapped against her shoulder blade. Zelda gasped, arching against it. The pain rippled over her flesh, and yet Zelda felt the endorphins flood her bloodstream. A second snap came, and then a third just as quick on the other shoulder and Zelda’s mouth parted, a sigh pulling from her.

Fingers brushed over her shoulders, running over where the crop had struck her. She could smell the perfume sweep over her senses as Lilith stepped behind her, the crop dragging low against her backside. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Zelda bit her lip, nodding.

A short thwack against her ass had Zelda jolting in the restraints, a wetness pressing between her thighs.

“I expect you to use your words.”

“Yes.”

Another thwack against the other cheek, harder this time and Zelda was biting her bottom lip, trying to suppress the moan.

“Yes, my queen.”

“Good girl.”

There was a quiet again, an anticipation in the darkness of the blindfold as she felt Lilith walk around. Floorboards creaked beneath her knees and Zelda’s arms strained in the restrained, a soreness pulling at her shoulders as she squeezed her muscles, feeling the rope draw against them.

She ached and yet every strike stung with fresh relief. She wanted it. The creeping hesitation. The uncertainty of the strike. The moment with the brief touch, drawing against her skin to both soothe and tease before the next strike came, hard and fast.

And then the excitement turned to relief and Zelda felt her emotions bristle. It was like the very brick walls she built herself had turned to glass and the strikes were causing them to crack.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. But one strike hit her high across the shoulder blades and it wasn’t a gasp but a sob that broke through.

And then Lilith was there, her body pressed against her, arms around her. “Are you ready to stop?” she asked.

And Zelda nodded, clamping her jaw shut because she couldn’t cry. She didn’t know why she wanted to cry, but the words weren’t coming out and she knew she needed to say those fucking words, but if she did she was going to sob and she couldn’t sob and––

Lilith’s hand pressed firm under her chest, splaying over her ribs as she felt her tug at something, and then Zelda’s arms dropped and she was sagging back against Lilith, drawing in a tight breath as her lungs seems to constrict.

“Lift your arms,” Lilith said, her voice soft and soothing and Zelda lifted her arms and felt the ropes untangle. The blind fold was removed and they were all dropped away beside her, her arms falling at her sides, and still she felt Lilith’s hand splay over her chest, holding her steady against her.

She breathed, once, twice––pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth until her breath evened and the need to cry ebbed away.

“I’m fine,” Zelda said, and felt herself tremble, the words tightening in her throat.

“You are,” Lilith agreed before bowing her head, pressing her lips against her shoulder.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, willing the prickling in her eyes to cease as she drew in one more breath, then another and then…the hand eased, dropping away and she felt Lilith move away.

Opening her eyes, Zelda blinked away the blur, watching the room sharpen.

A hand came into her vision and Zelda looked at it before realising that Lilith was offering to help her stand.

Taking the hand, she pushed up onto her heels, standing awkwardly for a moment as she felt the world sway. But Lilith’s hand tightened on hers, as her arm came around and held around her waist.

A part of Zelda wanted to crumble against her. Collapse from the exertion of it all, but she didn’t. She took another breath and then steeled herself, straightening her back, shoulders back.

“You don’t need to do that,” Lilith advised, one hand steady on her waist, the other still holding her hand, thumb sliding over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to let go.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are,” she agreed, “but you’re also allowed to take a moment. There’s no one else here.”

Zelda swallowed, feeling the painful prick in her eyes before she looked away. “I should get dressed.”

Lilith drew in a breath and smiled softly as Zelda pulled her hand from hers. Her knuckles felt alight, as if she’d somehow gently awoke every nerve ending there.

“Before you do, I just need to check over the marks.”

Zelda nodded and allowed herself to be turned around. The woman’s fingers were gentle as they touch over her back, examining the upper area of her shoulders, before she drew the hem of slip up, looking over the marks oh her hips and thighs. Her touch was soft and Zelda found herself wobbling on her heels, her muscles twitching as the woman touched over the welts.

“They’ll be down by morning,” Lilith said, adjusting the slip over her. “I can put cream on it.”

Zelda cleared her throat, knowing that if the woman so much as stroked a thumb over her cheekbone, she was going to burst into tears again. “No, thank you,” she said firmly. “I can manage that myself at home.”

“As you wish. I’m going to make a drink. I have tea and coffee, or a soda if you wanted something else?”

“Tea’s fine,” Zelda said, her voice thick with emotions. She cleared her throat, blinking as she felt the tightness in her chest grow and ease. Lilith’s fingers burned where they rested on her hips.

“I’ll zip up your dress when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

Lilith stepped away and Zelda heard the sound of the door clicking shut. Carefully, Zelda dressed, doing up half of the zipper before giving up with how her arms shook.

In the mirror she could see her face was flushed with red. Her hair was mussed, but not so much that a quick comb through with her fingers couldn’t fix it. Pulling out her make-up, she touched up her lipstick, fixing her eye make-up enough that she didn’t appear as though she’d been crying.

Taking her hand bag and throwing her coat over it, she stepped out of the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Downstairs, she could heard the sound of water being poured into tea cups. For a moment, Zelda considered leaving, entirely embarrassed by what had occurred.

Except…she hadn’t paid and didn’t desire to have the woman chase after her for that.

Mustering up as much pride as she could, she stepped into the kitchen and watched as Lilith set down the milk and sugar in the centre of the table before smiling up at her. “Do you need help?” she enquired, pointing to her dress.

“If you don’t mind.”

Lilith walked over and brushed Zelda’s hair over one-shoulder, as she had before, before zipping it up. Her fingers smoothed down the back of the dress, brushing over the shoulders before fixed her hair again. “I wasn’t sure how you liked your tea,” Lilith said, before somehow managing to guide her into a chair and sit her down before Zelda could protest. “Tea, there’s almond fingers there too.”

And then Lilith was bustling behind her, fixing everything back into its rightful space as Zelda placed two cubes of sugar in her tea and watched it dissolve in the water as she stirred it.

She didn’t feel like crying any more, but if she was honest, there was a heaviness to her. Like she could sleep. She hadn’t felt this tired since…back when she’d been doing her doctorate.

“How do you feel?” Lilith asked as she sat down on the chair opposite her, taking her own cup of tea (though Zelda noticed she left it black without sugar). “And don’t say fine.”

“Exhausted,” Zelda responded honestly.

“That’s to be expected, you took quite the beating,” Lilith nodded. “More importantly though, did you find the relief that you were after?”

Zelda’s mouth parted. A part of her wanted to argue that she did not. The idea of crying in front of a stranger––despite the intimacy of situation––soured whatever relief she took from it. But it wasn’t true.

All the frustration she’d been feeling over the week was gone. Her shoulders felt lighter, her back was sore, but it didn’t feel overexerted. In truth, she felt good. “I did,” she answered.

Lilith smiled. “I’m very good.”

“And arrogant.”

“Comes with the territory,” she teased.

Zelda brought the cup to her mouth, trying to disguise the smile she felt growing.

The tea was decent, soothing as she sipped at it before setting it back on its saucer. It was a nice set, and it made Zelda all the more aware how much money had been poured into the apartment, giving it an elegance that differed so far away from the dungeon-like fantasy.

It suited her, and yet she couldn’t help but wonder where all this money came from.

She looked up and noticed that Lilith was staring at her in interest, likely trying to read where her thoughts were––but how could ask such a thing politely? I see you have money behind you? Does being a dominatrix make a lot of money? No. She couldn’t ask such a thing.

And yet it made her all the more aware that the woman still hadn’t asked for payment. Was she meant to broach that?

“Careful. You’ll wind yourself right back up and be on my doorstep by the end of the week.”

Zelda blinked, setting her cup down. “I beg your pardon?”

Lilith grinned, looking as if she might take the bait inadvertently left in the statement, but decided against it. “You’re overthinking something, I can see you stiffening to get to whatever thought you have––likely unspoken due to some…social propriety. Whatever it is, just say it.”

Zelda felt a frustration roll inside of her, disliking how the woman seemed to read her like an open book. “I was thinking about how payment worked.”

“Cash or card,” Lilith shrugged. “If you use card, it’ll pop up as a clothing boutique on your statement.”

“Do you run a clothes store?”

“Mm, story for another time,” she said, setting her cup down. “Now, cash or card?”

Zelda pulled out her wallet, drawing the dollar bills she’d picked up that morning. “Cash,” she advised.

Lilith smiled and took the money. Zelda half expected her to count it front of her, but instead, she set it on her table and rose, opening up a cupboard where she pulled out an invoice book and a pen.

She scribbled on the page, and then ripped it off, handing it back. “You take me as the type of woman who likes to keep her books in order,” she said. “On the very bottom, it has my website. If you go to services offered…you can explore what other interests you might have. If it’s not on the list, we can negotiate the next time you visit.”

Zelda took it tentatively and blinked at the invoice. All it advised was for services rendered in one column, with an amount of time, and then the tax and subtotal on the very bottom. It was all very…professional and Zelda found herself looking up at Lilith with a strange fascination.

Was this a business, or was it as much as a leisure pursuit for Lilith as it was for her clients.

“And just why do you think there’ll be a next time?” she asked with as much indignantly as she could manage.

Lilith leant back in her a chair, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Because you’re going to go home and shower and touch over the marks as you think of me.”

Zelda blanched at the comment, “Excuse me?”

“And then you’ll wait a few days for self control but a part of you is going to dig up that invoice and type the website into the search bar of your computer and scroll through all the services I offer until something just clicks, and then I’ll have the delight of your voice on my phone again.”

“I certainly will not.”

Lilith shrugged. “Suit your self, but do check out the services page first. I’m sure you’ll find a few things that will pique your interest.”

Zelda felt a humiliation burn through her cheeks as she stared at the woman. A part of her wanted to rise and storm off, or snap back at the woman, but she didn’t. She was locked to her seat, the fury building in her––but more importantly, she felt excited.

Excited in a way she couldn’t remember feeling since she was a twenty-something year old, getting up to no-good mischief because she could. Because it made her feel––

Ah, she realised suddenly

That was it.

She felt alive.

#lilith #zelda spellman #madam spellman #zelith #caos fanfic #morgans fic #morgan writes

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