#the auction masterlist
The Auction: Part 9
“Shut it off,” Bucky complained, burrowing his head further into the crook of your neck, “please shut it off.”
You were stuck between Steve and Bucky, trapped between their bodies as you lay in their bed in their suite. You groaned and tried to turn over in Bucky’s embrace. However, the weight of his thick arm had kept you stuck against his back. He wanted you to leave, yet between his arm around your waist holding you close to him and his leg over yours, you’d have a better chance crawling through him than over him.
“Your phone’s ringing,” Steve groaned and rolled over, snatching your phone and placing it in your palm.
Your hang tightened around the sides of your phone, and you opened your eyes just enough to see the name of the caller flashing on the screen. You sighed and accepted the call, lifting it to your ear.
“Congratulations!” Your sister’s squeaky voice screeched through the phone, and the pitch hadn’t just bothered you. The sound of the shrieking had caused Bucky’s nose to scrunch against your neck and his lips to be pulled back into a sneer.
“What are you talking about?” You spoke through exhaustion, too tired to deal with your sister’s shit.
“On getting engaged!” She screamed, and you could imagine her jumping up and down in her kitchen, her curls bouncing with every micromovement.
“Engaged?” You questioned, your eyes opening and your sleepiness being replaced by the cold bite of confusion and shock. “What are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about?” She sighed and held the phone up and put it on speaker, the announcement on the news sending ice water straight through your veins.
“-the engagement of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes to a PA that works under Natasha Romanoff. We’re getting word that the PA’s name is Y/N L/N-“
“Why didn’t you tell me? Or at least tell mom?”
You threw the covers back and flew from the bed, pushing yourself off the bottom end of the bed, half naked and barefoot.
“Shut up!” You hissed at your sister and scurried into the living room. You swiped the remote from the coffee table and turned it on to the news, the breaking news story unfolding before your eyes.
“That was rude. You know I-“
“I have to go.” You hung up the phone and stumbled to the couch, watching with wide eyes and bated breath as your picture flashed on the screen.
“Oh my god…” you covered your mouth with your hand, stunned at the picture they had.
The picture was from your date weekend with Steve and Bucky. The picture was taken the first night you were there, at dinner. The picture that followed was of yourself at the beach, in a bathing suit.
“What the fuck is this?!” Bucky stumbled after you, his hair messy and his eyes narrowed, he came to the couch and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, covering you in the soft material and shielding you from the cold.
“I’m on the phone with Tony now.” Steve followed him, completely dressed in a pair of slacks and a button down dress shirt despite the lack of time that passed from the time you left the bedroom to now. “He has no idea what happened or how this got out.”
“Oh my god…” You groaned and hung your head in your hands, your fingers gripping your hair.
“Y/N we’re-“ Bucky tried to comfort you, but his attempt at easing you was paused when the door was slammed open.
You lift your head and watched Colbie and Natasha, Wanda and Vision walk into the room, though none were more pissed than Colbie.
“That little whore did this,” she hissed, stalking toward the couch and stumbling down on the cushion beside you.
“What whore?” Bucky sat on your other side, brushing his hand up and down your back in comfort.
“Your assistant.” Colbie crossed her arms over her chest.
“We don’t know-“ Vision tried to combat the tension.
“We know,” you sat up and closed your eyes, rolling your neck from side to side to crack it, “she got confrontational the first day I was back.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Steve approached from behind you, Colbie and Bucky, his phone shoved back in his pocket.
“Cause Y/N fucked her shit up.” Colbie smirked and laughed under her breath. “I’m still laughing.”
“What’d you do?” Steve sat on the couch to the left, his elbows resting on his knees.
“Told her not to be jealous cause you fucked me in vacation.”
“Then Y/N told the spawn of Satan that you had plans to fuck her again that night.”
“Which they did.” You added with a grin.
“So now your little slutbag PA, is enacting some childish revenge.” Colbie snapped.
And you stood, with the blanket wrapped around your body. You stood from the couch and moved away from the living room to head back to the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
“She started a fire,” you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes flashing, “I’m going to get gasoline.”
When you emerged, Vision and Wanda had left. Steve and Bucky were talking amongst themselves, and judging by the furrow of Steve’s eyebrows, he wasn’t entirely pleased.
Beyond Steve and Bucky, Natasha and Colbie were on their phones respectively talking to their own circles.
“Gasoline,” you placed one foot in front of the other.”
You chose one of the new outfits Natasha and yourself had found when you went shopping. The shirt was knotted above the skirt, showing a small sliver of your stomach and was long sleeves, grey in colour yet soft against your flesh.
The skirt was high waisted, and hip hugging, however there was a sharp angle of the shirt that showed off your smooth, and powerful, legs in a manner that made you feel like a plus sized goddess.
“Yes!” Colbie shrieked in approval. “LIGHT THAT BITCH UP!”
You rolled your eyes and placed your hands on your hips, your gaze moving throughout the room before they landed on Natasha. She was still in the midst of a conversation, with her phone pressed up to her ear, yet her lips were stretched into a smirk and she looked impressed and approved of your choice.
“She’s fired,” Bucky said immediately upon reaching your side, “at the very least.”
You turned into Bucky and snaked your arms around his neck and leaned in. You brushed your lips against his, kissing him softly and tenderly. His hands gripped your hips and he pulled you even closer, grinding himself against you.
“Don’t fire her,” you pulled away, “not yet anyway. Let her stick around and wallow in it.”
“Wallow in what, baby?” Steve asked, his appreciative gaze looking you up and down.
“The fact that I said yes.” You raised your head and locked gazes with Bucky, your eyes searching each other’s.
“To both of you.”
“Are you sure?” Steve stood flush behind you, his lips brushing against your cheek. “We haven’t been together that long.”
“You already have the ring,” you turned and focused on Steve, your hands sliding up his chest, “not that a ring matters because I would say yes anyway. If you’ll take me?”
He slid his hand around the nape of your neck, and pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours. It was a flurry of kisses and mumbled declarations until you both pulled away.
“So this is it?” Colbie asked. “Are you engaged now?”
You retained eye contact with Steve and slowly nod your head. While it wasn’t by any means conventional or how you envisioned your engagement. However it hadn’t changed how you felt about Steve and Bucky, or how they made you feel.
It hadn’t changed the chemistry you had or the connection that drove you together.
“Yes ma’am,” Steve stole another kiss and then pulled away to a dress Natasha who had come up on your left.
“I’ll make some calls and we’ll put out a formal statement,” she smiled widely and pulled you away from Steve into a hug, her arms wrapped around you were squeezing tightly, “I’m so happy for you sweetie. I told you from the very beginning that they were wild about you.”
“I don’t remember that conversation,” you pulled away and placed your hand on your chest, “cross my heart and hope to die.”
Natasha brushed her hair over her shoulder and slid her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She looked as flawless as ever, with her red and blonde hair half up and half down in a knot at the top of her head.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY’s ai voice filtered through the speakers, “but Mr. Stark would like me to inform you that there is a rather large crowd of reporters waiting in the lobby.”
“I didn’t do that,” Natasha defended herself.
“No,” you rolled your shoulders back and held your head high, “but I’ll work with it..”
“BURN IT DOWN!” Colbie cheered, moving her way to the door, “make that bitch sorry!”
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The Auction: Part 5
A/N: There is smut toward the end of the chapter so if you’d like to skip it, please do
Stark was nothing if not a man who enjoyed living in lavish luxury. The private runway that housed the private jets, was far enough outside New York to look completely untouched by the rat race in the big city. The hangar of the private runway was almost as big as the hangar on the proposed Avengers Compound design and layout.
The lavishness Stark enjoyed was carried over to the jet itself. When the three of you had first stepped on the private jet, with your bags already stored in the undercarriage, the interior looked nicer and bigger than most people’s apartments.
From the front of the plane, there was the captain’s cockpit that was sealed off in a black door, with sleek metal trim that had LED lights trimming the silver. The theme carries throughout the rest of the jet, or at least the portion you could see, with the black details carried throughout the headspace and the leather furniture set against the left and the right side of the jet.
The floor was made of soft geometric patterned carpet and carried from the front of the jet to the back. To your left was a series of deep reclining seats with side tables set beside them holding a bucket full of ice and champagne.
Just beyond the two leather reclining seats was a long white leather couch with two fluffy pillows sitting against the armrests. As you moved further into the jet, you saw a set of four leather chairs with a small dining table in between, and across from the arrangement was a minibar with a drink mixing station, a sink and a larger than average mini-fridge and wine cooler.
“It’d going to be a fairly long flight,” Steve followed behind you, placing his hand onto the small of your back as he slipped by you toward the back.
“Can I know where we’re going?” You questioned, slowly shuffling your feet as your wide eyes took in every possible detail.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Bucky came up from behind you and slipped an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him, “it’s all a surprise, doll.”
With his arm around your waist and your back to his chest, you were made hyper-aware of how strong and built Bucky was. His chest was almost twice as wide as yours, and his arm was thick like the root of a tree and likely carried twice its strength. His arm around your waist and his chest against your back had made you aware of his strength, but it had also made you aware of his warmth.
He was like a space heater, the warmth from his body penetrating your clothes and radiating to your flesh, giving you pleasant tingles that spread throughout your entire body. The warmth and the tingles had spread to your lower regions and you were at odds with how wetness began to pool between your thighs.
“Would you like to sit with me?” Bucky’s nose brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice and his warm breath bringing rise to shivers that caused your body to temporarily convulse. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”
The first pet name he had given you, sent another ripple of warmth to shoot through you. It caused more warmth to pool between your legs, which would surely affect your panties.
“I’m just a little nervous about flying.” You tried not to flinch when Bucky slid his hand up the loose-fitting shirt you wore, his thumb brushing against the softness of your stomach that you were so conscious about. Yet he seemed entirely unbothered, Bucky hadn’t ceased his gentle touches of the strokes of his fingers against you and you hadn’t tried to stop him.
Maybe it was just too nice, having someone’s hands on you slowly feeling you up with the radiating wanting that was usually reserved for women smaller than yourself.
Maybe it was a boost that you needed, feeling his reaction to being pressed so tightly against you. You could feel it, you could feel the hardening of his penis through his jeans, you could feel the erection pressed against your lower back, the almost throbbing tip poking into you.
“You are so beautiful,” Bucky whispered in your ear, trailing his lips down the shell of your ear to your neck, “there are so many things I want to do to you.”
You were helpless to protest, helpless to move as his hand snaked further up your stomach to the underside of your plain and rather boring bra. You were helpless to do anything but whine when his fingers gently grabbed the cloth-covered wire of the bra and tugged gently.
“You said you were going to wait, Buck.” Your eyes snapped open, your mouth part in a small gasp when Bucky turned his soft closed-mouth kisses to open mouth nips at your flesh.
“I can’t wait, Steve.” Bucky grabbed the wire and snapped it in his fingers, easily and without warning. “God, I can’t wait…”
Steve walked toward you with his eyes locked onto yours, his lips tugged into a smile. You watched every step he took, in a trance. You were so taken and so mesmerized by him, by his natural and ethereal beauty.
“Did he even ask?” Steve asked, slipping his hands on your cheeks, cupping them softly.
“It’s okay…” You rubbed your thick thighs together, the wetness between your legs becoming too much to handle, the warmth becoming too intense and too hot.
“Sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers,” the pilot’s voice broke through the speakers, “but we’re about to take off and we need you three to be sitting.”
“Do you want this?” Steve pulled away, his eyes searching yours. “Do you want us to continue?”
You knew what he was asking, you knew exactly what he wanted and you couldn’t say no. You didn’t want to say no.
“Yes,” you gasped when Bucky’s hands cupped your breasts, his fingers squeezing your flesh ever so lightly, just enough to make your nipples harden in his palms, “yes I want this.”
Your admittance, your approval of what would happen, had been all they needed to hear. It was Steve who made the first move after your approval. It was Steve who had slid his hands around your lower back to your ass. It was Steve who had felt every part of your ass that was neither tight nor small, with a nearly unhinged groan in his throat.
“You have no idea what you do to us,” Bucky still has his hands on your breasts and he gave them one last squeeze before he let them go.
“There’s a bedroom in the back,” Steve trailed his hands off your ass to your thighs, and he had given you a quick tug, effectively pulling you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. He pulled you into his arms as if you were nothing but a feather, despite you protesting and mumbling that you were too heavy for him.
“If you keep that up, I’ll spank you.” Steve looked down on you in his arms with desire and lust unleashing. “You’re not too heavy for me, doll.”
“Neither of us.” Bucky followed the two of you to the back bedroom, and when you were set on the bed, Bucky pushed a button near the speaker on the wall, informing the pilots that you were secured.
“Are you sure? Because I don’t want-“ Steve cut you off with his lips, kissing you silently. Steve cut you off by pushing on your shoulder gently until your back met the mattress.
“You are nothing but perfect,” Steve mumbled against your lips when he had to pull away, his hand snaking up your shirt in the same manner as Bucky’s was.
“We want you,” Bucky approached the left side of the bed, his hands fiddling with his belt on his jeans. The clinking of the metal prong as it was pulled out was the melodic tune that distracted you enough from the private plane taking off.
“Are you sure you want this?” Bucky asked again, dropping his belt to the right side of the bed.
“Yes,” you couldn’t turn back now, you didn’t want to turn back now. “I want this, I want you.”
Steve had moved down your body, his hands running over every ridge and bump every curve and softening of your body with care and grace and love. He trailed his hands down your body as well as his lips, every delicate kiss bringing you further toward a place of great and vibrant need.
“We’ll start slow,” the bed dipped when Bucky sat upon it, his eyes running down your body with great appreciation while Steve was busy tantalizingly removing your pants inch by inch, kissing his way down your legs, “we won’t have your first time with us be in a plane.”
“We’ll still have fun,” Steve promised you after you instinctually sighed in slight disappointment, “and I promise that you’ll cum.”
While Steve was ridding you of your pants, Bucky’s hand slowly started pulling at your loose-fitting shirt to get it off your body. You pushed yourself up into a semi-sitting position and allowed Bucky to pull your shirt off and then your bra. As you fell back down to the bed, you felt your pants getting pulled off the rest of your body before you felt Steve’s lips on the inside of your upper thigh.
“We want you more than anyone,” Bucky came to lay by your side, his hands lazily stroking and playing with your hardened nipples. You moaned and whimpered in small cycles, thrown for a loop when Steve had to part your legs and swiped his fingers against your panty-covered pussy.
“You’re soaked, baby.” He crooned into you, two of his fingers stroking your swollen oust lips through your panties.
“Oh, God!” You already felt like you were being overstimulated just Steve’s fingers and Bucky’s hands.
“Shh,” Bucky cooed into your ear, silencing you with his soft and tender kisses. He was rolling your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, occasionally tugging at your sensitive buds, “it’s okay.”
Steve’s hand grabbed your thighs with his hands, holding your legs apart. He had leaned in and brushed the tip of his nose against your sensitive clit after ridding you of your panties, leaving you exposed for him.
“You’re so wet,” Steve part his lips and started sucking on your clit, his tongue lapping at the hard nub causing your back to arch wildly and your hands to grip the mattress below you. Your whines and whimpers had turned to full blown moans that verbalized exactly how they were making you feel.
Steve was sucking on your clit and Bucky was playing with your tits with his hands and his mouth simultaneously and they were both going to drive you crazy.
“Are you going to cum for us, baby?” Bucky pulled his mouth off your breast to tease you, a devilish smirk on his face.
“I think she is, Buck.” Steve switched from sucking on your clit to lapping at your swollen pussy lips, sucking your sweet juices that were dripping down your cunt.
Steve had doubled down on his grip on your thighs as you started bucking your hips against his tongue. You were going to cum, you were going to cum all over him although you imagined that is what he wanted.
He wanted you to cum on his face.
“Give it to him, sweetheart.” Bucky half whispered, half ordered in your ear. “Cum all over his face, he wants you to. Give him all you have.”
His tongue pushed past your pussy lips and you came undone. Your cunt tightened around his tongue, the building and expanding coil in your belly was leading you to an orgasm you had never felt before.
Your leg shook as you reached your peak. Your whole body shook as you came, as your cum gushed from you.
“The first of many,” Steve pulled back and licked his lips, “you have so many more in you.”
*GIF’s are just for aesthetic*
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The Auction: Part 1
Summary: In which Natasha pushes you to be auctioned off for a weekend for charity, and the opportunity arises for two super soldier’s to have reader at their mercy for a full weekend
The Avengers were akin to celebrities and that created a need for personal assistants to help support and create ease in their lives while they fought off the threats that faced the world.
As a person assistant, your job revolved the most basic errands such as getting fresh coffee or picking up their dry cleaning, making their day to day as seamless as possible, to making sure all preparations were made for any and all trips that they would have to go on to save the world.
Being a personal assistant wasn’t a glamorous job, and the hours proved to be long and draining, but the pay was incredible. Not only was the pay incredible but the benefits of being a PA had vastly outweighed the negatives. Yes, you worked long hours and had a hectic schedule, but when your assigned avenger was on a mission overseas or on vacation, your free time grew exponentially.
As long as the basics were handled, you had quite a lot of time on your hands when they were in another country.
Your assigned avenger was Natasha Romanoff, and given her skill as an assassin and spy, your free time was on the higher end than someone who stuck closer to home like Peter Parker or Bruce Banner or even Tony Stark.
The hours that those PA’s worked we’re almost double your own, but that could also boil down to the privacy Natasha Romanoff required. Peter Parker, while he was in his senior year, had a PA who was nearly run on her feet after trying to keep up with Peter and his forgetfulness.
Bruce Banner’s PA was always tired, always had dark bags under her eyes after being kept late in the labs while Banner worked.
Tony Stark used his PA almost too much, which has caused his PA to put more miles on her car in one year while working for Tony than the 2 years prior.
One disadvantage of being Natasha Romanoff’s PA was the incessant looks you’d received when you were in her presence. Natasha Romanoff was a beautiful woman, she was completely breathtaking and she knew it. She knew she was a deadly woman with her fists and her physical appearance and that drew questions whenever you were introduced as her PA.
If Natasha Romanoff was such a bombshell, then why did she choose a PA who was not? Why did Natasha Romanoff have a PA who was ‘pretty for a big girl’, who’s thighs had been rubbing together since you were 13. Why would Natasha Romanoff have a PA who looked as if she had swallowed two of her?
You were a woman who was plus-sized, and spent the greater amount of your time working for a woman who was the epitome of men’s fantasies. It was enough of a contrast to draw comments under breaths or snide looks. It was almost a constant reminder that no matter what, you wouldn’t fit well into their world aside from working for them.
Despite the comments and the snide looks, the depreciating hand signals that would be fired toward you for a ‘few good laughs’ Natasha treat you no different than she treat anyone of her team mates.
Natasha was a woman who had put in the effort to make you feel as comfortable as possible while working for her, and in your defence, had told the commentators, usually men, how quickly she could dismember them without leaving evidence behind.
You may have been verbally bullied about your size as a plus sized woman, but Natasha would never treat you with so much disrespect. Natasha had treat you as if you were her little sister rather than her PA, and that meant talking you up from the low places you would sometimes notch yourself in.
Natasha was an amazing woman and you admired her.
Even if she had pushed you out of your comfort zone toward new unchartered waters.
“You’re attending the charity auction.” She told you, handing you an invitation. “I need you there.”
She was constantly trying to push you toward a place where you could see your own value.
“Charity auction for the sick kids foundation?” You read the invitation twice.
“They’re auctioning off weekends spent shadowing avengers or weekend dates with volunteers for the auction.” Natasha explained while adjusting and fixing her eyeliner.
“So you need me to go and make sure everything is sorted out?” You behind her, tapping on the tablet in your hands.
“Not exactly, kukla.” Natasha locked eyes with you in the mirror. “I can’t volunteer this year on account of what happened last year on the ‘date’, but you can.”
The tablet in your hands has nearly fallen to the floor. It had nearly slipped from your grips to the soft carpet below your feet as the registration of what she said had gave way to shock.
“What?” You frowned and furrowed your eyebrows. “I’m sorry..:what did you just say?”
Natasha smirked in the mirror, adjusting her stance after she reached for a metal container of mascara. She hadn’t given you an explanation of elaborated on what she had said right off the bat. She had coat her eyelashes with mascara until she was satisfied, then she pressed her lips together.
“I said you can. I put you down on the docket to be auctioned for a weekend of fun. It’ll do you some good.” While Natasha had been unbothered by her decision to offer you up as a volunteer for the auction, you were not.
“Why would you do that?” You hissed. “No one will bid!”
“Are you sure?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow. “I think there are more men attracted to you than you think.”
Your snort and derision was a precursor to your eyes rolling. You had mirrored her stance by crossing your arms over your chest and cocking your hip out. You were having two different reactions that were each battling for control, first was your mental reaction that was akin to a nuclear meltdown in your head and the other was your emotionally pressed yet coolness snippiness that had taken over.
“I’d like to believe that, but there’s a better chance of seeing pigs fly.” Your comment had rolled off Natasha like water off a duck’s back, she didn’t even acknowledge your comment or your dig at yourself.
“As a friend,” Natasha asked with a tone of voice that was more telling, “I am going to put you on the volunteer list. As a friend, I am doing this because there are men out there who are attracted to you and have even tried flirting with you-“
“I’ve been flirt with?” Your irritation turned to general confusion.
“-and they feel like this is the best way to get your attention. So will you please-“ she didn’t even need to twist your arm before you caved.
“-it’s for a good cause.” There was a bubbling in your belly as butterflies sprung to life, “what the hell. I’m in.”
“Good.” Natasha stride toward you and pinched your cheeks, “now let’s get you a dress that’s show-stopping.”
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Going Once, Going Twice, Masterlist
Part one: Before the auction
Part two: Auction, going once, going twice
Part three: Processing...
Part four: Sssh, it’s okay
Part five: Stranger danger
Part six: Fevers and dreams, 1/2
Part seven: Fevers and dreams, 2/2
Part eight: Calm before the storm
Part nine: Prison Party, 1/3
Part ten: Prison Party 2/3
Part eleven: Prison Party 3/3
Part twelve: Clever Boy
Part thirteen: We need a break...
Drabble: 1 2
To be continued..
My art!: Robert McAllen Nina McAllen (Peter is next, I swear he’s next!)
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Tears of Themis: Lu Jinghe’s Birthday - NPC Interviews Part 1
Event Story: to be updated
Event Story Investigations: to be updated
Interview 1 – Employed Woman
MC: Hello, I would like to interview the participants of the building blocks competition and contacted you regarding this previously. Is this a convenient time for you?
Employed Woman: It is, I’m on lunch break right now. It would be great if it were quick.
MC: Then let’s start.
⊳ Reason for competing
MC: May I ask, why are you participating in this building blocks competition?
Employed Woman: Building blocks is my hobby outside of work, and I just casually signed up when I saw news about the competition. There’s no special reasoning.
⊳ Competition Theme
MC: Do you have any thoughts regarding the theme of this competition, “A Reconstruction of World-Famous Artworks”?
Employed Woman: I’m quite interested, and this theme also has somewhat of a relation to my work.
MC: Your work is…?
Employed Woman: I am an auction appraiser and focus on artwork appraisals, particularly oil paintings.
⊳ World-Famous Artworks
MC: If so, you must know a lot about world-famous paintings, right?
Employed Woman: Yes. To me, there is life in each painting, and they each record individual, different stories – for example, Hogarth’s “Marriage A-la-Mode” series, which uses six thematically linked paintings to depict the tragic arranged marriage between one from an impoverished noble family and a merchant’s daughter.
MC: Thematically linked paintings? Like a manga arrangement?
Employed Woman: Yes. Hogarth was one of the first artists to do linked drawings, and was known as a pioneer of linked drawings.
MC: Do you know of “Z”?
Employed Woman: Of course I do. “Z” is the most popular painter in our auction house, and each painting goes for a high price. He adopted Rembrandt’s art style, is skilled in portrait arts, and is known as the “Little Rembrandt” in the art world. It’s a pity that he hasn’t come out with any new works for a long while. Who knows if something happened to him…
⊳ Things she wants to say to “Z”
MC: If you had the chance to speak with “Z”, what would you say?
Employed Woman: I would want to ask about “Z”’s true identity. He’s so mysterious and has such artistic talent – maybe he’s the descendant of some ancient noble family. That’s how it always goes in the novels – running into a mysterious man by chance and setting off a beautiful romance…
MC: That ends today’s interview. Thank you for your cooperation.
Employed Woman: No problem, goodbye.
Interview 2 – Gong Yuze
Gong Yuze: Miss Lawyer, hello.
MC: Gong Yuze? Are you also participating in the building blocks competition?
Gong Yuze: Yes, I just happened to have time these days.
MC: I’d like to interview the participants of the building blocks competition. Do you have time?
Gong Yuze: Of course.
⊳ Reason for participating
MC: Gong Yuze, why are you participating in this building blocks competition?
Gong Yuze: Because Qiaoqiao’s gotten into building blocks recently. Whenever she starts fiddling with the building blocks, she’ll become very quiet. I wanted to try competing to maybe get a prize for Qiaoqiao, since it’s a limited-edition set, one of a kind in the world.
MC: (So that’s why…)
⊳ Competition Theme
MC: Do you have any thoughts regarding the theme of this competition, “A Reconstruction of World-Famous Artworks”?
Gong Yuze: I haven’t tried making similar building blocks works before, so I’ve got to hurry and practice.
⊳ World-Famous Paintings
MC: What do you know about world-famous paintings?
Gong Yuze: I like Millais’ “Ophelia” a lot – I saw it in an art collection before, and it left a deep impression on me. Innocent Ophelia floating in the water, looking like a mermaid singing, having finally shaken off this tragic world. Millais displayed the classic scene from “Hamlet” in vivid detail.
MC: Do you know of “Z”?
Gong Yuze: I do, it’s that famous painter. Each one of his paintings get auctioned for sky-high prices. I once went to one of those auctions, and I still remember seeing everyone vying to bid as if it happened yesterday. I remember that the painting ended up… getting bought by a top figure in the business world.
⊳ Things he wants to say to “Z”
MC: If you had the chance to speak with “Z”, what would you say?
Gong Yuze: “Z” hasn’t come out with new works for a long time. Some say that this indicates that he will be resigning from the painting world. I hope that, no matter what decision he makes, he can follow his own heart.
MC: Okay, that’s it for the interview. Thank you for your cooperation.
Gong Yuze: No problem. I’ll head home now; Qiaoqiao’s waiting for me.
MC: Okay! Say hi to Qiaoqiao for me.
Interview 3 – Young Livestreamer
MC: Hello, I would like to interview the participants of the building blocks competition. I contacted you regarding this previously. Is this a convenient time for you?
Young Livestreamer: I remember. Hurry and start – I’ve got to rush back and livestream in a moment.
Young Livestreamer: Yes, I’m a building blocks livestreamer.
MC: I see.
⊳ Reason for participating
MC: May I ask, why are you participating in this building blocks competition?
Young Livestreamer: My fans asked me to. They said that I was so good at building blocks that it would be a pity if I didn’t participate.
⊳ Competition Theme
MC: Do you have any thoughts regarding the theme of this competition, “A Reconstruction of World-Famous Artworks”?
Young Livestreamer: I’m sure that no matter what the theme is, I’ll be able to nab a prize. I’m confident about it.
MC: Do you know of “Z”?
Young Livestreamer: “Z”? Is he a popular livestreamer these days? I don’t think I’ve seen this name on the ranking boards.
MC: He’s an artist…
Young Livestreamer: I see.
⊳ Things he wants to say to “Z”
MC: If you had the chance to speak with “Z”, what would you say?
Young Livestreamer: No matter what profession it is, it must have taken significant effort to earn his accomplishments. I’ve been livestreaming for over three years, and I’ve never stopped streaming once. I’m sure that “Z” is just like me, someone who perseveres.
⊳ Building Blocks Livestreaming
MC: What do you usually livestream about?
Young Livestreamer: Lots of things, such as making building blocks models, holding timed competitions with other livestreamers, and so on. Although, my fans enjoy seeing me reconstruct portraits with building blocks the most. As long as I have a photo, there’s nothing I can’t reconstruct.
MC: It sounds very impressive.
MC: That ends today’s interview. Thank you for your cooperation.
Young Livestreamer: No problem. Young miss, remember to check out my livestream site – I start livestreaming each night, right at 7pm.
Interview 4 – Pirate Actor
MC: Is that young man acting as a pirate?
MC: (He’s even wearing an eyepatch. How dedicated!)
MC: (Is that a compass hanging in front of his chest? It’s made very exquisitely. It’s so golden and shiny – looks very expensive.)
MC: (Turns out that this Mister Pirate is also a participant in the building blocks competition. I should hurry and interview him.)
MC: Hello, I would like to interview the participants of the building blocks competition and contacted you regarding this previously. Are you dressed as… a pirate?
Pirate Actor: That’s right, I just finished acting in a cultural festival drama and didn’t have time to change yet. Let’s start.
⊳ Reason for competing
MC: May I ask, why are you participating in this building blocks competition?
Pirate Actor: To experience a role. I’m an actor in the city drama troupe. Our next drama is based on Austin, the father of building blocks, and it depicts the story of a genius young man who invented the building blocks. I’ve never dealt with building blocks before, so I wanted to take this chance to experience the feeling in the competition, to prepare by putting myself into the character.
MC: Are you playing the male lead?
Pirate Actor: I’m just a candidate. There’s another competitor aside from me, so I’ve got to try even harder.
⊳ Competition Theme
MC: Do you have any thoughts regarding the theme of this competition, “A Reconstruction of World-Famous Artworks”?
Pirate Actor: I was about to head to the bookstore and buy some related books to do research and prepare for the competition.
⊳ World-Famous Artworks
MC: What do you know about world-famous paintings?
Pirate Actor: I actually… don’t know much about famous paintings. Acting is where my specialty lies.
MC: Do you know of “Z”?
Pirate Actor: That artist? I know him. Lots of my friends are his fans, including me myself. As Z’s never revealed his identity publicly, everyone has varied opinions on where he comes from. Some say that he doesn’t care for fame and fortune; some say that he’s causing hype on purpose. But I feel that, regardless if he makes his identity public, he’s the most popular artist right now.
⊳ Things he wants to say to “Z”
MC: If you had the chance to speak with “Z”, what would you say?
Pirate Actor: I hope that he can focus on art without being affected by the world outside. To an artist, refining one’s works is the most important, as is for an actor.
MC: That ends today’s interview. Thank you for your cooperation.
Pirate Actor: No problem. When the play goes public, do remember to come see it, miss.
MC: I will!
Interview 5 - Photographer
MC: This young man’s holding a camera?
MC: (The camera he’s holding is the newest edition from Pax. Is he a photographer?)
MC: (His hair has highlights – it looks really fashionable… He’s probably someone working in an artistic field.)
MC: (He’s also a participant in the building blocks competition. I should hurry and interview him.)
MC: Hello, I would like to interview the participants of the building blocks competition, and contacted you regarding this previously. Is this a convenient time for you?
Photographer: Yes, feel free to ask.
⊳ Reason for competing
MC: May I ask, why are you participating in this building blocks competition?
Photographer: Because of my hobby. I’m a photographer for building blocks.
MC: A photographer for building blocks?
Photographer: Yes. I use building blocks as materials to take some creative photos. For example, using building blocks to make miniature sceneries, then using the camera to record them to depict different stories.
MC: How interesting. This is the first time I’ve heard of this profession!
⊳ Competition Theme
MC: Do you have any thoughts regarding the theme of this competition, “A Reconstruction of World-Famous Artworks”?
Photographer: I like this theme a lot. I believe that famous works should not disappear with the passing of time. They can reappear in life using different methods.
⊳ World-Famous Artworks
MC: What do you know of world-famous artworks?
Photographer: I actually prefer photos over artworks.
Photographer: Compared to artworks that include subjective elements, only photos can display a situation most objectively.
MC: (Sure enough, he’s got a very different point of view…)
MC: Do you know of “Z”?
Photographer: I do. He’s an artist that I’ve paid quite some attention to for these past few years. Apparently, he’s going to be an evaluator for this competition. If that’s true, it would be great – “Z” has never shown himself publicly. I’m really looking forward to meeting him.
⊳ Things he wants to say to “Z”
MC: If you met “Z”, is there anything you want to say to him?
Photographer: Actually… I recently heard some rumours that “Z” might have given up on art. Though I don’t know why, I hope he won’t give it up. With his talent, persisting on the road of art will definitely lead him to become an amazing art master.
MC: That ends today’s interview. Thank you for taking the time to be interviewed.
Photographer: No problem, see you around.
MC: See you around!
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Something To Hold Onto
Summer of Whump Day 10 - Camping
Timeline: The Estate
Word Count: 1,348
cw: mentioned slavery, mentioned trafficking, mentioned prison, mentioned homelessness, mentioned family violence, trauma, recovering whumpees, whumpee turned caretaker, vaguely referenced noncon, death mention, whumpee and caretaker aren’t necessarily nice to each other.
“Can you hand me that hammer over there? To your left.” Zuri pointed with an exaggerated huff as Jet immediately looked to his right before swapping to his left. There’s a flush to his cheeks, so rare that Zuri wondered if he had a fever. Jet snagged the hammer from the grass before giving it to her, his usual attentiveness slowed and off center. It was clear he had hardly paid attention to anything she had saying.
He was too busy looking.
Having never explained how long he was in prison before, none of the residents of the Navier Estate knew that he had been indoors for over three years, and before that time, being homeless, he never wondered to the countryside. Now he was outside staring at the gigantic trees with the small patches of sunlight shining through the leaves. He was listening to the joyous sounds of birds chirping happily. He was feeling the soft tickle of grass against his hands as he brushed his finger one the ground, digging into the dirt.
He had forgotten what it all felt like.
He had forgotten that feeling wasn’t always painful and sickening.
Zuri hardly wanted to disturb him, but at the same time, she had to stay focused on their task. He broke the exquisite music of nature by adding percussion – pounding the stake into the ground. The sudden noise seemed to bring Jet back to reality as he jolted before forcibly calming himself.
Zuri didn’t mean to startle him, but if she apologized, he would probably appreciate that less, so she remained quiet. Instead, she opted to keep starting a conversation, “You ever gone camping before?” She looped the tent material around the stake, before moving on to the next corner.
“If your definition of camping is sleeping outside, then yeah. I’ve done that my whole life.” He decorated his statement with a brief, dry laugh. Nothing about that was funny.
“What were you homeless or something?” Zuri returned the dry sound, slight aggravation always underlining her thoughts. Something about Jet’s consistent answers that never actually answered any question, ticked her off. Among other things.
“Oh, did I not tell you?” Jet picked up the other stakes and followed her to the next corner of the tent, a slight breeze causing his braid to fall of his shoulder and swing behind his back. “I normally don’t include that in my introduction.”
“What ‘introduction’?” Zuri spat, although her stomach dropped at the thought, “You hardly tell anyone, anything about you.”
“Well, what do you want to know?” Jet laughed again, sounding twice as dry and bitter. “You haven’t exactly told me your life story either.”
Zuri’s forehead wrinkled as she frowned, frustration pulling at her. “Fine. Just know you started it.”
“Started wha- ”
Before he could finish his words, Zuri began speaking with such a verbosity that if words could kill, Jet would be a pile of ashes. But her words were oddly informative, “My dad died when I was little, and my mom and I were caught when I was around ten. We were sold and trafficked across the country, but we managed to stay together, partially because I was young, and they figured we shouldn’t part. It didn’t matter, though. Once our ‘owners’ sold us – when I was thirteen – we were taken to an auction.” She began furiously pounding the stake into the ground. It only took a couple hits, but she kept hitting it over and over, “The men there wanted my mom. She was beautiful, and I was this awkward young girl that was taller than most of the male buyers.” She laughed bitterly; her face unnaturally stoic as she swiftly wrapped the tent material around the stake.
“They separated us then, and I was taken to a workhouse. There I was one of many forced into hard labor. If you tried to escape or resist you would be killed within the hour or placed in the entertaining hunting games, in which you were lucky to last thirty minutes. I saw more death in one month than most due their entire lives.” She paused briefly to catch her breath. She wiped her forehead that had started sweating all the sudden. Feeling the green eyes on her, she continued, “When a certain man visited, seeing as I was one of the only women in that house, he decided to help me. He bought me and freed me on the same day. Because I have powers, I was taken to this older man’s retired safehouse. Rescues used to be dropped off there all the time, but I was the first in years. Sure enough, the man took me in and allowed me to stay for as long as I liked. And guess what?” Zuri finally looked Jet right in the eye, the young man shivered as she smiled, “I never left.”
Jet just watched in silence as Zuri moved onto the next stake. There was silence for a while, other than the chirping birds, which retuned their cheerful tune. Jet didn’t realize he hadn’t followed her until, she reached out her hand, mutely demanding the next stake. As she took it from him, lining it up into the ground, Zuri wondered to herself what he was thinking right now.
“The worst part about it all is that I have no closure, no knowledge of where my mother is. I don’t even know if she’s alive.” Zuri’s voice trailed off as she started hammering the stake in again, less violently, and more solemn.
Jet wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find his voice. He just continued assisting her as they moved to the final stake.
“So,” Zuri took the last stake from Jet’s offering palm, “Your turn, and just remember: you started it.”
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
The last stake was in the ground and the tent stood up high. Without the stakes, the tent would falter against its environment. But with a sturdy foundation, with something strong to wrap around and keep it steady. With something to hold onto. The tent could stand. It could thrive.
Jet and Zuri stood up, looking at the tent they put together. Finding no other option, Jet realized that a part of him, for the first time, wanted to share. Quietly, his raspy voice sounded heavy and hollow, “My mom tried to kill me when I was seven.” He could feel the gush of wind as Zuri whipped around to face him. He continued: “I ran away from home and lived on the streets for seven years.” Swallowing something in his throat, he continued, “When I was fourteen, I got caught. They couldn’t identify me, so they purposefully put me in a prison, despite the fact that I was clearly not over eighteen.” Pausing momentarily, Jet tilted his head to the side as he scanned every inch of the tent, “I think I was there for a little over three years… M’ not sure… they didn’t really tell us what day it was, and I ran out of places to mark the inside of my cell.” Jet’s eyes wondered off to the trees, watching a couple stray leaves fall to the ground. “I was never freed. I escaped. And they’re probably still looking for me.”
The two silently stood, watching the grass sway with the breeze, Jet idly placing his braid over his shoulder and fiddling with the ends. Zuri just crossed her arms and sighed as they listened to the bird’s chorus.
After a long moment, Jet spoke once again, “I think I like camping. It doesn’t remind me of anything bad. It’s a new experience.” His last words were so hushed, that Zuri barely heard them, “I like those.” It gives you hope. Jet wanted to finish but couldn’t stomach himself uttering those words.
The two stood side-by-side until the smell of a bonfire spread to their area. Turning in unison, they walked back to the estate where dinner was being made. Both silently thanking the other, and feeling a weight dissipate from their chests.
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sincerely not. (5)
↳ gojou satoru/reader
with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of your romance book.
genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+
tags/warnings. profanity, slight misogyny (hi naoya), alcohol consumption/intoxication, cheating, breeding kink, explicit smut
notes. this chapter has 9k words on god pls excuse my writing i couldn’t be bothered to edit sdjnsj also !! here is the playlist for the series <3
series masterlist -> part six
One of the many events where wealthy people gathered together was in auctions. Charity auctions, to be exact. There was nothing more exciting than to be in a room filled with the most affluent people in the country, flaunting their riches by bidding on different valued items with exorbitant amounts of cash. In all rich people’s handbooks, it wasn’t a secret that raising a bid was more of a competition than an intent to help a certain charity. This was all because of the mindset that if you were in the same place as your rival business empires, the most satisfying feeling in the world was to know that you had more fortune than everyone else in the room. It boasted of luxury, power, and abundance in money. You weren’t exactly supporting the principles that the people from your elite social class upheld, but this was the norm that you had grown accustomed to.
That being said, it didn’t feel any different for you when you entered the hotel’s grand ballroom. Greeted by the euphonious melodies of the pianoforte, the cluster of high class people in their tailored suits and dresses, and the redolence of expensive champagne made you feel like a monarch of the new age. Everything was upscale for a ballroom that oozed glitz and glamor.
Perhaps you really were seen as a princess with a godly prince holding your hand as you walked further into the venue. You and your husband received greetings from the elders and garnered looks of admiration from the bachelors and bachelorette. You could very well discern through the sparkles in their eyes that they didn’t see Satoru and Y/N, but rather, the heir and the heiress of The Gojou Group and the Creston Financial Group. They could see money and power before your faces—a superficial trait common to the elite.
If you had no name, there was no place for you in there. As kids born from old money, people would recognize you by being represented as someone’s daughter or son which was the raw indication that you could never truly be yourself without your lineage or inherited wealth. The upper class would also consider factors such as how big your business was, how many properties you had, and how much assets you owned for you to be classified as influential enough to find your belongingness with the high society. You couldn’t just simply be rich, you had to be the richest of the rich. This was the key to be a part of the exclusive circle of aristocratic families.
Fortunately, status didn’t blind you. Nor did money and material things. You believed that there was no reason to form a clique when anyone regardless of their bank account could participate in events like these for their own philanthropy. The sad thing was how those born from old money tend to raise an eyebrow for the nouveau riche, releasing scoffs of mockery and side-eyeing them whenever they noticed that an arriviste had managed to find their way into the elite society.
Everyone hated the new rich. Even your own husband, simply by how terribly he treated his step-mom claiming that the woman was a status-seeking parvenu who would be in the streets if she didn’t climb up the social ladder by sleeping with his dad.
A bit harsh for him to say, but what was new for Satoru?
“Where’d you get this?” With the said husband stopping at one of the cocktail tables, he grabbed your wrist and eyed the gold bracelet around it.
“From Nana,” you answered, tidying up his collar as he placed a hand on the small of your back. Satoru displayed contemporary elegance in his tailored Zegna suit—truly a man of class and effortless sophistication. “She said it was your family’s heirloom.”
Satoru remained stiff when he chose not to say another word, taking a sip from the glass of champagne to distract his thoughts. You could tell that he wanted to make a comment about the bracelet but could not do so when all eyes were constantly glancing at the two of you. “They’re all looking.”
Well, who wouldn’t find a newlywed couple intriguing? Gossips about how you landed Gojou and contrariwise were probably the topic of their sotto voce remarks for tonight. Their eyes were green with envy, but their lips were upturned into inauthentic smiles.
“Don’t mind them,” you told your husband just as he tugged at the hem of your Chanel tweed skirt, scrutinizing your outfit with his slender fingers that brushed on your thighs. “H-Hey.”
“Don’t you have a pantyhose underneath? This is too short.” His criticism was laced with irritation. “Just change into that other dress you brought along.”
Acting. He could be acting. You had to remember that he was quite a good actor and that he wasn’t truly concerned about the lack of fabric that covered your thighs. “Oh, that... It’s my piece for the auction.”
Diamond blue eyes quickly met your gaze at the information. “From your closet?”
“No, I designed it,” you clarified, acknowledging your auntie from two tables away with a smile before you looked back at your husband.
He placed a hand in his pocket and held yours on the other, brushing his thumb on your skin as he spoke. “You make clothes?”
If no one was around, would you even have this conversation at all? Your heart was somersaulting from all the downpour of affectionate gestures, something that you rarely received from him. “I just design them. I have a professional seamstress that makes them for me.”
Satoru averted his eyes to check the multitude of high class people around the two of you. “Didn’t know you do fashion design.”
You did, in fact, wish that you could have pursued fashion but was pressured to take up Business Management and Entrepreneurship just like him.
“Well, you never asked.” You didn’t say it bitterly, but it was plain true that Satoru was never curious enough to know about your hobbies and interests.
And as expected, he didn’t further ask about you until Shoko Ieiri in her Anna Sui peplum dress appeared on your side with an enthusiastic grin to greet you and your husband. Because she came from a family of renowned doctors, she held her own reputation within the elites.
“Hey, you two,” she exchanged quick kisses on the cheek with you before she nudged Satoru on the rib, “How was the honeymoon? I saw the pictures.”
A nightmare. Just thinking about Iceland was enough to release a gnawing ache through the crevices of your heart. All you could remember in your head during that trip was how badly you tried your best to spend it happily with Satoru, only to have him constantly remind you that he was basically doing it out of obligation.
“It was fine." He took the initiative to answer but was visibly stultified based on the tone of his voice alone. He then released your hand and looked around the place as if he was searching for someone. “Ieiri, have you seen Suguru?”
Shoko could only offer a shrug. “Who cares? He could be waiting on some chick,” she answered, quickly changing the topic, “I’ll borrow your wife for a while. Don’t miss her too much.”
“Whatever,” your husband muttered concurrently to how he rolled his eyes with lack of concern.
Your eyes widened as the woman tugged at your wrist and dragged you with her while you were looking at Satoru in panic. “Wait, I—”
“Relax, we’re just gonna join the youngsters for a bit,” said Ieiri as the two of you strutted across the table, “Mai wants to meet you. Besides, Gojou is a a self-righteous asshole. I bet all he talks about with you is how he’s the richest man here.”
Satoru wouldn’t even initiate conversations with you on the daily and realizing that was more hurtful than you imagined. Since that night when he asked you to stay with him, your guilt allowed you to submit to his request because you felt some sort of responsibility for finding yourself caught in between him and Sera. His words were clear in your head, reminding you of the pain that you owed them for having agreed to the marriage and for simply existing.
You sighed, choosing not to plague your mind with depressing thoughts as Shoko guided you to a table where the Zen’in twins and Yuuta were seemingly having a lighthearted conversation. Satoru’s step-brother immediately acknowledged you with a welcoming grin by the time you reached them.
“Yuuta, hey,” you greeted, waving a hand before turning to Maki and Mai, in nearly similar dresses, who both gave you a quick bow of respect. “Ah, you two look really pretty!”
Ieiri supported your compliment. “Right? As a Zen’in should be. Their genes are something else.”
Now that she mentioned it, the Zen’ins truly were quite notable within the elites. Their clan was well-known all over the country for being one of the biggest business empires across Japan. They highly rivaled the Gojou Group when it came to industries such as real-estate and investments, and they also owned the biggest department stores nationwide. You weren’t sure what drama they had within their family, but you could alike their popularity to the Kardashians in the US.
It was flattering to know that the twins looked forward to seeing you because you’ve always admired how strong and independent they were even at such a young age. If only you had the same trait growing up, you would probably be powerful in your own regard.
“I’m so excited to bid on your dress!” Mai cheerfully informed you, “I can imagine myself wearing it. Your designs are so amazing.”
Before you could respond in gratitude, Maki decided to add her thoughts as well. “Maybe you should start your own line.”
You considered the thought. “I’m not confident yet, but...”
“Nee-chan, you’re already amazing at it.” Yuuta’s eyes turned into crescent moons with his smile. “We’ll support you. The whole family will.”
It was the same thing Gen told you when she encouraged you to start your own clothing line, but you heavily insisted at the time that fashion design was only a hobby and you knew that you couldn’t really just abandon the family business. You were set to take position in your father’s company soon so it might only give you a heavier weight on your shoulders to handle two things at once. Or three, because Satoru was the primary cause of your stress.
“They kinda have a point,” said Shoko before she shot you an encouraging wink. “You should definitely have me as your model.”
Along with a chuckle, you nodded your head, “I’d be honored to.”
Where the hell is he? Gojou was getting more and more agitated at the fact that his best friend was still not around. He already checked his phone thrice within a short period of five minutes but there had been no reply after the last one.
Satoru: You coming?
Suguru: Yea, you owe me for this
Satoru: Make sure she’s safe
On a good note, his father was not here in the auction because he had to meet up with your dad to try and persuade the man with the thought of a mergers and acquisitions deal. The only thing that was adding onto Gojou’s irritation was the fact that his witch of a step-mother was here, currying favor among the elites like a desperate social climber.
Satoru tried not to give a damn about his step-mom while some of the influential men approached him to discuss his business ventures and blatantly comparing it to theirs. While you were with Ieiri, your husband had to hold conversations with his uncle and his elders to talk about business politics, stock trading, and investments. In between those commerce-related topics, they all also congratulated him for his recent marriage and for choosing the ideal woman to spend his forever with.
There was no way Satoru would admit it, but you gave him some leverage when it came to receiving approving nods and praises full of respect for the power that you two held together as a couple. Being married to you was a boost to his ego because no one had ever treated him higher than they did when he was still a bachelor. Now that there was the prospect of your companies merging together, everyone else started to feel inferior to Gojou. Sure he was selfish for utilizing you, but he realized just how much he loved gaining power and superiority because of the marriage.
The last person that he expected to approach him was one of the possible heirs of the Zen’in Group, Naoya Zen’in, whose smirk and sharp eyes promptly elicited Satoru’s pique. He had known him after a series of business events where they would run to each other since their teenage years. Gojou deemed it was safe to say that the man was a rascal who often annoyed him with his competitive nature.
“These upstarts, they don’t know their place,” said the blond man as he stood next to Gojou while looking at the two unfamiliar guys from another table that both reeked of overflowing pretentiousness. “Good thing your wife isn’t like them, right? She’s born from old money.”
Satoru exhaled and placed his hands back inside his pockets. “What do you want?”
The corner of Naoya’s lips only lifted itself higher than before—a clear sign of his incoming mischief. “Can I not greet the best actor in this room?”
“Watch your mouth.” For a fleeting moment, Gojou’s eyes followed you as he watched how you timidly laughed around Ieiri and the younger members of the business empires. “Who says I’m acting? I love her.”
The heir of the Zen’in clan was ruthless enough to ridicule Satoru with a sardonic laugh. “Please. Rumors have been flying around, you know? They say you only married her to acquire their company. You’re quite bold, Satoru-kun. You deserve an Oscar for those skills.”
It was the first time he ever rendered himself speechless in front of Naoya because Satoru was often one to make clever comebacks, yet he couldn’t even deny this one. “It’s what our fathers want. Why don’t you focus on your own business? It’s why you can’t ever surpass me.”
By choice, Naoya ignored the guy’s last remark. “Shame. You’re counting on a woman to achieve your success? If I married Y/N, I’d put her on her place and simply use her as a fuck toy. Maybe that’s what you’re doing, huh—”
Gojou’s firm hand latched onto Naoya’s velvet suit, provoking him for a fight but the latter only chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Keep her name off your mouth.”
“Right, right. The acting thing,” Naoya sneered as he looked straight into Satoru’s sky blue orbs and grinned at his face. “Acting like you care and all, I ge—”
“Is everything okay here?”
Satoru had to roll his eyes in annoyance when he saw his step-mother getting in between them, showing her pretentious attempt at being concerned. “Get the hell away from me,” he didn’t hold back at saying those words to her before he looked back at Naoya who seemed to have found it by himself to just walk away.
“See you later, Satoru-kun.” The guy left him with a few taps on the back as he walked towards their table, forcing Satoru to be alone with the witch.
The said witch was gritting her teeth, holding her faux fur purse while narrowing her dark brown eyes at her step-son. “If you wanna act like a bastard in front of everyone, I’m not stopping you. At least they can see how my son has better manners than you.”
He hoped that his clenched jaws were enough to scare the woman off. “I said, get the fuck outta my face. You disgust me.”
The woman opened her mouth to retaliate but was cut off when you came back, looping an arm around your husband with worried doe eyes.
“Baby?” Your gentle voice somehow softened Satoru’s antagonistic stance and he instinctively held you closer to his chest. “What’s wrong?”
He would’ve hated you for being clingy, but frankly, he could thank you for distracting him away from his step-mom who now couldn’t say anything else but to fake a smile to you and say, “I’ll leave you lovebirds, then.”
The auction was crazy to say the least. It wasn’t like this for the past year, but everyone was more prepared this year to bid higher prices just to seal the deal in getting the most worthy items displayed. As a representative for your family, Gen was better at making bids compared to you because it was innate for her to be confident in a room full of businesspeople. She took after your dad for having the same leadership qualities while you took after your mom for being softer and unassuming by nature.
You wished that Gen was here to witness the on-going war for the dress that you designed because you were highly certain that she would find it entertaining how Mai was doing her best to get the cream asymmetrical dress that you brought as your piece for tonight’s auction.
“One hundred thousand yen!” yelled Mai, crossing her arms beside an amused Maki.
The host announced her bid price, “I’ve got one hundred thousand yen, any more?”
“Here, two hundred thousand!” From the opposite side of your table, it was the daughter of Mrs. Suzuki who proposed the bidding price.
You could hear Mai’s groan even from a distance, but being a Zen’in whose pride soared higher than the ceiling of the grand ballroom, she fought back with another bid, “Five hundred thousand!”
“Oh my God.” Your eyes grew wide from her determination to get the dress. Even Maki was stunned to hear her twin’s offer. “Mai really wants it.”
“Five hundred thousand! Going once, twice,” the host counted off, “and that’s it, the beautiful dress designed by our gorgeous Y/N Gojou is officially sold to Mai Zen’in!”
Mai’s triumphant squeal was loud enough to make the elders laugh. And while you chuckled at her reaction, you couldn’t also get over the fact that the host said your name with your husband’s surname attached to it. It was those simple things that made your heart flutter naturally.
“She’s crazy,” Satoru yawned, meeting your eyes for a brief second. “She likes your dress that much.”
“I know...” And had you known how desperate she was, you would have willingly designed a special one and gifted it to her because you absolutely adored just how supportive Mai and Maki were and they were not even your relatives.
Throughout that night, more items were up for bidding including Naoya’s ancient katana which was sold for seven hundred thousand yen, Ieiri’s limited edition Hermés china set which was sold for three hundred thousand, and Satoru’s Zegna suit which garnered a whooping one million yen.
On the other hand, you noticed how your husband kept glancing at his phone while looking around the ballroom. His eyes searched for every corner—all except you. The only time where his attention actually came back to the auction was when the most awaited item was finally put on display.
“And now, our main item for this night is the rare and stunning Jimmy Choo flat pumps that Princess Diana once wore. Embellished with south sea pearls and ornamented with Swarovski crystals—these elegant shoes are truly fitting for a princess! Now, who will be the next owner?”
All women in the room gasped, including you, when the light blue heeled shoes were displayed in a glass box for everyone to see. It was not only breathtaking in person, the sentimental value it had for being Princess Diana’s shoes were what made every single woman in the room competitive at raising their bids up. It was war, indeed.
“It’s so gorgeous,” you whispered, eyes coruscating in fascination at the sight of the majestic shoes. As much as you wanted to bid, the women already started going through hell just to get it.
“Three hundred thousand!”
“Me, I’ll do five hundred thousand!”
“I’ll get it for one million!”
You were taken aback when your husband suddenly snatched the bidding card from your hand and raised it for the host to acknowledge. “Five million yen.”
God. As soon as he threw his bidding price in, everyone in the whole ballroom turned to the two of you and you were about to melt on the spot because of the sudden attention that you and your husband received from every single person in the room. There was no way that you expected that Gojou would go out of his way to actually bother purchasing a woman’s shoes at an auction. There were gasps of astonishment and a fusillade of Oh my Gods that followed after he sealed off the deal.
“Jimmy Choo shoes sold for five million yen for the handsome Satoru Gojou,” the host was just as astounded, “What a lucky wife.”
Somehow, later that night, you managed to see Suguru Getou who approached you and Ieiri while the event was still on-going. He was showing his trademark smile, one that turned his eyes into curved lines as he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.
“Suguru.” You gave your husband’s best friend a warm hug. “Satoru has been looking for you since we came here.”
He scratched the back of his head, taking the glass of champagne that Shoko handed him. “Is he?” he casually drank from the glass and oddly avoided your eyes. “Where’s he now?”
“Bathroom,” you answered, realizing that it had been a couple of minutes since Satoru excused himself. Was he actually wandering around the hotel? Or was he caught up in another situation like earlier with his step-mother? You’ve gotten quite worried so you decided to follow. “Hey, um... I think I need a quick bathroom break as well.”
Panic then stretched across Suguru’s face. “Wait, Y/N... Don’t you wanna stay here and talk for a while?”
Ieiri took it upon herself to answer him. “Jesus. Let her,” she said, urging you to go off, “Go and have that quickie with your hubby.”
Heat suffused your cheeks as you chuckled and politely took your exit by walking out of the ballroom in measured footsteps because your feet were getting sore from the stilettos that you were wearing.
You lied. You weren’t actually heading to the bathroom. What you did was to ask one of the waiters if he had seen your husband somewhere. Lucky enough, he guided you to one of the dressing rooms behind the grand ballroom which was void of people with nothing but classical music ricocheting through the walls. After thanking the guy, you walked closer to the room—door was ajar as you got near and immediately stopped in your tracks when you heard a familiar woman’s voice echoing from inside.
“Satoru, this is so beautiful!”
You didn’t mean to peek. And strangely, it felt like you weren’t supposed to see this specific moment between Gojou and Sera knowing that your heart was going to crumple like a bottle of can that had been squeezed and twisted to release everything it had inside. Perhaps what you experienced behind your ribcage was more painful than that.
“Cost me a lot,” your husband said, crouching in front of her as he placed her feet inside the shoes that you stupidly believed was meant for you. “There’s only one pair in the world. Princess Diana wore this.”
None of them were aware about your presence behind the doors, neither would they care enough had they known. Gojou and Sera seemed to have always lived in a bubble of fairy tales whenever they were together—so passionate, so dreamy, so in love. You hardly received the same gaze that he would give her nor did you share the same kiss that he willingly saved for her. Sera was truly the only woman in his eyes despite being a married man and you thought that you could accept it, you thought that you could be fine seeing him with her, you thought that you could live with having another woman occupying your husband’s heart. Your level of masochism was not strong enough to endure this much anguish.
“I booked the presidential suite for us tonight,” he informed her after a quick peck on her lips, holding her by the waist and smiling at her with love in his eyes. “I can’t wait to be alone with you again.”
Why do you torture yourself at watching them step over your dignity? Why couldn’t you go in there and yell at his face, call him out for how awful he was making you feel? He was unfair and you knew that he didn’t value your marriage, but you thought that you were prepared enough to see him cheating on you. You weren’t, and you definitely wished that you didn’t allow it. So how exactly did you find yourself in this tortuous situation?
The answer was simple: you were paying the repercussions for splitting them apart.
This was what Satoru meant when he said those words to you back in the penthouse. You would have to go through this much pain in order to feel even a little bit of theirs, when in truth, their pain was not even half as close as the gravity of yours.
You had to leave. Even when your eyes pooled with tears, you started walking away from the scene with your heart tightening heavily each second. The pain was astronomical that you had to place your hand over your chest just to ease the growing ache. Your breathing turned rapid as your heart pounded but you continued to walk aimlessly, wanting to just escape the image of Satoru and Sera kissing because tonight was the first time where you have actually seen how sweet your husband was with another woman. A great contrast to how he treated you.
Tears blurred your vision while you gasped for air, walking and walking and walking until you stumbled inside a place where you could find solace away from the torment. It was never your plan to end up here, but you found yourself entering the hotel’s bar and sliding to sit at one of the bar stools with a face clouded in deep sorrow. How could Satoru hurt you both directly and indirectly? How could he let you suffer this much and you still wanted the best for him? These questions were left unanswered, but they burdened your mind nonstop.
“Can I get a forty-two on the rocks, please?” you requested when the bartender came, eyes worriedly looking at you because desolation infused your voice when you spoke. You weren’t much of a drinker but believed that this was the only way to alleviate your pain. Even for tonight. You were so overwhelmed from the heartache that you’ve become numb because it scared you that your emotional pain was mixing with the unusual physical throbbing in your chest.
You didn’t notice that the bar barely had people inside, only a couple from a distance and a man who was seated one stool apart from you. The mop of raven hair, the infamous scar on his lips—you used to only see this man through media outlets and it was rare for you to come across him because he had always been laissez-faire about their family’s business ventures, yet here he was now, distracting you from your pain with his presence alone.
“I have a son,” was the first thing he jokingly said to you, downing a glass of Scotch before meeting your eyes fleetingly.
Confused by his words, you had to clarify, “Excuse me? I wasn’t trying to...” You showed your ring. “I have a husband.”
Did he think that you purposely sit next to him because you were trying to make a move? Surely, many women probably approached him this way but it somehow offended your soft heart. You could never find yourself being confident enough to even initiate a conversation to someone like him.
In your limited knowledge, you’ve heard that Toji Zen’in was a man full of pride. It was an intrinsic trait for a Zen’in to have, but Toji’s vainglory had always been his remarkable trait. He could live an independent life away from his family because he was powerful enough to run a business by himself. He was adroit, sagacious, and a good decision-maker which were some of the prime qualities that a CEO must possess to successfully handle a conglomerate. He was indeed as intimidating as the sound of his last name.
You’ve always thought that he was a serious man who never joked around with others, much less talked to them, so you were not expecting to see a playful smile tugging at his lips when he studied your face for a good minute. “Y/N, right?” he asked, clearly entertained. “So where’s the husband now?”
With the woman he loves. You sighed just as the bartender placed a cold up of 42 in front of you, urging you to sip from the drink to let the burning taste numb your throat. You had to veil your forlorn expression before Toji could notice. “In the auction.”
“Interesting.” Toji swiveled from his chair just enough to face you, playing with the cubes of ice by slightly shaking his glass. The clinking sound was almost a form of mockery as he watched you try to pull yourself together. “It’s arranged, isn’t it?”
How could he have possibly known? Was it that obvious? In your own effort, you still tried to deny it. “No, Satoru and I have known each other since we were kids. We’ve grown fond of one another.”
While he shrugged in response, the glint in his eyes reflected just how much he didn’t believe your words. “You can admit it. You should know the difference by how a man looks at you. There’s no love in his eyes, not even a little bit.”
“Gee, thanks a lot,” you retorted, spitefully chugging all the liquor as tears welled up your eyes. It was as if your heart was being excavated out of your chest thinking of the plans that Satoru had for Sera tonight, plans that he never made with his own wife. “You’re right. He hates me, actually.”
There was no reason to hide it from a man who came from an aristocratic family himself. Arranged marriages were common and it was even more likely to happen than a casual marriage because everything about the world that the people like you lived in held importance for money, power, and assets. Toji would not judge you for it, and in fact, he had softened a little as he sympathized with you.
“Wanna talk about something else?” he offered, pivoting on his chair to signal another glass from the bartender. You did the same by politely asking for a glass of tequila mojito this time.
You were grateful that Toji wasn’t one to stick his nose into private matters and you found it very comforting that he would rather talk about anything to distract you from your emotional turmoil. “Why are you here and not with your family there?”
He drummed his fingers onto the counter’s smooth surface. “I’m not into events like these. They just want me to show up and that’s it.”
Choosing momentary silence, you nodded your head. “Makes sense. It must be tough to be in your family, huh?”
“Tough?” A bitter grin spread off his lips. “It’s hell in there. If not for Megumi, I’d have cut ties long ago. They put too much pressure on your shoulders and expect you to be perfect enough to handle the business. You have no place in the clan if you’re incompetent.”
You drank from your cocktail and stared at his side profile. “That’s sad to know. My dad doesn’t enforce that much pressure on Gen and I.”
“Gen,” he uttered her name in remembrance, “your sister? We went to the same school. She always stood out.”
As the alcohol blazed your throat with fire, you traced your finger along the edge of the glass in deep thought. “Yeah, I just expect her to run the company better than I ever will. I was never really interested in banking and finance.”
He tilted his head slightly to gauge on the emotions that painted your face. “Anything that interests you, then?”
You had to admit how good it felt to have someone interested enough to listen to the things that made you happy because you doubted that your own husband would ever hold the same curiosity. “I design clothes,” you shared, sipping from your glass and scrunching your nose from the spirit that left fumes in your nostrils. “Well, I don’t make them. I just design and then I have trusted people who create those pieces for me. I’ve always dreamed of having my own team who would plan out all these amazing concepts that I have for the collection and it’s just such a perfect setup that I wanna be in someday.”
“So why don’t you?” he immediately responded with an encouraging question. “You have the money. If you’re looking to lease the perfect space for your clothing line, we have our luxury malls for you.”
You chuckled at his offer, being reminded that they owned some of the largest malls in the country. “I don’t know. I’m just... I’m not prepared.”
Ever since your mom died, you have lost track in life because she was your greatest supporter who encouraged you to always follow your dreams and to enjoy your life like it was the last. Your mom was your heart, and now that she was gone, you didn’t know how to fill the void that she left behind. In a room full of people, you were lonely without the most important person in your life. That was how everything started to feel when your mom vanished from this world.
“You’re only in your mid-twenties,” Toji pointed out, sounding as if he was going to give some helpful advice for you to ponder about. “You have time to build that confidence in.”
You would blame your liquid courage, but it was definitely the alcohol talking when you decided to tease him. “Right, I forgot you’re pushing forty.”
Never did you think that you would be entertained to see Toji’s reaction as his eyes widened and his lips upturned into a grin. “Watch it. I’m only thirty-five.”
Gojou had to drag his feet laboriously after he was told by one of the staff members that you were in the hotel’s bar after he had left you at the ballroom with his friends. He was deeply vexed at how much of an attention-seeker you were for doing this just to make him chase for you. Frankly, if people wouldn’t be suspicious, he never would’ve cared to come down to the bar. He would have gone straight to the presidential suite where Sera was waiting for him so they could spend some time together.
But you had to ruin it for him, just like with everything else.
Along with his established annoyance, Satoru was flabbergasted when he saw you laughing together with his biggest business rival, Toji Zen’in.
What the hell? He held his breath and stomped towards you, snatching the glass from your hand and forcing you to look at him. “Get a hold of yourself. You’re out here drinking?”
You were inebriated out of your wits because you wouldn’t have had the bravery to put your hand on his cheek, presenting him to an amused Toji who listened to you intently. “Here he is. You see this fucking face?” You giggled and leaned back on your husband’s chest. “This is the face of Satan. Haaa... Handsome, but evil.”
Satoru swatted your hand away and drank the rest of your glass before he sent the other man an accusatory look. “Did you make her drink?”
The Zen’in heir only scoffed at him. “Why would I?” It was more of a statement than a question, something that deeply irked the hell out of Gojou. “She came in here crying. Why don’t you blame yourself that she drank this much?”
“You know nothing. Stay out of it.” Satoru had no ounce of care when he warned the man, later pulling you up as you stumbled on your feet. “I’ll take you home. You’re such a burden. I still have somewhere to be, you know?”
You tried to squint your eyes, tilting your head to the side as you lightly threw your fist on your husband’s chest. “S-Somewhere…? I don’t wanna…. Can I stay?
Toji got up from his seat and paid for the drinks, including yours, and Satoru took it as him trying to flex his money. The former’s eyes didn’t leave yours even as he took a few steps closer to pat your back. “You good, Y/N?” he asked, watching as a territorial Satoru locked an arm around your waist. “I’ll take her home if you can’t. She’s not that much of a burden. She’s actually interesting to talk to.”
Was he actually trying to insult him? Satoru’s eyebrows were now furrowed in annoyance. He just couldn’t believe the audacity of this man to even offer such a thing. “Stay away from my wife.”
“Then treat her better.” Toji matched Satoru’s hostility with his own一staring at him with an unfazed look that showed how willing he was to defend a stranger like you. “You’re lucky that your wife stays with you. Others wish they still had theirs.”
“Aaah一my head hurts! I wanna… I wanna go home!”
“Be quiet. We’re already home.” He could smell alcohol in your breath and had to hold his growing ire for your sake or else he would simply snap. He was on the verge of it, but was trying his best to keep his temper settled.
Satoru didn’t know that you could be so loud when you were drunk. It was hard enough to deal with you when you squirmed out of his hold as he carried you in bridal style, entering the penthouse and heading straight to your shared bedroom. All he had to do was get you to bed so he could leave and head back to the hotel to see Sera.
Unfortunately, when he did place you down in bed, you managed to get up and throw your heels at him. “I said I don’t wanna go home!”
Jesus Christ. Satoru undid two of his buttons to allow himself to breathe while standing at the side to see you struggling to strip yourself off your clothes. “What are you doing? Just stay down!”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” you replied, pouting when you successfully rid yourself of your clothing before you teetered your way into the bathroom. “I’m gonna… shower!”
So annoying. Was he babysitting a kid? “Fine. Do what you fucking want.” He shouldn’t even have bothered to drop you off, but he was nice enough to. The least you could do was to act like the decent woman that you were, not this wild intoxicated girl that could barely hold herself together. “Next time you drink, I’m not doing shit for you.”
His murmurs were ignored when you continued to enter the bathroom, not even sober enough to open the lights but he did hear the sound of the shower echoing through the glass walls. As exhaustion chased his body, Satoru pulled his phone out to see text messages from Sera asking him how long he would take. He was about to type in a response until he heard you bursting into tears from the bathroom.
“Now what,” he groaned, placing his phone at the bedside table before he hurriedly went to see you. He didn’t need to open the lights to see your silhouette, hugging your knees in front of the shower as you sobbed. Gojou had to release a weary sigh knowing that he had to deal with you whether he wanted it or not. How could a person go through so many phases of being drunk? You had a broad spectrum in that aspect—going from being an angry drunk to an emotional drunk, Satoru knew he was bound to see more later on. “Stop crying and hop off the shower.”
You sniffed, chest heaving while your tears cascaded down on your face the same way the shower swallowed you like a waterfall. “Wh-What’s wrong with me?” Gojou halted on his footsteps as he listened. “I-I know I’m not that p-pretty, but… is it really hard to love me?”
He wasn’t planning on staying, but hearing you cry had his feet stuck on the bathroom floor because he couldn’t outright admit how easily he could get swayed by tears. Seeing you cry during your first night back in Iceland was already difficult to go through, and now hearing you voice out your pain made Gojou’s heart a tad bit soft. He didn’t want to lose his cold demeanor towards you but his guilt would eat him alive if he didn’t warm up even just for tonight.
“Who says you’re not pretty?”
“My husband… he doesn’t look at me when I talk.” There was undeniable pain behind your slurred words that possibly came from your deepest feelings. They said drunk people speak the most sober thoughts. Alcohol was a truth serum that allowed one’s feelings to pour out from the bottle where it was kept in. “I’m trying my b-best but he… he’s just…”
“Maybe he has reasons,” he tried to console as much as refused to do things for you. And he would never do things for you, yet he found himself sighing in complete submission as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped off his pants to join you in the shower. You hardly noticed his presence from behind until he pulled you up by your arm and grabbed the bottle of your vanilla and jasmine body wash. “Let’s get you cleaned up so you can sleep, okay?”
There was no sound that came out of you while you rubbed your eyes, allowing your husband to start rubbing the soap all over your back. “What if I just stop caring?” you mused just as Satoru was spreading the suds on your waist and going further down to your buttocks. He could feel the rush of internal panic that overpowered his mind because the thought of you considering that question somehow messed with him. “It’s easier that way. No one would get hurt.”
“You think?” he egged on, turning you around so he could rub the soap on your chest, running his hands around your mounds and gliding the suds down to your stomach. He was doing it as quickly as he could because he would grow a boner just by touching you. “Arms up.”
Like an obedient girl, you did as told and suddenly broke out into fits of giggles. Satoru recognized this phase as the giggling phase, watching as you beamed at him while he cleaned your body. “Your hair’s s-so funny.”
For the next few minutes, Gojou tried his best to clean you up while hearing your series of chuckles that didn’t stop even until he had a towel wrapped around your chest and around his waist. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this and he couldn’t exactly explain to himself why he felt such a need to care for you. All he knew was that you would barely remember his kind gestures when you woke up tomorrow so he didn’t need to worry about being too nice. He could just go back to being an asshole like you deserved.
“Why are we naked?” you innocently pondered, tugging at the towel around your chest as he carried you to sit on the vanity.
“We’re Adam and Eve,” he dryly answered, reaching for your hair dryer before he started blowing your hair with it. “Too hot?”
You giggled, swinging your dangled legs like a kid. “No, you are.”
Fine, at times like these you weren’t too bad. Despite the situation that made him grow resentment towards you, your soft nature was quite adorable in some ways. He didn’t want to give in to it, but he was lucky that you weren’t as bad as he thought. A snob, an entitled brat一you have not actually shown these traits while living with him in your domestic household. “Did you get your period yet?”
You answered him by shaking your head, soon holding his wrist with a playful grin. “You can’t give me a baby.”
Confusion was then plastered on his face. “Why not?” he asked, placing the hair dryer down. “Is that a challenge?”
“...No, you just can’t.” You offered him a smile of mischief.
“Yes, I can.” He hoisted you up by carrying you with your legs enclosed around his waist as he walked out of the bathroom in haste. “I’ll make you a mommy, then.”
He could feel your giggles vibrating on his chest while trying to squirm out of his hold as he sat on the corner of the bed, adjusting himself so he could lean his back on the headboard with you on top of him. The lights were off so he couldn’t see your face clearly, but he could discern your womanly figure even through the dark. He slipped the towel off your body simultaneously to how he snatched the same cloth around his waist, revealing the boner that he could no longer stop from growing.
Should he still limit his affection this time? The image of you crying in the shower somehow stuck with him and he considered easing up on you tonight and be more affectionate. “Come here,” he pulled you to sit on his crotch, sliding his fingers to play with your clit and palming your entire pussy with gentle strokes. “You think you can ride me right now?”
“W-We’re having sex?” You pressed a hand on his chest, sitting on his shaft and unaware that you were grinding your folds along his length.
Satoru feathered soft kisses on your neck. “Do you want to?”
You gave a sheepish nod, hiding your blushing face. “Yeah...”
“How much?” he teased, now trailing his lips along your jawline. “Tell me how much you want me.”
On your own, you left kisses on his neck before you looked at his eyes. “So much,” your answer was full of desire, “...I’m gonna be sore.”
The thought had his lips forming a smirk. “Yes, you are.” He guided your hips as you coated his throbbing cock with your slick, and while he shouldn’t have been this affectionate, he still ended up squeezing your breasts and pressing his lips on your ear. “You’re gonna give me a baby. Hm?”
Your response was a hum of satisfaction—arms wrapped around his neck before you raised yourself up a bit, allowing your husband to penetrate your entrance when you lowered yourself down. “Nngh!” Gojou could feel how his cock was splitting you open, but he was far too engrossed by how warm and tight you felt around his length. “S-Satoru—!”
He didn’t hold back a moan this time. “Uh—fuck, does that feel good?” Snapping his hips upwards, he watched how your tits pleasingly bounced with every move. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard ‘til you get pregnant.”
“Ah-ah! S-Slow,” you mewled, leaning forward with your palm pushing against the headboard and the other squeezing your own boob to keep it from moving wildly. Shit, Gojou knew he was going crazy at the sight. And he hated himself for it because he had to control just how much he was willing to give you during sex, but his mind and body wanted to go all in. No holds barred. He wanted nothing but to stuff you full with his cum, fucking you all night until your cunt was sore the next morning. It was only recent when he realized how much he actually liked the thought of having a wife to have a sex with, not holding back in making a baby by accident because in the eyes of everyone, this was right. You were married after all.
Besides, he was doing you a favor for being the only man that could rightfully give you a child. “You like this position?” he asked, tracing your curves before leaning in to suck your tit. He could hear your titillating moans as he swirled his tongue around your sweet nipple, kneading the other breast with his hand—all while he was rutting his hips into you. “Tell me.”
“Y-Yes!” You arched your back from the immense pleasure that washed over your body. “Mm—Daddy!”
It took one word. One fucking word for Gojou to take a halt from his movements. His eyes widened, his breathing hitched, his whole world paused. How in the goddamn hell did you just manage to make him more aroused than he already was?
“What’d you call me?” he pulled away to look at your grinning face before you attached your lips onto his. The kissing was sloppy and your tongues couldn’t meet in perfect coordination because your were too inebriated to properly do the job. What your husband did instead was to shift your position by laying you sideways as he got up and knelt between your thighs. He threw one of your leg above his shoulders while positioning his tip back on your entrance. “Why’d you get drunk?”
“I—Aaah!” He buried all of his fat cock at once, desperate to fuck a baby into you when he held your waist in place. “I don’t know.”
In his recent memories, he recalled how Toji looked at you and felt the need to bring it up. “Why were you talking to that guy?”
“T-Toji is... nice.” Louder cries escaped your lips from the harsher thrusts that your husband gave you. “You’re mean. Very mean.”
While he didn’t like how you called his business rival ‘nice’, he couldn’t exactly disagree when you called him ‘mean’. He chose to simply remain silent throughout your intercourse, focusing on reaching his orgasm as he slammed his cock deeper through your walls. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled him of his needed arousal until he finally felt a coil in his lower abdomen.
As promised, all of his warm load coated your cavern and filled you in before he collapsed on top of you. Both of you were panting out of breath as your sweaty bodies were tangled in bed. “Don’t drink without me, okay?”
“Okay...” Your eyelids were heavy while you moved to place your head on his chest. “Hug me ‘til I fall asleep, please.”
It felt like you were possessed by a sex goddess last night.
Your head was pounding when you woke up on top of a naked Satoru Gojou who had your waist caged around his arms while deep in slumber. The clearest memories you could recall was crying after seeing him with Sera and proceeding to drink with Toji—Oh God! You cringed at the thought, burying your face on the crook of your husband’s neck. Just how embarrassing were you in front of Toji last night?
More importantly, how did you end up naked and sore on top of a husband that once swore he would never hug you to sleep? You could be dreaming because you remembered him saying that he booked a night at the hotel with Sera so it was impossible for him to actually be here with you.
“Ugh,” you groaned, shaking your head and pulling yourself up to look at Satoru’s angelic face. His arctic lashes were even more beautiful in his sleep, making him look twice as heavenly. You couldn’t help but lightly press your lips on the tip of his nose while asking yourself: did you really just do all of those with him? His overflowing affection towards you during your lovemaking must be driven by alcohol because you couldn’t believe that Gojou was capable of being sweet during intercourse.
Being drunk made you feel like your body was on autopilot because you were slightly aware of what you were doing but you couldn’t control the exaggeration with your actions. The shooting pain in your head forced you to get up and move out of Satoru’s hold as you stumbled to reach for your thin silk robe. You didn’t care if the robe was slightly see-through and you didn’t have any underwear underneath, all you wanted to do was to get a glass of water to ease your headache from last night.
As you headed to the kitchen, you tried to think of how you should act around your husband now that you were sober albeit terribly hungover. Do you just pretend that nothing happened? Or should you bring up the topic?
You couldn’t stop weighing your options in your head as you grabbed a coffee pod, turning the machine on while hoping that Satoru would allow you more time to think of your next move. Surprisingly, however, the sound of the doorbell awoke you from your trance and led you to the front door in urgency.
The doorbell rung a few times as though the person was impatiently pressing the button. “Coming!” you raised your voice so that they could hear, but blood rushed out of your face when you opened the door to see Sera with tearful eyes, looking at you from head-to-toe in absolute disgust. “Sera—”
“I knew it,” she accused, tears falling from her eyes as she balled her hands into fists. “I thought I could trust you, you liar!”
You desperately shook your head. “I was meant to—”
“Sera.” Gojou’s voice stole both of your attention, seeing how the man was scrambling to pull his sweatshirt down in desperation to get to his lover. Not one second did Satoru’s eyes ever meet yours because Sera was all he cared about. “Let me explain.”
Before he could do so, Sera already ran away while painfully crying her heart out. You were stuck not knowing what to do because you started feeling nausea along with the sudden stabbing pain on your chest.
“Satoru, I...” You held your chest in desperation, but he pushed you out of the way to chase Sera. “Wait, I’m...”
He turned around, not to show the slightest worry for your current pain, but to spit out words that hurt you a thousand times worse than the physical agony in your heart. “Stop being an attention-seeker,” he accused, thinking that you were faking your chest pains so you could prevent him from chasing his lover. If looks could kill, you would be dead already. “Know your boundaries and leave us alone.”
And as you watched him run after the woman that he loved, even your soul was not spared of the paroxysm of negative emotions that you felt after being hurt countless times by the man that you were supposed to love.
You figured that you could die today and be forgotten in this world with no husband to grieve for his loss because you were never once seen as an important person in his life. No matter how hard you tried, Satoru no longer had space in his heart for you to ever be in—the truth hurts, but lying to yourself would only hurt more.
jjk general taglist: @kity @deeznutss @suhkusa @wonyoschubs @the-golden-jhope @6mattsun9 @hokageyamz @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @crashica @aizawap @juniorhooter @atsumusoup @gxtitobxby @strawberries-en-cream @dora-the-grownup @softy-woo @tsumume @kac-chowsballs @anime-nymph @kageyamakock @onlyonew @underratedmage @katsulovee @crapimahuman @alicia-1725 @fatal-impact @drippedcream
sincerely not taglist: @itsnotsoni @pluviophilefangirl @daphnxy @choso-bee @sparklingblacktea @omisemi @captainchrisstan @your-consulting-fangirl @xllance @jonsncws @and-you-found-me @tobiotetsu @jeonjungkookismyfuture @d-efend @honouredsatoru @my-reality-is-in-my-head @blueowl51 @misslovingpearl @cuteissei @japanesevenom @borpcorp @ushi-bakatoshi
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“Diamonds and Rust” – Part II (Tommy Shelby x Reader)
[ MASTERLIST ]
[ PART I ] • [ PART III ] • [ PART IV ]
SUMMARY: He couldn’t marry her and waste her life on a lowlife like him. But they meet again 8 years later and they’re both different people now.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ve got to admit that I hoped you would like this story, but all the nice comments and messages were overwhelming (in a good way). But, as usual, now I’m anxious that next chapters will disappoint 😐 I hope it won’t be the case. Big, great, huge thanks to @deepdonutkid because she was my beta reader 💋
TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of suicide
WARNING: English is my second language.
WORD COUNT: 2,770
DIAMONDS AND RUST – PART II
(Y/N) was sitting in the office that had once belonged to her husband and kept looking at the bills and papers in front of her. She had other people to do that for her, but she didn’t trust them enough and everything had to be checked twice before signing it. That’s what her father had taught her after she became a widow.
Amelia was in another wing of the house – she was having private classes with her tutor and learning about her beloved history. Vision of spending the evening with her was the only thing that kept (Y/N) motivated to finish the boring paperwork.
“Mrs. Forrester”, Mary knocked upon the door and entered the office softly, “Mrs. Forrester”, she repeated.
“Yes?”, (Y/N) sighed and looked up.
“You have a visitor, ma’am”, the maid announced.
“A visitor?”, her lady furrowed her brows.
The only people visiting her were her parents and few of her old friends. But Mary was never calling them “visitors”.
“He says his name is Mr. Shelby”
(Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat and she stood up so rapidly that Mary looked at her suspiciously.
It’s been a month since the auction and (Y/N) lost faith in him. She was utterly heartbroken and cried almost every night before falling asleep. Almost – because some nights Amelia shared the bed with her. She often had vivid nightmares and anxiety attacks.
“Well, let him in. Bring some tea to the living room”, (Y/N) nodded her head and waited for the maid to leave. She fixed her dress and hair before grabbing a cigarette case and going downstairs.
She tried very hard not to tremble, but it was difficult to do – her whole body was both excited and terrified.
Tommy was sitting on the armchair already and kept looking around. He looked much more handsome now than 8 years earlier. She felt old and tired already although they were the same age.
(Y/N) lighted a cigarette and he turned around at the sound. She smiled faintly and threw the cigarette case on one of the tables before sitting on the armchair in front of him. He was about to stand up to greet her properly, but noticed she didn’t care about it, so he sat down again.
“Hello”, she greeted him.
“Hi”, he nodded his head and cleared his throat, “Nice house”
“A little haunted”, she admitted, “Other than that, yes… Could be nice”, she agreed with him, “If there was a big family here… With children, father and mother… Then yes, could be nice”
“Your husband?”, Tommy pointed at one of the paintings on the wall.
“No, his father when he was young”, she shook her head and took a drag of her cigarette, “Hamish is over there”, she pointed at the painting of a man with grey hair and moustache standing next to a brown stallion with Arrow House in the background.
Tommy blinked few times, taken aback by the man – he was just a portrait, and yet he was so intimidating. Not many people knew it, but some things could make Tommy Shelby feel intimidated – all those posh upper class men did. They had everything he had been fighting for. And they had it without any effort. But he would never be one of them.
“Old”, he only said.
“Old”, she chuckled, “Quite handsome. But old”, she sighed, “He was my father’s business partner”
“How did he react to damaged goods?”, Tommy asked rudely and (Y/N) snorted at that question before looking at the ceiling and shaking her head.
He had changed. He was cold and distant. There was nothing soft in him anymore and he lacked the gentleness she had fallen for. But perhaps this version of Thomas Shelby was better for the new version of her.
“He didn’t”, she explained shortly and put her cigarette out before looking him in the eye. He raised an eyebrow at her and smirked, “We did not… On our wedding night, he took me upstairs, to the bedroom. I was terrified of him and his reaction to the fact that I had been already fucked by some stable boy before”, she started and Tommy stiffened, “And then he told me he had syphilis”, she smiled playfully, “It was a contagious case, he still had some symptoms. He didn’t want me to catch it. But he asked me about children. I wanted them, of course, but I told him that was something to discuss later. He nodded his head and left me alone. We slept in separate bedrooms. He was a kind man. Left me three months later after the war had broken out”, she finished.
There was absolutely no love between her and Hamish Forrester, but there was a hint of sadness in her voice when she was telling him this story. Tommy was jealous of that hint.
“I was there, too. In France”, he told her.
“That’s what I thought. Your scar...”, she pointed at her own cheek.
“No, that one’s not from there”
“I was underground, though. As a tunneller”, he added coldly, “I wasn’t riding horses on the open field”
“But you’re back”, she pointed out.
“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t”, he said and long silence occurred.
“Why are you here…?”, she dared to ask and wiped her sweaty hands in her dress discretely.
“There in the tunnels… You kept me alive”, he confessed although his jaw was clenched, eyes cold and voice harsh.
“You’re welcome”, she didn’t know what else to say, “Was there any other woman?”
“Yes”, he flinched a bit.
“Oof”, she commented his reaction to that question.
“Yeah. The best word to describe it”, he laughed nervously.
Finally laughed. She smiled out of relief.
“Why did you fall for her?”
“Elegant. Soft hands. Sweet smell. Sounds familiar?”
“I once knew a girl like this”, (Y/N) nodded her head.
“Where is she now?”, Tommy raised an eyebrow.
“How did she die?”
“Killed herself on that night when her lover had left”
“Did you...”, Tommy widened his eyes suddenly and (Y/N) spotted genuine fear in them.
“No! God, no! No I didn’t do anything stupid then… Not physically, no...”, she shook her head and he looked relieved, “Where’s that gypsy boy I had fallen for?”
“Dead as well”
“Dead in the French tunnel”
“So, it’s like we’re two strangers…?”, she asked unsure.
“I guess”, Tommy shrugged his arms.
“Tea”, Mary entered the living room and (Y/N) gave her a scolding look.
“What took you so long?”, she huffed at the maid.
“I’m sorry, ma’am…”
“Nevermind, leave”, her lady dismissed her.
“Your mother did that to me once”, Tommy sipped on his tea.
“I interrupted her. She told me off like that”
(Y/N) moved uncomfortably and decided to ignore that comment. She started sipping on her tea as well.
“We lost 8 years, hm?”, she tried to bring that subject back once again.
“Depends on how you look at it. Not necessarily lost”, Tommy looked at her, “What would happen to her?”
“Your daughter”, Tommy winced a bit.
He knew that it wasn’t really her daughter. He knew that Hamish Forrester hadn’t even touched (Y/N) – which was actually quite nice to find out. But still, he felt jealous.
“He’d marry some other woman”
“Do you think some other woman would devote her whole life to her late husband’s weird daughter?”, Tommy asked.
“Don’t call her that”, (Y/N) put her cup down and gave him an angry look.
She loved him, but there was one person she loved more – and that person was Amelia Forrester.
“How should I call her then?”
“Alright then, shy. Has she always been like that?”, Tommy put his cup down as well.
“I married her father when she was 6. She was already like that then. Hamish wasn’t paying much attention to her, too busy with business. And, to be honest, he hoped for a boy. That’s why he married a younger woman. But she died after giving birth. And then he started visiting brothels and… Well, you know. Syphilis”, (Y/N) sighed, “Typical upper class drama”
“That I see”
“And, of course, the only victim is the child. Amelia was being raised by maids and nannies. From what I know, not all of them were nice. She immediately liked me, though. Started calling me her mum. I know that some of my friends would be immune to that and shrug their arms. But I am not”
“You’ve always been kinder than other ladies”, Tommy told her, “You weren’t looking at me like I was dirt. You were just curious”
“Childish and naive I was”
“Still better than cruel”, he pointed out, “And your daughter won’t be cruel either. She’ll have your kindness”
Few tears formed in her eyes. She sniffed and looked away.
“What’s wrong?”, he asked confused. He had been trying to be nice after all.
“Nothing, it’s just… No one I know has been that supportive. Others say I waste my life and time on her. That she’s a hopeless case. Some even suggest sending her away to some special place for children like her… No one understands that I can love her. Even my parents… They say I should leave her to the nannies and find myself a husband. They don’t know that… That I won’t ever marry anyone who’s not...”, she looked at him with teary eyes, but didn’t finish.
Perhaps she had said too much. It had been 8 years. They were strangers.
“That you won’t ever marry anyone again. Just lie to them that you loved Hamish”, Tommy pursed his lips and shrugged his arms.
Her heart broke.
“Why are you here if you don’t love me anymore?”, she dared to ask.
Her heart was too broken to care about being humiliated in his eyes. He didn’t answer at first, so she stood up and hurried out of the room, trying to stop herself from crying.
“(Y/N), wait…!”, Tommy rushed after her.
“You've never loved me, right? Never! Not even back then”, she turned around and drawled out into his face, “Not even a bit. You just wanted to spoil a rich girl, I was a game”
Tommy shook his head and sighed.
“Of course I loved you back then. And I still do. I came here to find out and I can see that I still do”, he confessed and she widened her eyes before sniffing.
“Why are you acting like this then? I know it’s been long time, you’ve been through some shit, so have I. But because it’s been so many wasted years already, we have to start right away”, she got lost in her own visions and imagination, gasping for air after every sentence, “We can’t waste anymore… I’ll take you the way you are, I don’t care who you are and what you do. I don’t care about other women on the way...”
“I’m still not worthy of you”, he stated calmly and clenched his jaw. He was on the verge of tears as well, but he couldn’t just burst into tears like her, “Every painting on these walls reminds me of it. Your fucking dress reminds me of it. Your pearl earrings. Your perfume. Every single fucking thing”, he kept talking.
“It was never about you being worthy or not, Thomas! Never!”, she screamed at him desperately and punched his chest with her fists, “Every single day for past 8 years I have been regretting not going away with you then… Jesus, I really could live with you even in some fucking vardo!”, she kept screaming and crying, which was breaking his heart.
Finally, Tommy grabbed her wrists and pushed her away.
“But you wouldn't survive in a fucking vardo!”, he yelled back and she gasped, “You wouldn’t! And you wouldn’t survive in Small Heath! You knew that as well, that’s why you let me go then”
“I was just a coward. But with time, I would learn how to be like those women from your neighbourhood...”
“But I didn’t like you for being like those women. I liked you for being different than them!”
Short silence occurred after that. (Y/N) was trying to catch her breath and Tommy tried to calm himself down.
“I don’t care, Thomas. Now I have money of my own. I don’t have to rely on my parents. I can take you in and spoil you. I don’t fucking care what others will say. I just want you with me. I’ve been dying here every day for you”, she stated.
Almost as adorable and naive as 8 years earlier.
“You can’t...”, Tommy said softly, “You know you can’t… It would ruin your reputation. I may drive a car now, have a nice coat and suit. But I’m still just a lucky lowlife and a bloody gangster. Thief and a murderer”
“Fuck the rep-”
“Amelia’s. It would ruin hers as well”, he interrupted her and she closed her mouth as she realized that he had been right.
After all, she loved that child more than any man. She looked down, defeated.
“Still not worthy indeed”, she whispered, “I… I swear, Tommy, I didn’t want this life. I didn’t choose it. I never wanted this… All the money...”, she started and he snorted at that, “Oh, no, you’re right. Of course I don’t mind the money… But all that… society”, she explained and looked at him again, “I wish I could rip it out of my heart, that part of me that makes me one of those people, and burn it. I wish I could be different. I wish I were someone you could have married back then in 1913”, she confess.
Suddenly, there was no shame in her around him, just like back then.
“Mummy…?”, shy voice interrupted them. They turned around and saw Amelia walking down the stairs. She blushed at the sight of Tommy and ran up to (Y/N) immediately to hide her face in her mother’s dress, “Are you crying?”, she mumbled.
“No, honey, I am not”, (Y/N) lied, “Please, greet my friend. Do you remember him?”
“Mr. Shelby”, Amelia turned around slowly and nodded her head at him, “You bought that grey mare, sir. How is she? What’s her name?”
Tommy widened his eyes a bit. He expected her to be less observing.
“She’s fine. Being trained to become a race horse. I still don’t have a name for her”, he explained, “How would you name her?”
(Y/N) laughed and Tommy tried very hard not to.
“Love, that’s an awful name for a horse. Especially the racing one. Imagine Mr. Shelby having to introduce his horse to other people during races and-”, (Y/N) started to explain.
“Actually, I like the name”, he interrupted her suddenly and she widened her eyes, “Yes, I’ll name her Lola. And I hope she will win many races. Each victory will be for you, Amelia”, he smiled at the girl.
“Tommy, the name’s ridiculous...”, (Y/N) gasped.
“No one’s going to laugh at me, believe me”, he laid his piercing blue eyes on her.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Shelby”, Amelia smiled faintly, “You’re not that scary, sir”
“Oh, I am not scary at all. Only when I want to be”, he joked, “Actually, I have something for you. It’s in my car, come on”, he pointed his head at the front door.
(Y/N) made surprised face and squeezed her daughter’s hand. They went outside and followed him to his car. Tommy handed Amelia a small, pink box.
“You didn’t have to buy her anything...”, (Y/N)’s heart filled with warmth.
“I wanted to”, he admitted sadly.
They looked at each other when Amelia was busy unpacking the gift. They didn’t need words – both imagined the same thing.
Children of their own.
They had to look away after some while and take a deep breath. The thought started to be so painful that it was tearing them apart.
“Oh, mummy, look! Thank you so much, Mr. Shelby!”, Amelia squealed at the sight of a porcelain doll that looked almost like her.
“Oh, beautiful one”, (Y/N) sniffed and caressed her daughter’s head, “Thank you, Tommy”
“I’ll have Lola and you’ll have the doll. We won’t forget about each other”, he nodded his head.
“We wouldn’t anyway, would we?”, (Y/N) smiled sadly.
He didn’t answer.
“Goodbye”, he said instead.
“Goodbye, Mr. Shelby!”, Amelia waved at him when he sat inside the car.
Tommy looked at them for the last time, sighed and started the engine before driving away.
“Mummy, this time you’re crying”, the girl noticed.
“I’ll tell you one day, I promise. One day”
TAG LISTS IN THE COMMENTS.
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Traitor | Bokuto x Reader (+ Kuroo)
Warning: Angst, obviously is sour hahaha.
You are a traitor.
Bokuto shouldn't be surprised by how things turned out. Everyone knew that sooner or later you and Kuroo would end up together. But still, I couldn't believe that you and Kuroo were already together. It hadn't even been more than a month since you guys broke up. You couldn't have fallen in love with Kuroo in such a short time so it was evident that you hadn't been sincere when you told him that you and Kuroo were just friends, that you didn't feel anything for him.
Of course, Kōtarō had seen the signs, he wasn't as stupid as people believed, I notice how your praise when he managed to make an auction or won a match didn't seem so many or natural compared to what you said to Kuroo. At first, he tried to justify you by telling himself that it was normal, after all, you were Nekoma's manager, and of course, you prefer that he win your team. Of course, later he realized that you didn't say as much compliment to the other members as you did to Tetsuro. And also notice how you always gave Kuroo his bottle of water and his towel. A small detail that said a lot. Bokuto still remembers your nervous laugh when he asked you about it.
"Why do you always give Kuroo his water bottle first?" he asked, feigning nonchalance as he walked you home after a practice match.
"What are you talking about, Bo? I don't do that ”you denied.
"You do. Every time"
"Well, I never realized it before" you laughed and for the first time, your laugh didn't make Bokuto's chest warm instead it made him feel uncomfortable.
After that, you gave up the habit of handing his Kuroo things first. That calmed Bokuto a bit. But his calm didn't last long.
One day the two of you were in the middle of your date, praising the cafeteria desserts you had gone to when you said:
“It's delicious, right ?! I don't understand how Kuroo doesn't like that. " You didn't realize how he had tensed when he heard the name of Nekoma's captain. "Kuroo has terrible taste buds, doesn't he?"
"Did you come with Kuroo before?"
"Yes, we came to study here the other day"
Remember how earlier in the week you canceled your date with him because Kuroo had offered to help you study for your exam. He didn't claim anything from you because he didn't want to bother you. It wasn't a problem either because he thought you two were just dying of boredom in the library but no, you came here.
"Did you really come to study?" the words were out of his mouth before he could analyze them. Surprisingly, you didn't take them the wrong way or seem nervous like the other time. It seemed like you didn't realize what he was trying to imply or you were a very good actress.
"Hey, I know I get distracted fast but I can do two things at the same time" you pout.
Again, Bokuto's insecurities returned, every day they became stronger, and that you cancel most of his dates did not help him feel better, much less the photos of you two that he saw on social networks. Why did your smile seem brighter when you were with Kuroo than when you were with him? Why did you have more photos with Kuroo? Why did you seem to have more time for Kuroo than for him? And so the self-destructive thoughts started. Surely, you prefer to spend time with Kuroo, being with him you don't have to deal with sudden mood swings; he wasn't stupid and useless so you could ask him for help with your studies; of course, he would make you laugh more, his conversations are more interesting so in the middle of dating him, you start using the cell phone.
"You must break up with her" Akaashi had said, after taking out the cellphone to see how Bokuto tortured himself by looking over and over at the photo that Kuroo uploaded.
The Nekoma captain was using your head as an armrest. Anyone would be laughing at the clear difference in height between you and Kuroo but Kōtarō was more struck by the redness of your cheeks, he was sure it wasn't because you were angry.
“I'm serious, Kōtarō. This is not doing you any good "
"I will do it"
And Bokuto didn't lie. He broke up with you even though he felt every part of his body hurt. But his heart broke when you said "it's okay", you didn't fight for him, you just accepted that, as if you didn't care. You left without looking back. He waits half an hour to see if you would come back, of course, you didn't.
The following days he waits to hear from you, he would update his phone number to see if you had sent him a message and would go to your profile every so often to see if you posted anything. Nothing.
Up to now.
After practice, the team had gone to dinner together. Of course, no one thought that the Nekoma team would go to the same place.
"Bokuto don't look behind you," Konoha said when he saw them enter.
Of course, Bokuto can't listen to him. As soon as he heard your laugh he turned to see how the team captain kissed you. It didn't last long but for Bokuto it was an eternity until you two walked away. You were smiling... until you look him. Your skin had lost color, you were pale and your eyes stopped shining. You whispered something in Kuroo's ear, Bokuto was sure you warned him of his presence, and you let go of his hand to leave the place.
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pairing : criminal!Hyunjae x detective!reader
genre : criminal au, angst, suggestive
word count : 2.4k of me suffering
a/n : I consider this as my 500 special so take this and thank you so so much for 500 beautiful moons🌙❤️
tags : @moonshineboyz @jaemotel @hyunjaethereal
Looking at his unmoving figure through the double sided mirror brought little spikes of chills down your spine despite the thick black suit jacket you wore over your white blouse. Leaning his back against the steel chair with hands cuffed to the table, even when he's finally caught he was being very calm about it. Which made you more nervous but put on your expressionless face just so your partner can't read you.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes." Hoping your voice held the usual sureness it always had before you're about to start a session with your suspect, you gave your partner, Younghoon, a tight lip smile before gathering the brown paper files in your hands. Younghoon unlocked the door for you and with a deep breath, you stepped in.
Nerves on edge, your instincts were amped up each step you took closer to him. His dead gaze didn't move, staring at the wall beyond as if you weren't even in the room. Not until you sat in front of him and set down the files, pulling the chair a space away from the table that his eyes locked with yours. Instantly your breath stopped for the second time tonight. The first one being when you went undercover at an auction gathering where you had a lead of where the location of the infamous diamond stealers were. And to your luck, to which you thanked and cursed your lucky star for, Hyunjae was one of the eleven members that got caught.
Being pushed to the ground with his hands behind his back, you stood a few feet away from him, not being able to get close, but he saw you. Eyes exuding the feel of pure shock and terror when he was being cuffed, the blue and red light of the police's lights reflected in them. They never left yours the whole time he was being taken away, you only coming back to your senses when Younghoon caught up to you and told you to come with him. Warm brown eyes that once you found comfort under its gaze, but now you felt scared.
Feeling the heaviness of his stare, you averted yours to the files in front of you. Inhaling deeply, you tried to keep your professional composure. Flipping over the beige pages, scanning the lines of the reports but the ink just blurred together. The atmosphere was too suffocating for you. Ears ringing from the loud silence.
No use. Why were you so nervous? Years of doing this and you couldn't keep yourself together to interrogate the man you once called your lover? And he's just sitting there, in front of you, cuffed to the table and nowhere to go. Just like any other criminals you had sessions with. Why can't you do it with him?
Hands shaking, heart racing and palm sweating, you knew you had to pass this one out. You knew he was still looking at you. Why was he so quiet? Where did his loud and teasing mouth go? The one you used too before you knew what he did for a living. You prefer that version of him you knew better than the stoic and cold one in front of you right now.
Snapping your head to where you hoped Younghoon was standing behind the mirror, you were relieved for him snapping you out of your headspace, which was growing more and more tight with every second you were sitting in his presence.
Not waiting to listen to what Younghoon wanted to ask you about, you stood up so fast making the steel chair grinded on the floor. The horrible sound filled the room, you cringed but the second your hand pushed down on the door handle, the tightness in your chest started to lift. It felt like being underwater in the room, now you could properly breathe again.
Walking to stand in front of you, Younghoon held your stare. Being your close friend and partner for almost 5 years now, he knew your past relationship with the man who's currently held captive in that cold dimly lit room. From the look of your face, Younghoon could read that you're remembering memories of fond ones that you tried so hard to forget by seeing other people but every time you came back home you would always say that it wasn't the same. He pitied his partner.
"It's fine. You can monitor this time." Patting your shoulder, he gave you a genuine and understanding smile before he himself went into the room. Usually you were the person who had always been the interrogator and rarely Younghoon got to do it, but that doesn't mean he can't do just as good of a job as you. Bless him for being someone you could rely on.
Hugging your elbows, you stood in front of the mirror observing them both. Eyes mostly focusing on Hyunjae, from the way he sat up properly when Younghoon started talking. Pushing on the button to let you listen to their conversation, your heart clenched at the sound of his voice. One that was so sweet and loving now laced with a cold monotonous tone. You shifted your weight from one leg to another.
After the interrogation had ended, you ordered for him to be moved to a holding cell. Exiting the room before they could do so because you didn't want to face him again.
Then why were you here standing in front of his cell with the key card feeling heavy in your inner breast pocket. Why were you still walking towards him? The sound of your heels hitting the concrete floor echoed down the hallway. And why did he from previously sitting also stood up and walked until where he could behind the black steel bars?
There was no one else in this wing of the place. Him being the only one who occupied the many rows of cells that faced each other with only a couple of guards posted outside which you had told them to go because you had to collect more private information from Hyunjae. Was that your real reason? Or did you just use your power of authority to get alone time with him. Another chance to face him again after your failed attempt a few hours ago.
Stopping a foot away from where he was, your throat felt like it was closing again but you took in a deep breath to unwind the knots that were starting to form in your chest. How long has it been? 3 years? You almost forgot because his appearance had changed. From his blond hair to chestnut brown and from the more prominent shape of his arms under the white button up he was still wearing from earlier that night. Both of you stood facing each other, silent when neither one of you knew what to say and who to start.
Still not able to look him in the eyes, your gaze fell on the lipstick stains painting his white collar. A bitter taste blanketed your tongue at the thought of another woman clinging onto him despite that he was no longer yours. Maybe you should walk back?
Noticing the turned down corner of your lips, and to where he thought your vision was on, Hyunjae knew what your thoughts were. From the years he had not seen you, he could still remember that you wore your emotions on your face a lot which made you easy to read. A part of him felt a little satisfied by how jealous you were but another part of him that had been buried under piles of memories that was threatening to resurface at the sight of you again felt the need to touch you and reassure you that if was nothing. But you were no longer his.
The shift of your eyes downward pushed Hyunjae to say your name, not wanting you to go just yet. What can he say to you? Sorry?
Hearing your name left his lips felt like you were back to your glory days with him. It was all perfect until the day you stumbled upon the room in his basement while you helped him to move houses. The voice was soft tinged with urgency, one he used when you were about to end the call with him, only for him to say that he loved you when you asked him what.
Finally your eyes met his, again. This time however there was no trace of cold, but his brown eyes turned soft looking into yours. At first you didn't acknowledge that he had reached for your forearm until he himself retrieved back his arm with an apology. You didn't mind it though, in fact the pressure of his fingers on yours still lasted. You wanted to feel him again.
“I came to tell you about your schedule here until my team finished processing the info you gave us if the warden hadn't already.” That was a fucking lame reason to see him, you mentally slapped yourself.
“Is that all?” From the way you were biting your lower lips, he knew that that was not the real reason. He knew what you wanted but he just needed to hear it himself. He just wanted to hear you say that you wanted him. Back. If possible.
For some reason after all these years he was still yearning for you. Believing that you were his soulmate from the moment he fell for how he thought you sounded so intelligent by the remarks you made on him while you were in the university’s debate team. He felt like you could be his match. But he had to ruin it for himself after all the years of him trying to get to you.
And now it felt like deja vu standing here with you again, just like the last time he ever saw you. The disappointment in your eyes, and the fear in your stance was the same. The ache in his heart and the spiralling thoughts in his head trying to come up with something to fix the situation was the same. The only thing different was the black bars between you. He wished it was gone.
Without knowing he had lifted his gloved hand and with the back of his fingers he brushed the side of your face. Lost in his own reverie he didn't notice that you had moved away and a second later the sound beeping and locks unlocking reached his ears. With a shock he watched as the bars slid open. And now nothing was between you and him.
What were you doing? What were you even thinking? Him. You were only thinking of him.
You were thinking of him when you stepped into the cell and pulled him to you. You were thinking of how you had missed the way he held you when he wrapped his arms around you, one on your waist and the other at your nape. You were thinking of how much you had missed the way your lips connected on each other’s skin under the darkness of the night in your apartment when all you could taste was the wine he had been drinking all night. It's all happening again.
Chest swelling from the overwhelming emotions you were experiencing right now, you pulled away panting while arms still slung over his shoulders holding onto him as if you didn't want to lose him again. With eyes closed, all of you were focused on him. The sensation you felt when he moved down the side of your neck to your exposed collar bone brought back a feeling in your stomach that you hadn't felt in a long time.
Biting down hard on your bottom lip to suppress any sound that you feared could be echoing down the hallway right now, as if you weren't already being loud before, still some mewls slipped past your lips. For a moment you wished for yourself to not care about what's happening when all you want right now is with you. You wanted Hyunjae. The man that was on your most wanted list, both of your heart and of your team, for so long was finally here.
It felt forbidden even, the reality of you and him. Him being on the bad side while you were on the good. But it also kind of felt thrilling to be on different sides and still yearned to be together. What would your chief say if he knew what you were doing right now. Would you be fired? Yes. But did you care? No.
“Hyunjae” Managing to say his name breathlessly to capture his attention away from your now hot skin, you pushed on his shoulders a little to get a little space between you two with a protest from him but he gave up. Dilated pupils boring down onto yours while heavy breaths passed bruised lips, at least you could get him to listen to you.
“You need to go. They will be back here in a few minutes after I told them to give me some time.”
From the fluorescent light that was lighting the room, you could see that his eyes were searching for yours as his brows furrowed trying to comprehend what you just said. Repeating yourself again, you fully pried yourself out of his grip. Brushing your hair with your fingers and buttoning back your shirt, you watched him look at you, taking you in for the last time again. Your heart ached, and you knew his was too. But he needed to go.
With a stride he walked up to you, hand on your jaw as he gave you a final kiss, biting on your lower lip a little when he pulled away. He still remembered his ways with you.
“I swear I'll find you again,” A promise he whispered close to your ears making goosebumps erupt on your skin.
“Not if I find you first,” The slight flirtatious tone in your voice made him smirked.
And with a bow of his head, Hyunjae exited the door, leaving you to stand in the middle of the cell alone.
A relationship where you would play hide and seek with each other.
Could be fun right?
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pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc
genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff
word count: 2.2k
WARNINGS: none (pls tell me if there’s anything i missed!)
a/n: THEIR LOVE STORY CONTINUES AND YOU WILL FIND OUT ON MY NEXT POST! i will say this over and over again, THANK YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!
epilogue | masterlist
The trial of your father was not something you have ever imagined you would experience nor witness in this lifetime. Despite having the option to not go, you still attended. You weren’t present at the court itself though. Instead you waited at the parking lot with Jeongyeon everyday from the first day up to the last day. The judge’s verdict was obvious and irrevocable. Your father’s ancestry, title and reputation didn’t matter in the eyes of justice. At some point, you couldn’t accept it still but eventually you knew that every wrong must be corrected.
You can say that the wounds from this inevitable downfall burned the most than the wounds inflicted by the enemy.
Wonwoo was at your apartment when you arrived after the long hours of waiting. He just finished showering, drying his hair with a clean towel when he greeted you. After getting discharged from the hospital, he didn’t fail to visit your place and most times, he would stay the night. That’s why it’s natural and comforting to see him lounge around as if he has been living with you from the get go.
He already knows how the trial went because it was everywhere. He catches you with his arms once your bag is dropped on the couch and the tears you have been holding back start to fall. It’s not easy to cry every second, every minute and every hour. It’s not easy to accept that your tears are not enough. Not enough to help your father without damaging everything else further.
Your face was buried on the crook of your lover’s neck as you finally let it all out. He holds you there for a while before he moves the two of you to the couch and keeps you close by letting you take a seat on his lap.
You love your father so much but it is only right and only just to let this Kingdom punish him for the crimes he committed against the people he swore honesty and protection to.
The exhaustion made you fall asleep and Wonwoo left you be until he had to wake you because he doesn’t want you to skip your meal. After munching on a few bites, he led you to the bathroom for a warm bath, sitting on the cold tiled floor as he took care of you. And in the late evening, he held you close as you retired from the pain of the day.
Wonwoo is a gift and he makes every single day a little better.
You and Wonwoo decided to tie the knot three years later than what was initially arranged. It just felt right at the time to postpone the wedding and do what should be done. The Prince can tell that your heart and mind was not set on marriage yet because of what was currently happening. He was the one who brought it up, suggesting a postponement if you needed the time to think and of course, to wait. He didn’t mind because he’s one hundred percent sure that he is yours and it wasn’t necessary to immediately hold a wedding to seal the deal.
Three years of waiting wasn’t the timeline you intentionally planned on but if one were to count, that’s how long the two of you endured. The plan to have a grand wedding was scrapped and essentially, you two were back to zero. The venue, decorations, menu and even the custom made wedding dress and tuxedo were either auctioned or donated. It was a unanimous decision among you, him, your mother and his parents. It was for the better and taking things slow in your relationship was much needed anyway.
On the subject of parents, Wonwoo’s, for a period of time, were uneasy with your relationship. It was not because of you and what your father did. Their Majesties were wise enough to not hold anything against you and who you are. What made them uneasy was the people and their talking. If some were still loyal and supported and rooted for you, some were the exact opposite. The tabloids were cruel as well and you didn’t miss them displayed in every newsstand. They still gossiped about your father and even talked about the most irrelevant nonsense. Like come on, who cares about you wearing an orange jacket on a normal Sunday?
But the major stumbling block for them was your recommendation to abolish the Royal Family of your Kingdom.
You have pondered about it for quite a while and when you have made your decision, you discussed it with the rest of your relatives. As the times have changed, reigning as the sole power of the kingdom didn’t appeal to your family anymore. Some of your father’s siblings and cousins have discussed this already even before your father himself inherited the throne. It just so happened that the then cabinet members strongly opposed the idea. However this time, things will be different for and with you.
By right, you are the Queen of the Kingdom and it won’t be for much longer.
It was a long and exhausting process. You had to meet with the Cabinet and the policy making body of the Kingdom. For a whole year, you were lobbying and arguing with a lot of individuals who have their own greedy political agendas. However, for the same whole year, the people were supportive of your decision and goal. That pushed you forward and motivated you to not give up. It paid off because in the end, you stepped down as the last Queen to ever reign in your family and ultimately, the Kingdom.
Countless aspiring public servants stole the spotlight the following year as the campaign season started. Some still encouraged you to hold a position to which you declined immediately. It was a tight competition because every candidate had the potential. The people were smarter and at the same time stronger. They knew who they wanted and needed to lead the Kingdom. No flowery words could ever sway them.
Power to the people indeed.
You were present to the formulation and enactment of the new laws that will hopefully make the Kingdom and its citizens flourish without the presence of abuse of power and dishonesty. Once you finally signed the last piece of document as the Queen, the Kingdom is not yours anymore and you have never felt so free.
During the (unintentional) three year wait, you and Wonwoo made the most out of your time as boyfriend and girlfriend, fiancé and fiancée. Well, the engagement ring wasn’t returned to you so you’re quite unsure about the status of the latter. You didn’t lose it though. Wonwoo admitted on one of your dates that it’s with him and that he’ll eventually give it back.
Wonwoo stayed and continued working at the Royal Hospital meanwhile you decided to leave your current law firm and establish a new one to serve the public. It was a busy year of transition and you felt bad that you dragged Wonwoo into it. Even though he promised that he didn’t mind, you still can’t help but feel terrible that he’s carrying a whole lot of baggage that isn’t his.
He will just shush you with a kiss on the lips whenever you bring it up and you hate how he makes it work.
For most of the time, you were awfully busy, you had to bring work back to your apartment. Wonwoo would always complain with his forehead on your shoulder as you worked away on your desk. He would complain that it’s already late and you should be snuggled to him by then and you would just scratch the back of his neck to placate him. To which, he didn’t like. He didn’t stop until you shut down your laptop and let him pull you to bed.
Wonwoo diligently went back and forth to his hometown and here. He could go back and work at his Kingdom, but not without you. He made it clear that he has every intention of marrying you, so until then, he’d stay by your side. You love every single bit of time you spent with him and you’re beyond grateful. Although there was one instance you had to take care of him because he got sick, that didn’t make him stop.
The two of you went to a lot of dates despite the busy and overlapping schedules. Most of your dates consisted of long drives far from the city. You frequent farms, beachsides and small hidden cafes with little to none customers. It was great and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s Wonwoo, after all.
Eventually, you had to visit his parents and introduce yourself in a whole new and different perspective. It was nerve wracking, but their Majesties never changed. In fact, almost everyone at their Kingdom still treated and served you like royalty to which you vehemently refused. Nonetheless, their Majesties still gave their utmost blessing and support to your relationship and if anything, they hope to see you get married soon.
Wonwoo requested to meet your father at some point. At first, you were confused as to why but when he told you that he wanted to do things right, you couldn’t say no.
You had to admit, you were embarrassed. However, you swallowed your pride because it’s pointless to keep concealing yourself from Wonwoo. He has accepted and loved you in every way and every form already, all you have to do is bare yourself to him.
The meeting and conversation you shared with your father was short-lived because of the time limit. In spite of that, it was good to see him and you’re happy Wonwoo took the initiative to visit him. It has already been two years since he got imprisoned and even though you couldn’t visit him every day, your father never held it against you. He was ecstatic to see Wonwoo and the news of your wedding still on, made him burst into a joyful laughter.
It still pained you to see him on the other side of the glass. It still pained you to not hug or touch his hand at least. But you keep yourself together and remember the purpose as to why your father had to go through this.
Your father never failed to tell you his regrets and apologies, but most importantly, he never failed to tell you how proud he is and that he loves you very much so.
You will never become a queen anymore, but Wonwoo vowed that you will be of his heart. He found it cringey himself, but he told you he had to say it in front of everyone present at your wedding. You just laughed it off because you know he’s not saying it out of spite.
The wedding happened at his mother’s garden with only close family and friends invited. Your father couldn’t make it even if he wanted to, but it was alright because you promised you’ll send lots of pictures afterwards. Some of your relatives made it, Jeongyeon and Seungkwan were also there. Meanwhile, all of Wonwoo’s relatives made it and of course his best friends Soonyoung, Jihoon and Jun (whom you met along the way) were also present.
It was a short ceremony that didn’t last more than three hours. It started late in the morning and ended early in the afternoon. The two of you, hand in hand and all smiles, did your best to mingle with every guest and thank them for their time and attendance after finally sealing everything with a long kiss and of course, legal documents.
There was no afterparty held after lunch was served, you and Wonwoo wanting the rest of the day to yourselves. A traditional program sounded lovely, but the two of you wanted to be simple.
The wedding was three years long in the making and in between, it almost didn’t happen. The beginning was vague because it started off as an arranged union. You didn’t know him, he didn’t know you. The middle was everything you wanted, full of love and security. You were so sure and so ready, just waiting for the dress and everything was set. However before the happy ending, shortcomings and bad deeds needed to be resolved and by doing so, one of you almost had to sacrifice the middle that you were ready to have forever.
But when Wonwoo buried his face in the space between your jaw and neck and his arms found its way around your waist, you realized that everything that had to happen was worth it. In the middle of the garden where the two of you stood alone, swaying from side to side, you realized and accepted that it was all worth it.
Your fingers ran through the hairs of your husband’s hair and he hummed at the sensation. You smiled at the vibration and continued holding him. If you were to tell one of the sentiments that you and Wonwoo share when you’re together, it’s that you wish for everything to never end. And now that you’re married, it is not far-fetched.
“I love you, Wonwoo,” you whispered and you’re not crying anymore.
Wonwoo pulls away slightly to look at your face and when he sees your smile, he knows that he loves you too.
a/n 2: all my love, the drabble/oneshot series masterlist is up! 🧡
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Only Child Series Masterlist
Part seventeen / part eighteen / part nineteen
chapter warnings: sarcasm, swearing, human trafficking, violence,
They'd fallen into another trap. She should've suspected as much. Rumlow appears in London the exact day a Human Trafficking ring linked to him was going to auction in Germany? If she'd been smarter she would've known better.
In the immediate fight someone had ripped her com out, very purposefully but she hadn't stopped to think about it, leading the Beta team with hand gestures instead of words through the com.
Then they'd all gotten separated in the maze of buildings that made up the compound. The auction was at the north of the facility, which was where they were headed. An explosion in a storage building in their path had them scattering away.
Now she was alone.
It was at that moment she knew she'd fucked up.
She broke into one of the storage buildings and hid herself in the corner, glad she'd thought to bring her phone. She used it to call the only person she knew she could trust to always answer.
"Y/N, where are you?"
"Bruce, I'm scared. He's here. I know he is. I'm so sorry."
She woke when a bucket of water was emptied over her head. Brock Rumlow stood there with what she supposed was a smirk. It was hard to look at him for too long. Her hands were tied to something above her head and her ankles were tied behind her.
"Damn, clearly I get my looks from my Momma." Y/N would admit it wasn't her best line. But she wasn't going to let him get the better of her. "You are one Sloth-from-the-Goonie's looking bitch."
She probably deserved the kick to the ribs but she frowned at Rumlow anyway.
"Where's your little family now?" Rumlow taunted.
"How the fuck do you expect me to know? The fuck am I? Mystic Meg?" She asked, rolling her eyes. She definitely deserved the second kick.
"Bestie, I don't know how to tell you this, but I am calling CPS as soon as I get my hands on a phone." She warned and Rumlow shook his head.
"Sure thing, Sweetheart." He ruffled her hair and she jerked her head to bite him. He locked his fingers in her hair and pulled tight until she winced. "That's better, good girl."
"Just puked a little in my mouth. I won't lie." She told him and he pulled tighter. She finally took the cue to shut her mouth and instead put her effort into trying to figure out her surroundings. It was a typical damp cellar room. Minus seven points for lack of imagination.
"Heard you were a good agent, making a name for yourself out there. I thought maybe she is a chip off the old block after all." Rumlow told her, dragging a chair over to take a seat in front of her. "Then you walk right into not one but two of my traps. If you don't count the lizard-looking fuckers."
"You were behind them?" She asked, looking up quickly. "What the fuck kind of things go through your head that you made those creepy fuckers?"
"I didn't make 'em. I just struck a deal with the weirdo that did. I wanted to see how you performed in your team. Not very well was the answer I got." He sighed. "Maybe if I'd stuck around to raise you."
"You could've thought me how to change a tire, catch a ball, commit treason. Always wanted someone to show up to my Daddy-Daughter dances." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Pity you and your ugly mug were busy making a mess that me and my team had to clean up."
"My team and I, Sweetheart." He corrected with a chuckle. "You ain't a member of that team. You're a liability. You keep letting them down."
"Wow, you're so right. I'm now a villain. Uncuff me, Father. I see the light, let's be evil together." Y/N simpered before raising her eyebrows. "You get all your quotes from shitty movies?"
There was no doubt that she deserved that kick in the ribs either.
He left her then, leaving the cellar. A small red recording light let her know that she was still being watched and so she settled in for a wait, wracking her head for the most annoying thing she could possibly do. She hoped that camera had audio on it.
"All of the bird's died in nineteen-"
She was left alone for long enough to get through One Direction's entire discography, every vine reference and TikTok she could think of, and at least three-quarters of the Bee-Movie script. She was annoying everyone that could hear her and she delighted in that fact.
She was only joined for Rumlow to gag her with a frankly filthy cloth. It tasted awful and she told him as much through the gag. Not that he could understand her. She continued to keep up her stream of complaints until he left the room and she very pointedly brought her hand down from where they had been secured and removed the gag.
Rumlow appeared again in seconds to find all of her bindings cut but she was still holding position, just to piss him off.
"You were so busy listening to me that you haven't been paying attention in the slightest." She told him with a smirk and he raised his eyebrows.
"So you got loose, you've nowhere to go." He laughed, binding her hands again with zip ties. "I've got a team upstairs ready to take you out if you even tried. Ain't no one gonna miss you."
"That was a double negative." She told him with a shrug. "Besides, you missed one vital point. Just over my heart is a small- barely noticeable piece of tech that monitors my vitals and coincidentally tracks my position."
"You think I'd go without a fight?" She asked with a laugh. "You may have a team upstairs but I've got something you don't. I have a Hulk."
The cellar door crashed open, blasting off its hinges along with most of the wall surrounding it to let The Hulk's form through. He was followed by Tony and Bucky who strolled casually through the door, taking in the surroundings. Brock moved quickly, an arm around her neck, making The Hulk pause.
"Could do with better lighting," Tony told Bucky who nodded, scratching at his beard with his metal hand.
"A lick of paint too, maybe an eggshell blue?" Bucky asked. "A grey trim."
"I was actually leaning towards a forest green," Y/N told Bucky with a shrug. "Dark brown trim."
"Oh, you're so right. Ambiance lighting, big bookshelves." Tony nodded. He opened his face guard and looked around.
"So, what you guys been up to? Did I miss anything?" She asked idly, Hulk roared and she gave him a reproachful look. "Inside voice, Hulk. We've been over this."
"Take another step and I'll slit the bitch's throat." Rumlow warned. Bucky and Tony turned to look at each other and took another purposeful step forward making Y/N cackle.
"You bastards, stop calling his bluff. He's had a tough day." She bit his fingers when he put them over her mouth and he pulled them back with a hiss, putting the knife tighter against her throat.
"If he hadn't killed you by now he never will. I was ready to burst my own eardrums when you got through three One Direction songs." Tony told her and Brock looked between them all.
"Listening in the whole time?" He asked with a laugh. "Good thing I didn't tell you all my master plan then."
"I worked with you for several years Rumlow, you never had a plan then, I doubt you've got one now." Natasha joined the group, wiping her bloody hands on her suit. "You ain't got a team left either."
"Hey Mom, how's my hair look?" Y/N asked, tilting her head.
"It's seen better days, Darling. Daddy Nazi will braid it for you when we get home." Natasha promised and Bucky nodded to back her up.
"Is Strict Mom okay?" She asked, arching her neck to get away from the blade a little. Rumlow followed her movements.
"A little bruised, she's taking care of the clean-up with Daddy America," Tony told her, eyes resolutely staring ahead.
"I want a way out or I slit her throat," Rumlow warned. Y/N grinned at her teammates when they all shared a look. Even Hulk could tell how stupid his request was.
"Let Little Girl go," Hulk demanded. "Then Hulk Smash."
"Not going to-"
"Sorry Mr. Rumlow, sir. I hate to interrupt but, would you mind if I dated your daughter?" Y/N grinned at Peter's voice behind them and ducked quickly when Rumlow turned, letting his grip slacken, she rolled away when he grabbed her and Bucky grabbed her arm, jerking her out of Rumlow's reach. Peter was already on the ceiling, looking down at Rumlow.
"Hey Hulk, you can go ahead and Smash. I'll wait for you outside buddy."
[taglist: @llamadramaonthefarma ]
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Waiting Symphony | Billy Russo
A/N: loosely based off of I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry. this song aggressively throws me in my feels, lemme tell you-
blood/wounds and language warnings.
Billy regretted his last words to you.
He regretted telling you over the phone.
If he wasn’t such a coward--
He could have said it when you found him--
He regretted it. He would take it back and do it over if he could. Do it all over again the proper way. He’d do it and look you in the eye, and apologize for how much of an asshole he’d been. He’d apologize for how much pain he’d caused. How you managed to put up with him for as long as you did was beyond him, but the thought made him smile every time.
But now...now, it was too late. He said his words, he did his deed, and so he would wait, in this vast unknown of emptiness. He would wait for you where he sat, on a bench in this vast unknown.
Billy closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
He missed you. He wanted to hold you again. If even for one last time.
When Billy opened his eyes, the vast nothingness had disappeared and in its place was his apartment living room. He’d recognize that painting on the right wall from anywhere. He’d bought it with you at an auction.
Billy’s head snapped up at a rustling of fabric, and suddenly you were standing before him in his favorite sweatshirt, hands adorably nestled in sweater paws and radiant smile on your face. Billy couldn’t help but smile and pull you into a kiss. Radiant you, just standing there in all your sunshiny glow; Billy wondered if he had dreamt that vast emptiness and if he was really lying in bed with you curled under his arm.
Billy blinked and suddenly he found himself leaning against a tree in a grassy field. You were still in his arms, your head rested against his chest. You pointed up at the stars and the moon, marveling at their beauty. He felt himself smiling as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You reached back and intertwined your hand with his, raising your joined hands and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of holding you. He felt safe, secure...loved. Truly loved. Loved just as Billy, your charming Billy. He didn’t want the feeling to go away. He didn’t want to open his eyes.
But he did anyway, and now he was lying on the ground. His face stung, he was sore all over, and his fingers were sticky. He reached up to his face, wincing at the sting of the opened flesh he felt. He wasn’t going to be the same, wasn’t he. The wound felt too deep.
Then his vision cleared suddenly and he could see his angel kneeling by his side. A sad smile was on your face. He reached up to caress your cheek, feeling tears suddenly hit his hand. No, no, no, you didn’t need to cry. He was okay, really. He was fine; he had to be. He was going to be fine, and he’d get up and walk it off and kiss you and hold you like there was no tomorrow.
He tried sitting up, but the pain flared bright and red and he cried out, feeling your hands gently lay him back on the ground. He looked up to you, searching your face for any signs of pain, any signs of anguish.
Instead, he found love. He found it in your eyes when you tried to hold back your tears. He found it in your downturned and quivering lips when you tried to smile. He found it in your hands when they grasped his so tightly he felt his hands start to go numb. He found it when you leaned down to press a kiss to his broken and bruised lips.
He found it in your resigned whisper, a last goodbye filled with so much love and wishes for what could have been.
Billy opened his mouth to say it back, to say that he loved you and wished to be with you and wanted to make everything right and he’d try harder to be good and he was sorry--
But the light from the streetlamp behind you faded to black and he was left with his words on his tongue and a wrench in his heart.
Billy’s eyes flashed open with a sharp inhale. The bloody ground and painful wounds had disappeared. He was still sat on the bench, no sign of having moved from his seat, no sign of having any recent blood or wounds. If he focused really hard, he could still feel your hands on his face…
But now, he sat on the bench, alone in this vast emptiness. Alone, with his broken pieces barely put together. He’d wondered how you’d managed to sneak into his heart and piece together his broken pieces. He’d wondered how you’d been able to mend his broken melody into a beautiful symphony.
He was alone now, but one day, he wouldn’t be so lonely. His broken pieces would be a beautiful symphony once more.
One day, he’d get to hold you and kiss you again. One day, he’d see you standing there in his favorite sweatshirt with the bright smile that chased away his shadows and demons. One day, he’d finally say those words he meant to say in person and not over a rushed and frantic phone call. He let go of you once, and he wasn’t going to do it again.
Billy regretted his last words to you.
He regretted telling you over the phone.
But he said his words, he did his deed, and so he would wait, in this vast unknown of emptiness. He would wait for you where he sat, on a bench in this vast unknown.
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Maybe a leafs gala, where a guy is constantly hitting on Amelia
A.N. Hi! I had a lot of fun writing this one. I got a little carried away with writing it so its a bit longer. I hope you like it though!!
Word Count: 4,325
I walked out of mine and Auston’s bedroom into the kitchen, wearing a tight black cocktail dress. Auston whistled at me as I did a little turn to show off.
“You look hot babe,” he called out after he finished chewing his food.
“Thank you,” I blushed as I walked closer to him so I could rest my hand on his chest. The Leafs were hosting a Gala tonight and Auston had invited me as his guest. It was basically just one big charity event where we spent the evening trying to impress people and meeting fans. Auston had signed us up for the cocktail making so we were going to spend the evening stuck at a bar serving drinks.
“Oh my god Auston!” I exclaimed loudly as I noticed the eaten brownies from my pan on the counter.
“Huh?” he asked, looking up from my lips to my eyes.
“Did you eat my brownies?” I asked worriedly.
“Yeah they were really good,” Auston smiled softly in apology.
“Auston no! They were edibles,” I pulled away from him with a worried face.
“You just ate edibles, oh my god,” I repeated, lifting my hand up to cover my mouth.
“Fuck,” he swore as he reached his hand up to rub it through his hair.
“How could you not tell me you were making edibles,” Auston accused, pointing his hand at me, causing me to take a step back and putting a hand on my hip.
“They were for me!” I didn’t think you’d eat them right away,” I said using my hand to hide my smile.
“Amelia, I have to talk to so many important people tonight. How am I going to focus?”
“Okay, okay,” I said, trying to think of something useful. “Okay we're fine because I’m not high or going to be high so it'll be fine,” I said, reaching out to stop his pacing. He glanced at me with a thoughtful look.
“This may be a dumb idea but I think you should eat a brownie,” Auston said after a moment.
“What! I think that’s the worst thing I could do,” I said with a laugh.
“No c’mon hear me out, it'll be fun, will both be high and plus you'll be more relaxed when you're high,” Auston said as he cut a brownie out for me. Shaking my head I took it from his hand and looked down at it.
“More relaxed when I’m high?” I questioned putting my hand on my hip. His facial expression changed to an ‘oh shit’ face as he went to correct himself.
“I just mean that you tend to get nervous when you meet strangers. This will help you relax more,” he clarified.
“I guess it would be more fun to both be high,” I agreed, going to take a bite.
“Steph and Mitch will be here in fifteen minutes,” Auston said after he looked down at his phone. We had decided to take a limo to the red carpet together.
“Okay I just need to go grab my purse,” I told him, turning around to make my way back to our bedroom. When I made it over to where I kept my purses I looked through the one I wanted and added the different things I thought I might need. Eyedrops, money, lipstick and my ID. Double checking to make sure I had everything I made my way back out to the kitchen to the front door so I could slip my heels on.
“This is going to be one interesting night,” I told Auston as I pulled on my long coat that Auston was holding out for me.
“Thank you,” I smiled at him before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. He smiled against my lips as he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close.
“You look so beautiful babe,” he murmured as he pulled away. I blushed as I placed my hands on his chest and grabbed on to his suit jacket.
“And you look so handsome,” I told him softly. His ringer went off causing me to pull away completely so that he could check his phone.
“They are here, let's go down,” he mumbled, reaching out for the door. I walked over to where we kept Felix treats and grabbed one out to give to him. I then followed Auston out of the apartment and waited for him to lock the door.
“Is Freddie coming in the limo with us?” I asked as I pulled my phone out of my purse to see if I had any messages.
“Yeah I texted him he'll meet us at the limo,” he reassured me, wrapping his arm around me and leading me to the elevator. Auston stepped in and I stood close to him so that he was slightly behind me. As we began our descent the elevator stopped three floors below us and a man around our age walked onto the elevator. He very obviously checked me out causing Auston to pull me in close so that my back was against his chest and he was hugging me from behind.
“You guys on your way to the Leaf’s Gala?” he asked, causing the two of us to look towards him.
“Yeah man can’t be late y’know,” Auston answered him. The man nodded his head as he pulled his hands out of his pockets.
“I got a ticket last minute with some of my buddies. I’m pretty pumped,” he told us. I gave him a soft smile assuming he was a fan while Auston nodded his head.
“Yeah it’ll be great.”
As the guy went to respond the elevator doors opened arriving at our floor. Auston sent a wave and a see ya to the dude before leading me out of the elevator and over to the limo. He opened the door and let me in first before crawling in after me.
“Hi guys,” I smiled as I slipped into a seat next to Freddie and across from Steph and Mitch.
“Hey nice of you two to finally show up,” Freddie teased with a grin, causing us all to let out a laugh.
“Shut up, we were waiting on the elevator,” Auston said as he leaned back into his seat.
“Excuses Tony,” Mitch called out as he popped a champagne bottle. I let out a little squeal, surprised at the noise and everyone started laughing. I flushed red as I looked down at my phone.
“I heard the two of you are incharge of bartending tonight,” Steph said as she held her glass out to Mitch so that he would fill it. When he finished filling her he poured one for me and handed it over before moving onto the boys.
“Yeah so whenever you have a free moment come visit us. We're not supposed to leave the bar,” I told them.
“Mitch and I are incharge of the tickets. We have to walk around and try to sell them to people so I will definitely be coming by the bar,” she grinned at me.
“What about you FredEx, what do they have you doing?” Auston asked as he placed his hand on my thigh.
“I’m helping with the auction,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders. “I waited too long to sign up so they just told me what to do,” he continued. Auston had thankfully signed up right when the list came out and had gotten one of the best things we could do.
“Well cheers to the annual Leafs gala night. Hopefully this isn't just one big snooze fest,” Mitch said as he raised his glass in a cheer. I smiled as I glanced at Auston and raised my glass with them.
“Amelia, you look lovely,” Arnye said as she pulled me into a hug. I smiled as I hugged her back.
“You do too,” I responded as we pulled apart. It was true Arnye was wearing a tight yellow dress with her hair pulled up and she looked absolutely stunning.
“Thank you so much for volunteering to bartend tonight. We have everything set up and there is a book on the counter that explains how to make any of the drinks if you are struggling,” she told us once she gained both of our attention.
“Thank you,” I smiled as I made my way around the corner to look at the book that they had provided. Auston slipped up behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Those look complicated,” Auston mumbled. I let out a giggle as I nodded my head.
“Yeah they do.”
“We got this,” Auston said, rubbing his hand up and down my back. I leaned into his touch as I felt myself relax. I straightened myself as I noticed someone starting to make their way to the bar.
“Hi, can I just have a Molson and whatever red wine you guys have.” A woman who looked to be around ten years older than us ordered. I nodded my head as I moved over to the red wines and picked a random one for her. Auston grabbed the beer and took the cap off before setting it infront of her.
“Thank you,” she smiled as she placed a tip in the bowl resting on the counter. All the tips tonight we're going to be donated to different charities.
“Our first tip babe. How’d we do?” Auston asked as he walked over to grab the money from the bowl. I reached out and slapped his hand away.
“No, not our money,” I reminded him.
“Well she’s a cheap ass anyway. Only tipped us two dollars, the bar was free, could have spared more then two bucks,” he mumbled as he looked back towards me. I let out a snort as I shook my head at him.
“Not everyone is as rich as you,” I joked as I reached out to poke him in the stomach.
“I-” Auston went to say but was cut off by another person at the bar.
“Woah your Auston Matthews,” the man fan said excitedly.
“Yeah man, how's it going?” Auston asked as he let out a laugh at his reaction.
“Great, super great. I’m talking to Auston Matthews,” I let out a loud laugh causing my eyes to widen as I threw my hand up to cover my mouth.
“Yeah, is there anything I can get for you to drink?” Auston asked as he raised his hand to rub at his neck.
“Right. Sorry. Just a molson,” he answered. I turned to the fridge and grabbed one out, setting it on the counter in front of him. He sent me a quick smile before turning his heart eyes back to Auston.
“You're just my favorite player so this is a bit surreal,” he continued when he glanced back at Auston. Another person approached the bar so I let the two of them talk as I took the ladies order and started making a cocktail. I had to turn to the book a few times because I wasn't sure how to make it. I finished pretty quickly though and we were once again alone at the bar.
“That guy tipped fifty bucks,” Auston told me as he leaned back against the counter. I let out a low whistle.
“Wow,” I glanced over to where I could see Steph and Mitch having a conversation with some really old men causing me to send her a smirk. She caught my eye and sent me a help look.
“I'm high as shit,” Auston said, causing me to whip my gaze back to him.
“Seriously these are some of your strongest edibles yet,” he praised. I did a little thank you curtsy as I let out a giggle.
“I know,” I leaned closer so that I wouldn’t have to speak louder.
“I used extra,” he went to respond but before he could someone approached the bar.
Auston helped while I looked around the ballroom that we had rented for the event. Auston’s teammates were spread all around the room talking to different people. My eyes stopped as they landed on Willy who was in the middle of chatting up a girl from the looks of it.
“Auston,” I called out when he was done helping the person. He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow and I pointed to where Willy was.
“He’s chatting up that girl,” I told him with a laugh. He glanced over before turning back to me.
“How do you know what Willy looks like when he’s chatting up a girl?” he asked once he was looking at me.
“Because he chats me up all the time,” I teased back as I turned to help the lady that had just approached the bar.
“Hi what can I get for you?” I sent her my best smile as I stood in front of her. She glanced around for a second before leaning.
“Two lemon drop shots please,” she asked, pulling her wallet out.
“Oh those are my favorite,” I told her as I started making them. She sent me a small smile.
“My boyfriend dragged me here and we’ve talked to so many people I feel like I’m starting to lose it,” she told me as she reached out for the one I placed in front of her. She quickly knocked it back.
“Oh I feel you, this is my second time at the Gala, it can be tiring how many different people you meet,” I smiled reassuringly at her as I placed the second shot in front of her.
“It'll get better with the alcohol,” I promised her. She let out a loud laugh as she took the shot.
“Thank you, I might be back for more later,” she told me before leaving a tip and making her way back to her most likely. I went to turn to talk to Auston but he was making drinks and talking to someone. I stood leaning against the counter until a guy around my age approached the bar.
“Hey can I get two Molsons,” he smiled as he leaned his arms against the counter.
“You're the girl from the elevator,” he said after I turned toward the fridge to grab the beer out.
“Yeah I guess I am,” I turned back to him and gave him a shy, uncomfortable smile when I noticed he was checking me out.
“It’s crazy I’ve never seen you around in the building before,” he said as he took a sip of his beer.
“Yeah I guess so,” I said even though I was thinking the opposite. It was a huge building. I still hadn’t even met our neighbors.
“We should-” he started to say but was cut off by his friend approaching him and pulling on his arm. The guy sent me a smile before leaving with his friend.
“Miss Amelia Matthews,” Willy joked as he approached the counter. I giggled as I shook my head at Willy.
“That’s not my last name Nylander,” I rested my hands on the bar.
“Whatever it will be someday,” he tisked. He reached his hand out and pulled a pretty redhead to the bar counter.
“This is Elizabeth,” he introduced us. I gave her a soft smile.
“Hi I’m Amelia,” I introduced myself. She gave me a shy smile as she greeted us.
“You guys making any fancy drinks?” Willy asked with a grin.
“Not for you,” I told him as I reached out for the book and set it in front of him. He let out a laugh before reaching for the book and flipping through it. When the both of them had picked out a drink I started making them. I made Elizabeth's first and then when I started working on Willy’s Auston joined us.
“I couldn’t get that dude to leave,”
“Jesus woman,” Willy said as he watched me pour the shot’s in, I may have put more than it called for whoops.
“Sorry,” I mumbled before handing his drink over to him. He took a hesitant sip.
“It’s actually really good,” he mumbled.
“That’s because my baby makes the best drinks,” Auston said, wrapping his arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I giggled, leaning into Auston and raising my hand to cover my blushing face. I didn’t mind when Auston called me babe in front of other people but I always felt like, baby was too intimate for other people to hear.
“Someone’s coming,” I told Auston, pointing to the older man that was coming towards us. He gave me a sad look before making his way over to greet the old man.
“You really do have him wrapped around your finger,” Mo said when he approached the bar with Tessa. He gave Willy a bro hug while I said hi to Tessa.
“How’s it been?” Tessa asked me as she sat down on one of the stools.
“Pretty good so far,” I shrugged as I grabbed a drink for Mo and Tessa. As I went to add more I was beckoned over by the guy from earlier.
“Hi, what can I do for you?” I asked politely.
“Just another beer please,” he said smiling. I reached out and grabbed one, setting it down in front of him.
“Aww that's cute you remembered my order,” he grinned at me.
“You were holding your empty bottle,” I told him pointing to it. He glanced at it before looking at me.
“Has anyone told you that you look really beautiful?” he questioned after he took a sip from his new bottle.
“Yeah” I started to say but was cut off by a lady speaking up.
“Get to the back of the line if you want to flirt,” she yelled at him, causing me to let out a light laugh at her attitude.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the older lady as he walked away. She let out a laugh as she nodded her head. I made her drink quickly and then turned to face Auston who was leaning against the counter.
“How’s it going?” I asked him as I made my way closer to him so I could wrap my hand around his waist. I was starting to get tired from all the talking I had done in the last two hours. I was starting to come down from my high as well so I was ready to go to bed. I could tell from the way that Auston slouched against me he was also starting to come down from his high.
“Honestly when I thought about it I never thought we’d still be here when we started coming down from the high,” Auston mumbled as he leaned his lips against the side of my face.
“Hi,” I heard someone call out, causing Auston to pull away from me to help the man at the bar. I pulled my phone out to check and see I had a text from Steph asking if we wanted to get food after.
“Hey,” I heard from in front of me, causing me to look up and see the guy who had been checking me out from earlier.
“Hello,” I responded, tucking my phone under the counter.
“What are your plans after this?” he questioned as he sat down. I took a step back and raised my eyebrow.
“Going home. Can I get you anything to drink?” I asked.
“We could go and get drinks after,” he suggested as he nodded to another beer. I glanced over at Auston who was still engrossed in his conversation with the man from a few minutes ago.
“Oh um I have a boyfriend so no thank you,” I answered as I grabbed the beer out of the fridge and set it in front of him. His smile dimmed as he looked at me.
“You didn’t say,” he said as he picked his beer up.
“Well you saw me with him earlier and he’s literally right there so I didn’t think I had to,” I said pointing to Auston, who had glanced over at us slightly confused as to what was going on.
“Well you should have said something,” he said, his voice coming out slightly harsh. I flinched back and Auston quickly made his way over.
“Hey is everything alright over here?” he asked, placing his hand on the counter to hold him up.
“Yeah everythings fine.”
“Great. Is there anything we can do for you?” Auston asked, wrapping his other arm around me and pulling me in closer.
“Man nah It’s nice to meet you I’m Leon,” he said holding his hand out for Auston to shake. Auston glanced at me before reaching out and shaking his hand.
“I’m Auston,” he gave him a small smile as he reached out to shake his hand.
“I see you’ve met my girlfriend Amelia,” Auston continued as they shook hands. Leon glanced at me as he bit his lip.
“Yeah I’ve met her. She’s a great girl,” he sent me a wink before picking his beer up and walking away from the bar.
“Who was that?” he asked, his eyes following after him.
“He’d been flirting with me all night,” I told him truthfully.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders as I leaned against him.
“It wasn't a big deal and you were literally right here,” I reminded him. He glanced at me worriedly before pulling away to pull the tips out. He started putting the money in a pile and sorting it.
“Do you need any help?” I asked, walking over. He shook his head no as he sorted it all into different piles
“No but did you want to do food with Steph and Mitch or just go home?” he asked when he finished counting the money.
“Up to you,” I told him. He glanced up from where he had just put the money into an envelope and grabbed my hand.
“Let’s go home. I’m exhausted,”
Auston wrapped his arm around my waist as he dragged me into the elevator. We had taken an uber home and I had fallen asleep during the ride. Auston had dragged me along as I tried to keep my eyes. We walked into the elevator and as the doors were about to close Leon from the bar slipped into the elevator with us.
“Oh funny running into you here,” Leon said as he took in the sight of the two of us. Auston’s grip on me tightened as he pulled me closer to him.
“Not really we live here,” Auston mumbled. Leon glanced at the two of us as he shook his head.
“You never said you had a boyfriend,” he said, turning his gaze to me.
“We talked for like two minutes,” I reminded him. He shook his head as we arrived at his floor. He gave us one last look before making his way off the elevator.
“We need to move,” Ausston mumbled against my ear once the door shut. I let out a laugh as I leaned my head back against his shoulder so I could look at his face.
“Okay when?” I leaned up and pressed a kiss to his chin.
The elevator door opened to our floor and we made our way to our apartment. Auston unlocked the door pushing it open so that I could walk in first. Felix greeted us excitedly as we walked into the apartment.
“Auston you should take him out,” I told him as I grabbed his leash and clipped it on, leaving Auston with no choice but to take him out.
“Alright fine I’ll be back soon.”
Once Auston left the apartment with Felix I made my way into our bedroom to get ready for the night. I grabbed one of Auston’s sweatshirts and pulled it on. I then brushed my teeth and took my makeup off before making my way back into the bedroom. I had been crashing from the edibles for awhile now and they were about to take me out.
I made my way back into mine and Austons room, turning off the main light and turning on the fairy lights that I had set up around the room. I cuddled up into the blanket before reaching over to the remote and turning the tv on. I finally clicked on The 100 and waited for Auston to come back from his walk.
“Hey,” he called out as he made his way into the room and over to the bathroom.
“That guy tonight, was he flirting with you all night?” he asked, leaning against the wall. I shrugged my shoulders as I sat up in bed.
“Kind of he came up to the bar a few times but it was honestly just making me a bit uncomfortable,” I admitted as I plugged my phone into the charger. I loaded up Hay Day on my phone as he started talking again.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on if it was making you uncomfortable?” he asked, walking over to the bed. He sat down and then pulled his shirt off so he was in just his boxers.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal. Plus I was pretty high and I didn’t realize he was flirting at first,” I said. He leaned closer and placed his hand on my cheek.
“It’s a big deal if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” I told him, cuddling closer to him.
“Alright let’s get some sleep, we can talk about it more tomorrow,” he said, rubbing my back before climbing into the bed next to me. He spooned me behind pulling me in close against his chest.
“I love you babe,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck. I smiled as I felt his lips press against my neck.
“I love you too, night,” I mumbled back.
Good Luck to the Leafs Tonight!!
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OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN THE AGILE X OC | CHAPTER FOUR
Summary: Eldrid Brynjardottir is born a storm. Her rage is a terryfing hurricane that follows every slaver. In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she soon gains a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Eldrid soon finds her way to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is in search of his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever. When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid’s wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can’t turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what the gods had intended to happen all along. DESTINY IS ALL.
Author’s note: Chapter four is here! This is one has gotta be my favorite one yet. Lots of stuff is happening and I really hope you guys enjoy it!
Tag List: @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @lauwrite1225 @magravenwrites @emilyhufflepufftlk
Warnings: Typical The Last Kingdom themes
Word Count: 2497
Of Storm And Siege Masterlist
✧. ⋆ 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒕, 𝒔𝒆𝒂, 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔
A SHOUT LEFT HER LIPS as the clang of steel meeting steel echoed through the camp. The men cheered and the sound was like a wave breaking against her bones. She couldn't help but grin at her opponent as he tried to gather his balance. Young Ragnar had challenged her to a friendly competition to test her skills with a sword. Soon, however, the entire encampment had gathered around to watch. Some were cheering for their Lady, while others encouraged Ragnar. She had spotted Bjorn standing at the sidelines with Kara at his side, the two of them exchanging bets as they watched their friends test each other's skill.
She was no longer the little girl who'd climbed to sit on top of Ragnar's shoulders. She had learned her way with a sword and did not fear to show him that. He had been surprised by her skills at first but had soon managed to regain himself. Eldrid had lost track of time as they exchanged blows. At times it seemed like he might win, only for the battle to turn around in her favor seconds later.
Autumn and winter came and went while they had tried to find Sverri but every path came to a dead end. Eventually they’d made the choice to set up camp for the winter and try again to find the slaver in the spring. Ragnar had tried his hardest to keep searching but with the days growing colder and the snow blocking the main roads, they had been forced to set up camp and built shelters. Eldrid understood the Dane's pain. She too wanted nothing more than to find her family. It’d been strange to see the roles reversed, with her pleading for rest for the men while Ragnar endlessly tried to find information that might help them. It’d almost made her pity the burden placed on her brother’s shoulders all these years when he tried to keep her in check.
To distract himself from the thought of having failed his brother, Ragnar tried to keep busy with playing games, holding tournaments and drinking until his legs could no longer hold him. And now, as the days slowly grew warmer again, he had dared to challenge the Lady of Death herself. But they were very evenly matched and both were growing tired of the seemingly endless fight. However, just as Ragnar readied himself to attack her once again, she finally saw her opening. He had forgotten to protect his left side and so she brought her leg up and kicked him against his thigh. He tumbled down and she was on top of him within seconds, pressing her blade against his throat.
For a moment he lay there, catching his breath while the crowd stayed silent. Then a booming laugh left his lips and the men surrounding them broke out into loud cheers.
Eldrid grinned at him and removed her sword from his throat, then got back to her feet and offered him her hand, helping him stand up again.
"You are quite the warrior, Lady Eldrid," Ragnar said, a wide smile on his face.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Or maybe you're just getting old."
Her men broke out into laughter while Ragnar faked a wounded expression. He pointed his finger at her. "Well, this old man can still drink.' He turned to the crowd and held his hands high. 'Bring on the ale!" Another loud cheer erupted through the encampment.
"My Lady!" Beneath the loud cheers of the men, Eldrid caught a voice desperately trying to get her attention. "Lady Eldrid!"
Her eyes found Brør, making his way through the crowd, a man she'd put on watch near one of the beaches she suspected Sverri might land if he were to make his way back to England. She hit Ragnar on his shoulder to gain his attention and he followed her as she made her way over to him. His face was red, as though he had made haste to reach them.
"Speak," she ordered as soon as she reached him.
"A ship is making harbor on the beach. They have slaves aboard," Brør said as he tried to catch his breath.
Her gaze flickered to Ragnar, whose features had hardened. "Could it be Sverri?" She questioned.
"Let's find out," the Dane spoke before turning to his men. "No more Ale! We prepare to make our way to battle! I want every man on his horse!”
Eldrid made her way through the dispersing crowd towards her tent. She was already wearing her armor and sword from the sparring session earlier, all she needed were a few more of her knives, which she hid in multiple layers of her leather armor. Lastly she put on her cloak before heading outside, towards the stables.
Hild was waiting for her, holding the reins of her horse ready. The two weren’t exactly friends, but over the months they spent together an understanding had grown between them. Two women having to prove themselves worthy among men created a bond of understanding, grown from the silent glances exchanged whenever another cock measuring contest took place.
Eldrid nodded at her, taking the reins in her own hands before climbing into the saddle. She threw a look over her shoulder, watching as her men stood ready behind her. Ragnar directed his horse next to hers, the two exchanging a look. This could be it, the moment he’d find his brother again, something she’d dreamed of for years now. She inhaled deeply and gestured at him to give the signal.
“We ride!” He shouted and he wasn’t even finished before Eldrid had spurred on her horse.
They rode through the green landscape towards the beach. After having spent most of the winter here, Eldrid knew the lands like the back of her own hand. She led their man over small roads and through green fields. Her heart was beating like a war drum in her chest. It was possible the slaver who Brør had spotted wasn’t even Sverri, they had after all no idea what the Dane looked like. But if Jonis had spoken the truth all those months ago, Sverri would be back here sooner or later and she refused to let him escape.
As they approached the dunes, Ragnar lifted his hand, making their group come to a halt. “We need to be sure, or word of our intentions will spread and Sverri will never show himself,” Ragnar said.
Eldrid nodded. “Then let’s make sure.” She got down from her horse, watching as Ragnar did the same. Together they made their way up the hill, staying low in the high grass surrounding them. Crawling forward on her arms, she managed a look over the hill, watching the camp that was set up before them. Tents were scattered around the sandy hills, a ship lying anchored in the sea. A row of men, slaves, were standing by one of the tents. Even from this distance she could see their bones through their skin and it made fury flare up inside of her.
In front of the slaves stood a few men who looked like warriors, not like the usual buyers who were present at these auctions. One of them was wearing an eye patch, looking very pleased with himself as he talked to one of the slaves.
Beside her, Ragnar tensed, his hand going to his sword as he watched the scene unfold. “One-eyed Sven,” he growled beneath his breath.
Her eyes went back to the Dane as he challenged one of the slaves, handing him a sword. She had heard stories of Sven Kjartansson and his father Kjartan the Cruel. How they bullied, plundered and dishonored their people. She also heard the story of how Kjartan was banished, when Sven had looked at Thyra Ragnarsdottir’s nakedness. And as her eyes went back to Thyra’s brother beside her, she could see him trembling with the rage of those memories.
The slave challenged by Sven the One Eye stumbled forwards with the sword in his hand. But he had no strength left to even do as little as stand and he fell before he could attempt to land a strike. As he fell, they caught a glimpse of his face and Ragnar was on his feet immediately, running back to his horse. Judging by the fury on his face, Eldrid had no doubt that they had, at last, found Uhtred Ragnarsson. She got back on her feet and ran towards her own horse, climbing back into the saddle as fast as she could.
Ragnar lifted his sword as a battle cry filled with an earth-shattering rage left his lips. He urged their men forward, the heavy fall of hooves thundering in the sky as they broke out into the clearing. Eldrid had taken her own sword in her hand, screaming as she charged at one of the slavers, striking him down before he could even think about running away.
In the distance she could see Sven’s men attempting to escape and she reached for one of her knives. She held the blade between her fingers, drew back her arm and released the blade, watching as it turned end over end in the air before finally finding its target. Her knife landed in one of the escaping men's neck, bringing him down.
Another one was killed by an arrow fired by one of her men while Steapa brought down his axe into the belly of another. Her eyes searched the clearing for any foes left, before finally landing on a man in a blue tunic, attempting to make an escape towards the boat still anchored in the sea.
“Sverri,” she growled, jumping down from her horse. She sprinted across the clearing and as she reached the slaver, she kicked him against the legs, bringing him down on his knees. With a shout of a rage she lifted her sword, revelling in the fear flashing through his eyes, but instead of killing him, she merely pressed the blade against his throat, holding him captive as she watched Ragnar getting down from his own horse. Every vein inside of her screamed to simply slit Sverri’s throat and it took her every bit of willpower to remind herself that she needed him alive, he might be the last person who knew where her mother and sister were.
“Uhtred?” Ragnar called out as he walked up towards the slaves, who had been watching with wide eyes as the battle came to a quick end. “Uhtred!” He came to a halt in front of the slave who was still seated on the ground. His hair was tangled and dirty, his face covered in burns and cuts. But his eyes looked the worst of all, void of life and strength, instead filled with ghosts of horrors that had haunted him during his time in captivity.
Carefully, as though approaching a rapid animal, Ragnar knelt down in front of his brother. “It’s me,” he spoke softly. “It’s me, Ragnar.”
For a moment Uhtred simply looked at Ragnar, as though he couldn’t truly see him standing before him. Until finally recognition flashed across his face. “Ragnar?” He mumbled, his voice breaking as he let himself fall into his brother’s embrace. He clung to his brother’s arm as he sobbed. The sound cut through her bones and made her wince from the raw pain that echoed through the whimpers.
Ragnar held him tightly, a pained smile on his features. “Did you believe we would abandon you?” He questioned then he gestured towards the rest of his men. “Free them all.”
Several men walked forward and broke the chains holding the slaves in place. Eldrid turned away, focusing her attention on the man she was holding captive. “Do you know who I am?” She hissed, her tone venomous.
Sverri nodded, his entire body trembling. “I-I do, my Lady. I can tell you where your family is,” he muttered. “But you must swear to spare me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but movement caught her attention. She lifted her gaze and watched one of the slaves as he came to a halt few feet away from her, his eyes focused on the slaver in her grasp, utter hatred burning in his eyes. For a second she watched him, his dark hair and scarred face before moving her gaze back to Sverri.
“Tell me where my family is,” she snarled, pressing the blade closer against his skin.
"Swear you will not harm me,” Sverri replied, resistance burning in his eyes.
She inhaled sharply to calm herself and then answered: “I swear to any god willing to listen to your plea that I will not harm you. Now speak."
For a moment the man stared at her, as though not quite believing her words but when her gaze darkened with impatience he quickly opened his mouth. “Kjartan, my lady. Your mother and sister were bought by Kjartan.”
Her heart hammered in her chest at the mention of the name. Finally, after years of searching she had a solid lead on where her family had been taken to. As it turned out, Ragnar the Fearless’ children weren’t the only ones who had a blood feud with Kjartan. “You swear this is the truth?” She questioned.
“I swear, my Lady,” Sverri spoke, his eyes holding no trace of a lie.
She lowered her sword. “Good.” Then she turned around and walked up to the slave, holding out her sword to him. “He is yours to kill.”
“My lady you swore!” Sverri cried out as the man before her took the hilt in his hands.
She turned around to the slaver. “I swore I would do you no harm, I said nothing of this man.”
Sverri got back on his feet, attempting to run away, but the dark haired man was faster, placing the tip of the sword against the Dane's throat. His entire body was trembling, tears of rage and the taste of freedom crawling down his cheeks. Then he pushed the blade forward, skewering Sverri’s throat.
“Pull,” he snarled.
With the splattering of crimson blood, he pulled the sword back and Sverri dropped to the ground, dead. A shaking laugh left his lips as he turned in a small circle, looking around as though he had woken up from a horrible nightmare. Finally free.
Then his eyes fell on Eldrid and he slowly walked over, holding out her sword. She reached out and took it, holding his gaze as he seemed to search for words. “I suppose I should thank you.” He was irish, she realized then, a long way from home.
“He deserved to fall at the hands of those he wronged,” she replied. Then she turned around and made her way over towards her brother, fire burning in her heart at the sight of this new path laid out before her.
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Dynocation Species Auctioned Adopts
Info on the ownership can be found below!
The Dynocation Masterlist: https://dynocation.neocities.org/dynolist/masterlist.html
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Archangel: For the Good of the Public, Part 2
Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry
Part in Series: 2 of 3 (Part 1 | Masterlist)
Word Count: 3,900
Premise: She’s an assassin--one of the finest in the world--which gives her the right to ask for vast sums of money to do what she does so well. But every so often there comes a job she’s happy to do for free.
Warning(s): blood, violence
Seza monitored Teller from a distance as he and Cross conversed with representatives of the Sen Guren Yakuza clan behind the warehouses at the docks. She kept her hands together in front of her lap as she watched them, mindful of the armed men from both factions on either side of her. She knew the conversation could turn violent with a single utterance; she was unarmed, and every scenario she played out in her head ended in her injury or death.
She mused to herself how much more useful a blade would be than a gun in the hypothetical close quarters combat likely to erupt at any moment, and found herself eyeing the sheathed shōtō sword the Yakuza leader carried in his left hand like a scepter.
“And that’s it, Mr. Takahashi,” Teller concluded. “From here the incoming merchandise can go anywhere in the Tri-State area. You name it, we can move it.”
Takahashi’s translator, a young lady dressed in a modest suit, relayed Teller’s message, and forwarded his response. “Takahashi-sama agrees with you on this locale’s advantages,” she began, “but advises you to be cautious. He says the waterfront is very often watched by both allies and enemies.”
Cross nodded. “Mr. Teller has a man on the inside at the docks. That’s not an issue.”
The translator relayed the message and Takahashi—a bespectacled older gentleman with a full head of jet black hair dressed in a black suit, shirt, and tie—replied with an offer. “Takahashi-sama suggests a trade, to test this assertion of yours. You sell women into prostitution, yes?”
“Among other things…”
“Four dozen, then. To be paid for in full.”
Teller stopped himself from laughing aloud. “And where the bloody hell am I supposed to find forty-eight women for you—?”
Cross stepped between them, leaning into Teller. Seza held her breath as the others tensed up.
“See that right there?” Cross whispered, “You don’t do that, not to these people. I’m putting my hide on the line doing you this favor, buying your way out of your local-leg-breaking garbage, do not screw this up for either of us..!”
Teller exhaled and rolled his eyes, spreading his arms and backing away.
Cross took a moment to compose himself then turned to face Takahashi and his translator. “Takahashi-sama,” he entreated. “My associate here meant no disrespect, it’s just that the current inventory is spoken for. At the moment we can only spare…” he looked over his shoulder at Teller.
“Ten women,” he concluded. “We can notify you as we replenish our stock.”
Takahashi’s translator relayed the message, and Takahashi himself chuckled venomously. He replied for the other men to hear him. “Then I will take what you have.” He took slow, measured steps toward the two men, resting his free hand on the sword’s hilt as he approached. “You will supply me with what you can spare, and you will receive payment when all forty-eight have been delivered.”
Cross stopped Teller with a hand gesture. “Not a problem,” he said.
Takahashi smirked, then signaled his men to leave their posts and head to their respective vehicles. “Payment in full upon completion of the order,” he repeated, holding his hand out for Teller. “With interest of course. A good faith gesture.”
Teller took Takahashi’s hand and shook it. “Agreed.”
Takahashi released Teller’s hand and uttered something in Japanese. “We will be in contact to arrange for your first delivery,” his translator said. He gave Cross and Teller a respectful nod then turned and headed for the back seat of his car; his translator followed, entering through the front passenger side door. After a few moments, the fleet of cars took off, leaving Teller and his associates behind at the docks.
Seza finally let herself breathe normally after what seemed like an eternity.
“Why have a translator if he speaks English just fine?” Cross wondered, reaching into his inside coat pocket for a cigar.
“For when he can afford for what he has to say to be lost in translation,” Cross replied. He retrieved a butane torch from his coat pocket and held it out for Cross, his thumb resting on the trigger. “You know,” he added, pulling the torch away from Teller before lighting his cigar, “I just realized something. You have a shitload of bodies on deck—the sixty or so ready to be auctioned off at Brimstone tomorrow, plus the ten extra you said you had ready to move, and I’m betting there’s more. Which adds up,” he continued as he turned to face the other man, “to an absolute metric fuck-ton of skin. And as your little temper tantrum in front of my associate has made crystal clear to me, I can’t trust you to maintain them.” He pocketed his lighter again. “I will be managing them from here on. They’re mine now. So tell me, Christopher,” he added with a wry smirk. “Where are my bodies at?”
Cross let Teller and a few of his associates lead him through the warehouse where the kidnapped men and women were kept, inspecting their quarters and ensuring their humane conditions. Seza studied each of their faces, looking for Samantha Calloway’s among them.
He motioned a door to a locked storage closet. “And what’s in there?”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Teller started, “we store our old—”
“Chris, are you serious? Open it up.”
Teller sighed to himself quietly, and signaled one of his men to unlock the door and open it. Cross was able to see inside despite the lack of ambient light, and gawked at what he saw.
There was a twin mattress in the far corner of the space, and on it sat a girl—holding her knees close to her chest and resting her head on them. She looked up at the adults as they stared back at her. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
Seza recognized Samantha’s face immediately. As did Cross. He let out a slow breath as he let his head hang. “I thought we understood each other, Chris.” He slid his hands into his coat pockets.
“Human trafficking,” Teller said. “What’s there to understand?”
“What’s there to understand..?” Cross’s frustration manifested as laughter. “Do you have any idea who that is? The people her family are connected to?”
Teller looked at each of his people in the building with them; when nobody spoke up Teller looked back at Cross and shrugged. “Some bird we picked up off the street in front of a shopping mall.”
“That’s Scarlett Marlow—yes, that Scarlett Marlow.”
Seza heard about the Marlow family out on the west coast, and was familiar with their partnership with semi-legitimate enterprises nationwide. Suddenly it made sense to her why Scarlett’s parents tried to hide their name from the public—they were connected to one of the largest criminal networks in the country. That made them targets.
“Jane,” Cross ordered, addressing Seza, “get her out of here.”
“Don’t you fucking move, Jane.”
Cross pressed his mouth into a thin line, holding back his verbal wrath as he gently shut the door to the room Scarlett was held in. “You kidnapped gangland royalty, you idiot..! If they find out you’re the one who scooped her up and sold her to the Yakuza, nobody will be able to save you—not me, not Takahashi, not one single god damn soul..!” He took a breath to compose himself again. “Do you really want to be anywhere near the heat of an international mob war?”
“You said it yourself, she’s royalty,” Chris retorted. “That means they’ll pay a premium for her. I’m not giving her back without getting something for it—”
“No.” Cross repeated. “You will open that door and take her back to her family warm and clean with a fresh set of clothes, with all her little fingers and toes still attached to her. Then you will call Karin Marlow, personally, and apologize to her for kidnapping her granddaughter, saying you had no idea who she was. Then, you will happily accept whatever punishment she dishes out, and you will thank her for it.”
Teller shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. You just told me the mother of all power plays is sitting in that room,” he said, pointing at the door behind Cross. “And if you think I’m just going to let it slip through my fingers then you can fuck right off.”
“I am the only thing between you and my friend, Christopher,” Cross said. “The only thing keeping you alive right now.”
Seza noticed Teller’s fists clench again, the same way they did back in the office on Pehle Avenue, and Teller got the same look in his eyes as before. It was obvious to everyone present that Cross was one slip of the tongue away from having the life squeezed from him, only this time there was no desk in the way to save him from the giant angry man he antagonized.
“And I am suggesting,” he continued, “that you get rid of the girl, Christopher. I’m serious… do I have to show you how serious?” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head toward Teller a little, to emphasize his point. “Again?”
Teller’s eyes narrowed as he took a step toward Cross, towering over him. “That’s twice today, Peter,” he growled. “Only twice will I, or shall I let you get away with threatening me in front of my men. And if it happens a third time I’ll break you in two…” He snapped his fingers and one of his minions quietly stepped up to lock the door behind Cross again, then slipped back behind the others. “Consider this a friendly reminder—you keep your pet psycho on a short leash,” he concluded through clenched teeth, seething. “Or I’ll fucking hang you from it..!”
With that, Teller turned and stepped away, leading his associates back to their cars waiting outside. Seza turned to follow them, shooting a glance back over her shoulder at the locked door and briefly locking eyes with Cross before eventually joining the others outside.
Cross let out an exasperated sigh, alone in the warehouse space. “Something drastic,” he conceded, slipping his hands back into his pockets. “Fuck you, Chris.” He started for the door. “Seriously... Fuck. You.”
Cross opened the rear driver-side door of his SUV, then removed his coat and threw it across the bench. He shut the door and entered the car, taking a seat behind the steering wheel and placing his head against the rest as he shut his eyes and exhaled. Finally he reached into the pocket of his coat behind him for his cell phone and dialed her number.
The woman answered in a husky, resonant voice after three rings. “What do you want, Cross?”
“Good evening to you too, Kat.”
Kat sighed on the other end of the line. “Hello, Peter,” she added sarcastically. “Nice to hear from you this evening.” She reclaimed her prior tone. “Now what the fuck do you need?”
“That friend of mine we had to discipline? It’s gotten worse, now he has to go away… I need to use the Viper again. Let him loose at Brimstone in the middle of the auction.”
“The Viper is indisposed,” she said. “Just left to clean up a cartel mess south of the border.”
“That’s not exactly a here-and-now problem, is it?”
“And yours is?”
“That friend I mentioned? I just found out he kidnapped Karin Marlow’s granddaughter, and has designs on selling her back for ransom, or worse. So yeah, it’s a here-and-now problem.”
Kat was quiet on the other end. “I see… Still, the Viper is already in play elsewhere—I can’t bring him back yet.”
“So what Special Activities strings can you pull to defuse this situation before it explodes in all of our faces, Agent Irons?”
“None,” she said. “But I may be able to arrange something, off Special Activities’ books… I just sent you a few documents. Tell me when you receive them.”
Cross pulled the phone away from his ear and put Kat on speaker. He looked at the screen until the email was visible. “Got it. What am I looking at?” he asked as he opened the correspondence.
“A dossier. Former KSK operator, current private contractor. He’s not as, enthusiastic, as the Viper but he’s done me more than a few favors. Milo Johannes Krueger—although you may know him better by his nom de guerre.”
Cross looked at the name and operations list that accompanied the photos. His eyes widened. “Archangel..!”
“Not anymore,” Kat noted. “He abandoned the alias some time ago. But make no mistake, the only thing that’s changed is what he calls himself these days.”
“How do I reach him?”
“You won’t,” she said plainly. “I’ll make the arrangements with him on your behalf.”
“You’re telling me you’re hiring Archangel for a job on my behalf and I don’t even get to meet him?” Cross jested. “When will you ever stop teasing me, Kat?”
“Maybe when you start solving your own problems,” she commented. “I just forwarded the job to Krueger—he’ll get it done. You can sleep easy tonight.”
“Oh, Kathleen, I don’t deserve you.” His grin was audible.
“No, Peter,” Kat returned. “You don’t.”
When Seza returned to the office on Pehle avenue to retrieve her car, she was given a burner phone to take calls from Chris Teller. She thanked him for it and immediately headed back to the warehouse by the water for Scarlett. She parked her car a ways from the front gate and retrieved a combat knife she kept in the center console before heading in.
She sidestepped the meager security measures in place and gained entry to the building unnoticed. Seated by the hallway opening was a lone security guard she recognized as the one who held the key to the room in which her target was being held; his ankles crossed atop the desk in front of him as he leaned back in his chair, eyes buried in the most recent Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.
As slowly and carefully as a praying mantis, Seza approached her prey from behind holding her left hand out to her side and clutching her trusted blade in her right, ready to strike at the perfect moment.
She pounced on the guard, cupping his mouth with her open left hand and reaching across his neck with her right, then pulling her hand back quickly to run the blade across his neck and open it. She backed away as the guard fell backward onto his chair, trying in vain to stop the bleeding as life quickly left him.
When the guard stopped moving and his stare went blank, Seza crouched down beside him to wipe her knife off on his clothes before returning it to its sheath, then leaned over his lifeless body to fetch the key ring clipped to his belt loop. She stood up and exited the makeshift room as she scanned each key looking for the one to the storage room.
When she arrived she examined the lock in the door, and found the key that sported the same brand name. She took a breath and slid the key into place, turning her wrist to unlock the door.
“Samantha?” she softly called.
Silence behind the door.
“Scarlett?” She slowly pulled the door open to look into the room, and her heart sank when she beheld what was inside.
Teller somehow beat her to Scarlett, having her moved from the warehouse to someplace else nobody knew. Nobody except perhaps the sentry she’d just killed not two minutes ago.
Seza cursed herself for not leaving him alive to question, then pushed the door shut and turned the key to lock it again. She looked around her at all the other closed doors, where so many other men and women were held against their will. Briefly, she considered freeing them, but decided against it and moved back toward the front of the hall. She wasn’t there for them, after all.
Careful not to step in the pool of blood under her victim, Seza returned the key ring to his belt loop before exiting the warehouse through where she entered.
Seza sat at her kitchenette table the following afternoon—her hair still wet from her shower, her towel still wrapped around her chest—studying Scarlett Marlow’s photo in the missing child poster the took from her building’s front door the day before. She figured if Chris Teller was smart, he wouldn’t have her harmed as long as it didn’t make sense to, so time was still on her side in that regard. However, she was no closer to recovering her than she was twenty-four hours ago.
At the very least, she figured, she knew who was behind her abduction. That gave her a place to start digging for information. She could question his lieutenants, or skip the literal middle men and confront Teller himself, but she knew nobody in the organization trusted her enough to be alone with her in any capacity for any length of time that mattered. She would have to get clever in finding a way to question them.
Her burner phone rang and vibrated across the table from her. She reached out to answer the call, taking a moment to reclaim her false accent before speaking. “Hello?”
“You busy tonight, Jane?” Teller’s voice in her ear.
“Uh, no,” she said “I haven’t—”
“You are now. How soon can you get here?”
Seza stood up and headed for her closet. “I’ll be there in an hour.” She ended the call and removed her towel to dry her hair and get dressed.
She arrived at the Pehle Avenue office fifty-eight minutes later in a pair of dark jeans, a form-fitting sweater, and mid-calf boots under her pea coat, and walked into the space to find Teller sporting a pale gray waistcoat and slacks with cognac colored shoes, a white shirt, and an aqua blue tie. He stood facing the wall to her right, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and pat-drying blood off his hands with a white towel.
“Right on time,” he acknowledged her. “Be a dear would you?” he added, discarding the crimson rags. “Call an ambulance for him.” He gestured what was left of another man behind him, sprawled out across the floor. “Tell ‘em he got hit by a car.”
Seza watched as two other men in the room scraped the victim up off the floor and dragged him toward the door. She caught a glimpse of his injuries—his entire face was dripping blood and swollen to a point resembling a misshapen red balloon. The bridge of his nose was split, and the cartilage was twisted thirty degrees.
She scanned the victim’s shirt as he and the other two passed her by, spotting fist-shaped blood stains on his chest and sides. She looked back and spotted several teeth on the floor where he was lying before the others carried him out.
“Sure,” Seza said in her false accent. “I’ll call it in.” She walked past Teller to his desk at the other end of the office. She picked the handset up and held it to her right ear. “Do I dial nine?”
Teller nodded, picking up a fresh towel and wiping his hands some more.
Seza called for the ambulance, reporting the falsehood as instructed. She hung the phone up after she got confirmation and looked up at Teller. “Do I even want to know what he did to deserve that?” she queried. “So I know what not to do.”
“He let one of my men die,” he said plainly. “Last night somebody broke into the warehouse where tonight’s Brimstone prizes were being kept and opened him up.” He discarded the fresh towel when it was soaked with the crimson fluid and slowly flexed his hands. “He was on watch there too, let it happen. So he paid in blood.”
“I see.” To her right she spotted a keycard and badge, and figured it belonged to the man Teller just beat within an inch of his life. Discreetly she took them from the desk top and placed them into her coat pockets. “Do you think this was Cross?”
“Nothing else makes sense,” he said. He went over to the coat rack to fetch his topcoat and a pair of leather driving gloves to cover his hands. “He sent his psycho there to spring the girl behind my back, but he fucked off when he realized she wasn’t there anymore. But I’ll deal with that after tonight,” he commented, putting on his coat and slipping on the gloves. “Takahashi called for his first installment tonight, I need you at the docks with me.”
“Of course,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk to join him at the door. “Will you be back in time for the auction at Brimstone?”
“Not for the auction,” he said, “but I’ll be heading there afterward to see my wife.”
As before, Seza watched Teller and Takahashi converse from a distance. This time a 9mm handgun rested in her inside coat pocket for added safety, and she had her arms crossed for easy access.
From what she could see, however, she wouldn’t have to use it—Teller and Takahashi seemed to close the arranged business without any animosity. They shook hands and parted ways, and Teller gestured Seza and two other men to return to the car with him.
When they arrived at Park Avenue they found—to their horror—that the entire street was illuminated by the police and EMS vehicles that occupied the stretch of road in front of the Morrow Building, blocking their access to Brimstone.
Teller stepped out of the car slowly, staring in absentminded disbelief at the building that was the crown jewel of his empire now swarming with police. It was as if he stood watching everything he built in the Tri-State area burn to ash, powerless to stop it from crumbling.
“Boss,” one of his men gently placed his hand on his shoulder. “We have to go.”
Even from this distance, he spotted the skirt his wife Maria’s cerulean blue gown drape from underneath the sheet that covered her remains as a responder rolled the gurney carrying her from the front door of the building.
“Quickly, Boss,” he said, gently shaking Teller’s arm. “Before somebody spots you.”
Teller turned and looked at the man, then at Seza. It was hard to tell in the light, but she could swear there was the faintest glimmer of grief in his eyes.
Slowly, Chris Teller walked back into the car and slumped in his seat. “Call an emergency meeting,” he croaked. “Everyone you can get a hold of.”
“You bet,” the other man said. “What do I tell them?”
“Tell ‘em we’re at war,” he snarled. “Tell ‘em to scour the Earth for Peter Cross. Tell ‘em I’ll put everyone he ever knew, worked with, or fucked, into the ground..! Tell ‘em it’s gonna get bloody..!”
(Masterlist | Part 3)
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Saved in a Flash – Part 5
Chapter Title: Something Wicked (rewrite of S01E19)
Chapter Summary: While hunting a new case in Upstate New York, Dean begins to train Hayley while Sam starts to finally open his heart a little more.
Universe: Superhero AU (Supernatural x Flash)
Characters: Hayley Allen (OFC), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Sarah
Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC, Sam Winchester x Caitlin Snow (overall series)
Rating: +18, NFSW (canon typical violence, swearing, eventual smut)
Series Warnings: Slooooooow burn (you will hate me, I’m talking no kiss before 300k), slight enemies to bffs to stupidly in love, canon rewrite with divergence, superheros & powers, dating other people, canon typical violence/angst/hurt, pining & heartfelt friendships, girl power. I’m sure there’s more…
Word Count: 11.8k
A/N: They’re all so cute in this one, eeek!
Settle in, get your favorite drink, because this is gonna be a very long ride. Hope you enjoy & Goodspeed! ⚡️😈
Feedback always makes my day, so make sure to leave some love!
Wanna be a superhero? Tags are open. Just dm me or send me an ask!
The Road So Far Series Masterlist
New Paltz, New York
Dean had spent the last six weeks training Hayley. He had started with simple combat moves, some wrestling, some MMA. She was fast but lacked coordination, and Dean knew he had a lot of work ahead of him before he would start her on weaponry. The two would still bicker a lot, but at least they didn't hate each other anymore – much to Sam's relief. It had gotten exhausting.
Hayley had helped the boys with their cases. She was most comfortable with crime scenes and research but still hoped Dean would at least let her shoot a ghost soon. The oldest Winchester had also discovered her perks: any food from any place and at any time (Big Belly Burger from her hometown was his favorite so far), digging up graves at super-speed, and reading thousands of pages of research in a few seconds.
When she wasn't hunting with the Winchesters or training with Dean, she worked in her lab at CCPD, did more training with Dr. Wells and Cisco for her speed, and had family dinners with the Wests or hung out with Mike, Caitlin, and Iris at the Blue River Bar in Central City.
Sam, on the other hand, had spent the last few weeks teaching Hayley about the lore and everything monsters while also dragging his companions across the country for hunts. He had found them a new case in upstate New York this time, where Dean had immediately located the nearest pub. Dean and Hayley had made themselves comfortable at the bar counter while the youngest Winchester had retreated to a booth with his research.
"What else did you find out?" Dean asked Hayley as they enjoyed a couple of beers. He had tried to help her figure out what happened to her mother. So far, he was still entirely clueless.
"Nothing, really. I just tried to remember everything I could from that night. There was definitely red and yellow lightning, it looked sorta like a person, and...oh, uh, the water in my aquarium was flowing in the air when I woke up that night."
"Definitely hadn't heard that one before," Dean sighed, shaking his head. Initially, he had hoped, he could help her figure it out in a week or so and send her on her way again. But she was still here, and so was he.
"Well, scientifically speaking, it could mean-," she started to muse but was quickly interrupted by Dean.
"Whoa, whoa, Speedy. We've talked about this. No science talk," Dean reprimanded her, cocking a brow.
"Fine," Hayley frowned. "Is he always like this?" she asked, gesturing at poor Sam, who was too focused on his laptop screen to have any fun. She had tried to get him out of his shell a little, and they had at least managed to have a movie night once a week. They had just finished all six parts of Star Wars yesterday. But drinking, meeting new people? Out of the question.
"Well, he was always a weirdo, but since Jessica...he definitely closed off more," Dean admitted, taking a sip from his beer. He had tried to get his little brother's mind off his girlfriend's death but to no avail. Granted, Hayley was a lot better at it than he was – his methods had always been a little questionable.
"He's not a weirdo. Stop calling him that," Hayley scolded with a chuckle, shaking her head at him.
"Fine," Dean mumbled with an eye-roll. "Ready for training tomorrow?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she laughed.
"Depends on what your plan is and how much we drink tonight," Hayley replied and drank more of her beer, which she had spiked a little with her own speedster-booze formula.
"Huh, well, I'm gonna try my luck with either one of those two ladies," Dean stated, nodding his head slightly behind him.
"Brunette with a low-cut and a blonde with a little black dress. Very cliché, Dean," she teased him.
"Says you. I know you've been checking out surfer boy by the pool table since we walked in here," Dean countered with a smirk.
"Yeah, he's got big hands," she grinned dreamily.
"Oh God," Dean huffed and banged his head against the wooden counter. Having girl talks with an actual girl was entirely new territory for him. He didn't even know how he got here; Hayley somehow had just inserted herself into his life.
"And full confession, I saw a glimpse of a tattoo."
"Welp, that's it. Full-on douchebag. Definitely your type," Dean said teasingly, and she narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
"What can I say? I like 'em stupid," she said and tilted her head at him with a devilish smile.
"Why are you looking at me when you say that?" Dean protested but didn't take her teasing seriously, chuckling all the way, and she stuck her tongue out at him. While he could live without the girl talk, Hayley was a pretty fun road companion. She'd drink with him, she'd sing with him in the Impala, she'd always get enough food, and she was a good conversationalist.
"We should check in with Sam before we continue our evening," Hayley suggested.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, c'mon, Speedy. He's fine," he argued, and Hayley threw him a look.
"C'mon, Winchester. Only takes five minutes," she said and grabbed him by his wrist, dragging him over to Sam's table.
"Hey Sam," she said softly, giving him a big comforting smile.
Sam glanced up at them, slightly annoyed. "Guys, you don't need to check up on me."
"See? Told you he's fine," Dean mumbled, earning him a jab in his rips from Hayley.
"What did you find about the case?" Hayley asked Sam, ignoring the oldest Winchester.
"Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside," Sam informed them.
"Could just be a garden variety murder, you know – not our department," Dean replied, taking a sip from his beer bottle.
"No. Dad says different," Sam stated.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked as Sam took out a map and started pointing at it.
"Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second one right here in 1945, and the third in 1970, the same M.O. as the Telescas. Their throats were slit, doors were locked from the inside. Now, so much time had passed between murders that nobody checked the pattern except Dad. He kept his eyes peeled for another one," Sam explained.
"And now we got one. All right, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up 'til first thing though, right?" Dean asked and looked expectantly at Sam. "I got two girls over there, could possibly hook you up. What do you think?"
"Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates," Sam responded grumpily.
"Yeah, you can, but you don't," Dean muttered under his breath. Hayley kicked his leg and shot him a warning look. By now, the whole world knew Sam needed to get out of his cocoon, but she wasn't sure pushing him into a bar hook-up was the right thing for him.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked his brother.
"Nothing," Dean shrugged and shared a look with Hayley. "See you tomorrow, Sammy."
Sam was up early, filled three plastic cups with disgusting motel coffee, and woke up the two dead-asleep party animals. At this point, Sam didn't know which one was worse – Dean and Hayley constantly fighting or actually getting along. He dragged them into the Impala but was unsuccessful in convincing them to come with him into the Telesca's home. The house was already emptied by moving companies, and after a furrow EMF sweep, he determined nothing was wrong with the building.
He returned to Dean and Hayley and informed them of his findings. The family's history was clean, so the three's theory fell on a cursed object. They located the Telesca's furniture to an auction house near the country club in town. As they walked across the parking lot, Hayley glanced at the expensive cars and some folks of the upper-class mingling in fancy clothes. She knew immediately the three of them were out of place. She was wearing a plaid skirt and her scarlet leather jacket, Dean was wearing the usual flannel under his indigo jacket, and Sam was pretty much his twin in olive.
The floors and walls inside the building were shining white marble with hints of gold, classical violin music was playing in the background, and antique furniture and paintings were neatly displayed. Dean swiftly grabbed a handful of finger food as a waiter passed him with a tray.
"Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for wasps if you ask me," Dean whispered to them, taking even more food from a buffet table behind him.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" An older man approached them, dressed in a black suit and tie. He looked displeased at the sight of the three, and it reminded Hayley a lot of her ex-boyfriend's mother. That woman had also been quite the snobby treat.
Dean just looked the guy up and down before he stuffed his mouth with more food, not giving a damn about the fanciness around him. He didn't care to fit in with these people.
"I'd like some champagne, please," Dean retorted, mimicking a posh voice, and Hayley chortled next to him.
"He's not a waiter," Sam hissed and looked at his brother sharply. Dean was like a wild animal sometimes that hadn't been housebroken yet. Sam held out his hand to the fancy man, introducing himself, "I'm Sam Connors."
The man just kept staring at him, not taking the youngest Winchester up on his invitation for a handshake.
"That's my brother Dean and his fiancée, Hayley. We're art dealers, with Connors Limited," Sam continued, unhindered by the man's death-stare.
Dean grinned at Hayley at his little brother's introduction and planned to exploit the situation. She narrowed her ocean eyes at him before he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him. She eventually obliged to his scheme and stole some food from his hand. Her stomach had been growling the whole damn morning because Sam had forgotten to feed her.
"You are art dealers?" The man raised an eyebrow at them doubtingly.
"That's right," Sam asserted with a confident nod.
"I'm Daniel Blake. This is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list," the man replied.
"We're there, chuckles. You just need to take another look," Dean replied cockily with a full mouth. Another waiter passed him with a tray of drinks, and he swiped a glass.
"Oh, finally." Dean turned back to Mr. Blake and sniffed the flute of champagne, raising his brows before he walked away, pulling Hayley by her arm with him. Sam hastily followed them.
The brothers and Hayley then looked around the auction house and wondered about all the weird crap rich people were interested in buying. They stopped by a painting of a family, and Sam curiously took a closer look at it. The portrait showed a husband and wife and their three children – two sons and a daughter holding a doll.
"A fine example of American Primitive, wouldn't you say?"
The three turned around, surprised. The voice belonged to a beautiful young woman with dark hair tied up in a loose bun. She wore a long, elegant midnight-black dress and threw them the kindest smile as she flowed down the big spiral staircase.
What an entrance, Hayley thought. Even Dean seemed to think so as he slapped Sam's arm, starry-eyed.
"Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses," Sam replied as he glanced back at the painting. "But you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did," he smiled at her. Both Dean and Hayley stared perplexed at him.
"Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize." She curtseyed jokingly. "I'm Sarah Blake."
"I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean and his fiancée, Hayley."
"If he says that one more time, I'm gonna kick him in the groin," Hayley muttered to Dean, who was still busy stuffing food into his mouth.
"Dean, can we get you some more mini-quiche?" Sarah asked him politely with a chuckle.
"I'm good, thanks," he stated, still chewing and swallowing his last bite.
"So, can I help you with something?" Sarah asked, glancing at Sam.
"Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?"
"The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones," she replied.
"Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asked, and Hayley was now really baffled with Sam. She hadn't taken him for an art enthusiast.
"I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that," Mr. Blake replied for Sarah as he appeared behind his daughter like a looming shadow.
"You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave," he stated, irritated but too polite to show any real emotion.
"Well, we don't have to be told twice," Dean replied in his posh voice again.
"Apparently, you do," Mr. Blake emphasized and threw Dean a stern look.
"Okay. It's all right. We don't want any trouble. We'll go," Sam threw in, trying to calm the situation.
Dean cocked his eyebrows at the man before he wrapped his arm around Hayley's waist again. She groaned in annoyance as he gestured her out. Sam glanced back at Sarah as he followed the two outside, and she looked at him apologetically.
"Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?" Dean asked his little brother with a raised eyebrow as he unlocked the door to their motel room.
"Art history course. It's good for meeting girls," Sam responded, and Hayley giggled.
"It's like I don't even know you," Dean stated and shot his little brother a surprised look, shaking his head.
Hayley and Dean stopped for a moment and looked around the room, baffled. The decoration looked like it came straight from a 70s disco as a lot of silver and mirrors lined the walls, matching the mid-century modern white furniture.
"I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure someone already shot porn in here," Hayley pointed out. She felt blinded by all the shimmering silver surfaces.
"You guys were probably too drunk to notice yesterday," Sam chuckled.
Hayley and Dean shared a look before nodding, "Yeah."
Dean threw himself on one of the beds before he turned to Sam. "What was…providence?"
"Prov-e-nance," Sam corrected him. "It's a certificate of origin, like a biography."
"We can use them to check the history of the pieces. See if any of them have a freaky past," Hayley chimed in as she walked into the bathroom, unpacking some of her stuff.
"Huh. Well, we're not getting anything out of chuckles, but Sarah," Dean said and snapped his fingers at Sam with a smirk.
"Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin," Sam replied with a snigger.
"Not me," Dean responded, laughing.
"No, no, no. Pick-ups are your thing, Dean," Sam said defiantly.
"It wasn't his butt she was checking out," Hayley yelled from the bathroom.
"You hear that, Sammy?" Dean said, and the brothers exchanged a look.
"In other words, you want me to use her to get information," Sam frowned.
"Sometimes you gotta take one for the team," Dean replied simply, grinning all the way.
"Call her," Hayley agreed.
Sam had reluctantly called Sarah, and they met up in a high-class restaurant. Meanwhile, Hayley had decided to finally take a long shower after Sam had them woken up so uncomfortably in the morning and dragged them into the car without much discussion. In contrast, Dean had decided to grab some food for them, and she enjoyed being alone for once and make good use of her bathroom time. Sometimes living with the Winchesters in tight quarters felt like her mixed college dorm all over again.
When Dean came back, the water was still running, so he plopped down on the bed again, eating his burger with relish while he went through more of Sam's research. Maybe Hayley had been right all along, and pushing Sam into some bar one-night-stand was the wrong move. His little brother had been much easier to convince when it came to taking out Sarah.
He heard the water stopped running and glanced up from his books as Hayley walked out of the bathroom, only a towel wrapped around her. She looked at him like a deer in headlights, clearly not expecting him back so soon. The corners of his mouth rose to form a big smirk before an idea popped into his head.
"Hey, I thought since Sam was on a date, you and I could have some fun," Dean stated, trying to be mysterious and ambiguous on purpose. And it seemed to work – Hayley narrowed her baby-blue eyes warily at him.
"And what exactly would that be?" she asked carefully, and he chuckled.
"Get dressed. I'll tell you on the way," Dean replied, still not giving her a full answer.
She tilted her head at him suspiciously but complied either way and grabbed her oversized S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt and some black leggings from her weekend bag while Dean was already waiting in the Impala for her.
He drove them out of town until they reached the woods. He took a dirt road leading them deeper inside the forest. As Hayley watched the sea of oaks, maples, and beeches pass her by, she sincerely hoped Dean hadn't decided to kill her. In the short amount of time she had spent with the brothers, she had actually gotten quite used to her part-time life on the road. She even loved the smell of the leather in her nose when she fell asleep on the backseat of Dean's car and the soft classic rock that woke her back up from her slumber. Although she loved being alone in her apartment, sometimes it was nice having people around – especially people that understood.
Dean parked the car near a little abandoned hunter's cabin, surrounded by tall trees reaching to the clouds. He got a case of six-packs out of the trunk he had bought earlier, opened two of them, and handed one to Hayley before he grabbed a brown paper bag with empty beer bottles, which he had collected over the last week.
It was the first day of May, and the warm spring temperatures slowly changed to a familiar summer heat. Dean strolled over to a little fence post and placed several empty bottles on top of it before he joined Hayley again, who leaned casually against his Baby's trunk, sipping on her beer. He pulled his gun from behind his jeans and held it out to her. She looked up at him, confused.
"That's your idea of fun? Shooting bullets and drinking beer?" She cocked one of her eyebrows before she glanced hesitantly down at the gun in his hand. "What are we, rednecks?"
Dean smiled at her but was still patiently holding out the firearm to her, not answering.
"Dean, I was raised by a cop, and I'm a certified RSO at CCPD. I know how to shoot a gun," Hayley stated.
"You're a range master?" Dean furrowed his brow in disbelief. He knew Hayley was talented in many areas (mostly real geeky stuff) and smart as hell, but he hadn't taken her for quite the gun fanatic.
"Uh, yes. And it's not like I wanted to do it. The old one retired, and Captain Singh needed someone who he could trust and would respect the rules, keep in accordance with all the safety guidelines...I believe his exact words were 'Let the nerd do it,'" Hayley imitated the Captain's bossy tone with a laugh.
"That makes a lot more sense," Dean chuckled. "So you know how to shoot?" She nodded confidently. "Great, then prove it," he challenged her with a grin and placed his gun in her hand.
She threw him an annoyed look but handed him her beer bottle before she removed the safety, took aim, and shot three times in a matter of seconds, shattering each bottle completely.
Dean whistled lowly, nodding impressed. "Not bad," he admitted.
"Not bad?" She glanced up at him with a cocky grin, putting the safety back on and handing the weapon back to him. "I have an accuracy range of 0.2 mm. You want me to calculate that for you?"
He grimaced at her. "No, thanks. But kinda surprised a mathlete is such a good shot," he huffed.
She giggled. "Are you kidding me? Dean, I can calculate wind flags, airflow, acceleration speed, distance..." He stared, perplexed. "But I do have to say, I wasn't always this good. Having superpowers definitely made a difference."
"What do you mean? You weren't using them now."
"Uhm, I'm kinda always using them...at least in some way, shape, or form. I don't know how to explain it. I can't really control it," she stated with a shrug.
"Try," he smiled. While he wouldn't want to switch with Hayley and have any abilities ever himself, he was quite curious how her powers worked. First of all, he needed to know how they worked, so he could use it to train her properly. And secondly, he liked the way she talked about her ability – like a gift. Unlike Sam, whose powers were a curse so far, not to mention utterly useless on a daily basis.
"Well, when something's moving, especially if it's fast, my eyes kinda adjust to it. Time slows, even completely stands still sometimes, frozen. And there's this calm that washes over you. It just feels peaceful and...quiet," she smiled as her ocean eyes twinkled up at him.
"Sounds nice," he agreed softly, matching her facial expression. He could use a little peace and quiet sometimes too. "But also feels kinda lonely, right?"
She chuckled. "Well, I do spend a lot of time with you and Sam, or my family, S.T.A.R. Labs, work, friends," she listed off elements of her busy everyday life. "Sometimes quiet is good."
"Right," he nodded understandingly, knowing she had a lot on her plate. Her life had completely turned upside down when she was struck by that lightning bolt and thrown into this weird new reality. Hayley had always had something in her life, whereas he had just his father and brother. And when both of them left him, he had been completely alone, and no one cared if he lived or died. Hell, they wouldn't even have noticed until it would have been too late and he was dead in a ditch somewhere, half-eaten by a monster before Sam and his father would've gotten there. Dean never wanted to be alone, much less with his own dark thoughts. Which is why he got Sam from Stanford in the first place.
"You okay?" She tilted her head sideways, and a comforting smile appeared on her face.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He cleared his throat and took a big gulp of his beer, hoping she wouldn't notice his uncomfortableness. "So, uh, if you're such a good shot, how come you're acting all skittish out on the field?"
She bit her lip, staring down silently at green spring grass underneath her sneakers. "Well, some might argue there's still a difference between shooting an inanimate object and a living, breathing person."
"Some might agree with you," he noted, a smile appearing on his lips as he took another sip from his bottle.
"I know you don't," she sighed, glancing up at him as they leaned against the Impala, enjoying the last sun rays of the day.
"It's not that I don't. The point is, those things we hunt...they aren't people," he argued but did so in a gentle tone. If he had learned one thing about Hayley the past few weeks – that girl had a heart of gold, who couldn't even kill a spider.
"But they used to be, right? I mean, most of the lore says they are turned, so it's like a disease. And if it's a disease, there must be a cure. There's always a cure," Hayley countered in the logical manner she always did.
"Well, lore's crap. No one knows where they came from, and no one's ever found a cure. So the only way to get rid of them and protect people is to kill them."
"Look, it's not like I don't see all of that. I have no problem sending spirits to the underworld or shooting a criminal in the knee so he can't escape. But decapitating a vampire, stabbing someone in the heart, God knows what else...? It's a lot to take in," she admitted, folding her arms across her chest. She didn't want to seem weak in front of him. While they had been sort of friendly recently, Dean had given her a hard time in the beginning, and she didn't want to get kicked out again.
He was silent for a minute, thinking about his own dark memories again from past hunts. He knew it was never fun to see, especially for a civilian. He almost felt guilty he had grown so accustomed to killing monsters, he couldn't relate to normal people anymore. And Hayley had just proven once more to him that she might be even more human than him and Sam combined. Her humanity and innocence in all of this might be annoying to him most of the time, but deep inside, he knew it was also the thing that had made life a little more bearable the past few weeks. He wouldn't want to take that away from her.
"It's okay," Dean stated as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Through the lingering darkness, he could still see the surprised look on her face, and it made him chuckle.
"Really?" Hayley wrinkled her brow suspiciously.
"Really," he affirmed. "Honestly, when we started this, I figured it was more of a, uh, muscle-brain type of deal anyway."
She giggled, "I like that arrangement, Winchester."
"I mean, you're helluva good at crime scenes," he complimented her but cleared his throat quickly. "And I don't mind killing things." In fact, he had never given it much thought, even before.
"Oh, I know." She threw him a sideways glance with a chuckle. "You tried to kill me, remember?"
"Yeah, well, for what it's worth...would've been a mistake," he replied and bit his lip, taking another sip of beer a little flustered as she observed him curiously.
Sometimes their interactions confused him as the lines between bickering, bantering, bonding and straight-up flirting blurred more and more. He blamed both Hayley and Sam equally for it. Hayley, because she had allowed him to flirt with her the night they met and opened that door in the first place. And Sam, because he had basically threatened Dean not to hit on their new friend, which was idiotic as that only made it more appealing. Had his brother never heard about forbidden fruits?
And maybe it was just awkward for him because he had never hung out with a woman this much without trying to sleep with her. Hayley certainly didn't seem to feel uncomfortable at the slightest, and she was more of an expert than him when it came to collecting friends. So he mostly swallowed those tiny thoughts of naughtiness that crossed his mind every once in a while and moved on.
"So, what do you think? Wanna try bow hunting next?" Dean grinned at her.
"Uh-huh. Not gonna happen," she shook her head, laughing, and he joined in.
When Dean and Hayley made it back to the motel room, it was already past midnight. They'd figured Sam might stay out later and had occupied themselves with some poker and beers while Dean had turned on the radio of the Impala, playing soft music as they had some fun and chatted. Dean was surprised to find out she was even an excellent poker player but didn't know she could actually count cards. She planned on never telling him that, though, fearing a trip to Vegas. Dean couldn't be trusted with this sort of valuable knowledge. Besides, he had made fun one too many times of her math skills – and no one messes with her math.
They were more than baffled to find Sam already at home, studying more research at the dining table.
"Hey, where have you guys been?" He glanced up from his research at them suspiciously. He guessed they might have sought out the bar again, but frankly, he didn't fully trust his older brother alone with Hayley.
"Training. Went to the woods to shoot some bottles," Dean replied, partially truthful. He left out the other stuff on purpose, reckoning another one of Sam's lectures.
"How was your date with Sarah?" Hayley asked and smiled at the youngest Winchester.
"Uh, good. She gave me the provenances," Sam replied, and Hayley sighed, throwing him a look.
"So she just handed the providences over to you?" Dean questioned, furrowing his brow at his little brother.
"Provenances," Sam corrected him.
"Pro-ve-nan-ces?" Dean spelled out with a raised brow, and Hayley giggled.
"Yes. We went back to her place. I got a copy of the papers," Sam said casually without looking up. His date with Sarah went well even after some initial awkwardness. But all he could think about was Jessica and how he could never go back to that life again.
"Oh, so you did go to her place. And?" Hayley grinned, leaning forward curiously as she sat cross-legged on the bed.
Sam threw her a glare. Not her too, he thought.
"And nothing. That's it. I left," Sam replied swiftly.
"You didn't have to con her or do any…special favors or anything like that?" Dean wiggled his brows with a cheeky grin as he plopped down on his bed next to Hayley.
"Guys, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?" Sam said to them, annoyed, but the oldest Winchester just laughed at him.
"You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit," he suggested.
"Why?" Sam cocked an eyebrow.
"So you could take her out again," Hayley gave him a leg up. She didn't know whether Sam was purposely playing dumb or if he really was that oblivious.
"It's obvious you're into her. Even I could see that," Dean pointed out.
But Sam ignored them and stared at the papers in front of him. "Hey, I think I've got something here," he said, handing Hayley a bunch of papers.
"Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family painted 1910," she read. It looked awfully similar to that painting of the family in the auction house.
"Now compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal," Sam said, and Dean grabbed the journal to look at his father's notes.
"First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970," Dean confirmed Sam's hypothesis.
"Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month, where the Telescas bought it," the youngest Winchester finished. "So what do you think? It's haunted or cursed?"
"Either way, it's toast," Dean concluded simply.
Breaking and entering was a felony and a part of the job, Hayley probably felt the most uncomfortable with. Aside from the killing and the constant identity theft and lying. But what other choice was there when lives were at stake?
Dean parked Baby close to the auction house but far enough out of sight. The three walked the remaining distance, avoiding any unwanted attention. They managed to cross the big metal gate gracefully; Sam jumped down first, followed by Dean, who helped Hayley along like the gentleman he was. But the building itself was guarded by a heavy security system, only accessible through an entrance code.
However, Hayley cleverly figured out the security code didn't have a trial limit, so she tried all the different combinations until one worked. With a disarmed security system, the three were unhindered to roam the auction house and found the creepy painting quite fast, even without superpowers. Dean cut the image out of its frame, rolled it up before the three snuck back out of the auction house, and burned it in a field nearby.
After their successful hunt, they decided to sleep in for once before the brothers would hit the road again, and Hayley was long overdue for another work shift. In the morning, she quickly got the boys their favorite breakfast – something healthy for Sam and the opposite for Dean. But the oldest Winchester suddenly rushed out in a hurry.
"We got a problem – I can't find my wallet," Dean announced, searching the entire motel room in a panic.
"How is that my problem?" Sam asked, still calmly packing his bag.
"'Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night," Dean said, and Hayley narrowed her eyes at him skeptically, smelling another Winchester prank. Was she supposed to buy into his whole 'panicked' thing? She would have noticed if someone had left any evidence behind at that warehouse last night. It was her job to notice these things.
"You're kidding, right?" Sam asked and looked at his brother wide-eyed.
"No," Dean confirmed with a shake of his head. "It's got my prints, my ID, well, my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on," he said as he grabbed the car keys.
As suspected, Dean had only feigned his panic attack and had his wallet all along. Coincidentally, the three ran into Sarah in the auction house again, giving Sam another chance to talk to her. Hayley couldn't help but smile at Dean's ridiculously elaborate plan to get his little brother laid. After his Oscar-worthy performance and the subsequent reveal of his wallet, Dean invented a silly excuse and snuck out with Hayley, leaving Sam to his own devices with Sarah.
Sam hated his older brother at that moment. He actually liked Sarah and didn't like lying to her. But what was he supposed to say? He wasn't an art dealer but a hunter, and they had absolutely no future together?
A few minutes later, Sam stormed out of the building and joined Hayley and Dean in the parking lot. However, something else besides Sarah had caught Sam's brown eyes inside – the creepy painting was back and seemed unharmed, considering they had ripped and burned it hours before.
"I don't understand, Dean, we burned the damn thing," Sam stated, perplexed as Dean drove them back to the motel.
"Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious," Dean grunted. "All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?" He glanced at Hayley in the backseat, who only rolled her shoulders with a shake of her head.
"Okay, all right. Well, uhm, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em," Sam mused.
"Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting," Dean agreed, nodding.
The only thing in this town they could find that came close to a library was a second-hand bookstore with an easily-excitable proprietor. He was nice enough to hand the three all the books and old newspapers he could find on the Merchant family. Isaiah Merchant had slaughtered his entire family in 1912 over an alleged marital dispute before he committed suicide. He had not only slit his own throat, but those of his two sons, adopted daughter, and wife. At least, it explained the spirit's method of murder. Although the bodies had been cremated, the three were happy with their findings for now, and Hayley got a copy of the family portrait from one of the history books before they left again.
Sam was sprawled out on the bed in their motel room while Dean and Hayley were crouched over the little dining table. The boys were listening intently to her theory as she placed both pictures of the painting in front of her.
"I'm telling you guys, I'm sure of it. In the painting at the auction house, Sweeney Todd is looking down. Painting here, demonic barber's looking out. The painting has changed," Hayley stated and pointed her index finger at the father in her copy from the bookstore.
"All right, so you think that daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?" Dean questioned.
"Well yeah, it seems like it," Hayley replied with a shrug. She had no clue about ghosts or lore, but crime scenes and evidence she could do. Cases were just giant puzzles, after all.
"But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?" Sam asked, and they looked over to him on the bed.
"All right, well, if Isaiah's position changed, then maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. You know it could give us some clues," Dean suggested, and Hayley looked at him, nodding impressed.
"What, like a DaVinci Code deal?" She chuckled. He gave her a dumbfounded stare.
"I don't know. Uh…I'm still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting," he replied, and Sam and Hayley laughed. Dean got up from his chair and strolled to his bed, throwing himself onto the mattress, and crossed his arms coolly. "Which is a good thing 'cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend," he chuckled, looking at Sam.
"Dude. Enough already." Sam frowned furiously.
"What?" Dean shrugged innocently.
Hayley banged her head against the table with a frustrated sigh. The brothers shot her a quick look before returning to their oncoming fight.
"What? Ever since we got here, you've been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?" Sam scowled at his older brother.
"Well, you like her, don't you?" Dean asked, and Sam just raised his arms and eyes to the ceiling. "All right, you like her, she likes you, you're both consenting adults…," he trailed off with a smirk.
"What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave," Sam said, frustrated, the volume of his voice rising.
"Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam," Dean replied, laughing. He looked at Hayley as she slammed her head on the table once more and furrowed her brow at him.
"You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?" Sam was agitated now.
"'Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time," Hayley mumbled and bit down on her lip.
Sam spun around and stared at her in disbelief while Dean chortled on his bed. "You know, seriously Sam, this isn't about just hooking up, okay? I mean, I, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you," he argued calmly as he sat up on his bed.
Sam sighed, scratching his head. He knew Dean was right. Even Hayley agreed with his brother, and that was rare.
"And…I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that…but I would think that she would want you to be happy," Dean added softly, watching his little brother closely. Sam said there quietly, taking everything in as tears came to his eyes at the memory of Jess. "God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?"
"Yeah, I know she would," Sam replied, giving him a half-smile before he sighed heavily, "Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But...not the main part."
"What's it about?" Dean asked, but Sam looked away instead, refusing to answer. "Yeah, all right," the oldest Winchester said, knowing he had pushed too far. He laid back down on his bed with folded arms.
"Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, soooo," Hayley chimed in, glancing at Sam.
He cleared his throat before picking up his phone, and Dean shook his head with a content smile, closing his eyes.
"Sarah, hey, it's Sam. Hey, hi. Good. Good, yeah. Uhm. What about you?" Sam stammered into the phone.
Dean opened one eye again, watching his little brother with a smirk.
"Yeah, good, good, really good," Sam repeated nervously into the speaker.
"Smooth," Dean whispered teasingly, and Sam glared at him.
To his dismay, Sarah informed Sam the auction house had sold the painting, and the three moved quickly before Isaiah's spirit could claim another victim. Luckily, Sarah had been nice enough to provide Sam with an address. However, they hadn't expected her to show up at the house as well.
"Sam, what's happening?" She asked Sam as she waited in the driveway.
"I told you, you shouldn't have come," he replied as he rushed past her to the front porch, followed by both Dean and Hayley.
"Hello, anyone home?" Dean shouted as he banged against the door.
"You said Evelyn might be in danger. What sort of danger?" Sarah questioned, not leaving their heels.
"I can't knock this fucker down. I gotta pick it," Dean declared and pulled out his picking tools from his jacket pocket while Sam continued to bang against the windows.
Hayley, on the other hand, snuck away and tried to find another way inside. Hunting seemed especially hard when there were people around who didn't know she had superpowers. And she wasn't too fond of the idea of blasting it to just anyone.
"What are you guys, burglars?" Sarah asked in shock as she watched Dean pick open the front door with ease.
"I wish it was that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good," Sam told her worriedly as Dean opened the door, and the brothers rushed inside.
"The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend," Sarah stated stubbornly and strolled straight inside the house.
"Evelyn?" Sarah shouted as she walked carefully through the foyer.
"Evelyn!" Dean called out as he entered the living room before he noticed Hayley at the center, frozen in place. "How did you get in?" He asked as he approached her.
"Back door was open," she replied without glancing at him.
She stared straight ahead, and he followed her eyes to the fireplace, the painting hanging eerily above it. An older woman sat in a lounging chair in front of it, but her face was turned away from the four.
"Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you all right?" Sarah asked as she slowly proceeded toward the chair, passing Dean and Hayley.
"Sarah, don't. Sarah!" Sam shouted, trying to grab her wrist as she reached out her arm to touch Evelyn's shoulder.
As the three hunters had already suspected, the woman's head tipped back and exposed her slashed throat, leaving them with Sarah's scream ringing in their ears.
Sarah had called the police after her initial shock had passed while Sam, Dean, and Hayley fled back to the motel before the cops arrived. However, as the sun rose, Sarah stormed into their room, pretty upset. The poor girl still had no idea who they were or what was going on, and Sam had a rough time explaining the family business of hunting monsters to her. But even she couldn't deny the man in the painting had moved and all the deadly coincidences surrounding it.
However, Sarah was more than adamant about joining them now. "Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my dad sold that painting that might've got these people killed. Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared because I am scared as hell, but…I'm not going to run and hide either," she declared, striding to the door. "So are we going or what?" She glanced back briefly at them before walking out.
"Sam?" Dean said, and Sam looked over to him. "Marry that girl."
Hayley chuckled and nodded in agreement before they followed Sarah outside and drove back to Evelyn's home. It had been sealed off with police tape, but no cops were around anymore. They gracefully ducked underneath it and headed back inside, comparing the original painting to the copy again.
"Guys, look, the razor – it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one," Hayley stated as she held up the copy in front of her.
"What are you guys looking for?" Sarah asked curiously, looking over Hayley's shoulder at the copied version.
"Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason," Dean replied.
"Hey, hey, look at this. The painting in the painting," Sam noted and pointed to the painting in the background behind the family. The original showed a normal countryside, whereas the painting in front of them offered something different.
"Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something," Dean mused and walked a few careful steps closer to it.
Hayley came up behind him and took out a small black and transparent device from her bag. She held the portable magnifier over the little painting in the painting. "Merchant," she read from the inscription on the crypt and glanced back at the boys.
New Paltz was a comparatively small town, but it still somehow had four cemeteries, so they decided it was best to split, and while Sam and Dean entertained Sarah on one graveyard, Hayley neatly checked out all the other three.
"So, this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah raised one of her brows as she strolled alongside Sam.
"Not exactly. We don't get paid," Sam joked.
"Well, Mazel tov," Sarah mumbled.
"Guys!" Hayley came running up to them – at average human speed. "I checked out the other three cemeteries. No crypt," she announced.
"Wow, you checked out all three in half an hour?" Sarah asked, and Dean rolled his eyes at Hayley.
"Yeah, I'm kinda fast like that," Hayley chuckled, earning her a glare from Dean.
"Couldn't have stopped for ice cream, huh Speedy?" He whispered to her, raising an eyebrow before his forest green eyes caught something in the distance. "Over there." He tapped Hayley on her arm to get her attention and walked ahead to the little mausoleum.
The others followed Dean as he broke open the lock of the door. The crypt was full of dust and cobwebs, and Dean pushed them aside to make way for the girls. The walls were full of various signs of different names, and the brothers walked over to four urns with glass boxes behind them.
"Okay, that right there – is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," Sarah pointed out as she stood in front of one of the glass containers, looking at a little girl's doll.
"It was a sort of tradition at the time. Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case, put it next to the headstone or crypt," Hayley said as she glanced at the doll.
"Notice anything strange here?" Dean asked as a gust of cold wind blew through the door and rustled some leaves around.
"Uh, where do I start?" Sarah stated sarcastically, looking around the creepy mausoleum.
Sam chuckled as he watched her. He admired her bravery – a couple of hours ago, she hadn't even known all this existed, and now she was here with them, hunting a ghost.
"No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns," Dean hinted.
"Oh, yeah! There are only four," Hayley finally realized.
"Yeah, mom and the three kids. Daddy dearest isn't here," Dean said, looking back at Sam.
"So where is he?" Sam asked, frustrated with this hunt already.
The four drove to the county office buildings next. Dean and Hayley went inside, leaving Sam and Sarah behind to give them some alone time, and the two sat down on a small concrete wall outside the building.
"So what exactly are they doing in there?" Sarah asked Sam after they had been sitting and waiting there quietly.
"Searching county death certificates, trying to find out what happened to Isaiah's body," Sam explained.
"How'd they even get in the door?" Sarah asked.
"Lying and subterfuge mostly. Although Hayley works for the police, so she might have more luck legally," Sam said with a chuckle. "You have a, uh, you have an eyelash on your right…no, uh, you know what," Sam stammered as he watched Sarah reach for the loose eyelash, searching her face with her fingertips and, he laughed. "Do you mind if I get it?"
"No," she smiled at him, her cheeks blushing a rosy-red as he reached out his hand and gently grabbed the eyelash between his fingers.
"Okay, I got it. Make a wish," he said with a smile, and she laughed before she softly blew it away.
"Sam, can I ask you something?"
When she glanced up at him, he thought she was beautiful as her dark brown hair shimmered in the golden afternoon sun, and her green eyes stared mesmerizingly at him.
"Yeah, sure," he replied but already regretted the answer.
"I don't mean to be forward, but a girl could wait here forever. Is there something here between us? Or am I delusional?" She bit her lower lip with a small smile.
"You're not delusional," Sam said but fell quiet again.
"But there's a but coming," Sarah stated, disappointedly looking away.
"But…I don't think this would be a good idea," he sighed.
"Can I ask why?" She wouldn't be told off that easy.
"'Cause I like you," Sam replied with a shrug.
She laughed, shaking her head confused. "Wait. You lost me."
They both started to laugh before Sam became serious again. "Look, it's hard to explain. Uh, it's just when people are around me – I don't know, they get hurt," he said, staring down at his hands in his lap before he dared to look at her again.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean like physically hurt. With what me and my brother do, it's…," he trailed off, taking a deep breath. "Sarah, I had a girlfriend. And she died. And my mom died too. I don't know, it's like, it's like I'm cursed or something. Like death just follows me around. Look, I'm not scared of much, but if I let myself have feelings for anybody…"
"You're scared they'd get hurt too," she finished for him. "That's very sweet. And very archaic."
He looked back up at her, surprised. "Sorry?"
"Look, I'm a big girl Sam, it's not your job to make decisions for me. There's always a chance of getting hurt," she told him.
"I'm not talking about a broken heart and a tub of Häagen Dazs. I'm talking about life and death," Sam argued. He didn't really expect her to be this stubborn.
"And tomorrow, I could get hit by a bus. That's what life is. Look, I know losing somebody you love – it's terrible. You shut yourself off. Believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else too," Sarah stated as her crystal green eyes pierced through him.
"Sarah, you don't understand. The pain that I went through…I can't go through it again. I can't," he said, shaking his head before their conversation abruptly ended when Hayley and Dean strolled out of the building again.
"Am I interrupting something?" Dean asked, and Hayley sighed. She had tried to keep him in longer when she saw the looks on Sarah and Sam's faces.
"No," Sam replied, a little annoyed.
"Not at all," Sarah said with an uncomfortable smile.
"Huh. Apparently," Dean commented, looking between the two of them.
"Told you," Hayley mumbled, and Dean rolled his shoulders back.
"So, what'd you get?" Sam asked, interrupting their not-so-silent conversation.
"Nothing. The surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family," Hayley replied.
"So, they handed him over to the county; the county gave him a pauper's funeral. Economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated – he was buried in a pine box," Dean added.
"So there are bones to burn," Sam noted, glancing at them as they both smiled widely and nodded heavily.
"There are bones to burn," Dean confirmed.
"Tell me you know where," Sam said, and Dean shot him a grin.
The four waited past midnight before they returned to the cemetery. Sam and Dean were already knee-deep in a grave, shoveling dirt, while Hayley sat on the edge with a beer as Sarah stood behind her and shone a flashlight down at the boys. Sam crawled out of the grave with a gasp and positioned himself next to Sarah.
"You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this," Sarah stated with a glance down at Dean, who was sweating and dirty as he leaned on his shovel for support, heavily breathing.
Hayley held out a bottle of beer to him with a smile, and he took a sip thankfully before he continued digging.
"Well, uh, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?" Sam chuckled, and Sarah joined in.
"You know this would be a lot faster if you would do some digging," Dean complained, giving a sideways look to Hayley.
"You want me to get dirty, Winchester?" She raised an eyebrow playfully, biting down on her tongue with a grin before she hopped down into the grave. She switched her beer bottle for his shovel and took a quick look back up at Sarah.
Dean followed her gaze and winked at Hayley knowingly. He jumped up to join Sarah and Sam before he turned Sarah away from the grave. "Hey, Sarah, have you ever seen a moon this beautiful? I mean, Sammy here knows lots of romantic crap about it, don't you?" Dean successfully distracted the civilian, and Hayley shook her head with a giggle before she used her speed to dig.
"Think I've got something," she declared as she tapped her shovel against something hard.
Dean jumped back into the grave, taking the shovel back, and cracked open the pine coffin lid before the two looked down at a dusty old skeleton. Sam poured salt over the body while Hayley doused it in kerosene before Dean stroke a match – teamwork at its finest.
The last thing they needed to do was checking if their trick had worked this time, and the Impala pulled up in front of Evelyn's house again. Sam jumped out of the car first, closely followed by Sarah, who had shared the backseat with him as Dean had forced Hayley to give up her usual spot to give the two lovebirds some space.
"Keep the motor running," Sam told Dean as the youngest Winchester ran for the door.
"I thought the painting was harmless now?" Sarah asked as she trailed behind him.
"Better safe than sorry. We're gonna bury the sucker," Sam declared.
"I'm going with you," she stated stubbornly.
"You sure?" He looked at her, but by now, he knew he couldn't keep this girl from anything even if he wanted to.
She nodded decisively at him.
"Hey! Hey, hey," Dean called after Sam through the opened car window. "We'll stay here. You go make your move," he yelled in a whisper tone at his little brother.
Sam scoffed at him before turning back to Sarah, but Dean didn't give up that easy, adding, "Sam. I'm serious!"
Dean then proceeded to turn on the radio with a cheesy indie love song just as the couple reached the porch. They spun around to look at Dean in the car. Sam grimaced, and Dean turned the music off again with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders innocently before Sam and Sarah went inside.
"Stop pushing so hard, zookeeper. They're not pandas. You can't make them mate," Hayley chuckled.
"Yeah, I know. I don't get why that kid can't just let loose sometimes," Dean sighed.
"Sam's different. I mean, as soon as he went off to college, he ended up in a long-term relationship," she pointed out. Sam had told her a lot about Jessica, more than he had probably told Dean. She knew Jess was an English major and wanted to be a teacher. She was kind, smart, and funny. And if anyone could ever get Sam out of his shell, it was her. She even knew Sam had planned to propose to her because he was sure she was the one.
"I wouldn't know," Dean admitted. He wasn't embarrassed by the fact that his longest relationship lasted only three weeks and everything else was just a string of one-night-stands and brief weekend affairs.
"Well, I don't think you've really ever tried, Dean," she commented with a smile.
"Maybe. But what's the point? People just leave eventually," he shrugged, and she threw him a look.
"So? Maybe they do, maybe they don't. Point is, you don't know until you try," Hayley stated.
He glanced at her. "What about you?"
"What about me?" She cocked at an eyebrow.
"Whatever happened to surfer boy? You're gonna try with him?" Dean chuckled.
"Ha, no! Turns out he's a full-on flat-earther," she laughed. "So it ended at third base for him."
"You still let the guy go until third?"
She shrugged, speechless. "He was good at human anatomy. I don't know what to tell you, man," she giggled, trying to defend her actions, and he laughed. "And it's not like one of your ladies is gonna win the Nobel anytime soon."
"Hey, they don't have to," Dean grinned cheekily. "And I dated smart women before. I'm sure you've been around for Cassie," he countered.
"Oh yeah, I liked her. She had sass and spunk and was smart. I honestly don't know what you're doing with your life. She was great," Hayley added.
"Yeah, she was," Dean chuckled, agreeing. "But you've mentioned an ex-boyfriend before. Bartender, right?"
"Yeah, Mike," she nodded. "We dated in college for almost two years."
"Why did you guys break up?" Dean could feel himself doing it again – being too curious for his own good.
"Nothing major, really. I only ever went to college to get my degrees and see if I can find out more about my mom's murder. So when I was done, I moved back to Central City, and his family lived in Boston, so..."
"So you just broke up with him? Poor guy," Dean sighed sympathetically. "But what's he doing bartending in Central City then?"
"Well, six months later, he moved there. And I guess we would've gotten back together...," she trailed off.
"I got struck by lightning, was in a coma for nine months, and got superpowers," Hayley stated nonchalantly, and he nodded understandingly.
"Right. But he still stayed? Even when you were basically hopelessly dying?"
"Probably? What's your point, Winchester?" She narrowed her ocean eyes at him suspiciously.
"Huh. Look at you, Speedy. Leaving a trail of broken hearts behind you," Dean noted with a smirk. "Makes sense too. I mean, your dad's in prison. Most girls would end up on the pole."
She slapped his arm playfully when he laughed while her jaw dropped to the floor. "Dean!"
Their bantering stopped suddenly when the front door of Evelyn's house slammed shut with one loud bang. Hayley raced out of the Impala before Dean could even glance back at her. He jumped out of the car and caught up with Hayley by the closed door. She was trying hard to get it open again before he pushed her out of the way and tried to break it open himself, but also turned up unlucky.
"Dean! Hayley! Is that you?" They heard Sam shout on the other side of the door.
"Sammy, you all right?" Dean asked, concerned before he received a phone call from the youngest Winchester. "Tell me you slammed the front door," he answered his phone while he put Sam on speaker.
"Nope, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl," Sam stated.
"Girl? What girl?" Dean questioned with a furrowed brow as Hayley suddenly sighed next to him.
"Ooooh, that's why Isaiah was looking down at her earlier!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands high up in the air before she grabbed her head as if mindblown.
"Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along," Sam agreed.
"Maybe he was trying to warn us," Dean joined in on their theory.
"Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later, all right? Just get us out of here," Sam urged them.
"Well, I'm trying to pick the lock. The door won't budge," Dean said, frustrated as he fumbled with the picks in his hands.
"Well, knock it down," Sam ordered him.
"Okay, genius, let me just grab my battering ram," Dean scoffed.
"Get out of the way," Hayley said and pushed Dean gently to the side. Then she disappeared, and soon, a bolt of lightning struck the door.
Dean watched as she was thrown backward several feet and landed on her back on the hard concrete. But the door was still closed as he ran over to her and helped her to her feet.
"I think I broke something," she muttered, grimacing in pain.
He raised his brows at her, mumbling, "Yeah, you bet you broke something, just not the door, Speedy."
"Dean, the damn thing is coming," Sam yelled through the phone.
"Well, you're just gonna have to hold it off until we figure something out. Get some salt or iron," he ordered his little brother.
Dean and Hayley listened intently to the noises coming from the speakers and the house inside itself. "Sammy, you okay?" Dean checked in after he heard a louder crash.
"Yeah, for now," Sam replied, and his older brother sighed, relieved he was still alive.
"How we gonna waste her?" Dean wrinkled his forehead in frustration.
"I don't know. She was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn," Sam pointed out.
"Then how's she still around?"
"There must be something else," Sam mused.
"Sam, wait. We used to handle antique dolls at the auction," they heard Sarah chime in. "Back then, they used to make the dolls in the kids' image. I mean everything; they would use the kid's real hair," she explained.
"Guys, Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains, same as bones," Sam repeated to them.
Hayley and Dean shared a wide-eyed look before they both exclaimed the same thought, "The mausoleum!"
Dean let the Impala come to a screeching halt directly in front of the Merchant crypt, breaking for sure several laws. However, he didn't care that he had just raced across a graveyard and drove straight through closed gates.
Hayley head-started into the mausoleum, banging frantically against the glass box before she paced the little crypt, trying to think of something to open it with when Dean came running in. She quickly grabbed his gun from behind his back without thinking twice and shot right through the glass of the container, shattering it around them. She snatched the doll and threw it to Dean, who caught it expectantly.
Dean quickly pulled a lighter from his jacket pocket and flicked it open as he held the flame under the doll's hair. It slowly started to burn before he dropped the ignited doll to the ground.
"Nice shot, by the way." He glanced at Hayley with a grin.
"Thank you," she replied happily as she returned the weapon to its rightful owner.
Sam and Sarah had survived the little girl's attack, even though it was a pretty close call briefly. Luckily, Dean and Hayley had managed to save the two just in time. But now Sam felt even more bonded to Sarah, and their case was over – he would leave again with no promise of return.
Dean, Hayley, and Sam got a few decent hours of sleep before they returned to the auction house to say their goodbyes to Sarah. On the ride there, Sam's companions had reiterated profusely how he had to make his move, but he decided to ignore them.
They found Sarah in the middle of the room, observing two men as they packed up the freaky Merchant family portrait and carried it outside.
"Uh, this was archived in the county records," Hayley stated as she handed Sarah some papers.
"The Merchant's adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds," Dean added.
"She killed them?" Sarah raised one of her brows in disbelief.
"Yeah. Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl," Dean chuckled bitterly. "So, then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since."
"So why'd the girl do it?" Sarah asked.
"Killing others? Killing herself? Some people are just born tortured. So when they die, their spirits are just as dark," Sam explained.
"Maybe. I don't really care. It's over; we move on," Dean said with a shrug, and Hayley giggled. Sometimes life really was that simple.
"Uh, I guess this means you're leaving," Sarah mused with a sad look at Sam.
Sam turned around and witnessed a widely grinning Dean and Hayley, waiting expectantly for him to make a move as they wiggled their eyebrows.
"We'll go wait in the car," Hayley said and kicked Dean lightly. "See you, Sarah."
She hooked her arm through Dean's, trying to guide him to the door. But the older Winchester didn't budge an inch, waiting there awkwardly for a second before he finally conceded and followed Hayley's lead.
"I'm the one that burned the doll and destroyed the spirit, but don't thank me or anything," he grumbled, and Hayley chuckled and patted his arm sympathetically.
"Yes, you're the hero, Dean," she asserted him, and he smiled, satisfied at least one person recognized his heroism.
The two waited patiently outside for Sam, leaning against the hood of the Impala as they enjoyed some sun. When Sam finally emerged from the auction house, they watched the couple curiously. However, Sarah closed the door without giving the youngest Winchester a goodbye kiss, and Dean turned around disappointed.
But he suddenly felt Hayley's hand on his bicep, pulling him back around before he had reached the metal door handle and glanced back up to the entrance of the building. It opened again, revealing a smiling Sarah, and Sam took a step closer to her and ultimately went in for the kiss.
"That's my boy," Dean grinned proudly, and Hayley shook her head at him with a laugh before her phone suddenly vibrated in her pocket.
"Joe?" She answered it, and Dean's green eyes darted to her, burning with curiosity. "Yeah, I'll be right there," she said as she hung up again.
"Something's up?" Dean asked while Sam approached the two with the broadest smile they had seen on him in a long time.
"Yeah, Joe thinks there's likely a meta-human on the loose. He wants me to check it out," she replied.
"Okay, let's go," Dean announced as he opened the driver's door.
"Dean, I'm way faster on foot than by car," she stated patiently with a small smile.
He sighed but knew she was right. "Fine, but we'll meet you there." He gave her a stern look that told her there was no way from keeping the brothers out of this, and she nodded.
"Okay, I'll meet you guys at S.T.A.R. Labs in a few hours," she said but didn't even wait for their response before she vanished.
The boys shared a look before Dean gestured to the Impala. "Let's go."
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The Nursemaid: Part 12: The Lie
Title: The Nursemaid
Pairing: Mando x OC
Word Count: 2400
Rating: T for this, Rating to Increase, in general not for the kids, no underage lurkers
Warnings: Pole dancing? Mentioned? Some violence?
A/N: Sorry I hit a weird snag with this part. More of the subsequent parts are here and we should kick into Season 2 overlay shortly!
Nursemaid Masterlist/ Mandalorian Masterlist (same list)
She was nervous.
He was tempted to reach out and soothe her but didn’t quite know how and with how she looked…
It was better he keep his hands to himself.
She was fidgeting though as they waited in the wings, as they waited and more and more people came in the room, as they waited while more and more of the auctioned specimens were brought forth.
Eventually he had no choice she was teetering on the verge of breaking out in a cold sweat-- he grabbed her hand, “Hey…”
It was soft, his voice was that, and his hand was solid on hers and it did make her pause and take a breath, “Hm?”
“You don’t have to do this.” He assured her, “We can call it off.”
“Yes. If you want to call it off we walk out-- no harm, no foul.”
She shook her head, “No….I appreciate the offer but no.”
But Sor’el looked over at the helmet and then her nose nervously twitched, “Do you...ah….”
She closed her eyes for a moment, “Assuming I can do it without falling on my face it um….”
The helmet cocked, he was listening.
“It can be distracting so I wouldn’t...watch. While you were...working.”
“I wasn’t planning on it-- target should be easiest to grab in the vestibule.”
She nodded, looking a little relieved, “Good. Just...distractions. Dangerous. Blasters and distraction, bad combination.”
“They teach that when they teach you to shoot.” He almost chuckled and he gave her hand one more squeeze.
Trax came back, “You’re up next star-shine.”
Mando eyed her, “Last chance to bail.”
“No, I’m...I’m ok. Stage fright.” She squeezed his hand back and then smoothed her hair, “I’m ok.”
He waited next to her until Trax came back to start escorting her to the podium. It wasn’t until she had to take a step away that either of them realized her hand was still wrapped up in his and he dropped it. When she looked at the empty space for a moment he leaned in and touched the helmet gently to her forehead, “If something feels off, cut and run.”
She nodded at him, a small shy smile that was trying to be stronger than she felt.
Then she let Trax guide her as he called over his shoulder to Mando, “2 minutes until the stage, 4 minutes of presentation….then the bidding, of which I cannot guarantee a time. You got your window Mando.”
The helmet clicked a curt nod and Mando turned on his heel, taking his place.
War was eight parts waiting to two parts action and usually 10 more full parts of feeling like the wrong one was happening at the time you were doing it.
He was in the vestibule, perched in a corner, hidden by shadow mostly.
When the audience inside gasped lightly he gathered she was on the stage. There was a drawn out introduction, with flourishes and lies by Trax, found destitute, yes you heard the rumors right-- Diathiam, half of it, the other half? Sadly unknown-- born to an exiled angel and left to make her way in the galaxy, having received the better part of angelic charm and grace….
“No, madam, we haven’t begun the bidding yet, please refrain. As promised a demonstration of skill will be offered-- no, sir, please, no advanced waging.”
Mando tensed to hear that-- he didn’t expect such hunger for her.
But looking that way…
Well maybe he just didn’t want there to be such a hunger for her.
There was more rambling on by Trax, trying to stretch it, to buy time for the biggest of the space-whales to come and take his place among the bidders.
But still no sign.
Mando was going to be pissed if they went through all this for nothing.
Then the music started…
He was focused on the task.
Focused on the door.
But he did wonder what was happening, some back part of his brain wandered because his body was functioning on muscle memory.
Eventually he settled on it was the noise.
The music was one thing.
He vaguely understood there was a dance happening.
But the reactions: gasps, moans, breathy shrieks….
It was a little worse not knowing what was happening in there.
He was dying for this mark to hurry up and arrive. Give him something to do so he didn’t…
Then movement at the front door-- he tuned the helmet.
Thank fucking Maker.
The Mandalorian dropping neatly down from the ceiling of the vestibule did put a damper on the target’s forward motion. There were six body guards-- thugs for hire, only passingly better shots than Troopers, and three of them were dumb enough to take a shot at the bounty hunter. They were down in three succinct shots but the shooting had disturbed the dance and some of the guests were screaming.
“Remain calm, please!” Trax was attempting to wrestle some control over the situation.
Mando lifted the blaster in his hand evenly, “You can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
The target sighed and took a pearl from his cloak’s fastening and held it out, “Would you be inclined to consider my release for this?”
Mando reached out and allowed the pearl to be dropped into his gloved hand. He looked at it, looked at the target, “Considered.”
He dropped the pearl into his pocket, “But denied.”
The blaster was back up and the mark laughed, shaking his head, and raising his hands, “Very well, I choose to avoid violence. Crossfire is such a….messy thing.”
He dismissed his guards and Mando cuffed him.
It seemed...too easy.
But he didn’t like to question luck like that: not everyone put up a fight, and that wasn’t a bad thing.
Trax eyed Mando, “You cost me quite the crowd.”
“A crowd which wasn’t going to gain you anything because we agreed you weren’t actually auctioning her.”
Trax shrugged, “Surely, sure, yes. We did. It’s just that sometimes they tip--”
“--Bribe and that whole process was shot to shit. Get your guy at least?”
Mando pulled his cuffed mark closer to demonstrate and Trax sighed, “A good customer, sir. Next time you’re here just remember: I owed him a favor. It was nothing personal.”
The mark shrugged, “Business is funny that way, you don’t go very far if your feelings are always getting hurt.”
He was rubbing his wrist by his vambraces, old things. Older than the rest of his clothes.
Bothered Mando for a moment.
“Where is she?”
This the mark took interest in, “She was real?”
Mando shook him, “That’s none of your business.”
He focused the helmet on Trax, waiting on an answer and the alien shrugged, “She mentioned the kid, the blaster fire spooked her. As soon as she was off the stage she bee-lined for the door….I guess she can keep the dress, though that one is mighty expensive.”
Mando rolled his shoulders back, nodding, and Trax wondered why the Mandlorian wasn’t leaving, “We square, Mando?”
Mando held his hand out to Trax, "The recording."
Trax's face fell, "How did you--"
"It's not for mass reproduction or your private perversion. She didn't agree to that." He emphasized his empty palm again, "Give me the recording and any copies you have."
Trax was not going to fight Mando but he was also feeling the pinch, "You didn't see it! Do you know the type of payment I could get fo--"
"I'll trade you a pearl for it."
The mark scoffed, “That’s an undersell for that pearl.”
Mando shook him again for silence. The mark smirked and tapped his fingers lightly on his vambraces.
This peaked Trax's interests and he dropped a data stick into the Mandalorian's hand, waiting patiently for the Mandalorian to hand over the promised pearl.
Trax scoffed, "This is worth ten thousand credits on a bad day, you know that right?"
He turned it examining it, then seeing something held it closer, "I take it back...twenty if you can find its twin. It has twinning drags on the surface. Pair them and you could probably name your bid."
The credits didn't phase Mando but something jarred him, sent a shock of cold down his spine, and made for a dread knotting in his stomach, "Did you say twin?"
He tucked the datastick into his belt, turned, and gripped his quarry tightly, pulling up the right sleeve to check for a birthmark, "Dammit."
The false quarry smiled, "Quicker than most, I'm impressed."
He surrendered so easily...because he wasn’t the mark and he was buying his brother time.
Quarry all have teeth when they're cornered. It had been an early lesson. All enemies have teeth when they're cornered.
It felt like a more personal mistake.
How had I not noticed? How did I miss it?
Too easy, it was too easy.
Mando grabbed the twin of his mark by the collar and raised him fully off the ground, “Where is he?!”
The quarry smiled and Mando shoved him sharply against the wall, trigger the barest hint of fire on his flamethrower and started inching it closer and closer to the mark’s face, “If you tell me I won’t scar you.”
Fire often worked.
The twin shut his eyes, “Your ship! If that’s where she went that’s where he will go, he’s...he wants her!”
The fire shut off and the vibroblade came out, tucking against the delicate artery of the throat, “If she has one mark on her, I’ll double the amount on you. I won’t be gentle. It won’t be fast. You won’t have to worry about anyone ever confusing you and your brother again. I promise.”
The false mark swallowed hard, nodding a tiny bit, and Mando raised the vambrace up-- barking into the hidden communicator in it, “I’m coming and if you’re there you won’t like how I greet you.”
He cut through the mechanisms of the communicator with the vibroblade, knocked the butt of the knife against the man’s temple, and left to go to the Crest before someone got hurt.
Quarry always have teeth. Always. He had warned her, but he had forgotten.
Sor’el was on the ramp with the baby--he seemed to be playing with something, she had been happy to give him a little air, a little time outside the ship, and was just relieved to be back with him, she hated thinking of him alone on the Crest. He liked playing with the little frog toy she had given him, making it hop around on the deck. But then he looked up, saw the men approaching, and ran into Sor’el’s arms.
It’s what made her look up. She tried to turn up the ramp but one of the aliens raised an electroshock spear and tossed it between her and the door to the Crest, it billowed electro waves outward and she couldn’t get through it so she darted off the ramp and tried to run and hide behind some crates.
“Fuck!” Mando hissed as he drew out his blaster and just started firing at the crowd that was stalking up to his ship.
It descended into a fire fight quickly.
The original quarry was here-- and he would be lucky not to get thrown into the carbonite with a broken arm and a kick to the kidneys. He had at least eleven full grown bodyguards with him.
Eleven was tough, but Mando could do it.
He tensed the whistling birds-- five of them dropped.
He liked those odds, but two went off for Sor’el and the kid.
Oh well-- He liked four even better.
He looked back at where Sor'el in her ripped dress was crouched protectively in front of the kid.
This shit was not going as smoothly as he wanted.
He had managed to shoot the quarry in the leg and then cuff him to part of the Crest’s ramp.
But right now...the fact that the crates Sor’el had been hiding behind with the baby had been burned up by blasters and small charges meant that she was just huddled against a wall trying to keep those thugs from the kid.
He had to get to them.
One of the hired thugs took a menacing step towards them and the baby held up his hand and tossed the large man back, easily a hundred feet, but then the kid fell sleepily back on his haunches, dazed, not focused on the next man.
A cold panic gripped Mando's chest--- the kid's eyes drooped and he was off the board, no further help. Mando was preoccupied and tried to get his blaster aimed at the remaining threat but he kept having to dodge the one fighting him, the biggest bruiser of the bunch and adept at placing a hit right as Mando aimed.
And for one terrifying moment he thought the prayer worked. But then he looked at what happened...the last man by Sor’el and the kid had been thrown back where they hit the edge of the Crest’s wing hard with a resounding and sickening squelch, and then the person in front of him was shoved backward and their hands frozen, unable to strike him, which made them an all too easy target for the practiced hunter.
He assumed it was the kid, mustering a little extra wakefulness. But when he looked over the kid was still passed out and Sor'el had one hand out, the other clutching the baby against her, her eyes closed against the violence of the scene, her face tucked into the kid as she was making shushing sounds for him. Mando reached out for her arm and because her eyes were closed she spread her hand wide when his glove almost touched her she pushed him….without laying a finger on him.
"IT'S ME!" He yelled as the invisible hit began to throw him backwards. Then a pause, “What was that?”
He didn’t turn the blaster on her but Maker was he tempted.
Her eyes flung open in shock and she shrieked, "I'm so sorry!"
A/N: AHA! Bwahahaha.
No beta-reading just….editing 19 times after I press publish.
Tag List @nova646 @turtle-lizard @dreamer7black @ordinarymom1 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @roxypeanut
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Mr. and Mr. Cullen
Carlisle Cullen x Husband Male Reader.
For @marilynmonroefanfics. Your sexy vamp-daddy. ( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)
Warning: mention of the dark past of the US, mention of depression
What they said: I just want some Carlisle and M/n Cullen caring for their children. Also, imagine them going to a parent-teacher conference and the people just gagging at how beautiful, caring, and sweet Carlisle's husband is.
M/n: Male name
L/n: Last name
Word count: 1984
Disclaimer: I have never watched Twilight, so my knowledge is slim! Esme also won't be in this fic! But I still hope you enjoy it! Sorry if it's bad.
Check out my masterlist if you want to read more!
You were standing at the window just looking outside. The dead trees and the gray sky were noticeable, it was going to rain since its Washington.
Sometimes you wonder, "how did this all happen?" You'll look at your hands and see how pale it is and your thirst for blood. Something you never experienced before.
It all started 213 years ago when you met the man, who would be with you for eternity. The man who made you feel complete on. The man who is now your husband.
You were sitting a the tavern in New Orleans. Just drinking away your problems. The city was recently brought from France for $15 million, doubling the size of the US.
Some people are venturing out into the newly gained territory. Well, that's what you hear, you don't know if it's true because they're all drunk. The natives would most likely kill them.
From all, you could see was white people with their slaves. The whole slavery thing disgusting. You didn't own any slaves since you didn't need to but also because you saw them as humans, they deserve the right of freedom.
Sometimes you would see their kids auction off to an unknown fate, some getting hanged for defying the masters, and other things.
This was the dark reality you live in...
But then out of the corner of your eye, you see a very pale man, and he looks like he hasn't slept in years. In your opinion, he was kind of hot and good-looking.
You looked away before hiding your face. You didn't want anyone to see you got fluster over a man. You didn't know what would happen if anyone discovers you're gay.
Present you: No one was gay back then or at least that's what you think.
The said man notice you and began to walk towards you. You didn't notice him at first until he pulls a chair from beside you, and sat down. Now you were even more nervous.
"Hey?" you heard a deep but caring voice right next to you. 'what do I DO? WHAT DO I DO??!?!' sirens began going off. You didn't want to be rude and not respond, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself.
"Uhh, hola-" you quickly stopped and just looked away. 'Shit! Can't believe that happen!'
Carlisle chuckled and smiled at your embarrassed and blushing face. 'Humans are funny.' "Don't be nervous, I'm not gonna bite. Anyways, what's your name?"
you mostly stay to yourself not wanting to be involved with other people or even communicate with them. But something about him made you want to come out of your shell.
"I'm... M/n? M/n... L/n." you hesitantly respond. "Well, nice to meet M/n. I'm Carlisle, Carlisle Cullen." The hot guy said with a charming smile.
You just looked at him and wondered, 'how do say that?' "Uhh... not to be rude but... how do you say your name?" You said with a cheeky smile while scratching your head.
"I knew you were going to say that. It's pronounced Car-lyle." You nodded your head. "So wanna get to know each other?" Carlisle offered, you nodded your head with a smile.
Ever since you meant Carlisle, both of you clicked. It was weird to you but to Carlisle, you were his mate. You and Carlisle were destined to be together for eternity.
You didn't know this, you just thought he was listening to your every problem. You told him everything and your problems. You told him how your suffering from depression and things like that.
It was May 20, 1810, the day you want to end it all. You didn't want to do this but your inner demons kept taunting you. You felt you were going insane.
You saw your reflection in the lake's water. The sounds of birds chirping, the leaves on the trees, and the sounds of mosquitos. Those annoying flies. You didn't sense anyone staring at you from afar. Carlisle was watching the whole thing.
You took a deep breath before jumping. The lake was deep and you didn't know how to swim, so this made things easier. You didn't struggle and just let it happen.
Carlisle's eyes widen and quickly took action. He didn't want to lose his mate. He used his super-speed and dived in. You sank down deep and lost consciousness.
Carlisle pulled you out and took you back to his place.
You regain consciousness and looked around. You were on a white silk bed and the room looked richly appointed. "Why did you do that?" you heard his voice again.
You didn't want to respond until you felt the bed sink in. Carlisle lifted your chin. "Let me repeat myself... Why did you do that?" you never noticed how cold his hands were. Carlisle still had his eyes on you, waiting for a response.
You couldn't hold back the tears anymore and started crying. Carlisle may be a vampire but he still had compassion. He pulled you for a hug and you just cried on his shoulder.
After crying on his shoulder for 5 minutes Carlisle gave you an offer. Something that could change your life forever. "I can take all this pain away if you be with me for eternity."
You looked at him with confusion wondering how he's going to fix everything. "How can you fix this?" you looked at him trying to look away but he had a firm grip on you. 'Never knew he was this strong.'
Carlisle opened his mouth to reveal sharps fangs that kind of look like a saber tooth tiger that died a long time ago. For some reason, you weren't fazed by this. "Believe it or not... I'm not really human. My life changed in 1663 when I was turned into this."
Carlisle never talked about his past or where he was from but you assumed he was from Great Britain because of his British accent. "What are you then?... If you're not human."
Carlisle hesitated before responding. "Like I said, I'm not human. I'm part of a different species... vampire." you never knew what the term vampire means but you know it was European folklore and panic broke out in the Serbian countryside.
"Vampire? So how would that help me?" you didn't seem that shocked or scared which surprised Carlisle himself. "Well... It works by turning you. But I have to say two things. One, are you fine with me doing it. And two, do you love me?"
You gave Carlisle your full consent on the first one but the second... you did love him. "I do... love you." You mumble the last part but Carlisle had heightened senses.
Carlisle smiled before speaking about what he truly feels. "I feel the same way. Ever since we met at the bar, I knew you were my mate for eternity." You just accepted and nodded your head.
I mean you get to be with the man you loved for eternity.
You laid back down with Carlisle inching closer to your neck. You feel his cold finger touch your skin before it pulled away. You tilted your neck a little more to give better access.
"Mnmnmn." You felt Carlisle's fangs sink into your skin as he dumped the venom. You feel him pull back before diving back in. You feel the venom coursing through your veins. Your heart stopped beating as a result but you didn't die. Your skin began to turn pale, Carlisle watched as you turned into a vampire.
You opened your eyes after it was done. You looked at your hands and arms, they're pale. You looked around and you see things you couldn't see before.
Suddenly you felt parched. Carlisle gave you blood to drive. "Here drink this. Water won't do." You took the drink and drank. Your thirst had been satisfied.
"You're so beautiful. I can't wait to spend eternity with you." You smiled at him before pulling him for a kiss.
"Your new name is M/n Cullen."
(Again I never watched twilight so I don't know how it feels or how to describe the transformation!!)
Suddenly you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist and the chin of someone rest on your shoulder. "What you think?" you knew that voice from anywhere.
"Just the time when I met you... that's all." you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck. Carlisle moved his arms to your waist and pulled you in for a little kiss.
He pulled away before saying, "We can't get carried away, remember we have to go to the parent-teacher conference. We can have fun when we get home." ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
"Oh yeah, totally forgot about that! Well, let me get ready." Carlisle nodded his head before walking out to let you dress.
After 10 minutes you were ready to go. You walk downstairs to see Jasper, Alice, Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie ready. Bella was also here, she was standing Edward. You're glad he found someone but the way he...... how do you put it...
Watching her sleep? Yeah, you kind of don't agree with that but as long as he is happy. "Is everyone ready?" everyone nodded. "Alright, let's go."
Everyone began to pile up in the car. You and Carlisle took the front while the others were in the back. To be honest, you were kind of nervous. Nobody has ever since you only your family know. Everyone knows who Carlisle is since he's the town's best doctor.
"Don't worry M/n. Everything is going to alright." You nodded your head and just stared at the window watching the trees go by and the occasional car driving by.
Timeskip (30 minutes)
After the 30 minutes drive, y'all finally arrived at Forks Highschool. Everyone stopped to look. Mostly because the Cullens look like celebrities. The kids got out first then Carlisle.
You inhaled and exhaled. Carlisle opened the door for you. You stepped out and stood beside Carlisle. Everyone had a shocked face, no one has ever seen Mrs.- Mr. Cullen.
You could hear the whispers from the parents and gossip from the girls who are obsessed with the sexy doctor. You receive some nice looks from the majority of the people there.
"Ah, welcome Mr. and Mr. Cullen! Please proceed to the auditorium for the conference." the headmaster, Harold Greene said.
Timeskip (after the conference)
After the conference, many of the parents were talking to the teacher talking about how their kids were doing. You were just chatting with the other parents while Carlisle was talking to the headmaster about something.
The parents admired you for being beautiful, caring, and sweet. Carlisle is lucky to have a husband like you. "M/n! We gotta go!" You nodded your head, said goodbye to the parents, and walked to Carlisle.
"So, how did it go?" Carlisle asked. "It went well actually." you gave him a smile before pecking him on the lips. "Come on, we're leaving!" the other Cullens followed back to the car and drove back home in the woods.
You're glad about being a Cullen. Just you and Carlisle. Mr. and Mr. Cullen.
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