#shouldn’t even BE in a folder it needs. box

[conservethis]

NO. That is WRONG SIZE! Wrong EVERYTHING

ಠ_ಠ

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: before the fall

authors note: this is part a requested/suggested short as well as something else. takes place between chapters six and seven of the story.

warnings: none

suggested listening: can't help falling in love by kina grannis (def recommend listening to this one towards the middle of this and onward)

words: 3.5k

**gif belongs to @romanreigns

There’s a lot of thought that goes into it. Too much. Textbook overthinking. But, all so necessary. 

She’s never done it before. Always resorted to texting to communicate with him when he’s in there. His office. Door closed. The place he’s been for the past two hours.

But unlike previous times, he hasn’t acknowledged her text. A text she sent almost half an hour ago. Something that wouldn’t be a major issue but not for the fact her message is….time sensitive. 

Meaning, she’s on the 6th hour of the eight hour limit one has with tampons, and no other remaining ones in the box. It’s a stupid, silly thing she keeps mentally berating herself over. How she could forget to pick up another box at her last grocery store visit? But berating herself doesn’t do anything to help the problem. She needs to go out, needs to buy some more. 

However, without Roman responding to her text letting her know if she can leave out or not, it’s hard to do. 

Impossible, even.

Which is why she’s left with only one choice.

A deep breath, a quiet prayer, and a big risk.

Solana has only knocked, quietly, three times when his deep voice barks from the other side, “what!”

Eyes shut, she winces but manages to answer, “it’s—it’s me.”

A noticeable pause followed by a quieter, slightly calmer, “come in.”

Slight hesitation followed by acquiescence. Immediately, Solana readies her apologies for interrupting him, but is interrupted herself when her eyes land on him.

As expected, he’s sitting at his desk, laptop open in front of him, stacks of manilla folders and paperwork surrounding it and him. But, what’s unexpected are the black rimmed glasses that sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose as well as his hair, so black, silky and beautiful, free and hanging, not in the typical neat bun he sports majority of the time.

And Solana can’t bring it in her to look away, too stunned by the almost….normalcy of it all. In this moment, he looks nothing like the man whose name strikes fear among most. He just looks like….a man.

A beautiful man, but a man, nonetheless.

“Yes?”

His deep voice, still surprisingly calm, finally pulls her from her trance. Looking away, her body suddenly much warmer than she recalls, she answers, “I’m—I’m sorry to bother you. You just—you didn’t reply to my text—” Realizing how accusatory that could sound, she moves to damage control. “I just mean—”

“You text me?” A glance at Roman reveals furrowed brows. She watches him grab his phone, eyes surveying the lock screen that most likely holds her unread message. “Shit, I’m sorry. Been busy.”

His apology feels unnecessary and also takes her back. Why should he apologize to her? It doesn’t make any sense.

“Where the hell do you need to go this late at night?”

Despite the wording, the tone of his question is more curious than annoyed. It doesn’t stop her from nervously fiddling with the cotton of her sweatpants. 

“I—I need to go to the store.”

Roman looks at her, brow raised, repeating. “You need to go to the store?” He glances at his computer screen. “Solana, it’s almost midnight. What the hell do you need from the store that can’t wait unt—” He stops, clearly noticing how her eyes shut, her face turned up in pain as she moves her hand over her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, she waits for the sharp pain to, somewhat, subside, before answering. “I just—I don’t feel good.”

His eyes narrow, studying her. “Then you shouldn’t be going out.”

It’s a logical response that doesn’t necessarily apply to this situation. 

Solana does her best to hide the pain and discomfort she’s in, subtly rubbing her stomach. “I—I have to—”

“Do you want me to call the doctor?” His question causes her eyes to widen. She shakes her head, ready to protest when he continues, “you’re obviously sick, so—”

“No, I’m—it’s not…it’s not like that.”

Wrong answer. 

She watches his face shift into something of a scowl, his irritation undeniable as he demands. “Solana, would you just tell me what the hell is wrong with y—”

“I got my period.”

Oh.

Solana immediately regrets it the moment it's thrown out there. She slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes widened in horror. 

Shit.

“I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean—”

Roman clears his throat, also clearly caught off guard by her answer, even if an answer was what he was wanting. “So you need stuff for….that.”

Her cheeks must be a reddish, ruddy mess. “Y–yes.” Desperate and eager to be past this conversation, she bargains, “I won’t be lon—”

“No.”

Silence.

Speaking continues to be a battle that Solana is, so far, not losing but not excelling at either. “I’m—sorry?”

Roman shakes his head, leaning back in the chair. “It’s too late for you to be out the house.”

She doesn’t necessarily disagree, but given the situation, she doesn’t see how she has much of a choice. “I—I’ll have security with m—”

“I’ll go.” 

More silence.

“You?” It’s a whisper, her voice weighed down with shock and some shade of embarrassment. “No, no, you—you can’t—you’re working.”

“I’m always working,” is his easy counter. Standing up, Solana watches him roll his shoulders. “Better me than you. You don’t feel good.” 

And she doesn’t feel any better knowing that she’s most definitely bothering him. “It’s fi—”

“Solana.” Something tells her this is a good point to stop protesting—and pushing—him. “I said I’ll go.” 

His voice reeks of finality, and the fear of upsetting him is enough to silence her. “O–okay.”

He nods, walking over and tasking her. “Just text me what you need.”

Solana also nods, nervously pushing back some of her hair. She’s an embarrassed, flushed mess, offering, “umm, I can send pictures of…of the…the product, if that…if that’s easier.”

He shakes his head, objecting, almost politely. “I don’t need all that.” And now she feels both an inconvenience and a nuisance for unintentionally insinuating he’s incapable of picking up a single item from the store. “Just text it. That’ll be enough.”

—-------

Turns out texting was not, in fact, enough.

It’s not very often, far and few in between, but something that can happen. Is happening as Roman stands in the feminine products aisle confused as all the outdoors. He does his best to match the words from Solana’s text to the words on the boxes, but the shit all looks the fucking same.

“Why is everything fucking pink?” He asks no one but himself, growing more and more annoyed by every second that passes.

For a brief moment, he’s annoyed with Solana. Annoyed that she even has him out there. But, that irritation is shoved away when he remembers the look of pain on her face, the discomfort she was poorly trying to hide. It would be wrong to send her out when she obviously isn’t feeling well.

Not to mention, like he said, a safety thing. With them still being essentially newlyweds, that target on her head is nice and fresh. He won’t take any chances.

Which is why he’s standing in the fucking drugstore at midnight looking like a dumbass. 

Feeling it, too.

Roman’s just about to go against his better judgment and call Solana when irritating humming hits his ears. Looking to his right, he sees a sales associate, a female sales associate approaching him. 

A tiny little redhead, smaller than even Solana, wearing an undeniably flirty smile. Any other time, he’d tell her to fuck off. But, this is one of those rare occasions where Roman is out of his league and could benefit from assistance.

She’s close enough to fall in the hearing distance range, green eyes scanning him up and down. “Can I help you with—”

“I need this,” he cuts her off. Roman shows her his phone that has the texts from Solana pulled up. The texts that must be girl speak or something, because Annie takes his phone and nods to herself with an immediate sense of knowing. “Do ya’ll have it or not?”

Her eyes flicker up, a surprisingly friendly and annoyingly cheerful, “yup” leaving her mouth as she hands him back his phone.

Roman watches in silence as she grabs two boxes off the shelf, boxes he never even fucking looked at, and walks toward him. “Is it her first night?”

Again, a strange experience that he doesn’t know how to handle. “I—I guess. I don’t fucking know. She just needs shit.”

The girl, who Roman realizes can’t be over 21, seems undeterred by his harshness and even his refusal to acknowledge the obvious flirty eyes she was trying to send his way. Good. Let her focus on her fucking job.

“I was just gonna ask if she has a heating pad. They help a ton with cramps—”

“She has those,” he cuts in. Finally. Something he knows. "Cramps."

She nods, asking, “so does she have one already?”

And there goes the fucking knowledge. “I don’t know. I’ll just buy one.” Because even if she has one, it’s probably not new, therefore it might not be as effective. So, it only makes sense he replaces it. and since she's already here, clearly able to offer the assistance he won't outwardly admit he needs, Roman decides to take full advantage of it. “You’re a woman.” Green eyes gives him a strange look before he asks, almost awkwardly. “What—what else does she need?”

—--------

Solana expected Roman to come back with a single box of tampons. 

What she receives, however, is more than just a box of tampons.

That’s included, yes. Included amongst three bags of various items ranging from tampons, pads, chocolates, over the counter pain pills, bubble bath, bath bombs, a heating pad, and more. 

Her jaw is dropped the entire time she’s going through the bags he’s laid out on the kitchen counter for her. 

“This…..” She’s truly at a loss for words. “Roman, this is—”

He shrugs, explaining, “I told the woman there to tell me what you might need.” Solana glances at all the items. Need is certainly a subjective word. Clearly.

“Thank you, but—” She shakes her head. “You didn’t—you didn’t have to spend so much money—I can pay you back.”

“Solana.” His deep voice cuts her off and demands her attention. “I’ve tipped more than what I spent on this. It’s fine. I don’t need your money.”

She nods, still quiet. It’s understandable. Roman Reigns seems like a man who doesn’t need much of anything from anybody, to be honest.

Still, she's not used to people doing things for her.

Especially men.

Roman studies her, asking almost skeptically, “so, are you good now?”

It takes a moment for her to answer. It takes her a second, because she’s overwhelmed. Countless times she’s been in pain before, struggled with horrific cramps and heavy bleeding, and not once did her dad or brother ask about how she was feeling. Did they even care.

They just wanted their dinner fixed.

And now, here’s her husband. Roman Reigns, of all people, leaving out late at night to pick up essentials for her. Beyond that, because the majority of the items he didn’t even need to get.

He didn't need to do it. Any of it, but he did, and she’s immensely grateful. 

Overwhelmed, slightly, too.

“Solana?” 

Breaking from her thoughts, and her emotions, she manages to answer. “Y–yes.” She clears her throat, holding and hugging the box of tampons to her chest. “Th—thank you, Roman.”

There’s something in his eyes as he looks at her. Something she doesn’t recognize but something that makes her feel something just as foreign and uncomfortable. 

Safe.

“You’re welcome, Solana.”

—---------

At nearly 3 o’clock in the morning, Roman expected to leave his office to silence and darkness. And both of those are partially true. There is some element of silence and darkness, but it’s not holistic. It’s not holistic, because Roman walks into the living room to find his wife still awake, sitting on the sofa, watching TV, her puppy sleeping peacefully on the floor next to her. 

That part isn’t surprising. 

All that damn dog does is sleep, eat, and piss/shit.

What a fucking life. 

Solana is smiling, an almost unfamiliar sight, at whatever is on the television when she notices him and sits up. Roman is unsure why he feels some sort of way watching her smile disappear. 

“I’m sorry, is the TV too loud?”

He shakes his head, disliking seeing and hearing the fear in her voice and on her face. “No.” Roman asks the real, relevant question. “Why are you still up?”

He starts to ask if she's still not feeling well, but then he sees the flash in her eyes, the sadness, and something deeper, something he knows all too well, he knows exactly why she's up.

“Couldn’t sleep,” is the quiet answer she settles on. One he’ll accept.

And suddenly, he feels slightly bad. Bad for making her revisit whatever it was that kept her up.

Clearing his throat, he gestures to the TV. “What are you watching?”

He’s pleased to see her smile return. Just a bit. But still, it’s there. “Pretty Little Liars.” His nonverbal response must give away his obliviousness. “You—you’ve never heard of it?”

Unintentionally, he gives her a look that screams, ‘does it look like i’ve heard of it?” and he feels bad all over again, especially seeing how she looks embarrassed almost. 

“What’s it about?” He asks, taking a spot on the opposite side of the same sofa where she sits, mindful of the distance between them, wanting to keep it at a respectful length. For her sake. He’s also relieved to see the embarrassment waning away.

“It’s….it’s kind of hard to explain, but….” Solana sits up, playing with her fingers, trying her best to explain an incredibly complex show. And she does the best she can, gesturing to TV at certain points, somehow pressing play for Roman to see for himself. From there, it ends up being less her explaining and more him watching. With her.

And it’s a newfound experience, sitting with him watching a show she’s certain he wouldn’t dare entertain in any other scenario. But, he is. With her. Without any protest.

It’s definitely strange but also….nice.

“So wait.” Her smile is already forming. He’s, understandably, had questions throughout, questions she’s enjoyed answering. It’ll probably be the first and last time someone is explaining something to Roman Reigns, because she has no doubt he’s used to it being the other way around. “I thought he was her teacher?”

Solana chuckles, answering. “He is.”

“He is?" Roman looks between her and the TV. “So they was both messing with the teacher?” His eyes are widened slightly, clearly taken back by this information. “And he knew one of them was underage?”

Solana nods, biting on her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

He scoffs, his next question more than valid. “Where the hell are the parents on this damn show?”

Solana giggles. Roman being unintentionally funny is an experience she could certainly get used to. “They don’t really find out about everything and start to get involved until later seasons.”

Roman's focus is on her, watching her adjust the blanket covering her body that slightly spills over into his lap. “How many seasons was it?”

She has to think for a second. “Seven, I believe.”

“Seven?” Solana laughs again. Roman’s surprise and borderline horror at just a tip of the iceberg of information is hilarious. “You watched seven seasons of this just to find out who B was?”

“A,” she corrects, hand over her mouth to cover her smile.

“Close enough,” he dismisses. Shaking his head, Roman seems to watch as she uses the remote to navigate to something else as they've reached the end of the episode. “You feeling better?”

His question takes her off guard and reignites that strange warm feeling from earlier. “Y–yes.” A rushed, quiet, “thank you” follows as she shifts on the sofa and finds herself asking, “have—have you ever seen Crazy Rich Asians?”

He gives her a look that’s equally puzzled as it is quietly amused. “Crazy Rich Asians?”

The way he almost punctuates each word makes her laugh quietly. “I know….I know the title is kind of off-putting, but it’s—it’s one of my favorite movies.” And where this comes from, she hasn’t the slightest clue because it makes no sense from any angle, but she’s asking him nonetheless. “Do—do you want to watch it with me?”

Solana immediately regrets it the moment it leaves her mouth for a lot of reasons. The main one being he’s already sat here and watched almost 45 minutes of a show he clearly has no interest in. Not to mention that it’s the middle of the night, and he has to be exhausted. 

The man has early mornings and late nights almost every day. She truly doesn’t know just when he sleeps.

And her asking him to stay up with her to watch a damn rom-com is just—

“Sure.”

Solana is certain she’s staring, certain she looks just as caught off guard as she feels. “Wh–what?” She sits up a little, noticing that Dulce continues to sleep away peacefully. Despite minimal anxiety, her smile is small, revealing Solana's inherent satisfaction at his answer. “R–really?”

And if Roman is at all annoyed or feeling upset at being asked to stay up later than he already is, he does a damn good job at hiding it. His big shoulders lift for a shrug. “I’m not really tired anyway.”

A part of her wonders if he’s just saying that to save face. The other part of her feels a sense of excitement, regardless.

“Okay….”

Solana doesn’t waste any time in starting said movie, and as much as she enjoys the film, it’s a bit more difficult than she anticipated to focus on the TV with the man sitting so close besides her. And not even for the reasons of attraction, maybe to some extent, sure, but she’s more engaged and almost moved by the small smiles, quiet chuckles, and even light laughter at certain scenes.

She studies him, unable to look away. Not wanting to. Because this man, almost relaxed, is such a stark contrast from who she’s used to.

Who the world is used to. 

He just seems so at ease, and selfishly, she soaks and absorbs it all in. Appreciates it. Wants it to last for as long as it can. 

Especially because it’s certainly an anomaly. Come morning, even after the conclusion of the movie, the same, stoic, unreadable Roman Reigns will return.

Because at the core, that is who he is. 

It’s truly only when one of Solana’s favorite cinematic moments occurs that she’s fully invested in the movie her husband has been more invested in than she has. 

“I love this part,” she sighs in awe. Roman turns to see his wife is now sitting up on the sofa, head tilted slightly, eyes glued to the TV.

He doesn’t allow himself to think about how much closer she suddenly is to him in this new position. 

He instead also follows her line of vision, watching as the wedding scene finally arrives, the tone almost completely shifting as music plays.

Wise men say

Only fools, only fools rush in

Oh, but I, but I, I can't help falling in love with you

Roman recognizes the song as an old Elvis tune, covered by the singer in the movie whose soft voice, soothing almost, reminds him of the woman next to him. The woman whose side profile is suddenly something he can’t seem to turn or look away from. A sight that’s significantly more exquisite than he realized. Solana has always been beautiful to him, objectively and subjectively. 

But in this space, where she’s doing nothing more than existing, he finds that beauty immensely captivating, alluring, hypnotizing almost. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be, would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you

Solana has seen this movie at least a dozen times. This scene in particular even more than that, and each time never fails to bring unshed tears to her eyes. The layout of the wedding, the bewitching voice of the singer, the love practically felt between Rachel and Nick, it’s all been so overwhelming in the best way.

But, there’s something different about this viewing. Something that feels a lot more personal than she’s ever experienced. 

A lot more real. 

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things, you know, are meant to be

Emotion betrays her, Solana unable to keep her comment to herself. She shares, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s so beautiful….”

Roman continues to focus on her, on this woman who both confuses and intrigues him in ways he can’t understand. A woman whose kindness so starkly contrasts all of the dark edges that make him who he is. And he too is captivated. 

Just not by the scene.

His eyes never leave her, his focus never so keenly devoted to a sole person than in this very moment. 

“O oe….”

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can"t help falling in love with you

—----------

Translations:

"O oe...." = "You are...."

[imagineanime2022]

Childhood Love

Hatori Sohma X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1857

Requested: @navyhua

Request: Hi can you do a hatori sohma x reader childhood to lover thank you

As children you and Hatori had been close, almost joint at the hip. You never made decisions independent of each other’s feelings, even if you weren’t together you’d think of the other. You’d always pack an extra treat in your lunch for Hatori and he would always have your back, keeping you out of trouble with the teachers and the other kids. Most kids would steer clear of the both of you, Hatori had never been good and making friends and you didn’t seem interested in anyone else once you had earned his trust.

When you both grew and entered your teenage years you become better at accommodating different people and therefore had a few more friends, Hatori also became friends with a few more people and altogether became better at communicating with people even if he had no intention of being their friend. Somehow though you always ended up coming back to each other, eventually you duo became a quartet when Ayame and Shigure decide to join you both.

“(Y/N)!” Shigure called as he jogged over to you talking to someone in the halls. “Shigure what’s up?” You asked. “Hey, I know you're busy at the moment but I need your help with something.” He scratched the back of his head. “What?” You asked, waving goodbye to the person you had been talking to before turning your full attention to Shigure. “I need you to do whatever it is that you do to make Hatori eat something while he’s working.” Shigure explained, you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” You asked. “Hatori has been helping Ayame with his student president thing but the only time that he works on it is here so he never goes for lunch or takes a break. “What makes you think that he’ll listen to me if he doesn’t even listen to you?” You asked. “He listens to everything you say, I don’t think you realise how much you mean to him.” Shigure answered. “Shigure I’m just a friend, he’s always been stubborn, you just have to be persistent.” You waved him off “I’ll go talk to him.”

You made your way to the classroom that Hatori had been using, your own lunch tucked under your arm as you opened the door “Hatori?” You asked as you peered in. “Shigure sent you didn’t he?” Hatori asked, looking over at you. “Would you believe me if I said no?” You asked as you walked over pulling up a chair and placing the lunch box on the table. “No.” He answered. “What are you working on that’s so important anyway?” You asked leaning over to look at what he had been scribbling all over. “Ayame needs more voices to garner support.” He explained as he leaned back in his chair. “He’s good at getting people to follow him when he can talk to them but we need more people to spread the word if he’s to get enough votes to win.” “Why are you the one thinking about all of this?” You asked. “Shouldn’t Ayame be here putting in the work?” “He deals with all the in person stuff, you know I’ve never been good at all that.” He answered. “You're better than you think.” You held out a snack to him which he took, unwrapping it as he leaned forward again. “What about more posters?” “More? I don’t think we have any.” Hatori frowned, you nodded as you grabbed a piece of paper doodling a rough idea of something that he could use. “What about something like this?” You turned the paper towards him, he looked over it smiling to himself as he tucked the design into a folder that he had on the table. “Would you be able to make something like that?” He asked. “Me? I guess.” You nodded. “Then make it.” He leaned forward “please.” “Alright no need to beg.” You teased “I have one condition.” “What?” He asked. “Eat lunch.” You smiled as you pushed the small lunch box towards him. “Okay.” He nodded.

You hadn’t meant to do it but the moment that it happened you panicked. It was Shigure that you had hugged and in a second his body was replaced with that of a dog, you remember blinking owlishly at the pup, before looking around trying to figure out what had happened. Hatori was the one that grabbed you while Ayame took the dog. “W-what, where’s Shigure?” You asked. “(Y/N) there’s something that I need to tell you.” Hatori explained as he walked you to somewhere more secluded. “Tell me, what are you talking about?” You rubbed your hands on your trouser leg as you looked at him, he’d always seemed serious but this was somehow different. “Do you remember we used to talk about the zodiac curse?” Hatori asked. “When we were younger, all those silly stories about men that turned into animals until they found their true love.” You nodded as you summarised all the old stories that you had both heard. “What would you think if they were true?” Hatori asked. “Is that what you're trying to tell me happened?” You asked as you looked back in the direction that you had come from. “Shigure turned into a dog.” Yes.” He answered, you looked back at him a little taken aback that he didn’t try to deny it or spin it. You don’t know what made you believe that he was saying but you didn’t question the situation further. “And you and Ayame?” You asked. “Ayame turns into a snake and me… I turn into a seahorse.” He answered. “Seahorse for the year of the dragon?” you let the smile take over your face, it was a cute little quirk and it explained why he had been so standoffish as a child, everything just seemed to make more sense with what he had told you. “You're taking this well.” He finally said. “Are you expecting me to run for the hills?” You asked. “Actually yes.” He answered. “Well you're stuck with me dragon boy.” You informed him as he rolled his eyes, you stood ready to leave the secluded area, Hatori standing to follow you the moment you started moving.

It had been years since then, you were all now adults and Hatori still made time for you, there was no way to hide your knowledge from the family head Akito but she tolerated your presence since you were nowhere near any of the boys that she wanted cared about. You don’t remember exactly when your feelings changed for Hatori but the moment that you found out about his secret it brought you closer and you started to feel something more. It was slow and deliberate because you didn’t notice until the appearance of Tohru Honda, when Akito became more possessive and out of control.

One evening when you had stopped by the estate to drop something off for Hatori, Akito had caught you on your way in and beckoned you to follow her, with no other option you did just that. She led you into a room already set up for tea. “You’ve been close with Hatori for a long time haven’t you?” She asked a question you knew she knew the answer to but you answered all the same. “Yes, since we were children.” You answered. “And you found out the truth about our family when you were a teenager?” Again a question she knew the answer to. “Yes.” You answered. “So what are you still doing here? Why haven’t you left yet?” She asked, reaching forward and grabbing a hold of your wrist. “You know that you aren’t worthy of him, he may not be as special as my precious Yuki but he’s still worth more than you can ever give him.” “Akito, you will not scare me.” You informed her, snatching your arm away from her and knocking over the teapot as you did, hot liquid splashing onto your arm and dripping off the table onto your thigh. “You will leave.” Akito ordered, you shook your head as you leaned forward on your hands. “I am not going anywhere, I will not leave, you will not scare me away from the man that I love.” You stood from where you had been sitting ready to leave, you didn’t even notice what was about to happen until the door you were walking towards opened and Hatori’s eyes widened. He dove forward to grab your wrist pulling you out of Akito’s reach and behind him. “Go, I’ll deal with Akito.” Shigure said, Hatori didn’t need anything more than that as he directed you towards his office.

Hatori didn’t say anything the whole way to the office, he didn’t say anything once you were inside either instead he sat you on his chair and moved around the room grabbing everything that he needed to treat the burn on your wrist and the bruising. “Hatori, I can hear you thinking over there.” You tried to catch his eye but he refused to look at you before he leaned against the table taking your wrist in his hand. “This never should have happened.” He finally said. “I expected this to happen.” You said “You said that she had been getting worse since Tohru showed up right?” “That doesn’t mean that she has the right to hurt you.” He argued as he cleaned the burn and started to wrap it. “Maybe it’s better that you-” “Don’t you dare say stay away.” You pulled your arm away, the dressing around your arm slipping. “What do you expect me to say!?” He hands lifted above his head in exasperation as you glared at him. “I expect you to face this the same way that we faced everything else in life. Together. I said to Akito and I will say it to you, I will not be scared away from the man that I love!” He could see the tears welling up in your eyes, as you both shrunk in on itself as if you were realising that you were fighting a losing battle. He wanted to hug you to comfort you but the best that he could do was to take your hand in his. “Are you sure?” He asked. “About what?” Your glassy eyes met his and he squeezed your hands. “Everything.” He answered. “Yes always, we’ve always been together, I don’t know when things changed but they did and I don’t ever imagine a life without you there.” You explained, he didn’t say anything and for a second you thought that he was going to walk away but instead, he surged forward, hands moving to your waist to stop you from getting too close as his lips pressed to yours in a fierce and passionate kiss. His thumbs stroked against the skin of your waist under your shirt, he could feel how desperately you wanted to get closer.

There was still so much that you needed to talk about but for now you both could enjoy this and what it meant for you both going forward.

Request Here!!

[patheticandmiserable]

Day Off (A/lastor & C/harlie)

This one’s pretty short and to the point.

A/lastor insists on working despite being sick, but C/harlie makes sure he rests when he needs it.

Alastor had never been good at taking breaks. He didn’t rest until his work for the day was done—and he always insisted on completing it by himself, even if he really should have been resting instead. Even though his voice was scratchy and he’d been sniffling all morning, he pushed through it for as long as he could. Charlie’s concerns about his health were dismissed when they saw each other in the morning, and no one dared to challenge him when he said he was fine. Charlie didn’t bother arguing and handed him a folder full of papers, asking him to look through it. He was in charge of sorting through all the forms, mail, and job applications (though they hadn’t gotten any yet) that the hotel received. “This is far from strenuous work, dear,” he told her. “It’ll hardly take any effort at all.” Giving her an unusually tired grin, he disappeared from the parlor.

In another part of the hotel, he opened a door labeled “Staff Only” and entered a small, modest-looking office. It was really only used for filing paperwork, and was where Alastor sometimes worked when he didn’t want to stay in his room. He sat down at the desk and briefly skimmed through everything in the folder, picking out the junk mail and obvious scams before getting to work on a stack of forms. All of his sniffling was getting less and less effective as a thick congestion settled within his head. He soon summoned a box of tissues and blew his nose, already hating how sick he sounded. He kept a few on hand, frequently scrubbing at his itchy, reddened nostrils.

As he filled out the next form, the ticklish feeling kept building. His eyes closed involuntarily as he tried to steady his breathing, raising a tissue up to his face in anticipation. “Hh… Hih—Hhehkt-kzzshhu!” Alastor grimaced at the lingering pain in his throat—and the headache he was beginning to feel take root between his eyes.

It was hard to focus with how often he sniffled and coughed. Each time he got distracted, it seemed harder for him to get back to his train of thought. The next document in the pile listed all of the hotel’s expenses from the previous month. As long as most of the repairs and maintenance the hotel required could be done using magic, going over budget shouldn’t have been an issue. He read over the numbers multiple times, but it took a painfully long time until he was sure he didn’t skip over anything. All he could think about was how much he wished he was still in bed. It was too cold in the office. His chair was uncomfortable and the lights were too bright. He rubbed his eyes and tried to move on, but there was no use in rereading the same paragraph over and over. Maybe he just needed to close his eyes for a little while and let his mind reset. “Just for a few minutes…” he mumbled to himself, putting his pen down and resting his head on his arms.

Charlie glanced at the clock on the wall in her room. It had been a while since she’d seen Alastor that morning, and she was debating on whether or not she should go see how he was doing. He was probably still busy, and she didn’t want to interrupt him, but she was a little worried. He should have taken the day off. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to check on him for a minute, just to see how he was feeling, so she headed down the hall towards the office.

When she knocked on the door, she received no answer. Slowly opening the door, she found Alastor at the desk with his head down, asleep. Used tissues were crumpled up around him. She put on a soft smile despite the growing pit of concern inside of her as she shook his shoulder. “Al?”

His ears raised lethargically as he sat up with a wet, stuffy sniffle and a gravelly “Hmm?” He looked a little paler than before, apart from his rosy cheeks and nose. His crimson eyes were glassy and dull, and his usual exaggerated grin was small and wavering. So was the rest of him, shuddering periodically with feverish chills. Blinking away the haze of sleep, he glanced down at the unfinished paperwork before him. “Mby apolog—” He cut himself off with a rough fit of coughing that made Charlie wince in sympathy. He cleared his throat before continuing, “Apologies— I mbust have lost tragck of timbe.” The strained sound of his voice was enough to make it obvious that it hurt to talk.

“Poor thing…” Charlie frowned, her hands held close to her chest until she reached out to touch the side of his cheek. “You feel a little warm. You should’ve just told me you needed a break today.”

He sniffled more, rubbing at his nose as it started to itch, filling with even more congestion. “I didnd’t—snrff!—feel that bad earlier. I just need a little rest, and then I can get back to the paperwork.”

“Don’t worry about the papers—I’ll finish them later. Do you want to go back to bed?”

Alastor hesitated, but nodded, sparing his throat the effort of speaking. Not that he would have been able to say much anyways, a few airy hitches escaping him as he grabbed a few tissues and buried his nose into them with a harsh, static-filled sneeze. “IH-IHNG’KZZHHHIEW!” He turned away from her and gave his nose a dense blow, pushing aside how much he hated drawing attention to his illness.

His muscles protested as he stood up, stuffing the tissues in his pocket for the moment. The shift in height made his head throb, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t even resist when Charlie put a hand on his shoulder to help steady him, something he normally would have quickly pulled away from. She grabbed the box of tissues and guided him into the hallway, making a mental note to tell Niffty to disinfect the office later. If she had only been more insistent on giving him the day off, then maybe he would’ve stayed in his room and let himself rest. Or maybe she should have checked on him sooner and sent him to bed when he didn’t feel quite as bad.

Alastor pawed at his nose for a moment before stopping with a shuddering breath. He reached for another tissue, holding onto the wall with his free hand as if the force of his sneezes would be enough to throw him off balance. “Hh—HIHGK’KZZZHHH! H-heh… HIEHKZZ-shhieww!” Charlie could feel him trembling a little. They soon reached Alastor’s room, where he discarded the used tissues. He was far too tired to take the time to change out of his clothes, only taking off his shoes and coat before he climbed into bed and pulled the covers up until only his head was poking out.

Charlie set the tissue box on the table next to the bed and turned to him. “I’ll go get you some medicine. Do you want me to bring you anything else?” His eyes were closed as he mumbled something she thought was a sniffly ‘no.’ “Oh, I should probably take your temperature first. Do you have a thermometer in here?” He didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure if he even heard her; his ears were flattened and still. “Are you really asleep already?” Again, he mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, his voice muffled by the blankets he was buried under. It seemed like he was barely awake. It wouldn’t hurt to leave him alone for a little while, she thought—he did need lots of rest, and he looked much more relaxed now that he was warm and comfortable. “I’ll let you sleep a little,” she decided, exiting the room and gently closing the door behind her.

[mishbean]

Without you

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

{you are the younger sister of a pro hero (I made up) who is ranked up high within the hero society with a quirk related to telekinesis. Told to try and follow the footsteps of her older brother with a quirk that isn’t quite as strong as his leads to some issues within her life but soon with some inconveniences and unfortunate events to occur she soon comes across a villain who took notice on who she was lead to their paths to be crossed more and more despite her efforts of preventing that to happen.}

—————————————————————————

Chapter 3

“Y/n? What a surprise, come in dear.” You took off your shoes as you entered the home of your mother and then your coat. “Did you get wet? It was drizzling out there.”

You hummed, your mother walked up to you and cupped your face. Tilting it side to side, and then squishing it. “Have you been eating well? You look rather thin, come! I’ve just cooked up something. How you been dear? How are things..”

And she went on and on as always with her usually questions. Staring at the food of plate in front of you, feeling out of place. Barely even paying attention to whatever she was saying. Simply giving a nod or shaking your head. She stopped as she saw that you barely ate anything, stumped as she caught your attention and shifted your gaze to hers. “Don’t tell me you’re not hungry, you better finish that. You have to keep yourself healthy and strong. Like your brother.”

‘My brother.’

“Speaking about him, he won’t be able to stop by. With all these attacks and cases. He’s all caught up at the agency. You could be there helping him out, you’re amazing in that subject! You don’t even need too—"

Gripping your fork you politely say. “Mom please, you already know my answer.”

She made a face and went back to eating. “I understand, but honestly what will you do with your life? With your brother it’s easy! If you..”

And she went on again, honestly you truly do love your mother with all your heart but she’d always want you to follow your brother’s footsteps so you can be(or try) to be successful as him. But you did try and it lead for your quirk to have a defect.

After eating and cleaning the dishes, your mother told you to wait at the table as she had something she wanted to show you. So you did, your chin leaning in your hand as your thoughts begin to run again.

‘It’ll be 5 soon. I should get going. Probably should say something to mom but she’s freak. And go on to tell Haruki. No I shouldn’t. It’ll be fine. The note didn’t seem to menacing.’

You jumped as a folder was propped in front of you, your mother sat down smiling. “Open it.”

Opening it, your eyes widened seeing old grumbled up art paper. You recognized it immediately, it was from years ago that you grew. Yourself as a hero.

“Uh—um—w-why are you—"

“It’s always been your dream Y/n. Don’t let a small incident destroy that beautiful dream of yours.."

‘That’s..what the hell mom?’ You thought as you held the amounts of paper in hand. Looking through them, each a different scene of how you wanted your life. Gripping them and then placing them back in the folder you sighed.

“Thank you ma..for this, making the..gears turn in my head.” You said through your teeth as you stood up. Your mother smiled and hugged you immediately. “That’s wonderful. I’m guessing you have to go. I won’t hold you up anymore—where you going? You going to the agency?”

‘Fucking Christ.’ You thought and gave a fake smile. “Perhaps. Best I go though.”

They said their goodbyes and you left quickly, holding the orange folder in hand. Gripping it tight.

-

4:39

Pacing around your apartment, hands in your messy hair feeling nervous and anxious. The time being close to 5, debating whether or not someone will come. You stopped and stared at the package, your nails dug into your scalp as you sighed frustratedly and kicked the box. The folder that your mother gave you was thrown who knows where. That really threw you off, you love your mother dearly but she always got on your nerves.

Pursuing you to keep with being a hero or something related to but you clearly don’t want to and she couldn’t accept that.

Then that’s when there was a knock at your door. It made you jump.

‘What the fuck? It’s not even 5 yet!’

You quietly crept to the door and looked through the peephole to see the figure of your brother. He looked sort of pissed, he banged on the door again. You were about to open it when a purple mist surrounded your hand and you didn’t feel the knob but your hand in another direction.

“I advise you to please back away from the door quietly.” A man with a dark husky voice said from behind you. Your blood ran cold, you were frozen in place.

“Do not be frightened. I do not plan to cause you harm Ms.Y/n.”

Your breathing hitches as your chest rises and falls. You slowly did back away from the door as it kept banging from the other end. And your brother yelled. “y/n! I know you’re there! Open up I have to talk to you!”

The man cleared his throat and spoke again. “If you please, turn around quietly and do not make a sound or try anything.”

Your breathing hitches and you move your hand out of the mist and turn around seeing a mist, a purple one mixed with black.

“If you please, Giran who sent you that package is awaiting your arrival. As I see you haven’t put on the bangle he sent.”

You gulped and you felt your body sweat. “I advise you do so. Trust me, it will help with your certain type of quirk.”

You flinched at the banging at the door. The smoke person waited for her and she bent down and picked up the box and grabbed the letter and bangle, cautiously putting it on her wrist. She was about to yelp feeling pain in her wrist but it was covered in mist. Her groan was muffled, she felt as if needles dug into her wrist and ran up her arm. The bangle unraveled from it’s bracelet from and slid up her forearm as if a bandage. It was black and metal.

“I should have mentioned it would hurt when placed on. My apologies. But we should get going.”

Your eyes widened as your vision was covered with purple and black mist. It felt as if you were lifted off your feet, next second your feet were planted on wooden floor.

Your vision clearing and you saw you were in a dimly lit room. Your gaze skimming the room as it looked abandoned but yet decorated to look decent.

“Y/n. Pleasure to finally meet the best L/n kid!” A middle aged man said who was sat down on a couch across from you. He has a cigarette in his mouth, cross-legged.

“Sit down, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I just want to have a chat with you. I hope Kurogiri wasn’t rough, he never is. Trust me—"

“I was not, Giran. She is wearing the gadget you gave her.” Kurogiri said as he spawned behind Giran.

‘Kurogiri, he looks like that warpgate villain..probably is..’

“I’m Giran if you don’t remember, I sent the package and letter. Please sit, help yourself with tea.”

You looked down and sat, there was tea. Specifically a tea you liked. “Now Y/n, I wanted to have a chat about your—well past experience in the L/n Agency since you did leave. I was wondering why, was it too much? The people bugging ya? If ya looking for action like that again and being able to use your quick to an extent I highly encourage you join us. That gadget there on your wrist will help you manage that quirk of yours and—"

“How do you know so much ‘bout me—S-sorry for interrupting it’s just—"

Giran chuckled and brought his hand waving off to you. “No need to apologize. Let’s say I have my resources. Also, like your brother you are very popular. The reason I made that gadget for you. Was cause..”

He paused and looked back at Kurogiri then back at you. “We saw potential in you. And it’ll be a shame to put it to waste. Those heroes did nothing for you or to help. And we are the people who want to help.” He said with a smile.

Your leg began to bounce as you got anxious. Looking down at the object on your wrist, Giran spoke again “We can and will. Help you. We aren’t bad guys as they see us as. The boss, a pain in the ass but he chose to help you, besides it’ll benefit you..but him mostly..” Giran said muttering the last part.

Kurogiri cleared his throat, Giran hummed and sat up straight leaning forward. “Right, before I forget. You will be meeting the boss..soon I’ll say. But Kurogiri over here shall be uh..your chauffeur we can say. Will be bringing you here and taking you back where you were. Unfortunately the boss ain’t here to introduce himself, he’s somewhere throwing a tantrum or something. But no need to worry about him.”

You shifted your gaze to Kurogiri, feeling skeptical. “Also, one more thing before Kurogiri takes you back…”

Giran stood up leaning closer and taking the cigarette in his mouth out. “We suggest you don’t mention anyone about our interaction or anything. Or well, it won’t turn out pretty. You’ll be a great addition to our uh..cause. Yeah, and of course you will be meeting with me often but to no torment you.”

He walked over and put his hand out. “Give me your wrist with the gadget.”

You gulped and raised your wrist, he grabbed it roughly and took something out of his pocket, suddenly your eyes widened feeling needles being stabbed into your wrist. You cursed in pain as you tried to pull your wrist back but Giran had a tight grip. “Should have mentioned it was gonna sting. It’ll only be for a few more seconds—"

Kurogiri spoke up, “Giran, Tomura said that won’t be done till he met her in person.”

Your eyes widened at the name mentioned, Giran’s grip tightened. “Kurogiri you were supposed to—“

“She would have figured it out sooner or later. Turn that off now.”

Giran sighed and the pain stopped. You held your wrist as there was a sting and a bit blood was dripping, falling back on the chair. Huffing and then you spat.

“You’re the league of villains aren’t you.”

—

I apologize. Late post. Life a bit tough but I’ll try to keep updating. I swear next chapter Tomura will come in.

[jedibongrip]

title: be the dreadful need (in the devotee) Relationship: anakin/obiwan Rating: M tags: AU, Gods & Old Gods, set in the GFFA, no jedi Summary: Obi-Wan travels to Tatooine to fulfill his late father's life's work. He finds something else to dedicate his life to, in the ruins of a forgotten wasteland.

for the @deaddoveobikin blasphemy week day 3 prompt: gods, prophets, false prophets! a (wip) chaptered fic. read under the cut or on ao3 for all the tags/notes

If Mace Windu were a less kind friend and employer, he would deny Obi-Wan’s request for a sabbatical, coming so soon as his bereavement leave. Instead, he raises an eyebrow as Obi-Wan silently slides his forms across his desk, unwilling to make eye contact.

“You know you don’t have to continue his work,” Mace reminds him, though he signs the forms anyway.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I know.” A moment passes. “But I do.”

(Perhaps it’s a show of how much Mace respects him, giving him the space and money to go on this search that he clearly thinks is foolish. Perhaps Obi-Wan would be better off if Mace respected him a little less.)

Permission granted, substitutes found, and some measly funding acquired, the only thing Obi-Wan has to do is gather supplies and pack his things before he heads off. His apartment is stuffed to the bring with boxes, datapads and notebooks, maps and totems, scrawlings of all different kinds, all overflowing and toppling over each other. The more delicate items - glass compasses that never pointed north, beautiful daggers and knives too old and dubious to be used as anything but decoration, but too unsettling to even be used as that, carefully wrapped bone and pottery remnants - were littered over every table and counter space that he has. Obi-Wan does his best to move through the turbulent sea of debris, making his way to his bedroom, the only room which he has managed to keep free of all this junk.

He shakes his head. It isn’t junk, he shouldn’t call it that. All these dusty artifacts, these unorganized folders and notes, this is all Qui-Gon’s work. It’s all that’s left of him. And all of it has been left to Obi-Wan.

He collapses onto his bed, fatigue overtaking him and weighing him down. His eyes burn from the dust and the ashes of incense that have overtaken his apartment, ever since he hauled in what was left in Qui-Gon’s office and house. Like a true academic, Qui-Gon had very little in the way of savings or property left behind, and what he did have was quickly snatched up by his remaining, distant blood relations. There was nothing of comfort or monetary value left to Obi-Wan, the quasi-son that Qui-Gon half-raised but could never stomach the thought of adopting. Between his moments of grief, Obi-Wan can feel himself grow bitter about it. It’s an old hurt, one he healed from and accepted, but Qui-Gon’s passing seems to have bruised the scar tissue of it. But hurt and bitter as he could grow to be, Obi-Wan loved Qui-Gon. Loved and cared about him, cared for him as he grew old and his body and mind began to fail. Loved him enough to promise to finish his research. And despite what everyone tells him, about how he doesn’t need to keep a promise he made to calm an old and dying man, Obi-Wan knows himself to be too loyal to break such a vow.

Even if he knows he’s being sent on a fool’s search. Because even before Qui-Gon’s health declined, everyone knew that his theories and research were odd. Everyone thought he was mad for what he was proposing. Everyone insisted that Qui-Gon Jinn, Doctor of Intergalactic Archeology of Sentient Species, study and research something that was actually in his field. But no. Qui-Gon, ever the rebel, even as he lectured in one of the most prestigious and expensive universities in the Inner Core, insisted that he was right, that he could prove his theory, that he just needed a bit more time.

Well, Obi-Wan thought, time’s up. He sits up and sighs, keeping his eyes closed for a moment longer. When he opens them, he sees his own degrees hanging on his walls. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Bachelor of Intergalactic History. Master of Socio-Political Sentient Organization. Doctor of Intergalactic Anthropology. Oh, how he felt like a rebel when he didn’t follow exactly in Qui-Gon’s footsteps when he turned away from the mysteries of the dead to focus on the mysteries of the living. He ended up playing right into his hand.

Obi-Wan sighs again and pushes himself off his bed. He has a lot of packing to do if he wants to leave by noon tomorrow. He can’t bring himself to be thankful that Qui-Gon did leave him his ship, as helpful as it will be to cut down costs on his journey. It’s a rustbucket, one that Obi-Wan has always hated flying in. Very well, he thinks, reaching under his bed for his suitcase.

Qui-Gon used to love dragging him on cross-quadrant trips. This will be like a trip down memory lane, a homecoming, of sorts, and a final goodbye all wrapped in one. If he’s lucky (and he rarely is) the ship might hold together long enough for him to get there and back, before he can sell it for scrap.

—

It’s late afternoon when Obi-Wan finally leaves orbit, parking garage fees paid, his bags and crates safely stored on board, and coordinates for the source of Qui-Gon’s obsession plugged in and waiting until Obi-Wan weaves his way through traffic to get to a hyperspace route.

The jolt into hyperspace is momentarily unpleasant, a rush of unease and queasiness rushing through Obi-Wan’s body, as if all his cells know that they are not meant to be moving so far, so fast, and so they protest. Then the jerking and creaking of the ship ceases, and planets and stars are nothing but smudges in the pitch of space, and his body and mind calm enough for him to set the ship on autopilot and step out of the cockpit.

The ship used to feel so much bigger when he was a boy. Even after all his growth spurts and moments of teenage rebellion - like the time he stole this very ship to go on his own adventure - it felt spacious and freeing, even as he had to stoop to walk through doorways or squeeze into his childhood bunk. Without the sheen of adventure and the comfort of Qui-Gon's constant presence - physical or not - Obi-Wan saw the ship with the eyes of an adult; old and aging, cramped, the amalgamation of cheaply pawned and traded parts that once felt magical and eclectic, and now felt vaguely unsafe and slapdash. Every corner had a memory so Obi-Wan keeps his head down as he walks through the corridors. When he was loading the ship, he automatically began storing his things in the tiny cabin that he used to stay in, until he realized what a waste it was. Qui-Gon’s berth was larger and, of course, wasn’t being used. Obi-Wan moved his things there, but now that he walks through the doorway, he feels awkward and out of place.

He intended to look over his data in the comfort of the bed, but he cowardly grabs the bags he thinks have the maps and pads that he needs and brings them to the common area. He carefully unrolls the star maps onto the table. Some of them are copies, some are original from years ago - Qui-Gon always dodged any questions about exactly how old they were, or how they came into his possession. But despite years separating some of the data, all of them focus on the same system, the same accursed planet staying in focus in the centre.

Tatooine.

An abandoned desert planet, a wasteland, a graveyard, a planet that hasn’t held any sentient life for thousands of years, since before the republic was even an utterance on anyone’s lips.

The place that had captured Qui-Gon’s interest, his soul, his mind, since Obi-Wan was a boy.

Many intergalactic archeologists had a passing interest in Tatooine, Obi-Wan knew. Despite its dry and desolate state, Tatooine once held oceans, possibly had fresh water too. Some academics and conspiracy theorists believe that Tatooine may have once held sentient life - though what happened to it, if it ever existed, was where many debates emerged. Some thought that, if intelligence was once found on Tatooine, it would have died out when four of the planet’s moons escaped orbit, leaving it with only three remaining to protect it from the blaze of the twin suns. Others thought that the original population could have been some of the first to discover interplanetary flight, and left their dying planet in the hopes of finding a new home.

The nature of the shifting tides of sand means that any remains, any evidence, had long since been buried or eroded by time. What few attempts have been made to mine what few valuable materials exist on Tatooine have been too small to make a dent on the surface, and have never been profitable enough to inspire greater efforts to explore or excavate the planet. Tatooine, it seemed, was fated to remain a forgotten mystery, one that most people didn't care enough about to try to solve.

And despite all of this, Qui-Gon became insistent that Tatooine is where ‘it all’ began. A lifetime of digging up burial grounds, worship grounds, ancient temples, of learning about how different systems thought of life and death and the divine, and yet he thought that all of that flowed from Tatooine. Every myth, every god, every ceremony he ever uncovered, it all pointed him to a planet that, by all accounts, seemed to be as dead as the bones he used to study.

And Obi-Wan is heading straight for it. He fights off another sigh as he scans Qui-Gon’s notes, full of half-baked theories of settlements and rituals, rambles in a code that Obi-Wan is only half fluent in. He isn’t sure why this is something he needs to do. Will it make him feel better, when he arrives in a wasteland and finds nothing? Will it honour the man who cared for him for so many years? Will it make up for all the arguments and fights and months of silence that weighed them down as time went on? Hardly anyone entertained Qui-Gon’s hypotheses, Obi-Wan certainly didn’t when he was alive. What does he prove by going there, except that his father wasted his time, his life when he could have been finding fulfillment somewhere else?

And still, the ship races on, through star systems and empty space, heading to the middle of nowhere and the centre of a universe that Obi-Wan never really understood.

Obi-Wan tries to translate Qui-Gon’s thoughts into ones that he can understand. It's unforgiving work. There will be plenty of time to give himself a headache trying to do that later. Instead, he goes and checks the batteries on some of the supplies he’ll be using, goes to make sure he has all the solar panels he’ll need while he is grounded. After all, it’s not like Tatooine has a shortage of sun. All he'll have on that planet is sun, time, and the unwanted fragments of Qui-Gon's career.

—

The relief Obi-Wan feels when he finally lands on Tatooine is short-lived. After days of travelling through the endless night of space, he’s developed a perpetual nausea, a dull headache behind his eyes, and an unpleasantly greasiness to his skin. It’s almost instinctual, opening up the ramp to stumble out to the solid ground beneath his ship, to relish in the marvellous feeling of being still.

He feels the heat on his skin before he registers it. The ship shades him from the glare of the twin suns yet he swears he already feels his skin searing. The air is dry, sucking the moisture from his lips, leaving his mouth feeling gummy. He only wanted to stand on solid earth for a few minutes, but dizziness from the heat forces him to the ground, sprawled on the unforgiving rock shelf that he landed on, already feeling grains of sand working their way into his shoes.

This is the forgotten hell that Qui-Gon dreamed of for years. Obi-Wan already has half a mind to leave and venture to one of the many seedy resort planets that are scattered around the middle and outer rims.

He takes a few deep, scorching breaths and hauls himself upright, using the ramp of the ship as support. The metal is already almost too hot to touch. Shaking off lightheadedness, he staggers back into the ship, hastily closing the door behind him, trying to keep the blasted heat out for as long as possible. His ship is still pleasantly cool and feels all the colder now that he’s drenched in sweat. He takes a moment to centre himself, a task that has become all the more arduous since Qui-Gon’s death.

He must gather and check his supplies once more, preferably before his ship gets too hot. He should double-check his maps and scan his surroundings, make sure that he’s stopped in a safe location, somewhat close to one of the possible sites that Qui-Gon wrote about. Obi-Wan had no false illusions about the heat of the planet, but knowing it and feeling it are two different things. He needs to check his radiation block and ensure that he has enough bacta and ointment to soothe any burns that he is sure to get. Make sure that none of his water tanks broke or tipped over during his difficult descent and landing.

There’s so much to do and Obi-Wan is already so tired of it all. He sighs and goes to the ship's computer. He ought to coordinate his clocks with the planet, now that he’s arrived. He checks when the suns set.

Tatoo I sets in eighteen hours. Tatoo II, twenty.

Obi-Wan sighs again. Well, he thinks, I better get moving.

He stays seated for many more minutes.

—

Loaded up with gear, it feels even hotter outside. The suns are at Obi-Wan’s back, their light narrowing as they descend under the horizon, feeling like a glare from an old, angry god. He can feel his skin burning through the protective layers of clothing and UV block that he’s put on. He almost isn’t sure if it's real or just the phantom pain of burns that he’s gotten and healed over the five days that he’s been on Tatooine.

Five days on Tatooine. The thought makes his body ache. Five long, miserable days and nothing to show for it. He has less than nothing. He expected his search to come up empty, but he didn’t expect it to take so long. He only managed to find and search two of the sites that Qui-Gon wrote about, half-crazed scribbles talking about star alignment, dates and coordinates that seemed to repeat themselves everywhere he looked. On each page he searched through, he half expected Qui-Gon to start rambling about fractal and Fibonacci sequences. To make matters worse as he was flicking through one of Qui-Gon’s notebooks the night before, eyes burning, movements lethargic and clumsy, he found that a few of the pages had gotten stuck together by time and who knows what. Peeling them apart revealed more locations, more sites of interest. More work for Obi-Wan to do.

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He takes a swig from one of his canteens, drains the last of the water it in, and reattaches it to his pack. It clinks against all the other empty bottles that he’s finished during his trek today, a cacophonous symphony to score his movements. He’s hiked up rock formations, crawled across cracking limestone bridges, and crossed a seemingly endless sea of sand. He should turn around and head back to the ship. He wants to turn around and head back to the ship.

But the thought of that terrible sun shining in his face, blinding him as he stumbles back to his bed almost sickens him. He huffs and puffs as he hauls himself up the jagged side of another rocky peak. It seems much taller than all the others he’s scaled but it could be exhaustion and irritation fooling him. He’s long stopped heading towards the spot that Qui-Gon marked on a map. Instead, he’s in search of something much more valuable: shade.

Yes, Obi-Wan thinks, as he continues to hike up the flattening incline. If he can find some shade, he can rest, maybe even take a short nap. He’ll wait until a sun has set and start making his way back to his ship. While he’s been scaling this large formation for a few hours, the mountain range rising out of and dipping below the sand like a wave, everything before was flat. He’ll be able to see the ship once he’s down, he can even send one of the small droids he stuck in his pocket to it in advance to light his way. He hasn’t seen any sign of life since he landed. The isolation, the feeling like he’s the only thing to exist in the whole galaxy, is as terrifying as it is exhilarating.

Obi-Wan keeps walking up the mountain, the curve gentle and the stone beneath his feet flat. It curves upwards and around. With each step, Obi-Wan is hopeful that shade will appear. It seems almost endless, a Tantalus torture just for him. His eyes droop as he walks and his neck becomes limp under the weight of his head.

Almost imperceptibly Obi-Wan feels a coolness against his legs. He pries his eyes open and sees a large stone jutting out of the ground to his right. It stands to his shoulders but is angled in such a way that its shadow is cast long and low against the ground. He almost collapses with his haste to crawl to it, pressing his back against it and twisting his body to fit within the comforting embrace of its darkness. Relative to everything else on the planet, its surface and the ground beneath him feel damp. He sheds his pack and lets it wobble and tremble, seeking an equilibrium on the gentle slope.

Exhaustion pulls his eyes shut again as he pants. He claws at the scarves and layers he piled on to protect against the suns, shedding them until he’s left with only his loose, long-sleeved shirt and the breathable trousers he bought just for this trip. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and his chest heaves. The heat is still intense, the rock still hard and unforgiving, but the relief of being out of the sun and no longer moving feels heavenly compared to just moments before. Obi-Wan sags under his own weight, allowing himself these brief moments of rest before he forces himself onwards. Though, now that he’s still, now that his eyes are closed, it’s questionable if he’ll ever convince his muscles to pull him up.

He doesn’t know how long he rests, his body boycotting each movement that he dictates. He’s soothed by the tempo of his breathing, the thrum of his own heart, the sound of-

Obi-Wan peels his eyes open and squints. He turns his head, looking further up the mountain. Straining, he shuts his eyes again and tries to zero in on the sound. He couldn’t possibly have heard it right, it must be some kind of auditory mirage, or perhaps-

His ears prick up as he hears it again. Faintly, further away, but clear once he hears it. Water. Running water. Water splashing against stone, pooling, echoing against itself. Now that he’s heard it, it sounds clear as day, impossible to miss or ignore.

Tatooine has been devoid of water for at least twelve thousand years, long before the birth of the Republic, long before sentients tried to explore the outer edges of the galaxy, looking for freedom and wealth and friendship.

And, yet, Obi-Wan can hear it. It calls to him, beckoning him closer, to explore and discover. Obi-Wan has never thought too highly of himself, never believed that he innately knew better or knew more than anyone else. And as much as he may doubt himself, he’s never doubted his capabilities. He trusts what he experiences, what he knows, and what he hears.

It feels like the planet’s gravity has doubled but Obi-Wan pushes and pulls until he’s standing, legs wobbly like a newborn’s. He throws the protective poncho he was wearing over himself, leaving the rest of his layers in a dusty pile. He just barely remembers to grab his pack but is too exhausted and confused to bother putting it on properly. He drags it behind him, like a petulant schoolchild, listening as the frantic scrapes along the sandy stone as he ascends.

The sound of trickling water is faint, but slowly grows in volume as Obi-Wan makes each labourous step up the mountain. He puts a hand on the rock face to stabilize himself, gasping when it feels cool to the touch, even as it sits in the sun. The path he treads starts to grow twisted, angling up and down, the rock under his hand growing more jagged and cracked.

The sky is a vibrant purple when Obi-Wan remembers to look at more than just the rocks around him. A sign that one sun has long been set and the other is following its lead. The wind picks up, blowing grit into Obi-Wan’s eyes, and he feels the first semblance of coolness in hours. In a few hours, the desert will be frigid. He should turn back, and hurry down the mountain to the safety of the ship. Continue this fool's journey tomorrow or not at all.

But the musicality of dripping water sounds so sweet. How could Obi-Wan abandon the discovery of the millennium? How could he abandon the chance of vindicating Qui-Gon? How could he reject this sweet, mysterious oasis gift in the middle of the desert?

Obi-Wan pants as he climbs. Was this mountain always so tall? At the base of it, it looked so much smaller, a quick hike up and over. He cranes his neck to look back, searching for the way he came, and finds that he doesn’t recognize the path. The sound of water is so close, almost thunderous in his ears. Trepidation weakens his legs and stomach. He edges closer to the cliff face and looks steadfastly at his dusty boots as he continues.

It sounds like he’s right next to a waterfall, white rapids crashing right next to him, and then silence. Obi-Wan looks up, confusion and fear mixing like alcohol in his stomach, leaving him just as disoriented.

He stands before a cave. The entrance is narrow, a gap between large boulders, precariously wedged against each other. It’s dark, inside. A cool breeze blows from within, smelling sweet and gentle. That’s what surprises Obi-Wan most, after spending the last few days surrounded by the musty scent of sand and the sharp tang of his own sweat. But no, it smells like a forest, like a garden after a light rainfall. It smells of a peaceful life. It smells heavenly.

Obi-Wan barely casts a glance behind him before he dips his head and squeezes into the gap in the rocks. He has to shed his backpack when the fabric of it starts to catch and snag against the walls. It’s fine, he reasons. He won’t go too far. He’ll turn around in just a moment, collect his bag, and be off again.

When he presses his hands against the rock, the surface is hard but not harsh, not jagged or sharp. Like a river stone that needs a few hundred years more before it’s ready for skipping. It feels gentle, like a salve, on his sunburnt hands. He blocks on the measly rays of sun that managed to sneak into the cave, casting a shadow where he means to walk. In a brief moment of clarity, he berates himself for not fishing the torch out of his bag before entering. Stupid!

He pauses. The shadow on the ground in front of him, long and monstrous, has grown fainter. A glance behind shows that a second shadow has emerged, trailing behind him. There’s a glow in front of him, faint, hidden behind the gentle curve of the cave wall, but there. Obi-Wan swallows and feels the hair on his neck stand on end. There seemed to be meters upon meters of solid rock above the cave when he was outside. Inside, everything feels just as solid, just as isolating. There’s no way that there could be a gap in the rocks, large enough to let so much light in that it can illuminate this cave without weakening it to the point of collapse.

It’s with a jolt of surprise that Obi-Wan realizes he’s still walking deeper, that even with the sudden mystery of the light, the sound, the smell, even as his mind grapples with it all, his body still moves against his conscious wishes. His breath stills in his lungs as he rounds a gentle curve and the soft light that only tickled him before grows into a bright beam.

Finally, Obi-Wan stills.

A vast room unfolds before him. Impossibly large and spacious compared to the cramped entryway leading to it. A small pool of water, fed by a waterfall emerging from cracks in a wall, sits next to the entrance, but its sounds are light and playful, nothing like the deafening stream Obi-Wan heard from outside. Plush moss and beautiful plants and flowers stretch across the rock floor and climb up the walls and ceiling. The brightness seems to just exist, not originating from any specific source. Glinting in the light, Obi-Wan spies golden trinkets, jewels thrown carelessly across the room, and piles of silks left in heaps.

A young man lounges on a round, gilded bed, woven sheets artfully draped around his naked body. A gilded head resting on a gilded hand. Golden eyes stare at Obi-Wan’s shocked and frozen form, pink lips twitching up into a sly, mirthful smile.

“What pretty little thing wandered into my grasp now?” The man laughs. He pushes himself up, revealing a swarth of golden skin. Obi-Wan swallows.

“Sorry,” he stutters out. “I was just- I heard- I think I’m a little lost.”

He tries to step back. The man on the bed scowls, his expression going from playful to dark faster than Obi-Wan could blink. His back hits a wall, cold stone pressing against him. He turns his head and finds that the entrance, the cave he was walking through, has disappeared. When he looks forward, the young man is inches from him. The warmth from his body feels almost scalding and his gaze is piercing, almost painful when Obi-Wan makes eye contact with him.

The man tilts his head. His hair, beautiful bronze curls, fall across his snarling face. He reaches out with his hand of shining gold and cups Obi-Wan’s chin. The metal is hard and warm, bruising against his skin. He sees the man’s lips twitch as he tilts and moves Obi-Wan’s face, eyeing him like a predator eyes cornered prey.

Obi-Wan has been in bar fights and drunken brawls. He’s no ignoramus when it comes to martial arts, having taken many classes over his life. He may not be an expert, but he’s won more fights than he’s lost. He knows the moves he should throw to get away from this strange creature and knows he should look for some way out of this strange room. But this man… he’s captivating, enthralling. Obi-Wan can’t find the strength to escape his grasp or his gaze. He stands still and pliant as he’s maneuvered, as gold and flesh hands trail across his clavicle and neck. He feels like he’s being appraised or studied, and he can’t help but blush from the attention.

“Who are you?” The man asks. His voice is raspy like he hasn’t used it for a while, but it washes over Obi-Wan like a wave. He swallows.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he answers. The man in front of him raises his eyebrows. “I’m a professor from Coruscant.”

“A professor?”

“A teacher,” Obi-Wan clarifies. He clears his throat. His jaw aches from the strong grip on it. “I teach anthropology. Cultures from around the galaxy.”

The man hums. “Why did you come here?”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth but can’t find the words to say for a few seconds. “I don’t know. My, well, I guess, he was my father died and he… he was obsessed with Tatooine.”

The man breaks out into a grin. It’s sharp and beautiful, a broken glass sculpture. He releases Obi-Wan, and he feels quick pulses of pain jolting from where fingers once gripped him. The man takes a step back. Obi-Wan has to fight himself to not let his eyes drift beyond his chest.

“Obsessed?” The man asked. “Devoted?”

“What? I… I guess.”

“To what? To whom?”

“He was-” Obi-Wan pauses. What was Qui-Gon obsessed with? “I could never figure it out, exactly. He… he had these ideas about Tatooine having the first people. The first… Gods.”

The smile on the man’s face seems almost splitting, manic in its excitement. It makes him look like he’s glowing. “To whom was he devoted to?”

The question seems ridiculous, insane even. Qui-Gon had only ever been devoted to himself, really, though he showed that devotion in many ways. Like taking on an adopted son. Like paying for his son’s schooling, even if he didn't fully support what he wanted to study. Ensuring a legacy that Obi-Wan could never really understand. But this stranger doesn’t need to know that and wouldn't understand even if Obi-Wan told him. Yet, Obi-Wan’s mind races, he sees flashes of Qui-Gon hunched over a desk, of maps and printouts pinned to walls, chalkboards and projectors covered in his scribbles. He sees all the scrolls and tablets and books that clutter the ship that is sitting, hot and dusty and empty, probably miles away. He sees one thing, one name, repeated throughout it all, sometimes half translated, sometimes underlined, sometimes just penned in the margins.

“An… Anakin?” Obi-Wan stutters out. The name is strange and unfamiliar on his tongue as it crawls out of his throat.

"Again," the man breathes out. "Say it again. Say my name."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispers, like the name is a secret like it's precious and special. Like it's a prayer he's trying to remember.

Anakin smiles and it feels like the burn of the twin suns.

[swatik1991]

“The Ultimate RDP Checklist: What to Look for in Remote Access Software”

In today’s hybrid and remote-first business environment, having reliable Remote Desktop Protocol (RDP) software isn’t optional—it’s essential. But with so many options in the market, how do you choose the right one?

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Must-have:

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Must-have:

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 13

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

Silence compounds your castigation. Whether it’s you or Curtis who refuses to speak, you can’t really tell. You’re too afraid to go first and maybe he is too. Or maybe he’s just that pissed. That thought irks you. You haven’t done anything to deserve his anger.

You watch the lush landscape dwindle out to urban architecture. Your return to the city is both a relief and a fall to earth. Your usual dread for work is laced with a sense of excitement. You just want to reclaim some sense of normalcy.

Curtis pulls up to the curb outside your apartment. Your hand is already on the handle, ready to escape. You stop yourself as you give in to the tension.

“Thanks,” you say, “for the ride.”

“Yep, no problem,” he utters flatly.

“I, uh, I’ll see you later?”

He’s quiet, one hand on the wheel, his other arm draped against the door. He stares through the windshield. He really is upset but you can’t apologise if you don’t even know what you’ve done.

“Right, well, I should go. I’m already late.”

He sighs and bends his arm, brushing his fingers over his hair, “you need a ride to work? I can hang around…”

The weight in your chest lightens as his tone softens. You exhale, trying to scatter your addled nerves. “That’s really sweet but I’ll be fine. Go home, get some sleep, get cleaned up. I’m sure you have stuff you need to deal with.”

“I have time,” he insists.

“Really, you’ve done enough,” you pull the door handle, “see ya.”

“Yeah, see ya,” he mutters.

You get out and shut the door gently. You turn and walk up to your building without looking back. After the morning you’ve had, work will be easy as pie.

🐰

You rush into the office and nearly collapse into your chair. You untangle your bag from your arm and tuck it under the desk. You hit the button to boot your computer and catch your breath as you watch it load. 

There’s three of you in the small space, tucked into cubicled desks as the partners retreat into their offices. You sign in and fan yourself with a folder. Only two hours late!

You get up as your desktop buffers and peek over at Marnie’s head, the constant tap of her typing nearly drowns out her grumbled, “morning.” You return the unemphatic greeting and stroll away. Taylor doesn’t say a word as usual as his eyes cling to his monitor.

You go into the shared kitchen and put a cup under the spout of the keurig. You open the cupboard and take out the small box marked with your name. Everyone brings their own supplies. It’s not a very friendly or cooperative environment.

You sift through and find a pod. Hazelnut. You grimace. You knew you shouldn’t have grabbed the variety pack. As you fish around for any other flavour, a pare of sole tap into the kitchen behind you. You glance up as Andy, one of the partner’s, enters with a black mug in hand.

“Oh, go ahead,” you move your cup off the tray, “I’m just looking for coffee.”

“Thanks,” he nears and grabs his own bin. It’s neatly sorted with tea and coffee, and a small pack of rice crackers. He mostly eats out with the partners or clients.

You continue your futile search. Hazelnut, hazelnut, hazelnut…

“Ooo, hazelnut. Can I interest you in a trade?” He intones as his hands rest on the sides of the box.

“You don’t even have to trade, you can have them.” You drop the pods back into the bottom.

“I got… caramel or some dark roast,” he offers. “Caramel’s a bit sweet but it was a gift.”

“Hmm, well, sure, I’ll take one of those,” you hold out a handful of pods, “keep em.”

He chuckles and lifts the box instead. You dump them in and he plucks out one of the orange pods in the other corner. “I wouldn’t mind if these one went mysteriously missing…”

You smile and thank him as you take the pod. He inserts one of the hazelnut into the machine and pushes down the lid. You wiggle your foot as you wait for his coffee to brew, trapped in another silence. Do you really need the coffee?

“Good weekend?” He cracks the icy lull.

“Uh, yeah, I… sorry I’m late.”

“I wasn’t meaning that,” he assures you, “really. I’m genuinely curious. You got caught in the storm? Must’ve been a nice getaway.”

“Uh, yeah, wasn’t really planned,” you fold your arms and lean your elbow on the counter, “me and my friends went out on Friday and then… I dunno, long weekend.”

“I’m jealous. I don’t even know the last time I went out anywhere,” he taps his fingers on the wood finish as the machine grinds, “my buddy was telling me I should. I’m a bit too old for clubs but he’s been on my ass to get out and meet someone… any tips?”

“Tips? From me?” You scoff, “barking up the wrong tree. But I definitely wouldn’t recommend a club.”

“Oh, bad experience?”

“Eh,” you tilt your head back and forth, “not really my thing. My friends are more into it.”

“Makes sense,” he nods as the last few drops spit into his cup. He slides it out and turns cautiously on his heel. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I don’t?” You wonder as you play with the pod between your fingers.

“Nah, a woman like you, you seem classier than that.”

You can’t help a crooked expression. It’s a compliment, you think. Unexpected for sure. 

“Thanks,” you take your cup and slide it across the counter, “enjoy the coffee.”

“You too,” he raises his mug and blows across the top, “and don’t work too hard.”

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.4k words // masterlist

If there was anything that Aelin loved in the world, it was sweets. Evidently it was so profound that Rowan had already picked up on it in the few weeks they had been talking. From late morning into the early hours of the afternoon, he’d taken her around downtown Varese and showed her all of his favorite spots. 

Just like he knew her affinity for all things sugar related, Aelin knew that he didn’t like to indulge in heaven on earth. When he led her into four different bakeries and sweet shops it was the best kind of surprise. He may not eat them himself, but he had clearly thought about her sweet tooth when mentally mapping out their day together. 

By the time he drove her back to her apartment, not only did she have bags full of decorations to add to her new home, but several boxes of various sizes filled with everything from cake slices to truffles. There was a specialty candy shop where she had bought three pounds of candy for her desk at work, all of them a rainbow of colors and flavors wrapped in crystal clear paper. The boxes of chocolates would be placed into her fridge to avoid any melting. She would pick through those one by one and add her absolute favorites to a note in her phone for future purchases.

Saying goodbye was bittersweet, the way the dark chocolate truffles had been as they melted to nothing in her mouth. Rowan had to be awake early the next day and she had a thick file folder she needed to sift through to finish finalizing a presentation. Despite how badly neither of them wanted it to be over, the short window of time they had was closing. 

While they both hoped to reunite the following weekend there was a solid chance of it not happening. Rowan had to go out of town Friday night and wouldn’t be back until Sunday morning. He offered to make the drive for the afternoon anyway, but it felt silly. With travel came exhaustion, and even though Aelin had no qualms about staying curled up on a couch with him, it just didn’t make sense. 

Still, they hoped, and spent a little too-long leaning against her apartment building and sharing kisses between Rowan saying, “I should go.”

“So go then,” she whispered back against his lips, her own parting to tug on his bottom lip.

“You’re going to kill me if you keep doing that, love.” When he called her that, it did anything but make her want to stop. It sent embers sparking through her blood, flames licking up her thighs and between her legs. The feel of his hands against the sensitive skin of her neck, fingertips dancing over her jaw and sliding into her hair had her feeling like a teenager all over again.

“What if you came upstairs just for a few minutes?” There was no harm in that, right? He could help her carry her things upstairs then leave. Probably. 

“I think we both know that minutes would very quickly turn into hours, and hours would turn into us both falling asleep in your bed.” His words said one thing: that they shouldn’t. The husky, rough tone of his voice, however… That was saying something else. 

“I’m not tired,” she murmured, allowing his fingers to angle her head ever so slightly. Rowan’s lips dragged hot kisses along her jaw and neck, pausing to nip just over her pulse point. Involuntarily, she dropped the bag of sweets she held in her right hand and yanked him closer by the pocket of his jeans. The evidence of his wanting was pressed against her stomach and she moaned. Devilish lips tipped into a grin against her collarbone at the sound. Why did everything he did have to feel so fucking good?

“You would be by the time I was finished with you. I would have you exhausted past the point of being able to say anything but my name.”

“Who the fuck ever told you that you weren’t good at talking to women?” It came out more breathless than she intended it to, and he chuckled darkly against her neck as he made a path with his lips right back to hers. One more searing kiss and he finally pulled away, thumbs making circles over the line of her jaw. A whimper slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it and Rowan kissed her again. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he wanted to do anything but leave. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised with one last peck to the corner of her mouth. It took every ounce of self restraint to let him pull away, taking his body heat with him. Despite the balmy air she felt cold. 

Hoping to the gods that none of her chocolates had received too much damage from their short fall to the concrete, Aelin gathered the bags and watched as Rowan got into his car. A single dimple popped in his left cheek as he threw her a final grin over his shoulder. 

He might have said she would kill him, but it was going to be the opposite. She just knew it. 

~*~

“That’s the worst news,” Aelin grumbled, face morphing into a frown on his phone screen. Her voice filtered through the ear buds he wore while walking toward one of the SUV’s that would charter him and his teammates to the stadium. This weekend he played the Devils in the Wastes. 

“I’m not thrilled about it either.” And he wasn’t. They were going on another two week stretch of not being able to see each other, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t make this weekend work. 

“You really don’t want me to drive down there?” It had been an on-and-off topic of discussion the last few days. Both of them heavily considered it. When it came down to it, it just didn’t make sense. If she did, his flight didn’t get in until Sunday evening. Rowan knew he would be wiped out from the match tonight, and she would be driving two hours to just sleep beside him. Monday morning she had to be at work at 9:30 at the latest, and it just wasn’t worth it to him.

Not that she wasn’t worth it– she was. The cost of those several hours of drive time paired with how tired she would be the next morning because of the commute? That was the part that he couldn’t justify. Once her physical health came into play, he was out. It would be another long week without seeing her, but he would suffer through it if it meant she was well rested and could function normally at work. 

“Of course I want you to, love,” he told her, voice dropping in volume to avoid any of his friends from overhearing. He would never hear the end of it if they did, especially if they got wind of how desperately he wanted to kiss her frown into a smile. It was impossible to do that through a facetime call, but the desire still crested in his chest.  Since when was Rowan Whitethorn such a ball of mush? “But you need to rest.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Besides, the two times we’ve slept together has been some of the best sleep I’ve ever had.” She sunk lower into her pillows, fighting back a yawn. There was a five hour time difference and it was already almost midnight back in Varese.

Rowan took a moment when he got to the car to toss his bag in the back before climbing in. Fenrys slid in next to him, immediately sticking his nose into business where it didn’t belong.

“Is that her?” Fen’s voice must have been picked up easily by the microphone because Aelin’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity. One look in the pup’s direction had him retreating out of Rowan’s bubble with hands up defensively. 

“Tell whoever that was I said hello,” she crooned, knowing by the look on Rowan’s face that he definitely wouldn’t be delivering that message. Another smile broke across her face. Gods above, she was beautiful. 

“Absolutely not. He’ll never leave me alone.”

“Is she talking to me?” Fenrys leaned over again, the top of his golden curls entering the frame of the phone, nearly blocking out Rowan’s entire face. “How the hell did Rowan manage to get a woman as pretty as you? I’m curious.” 

Fenrys wasn’t entirely wrong. How he had someone so blindingly beautiful to call at the end of the day was beyond him. All golden light, soft curves, and sharp wit, she was exactly the kind of woman he’d imagined himself being with. Sometimes he felt out of his mind insane when he thought about how quickly his feelings were growing for her. Like he was in the middle of the ocean, no life raft in sight. But he would gladly drown in it, in her.

Aelin’s laughter pulled him from his thoughts. Fenrys retreated out of frame when Rowan pinched his side sharply, the golden haired man hissing while swatting at Rowan’s hand. The girl that consumed his every thought was still smiling when he scooted over until he was flush against the door. Rowan tilted his phone screen so she could only see his face. “He’s a lot.”

“Is that your assistant couch?” 

“He– yeah. Yeah he’s my assistant.” Next to him, Fen snorted and shook his head but mercifully said nothing. Great. Now he had to deal with that can of worms. 

“I’ll let you go. Drive safe, text me all about the win, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” The win of his high school students. Fighting off a wince, Rowan promised he would before hanging up and stuffing his phone into the pockets of his sweats. The team logo burned against his thigh for the first time in his life. It wasn’t a big deal, doubted she would even care, but the longer he kept the secret the worse it would be when he finally came clean.

“Your assistant couch, aye? She still thinks you coach a high school team?” 

“I don’t want to hear it, Fenrys,” Rowan warned, voice low and promising pain if he pushed too hard. 

“You need to tell her. If you’re not worried–”

“I’m not worried and I don’t want to talk about it.” There was a finality to his tone that prompted Fenrys to nope right on out of that conversation. 

Truthfully, the only person he felt like he could talk it through with was Lorcan. But the towering brute in question was being so cagey about Aelin’s intentions that it wasn’t exactly on the table at the moment. Rowan understood his hesitancy, but they’d barely spoken of the sport. He knew she didn’t know who he was. That she wasn’t trying to wring money out of him the way… 

Rowan shook his head, locking those thoughts in an iron cage in the back of his mind. He would not go there. Not with her.

~*~ 

“How are things going?” Evalin Ashryver Galathynius leaned toward the camera as though she were buckling up to hear all sorts of tea spilled. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun, not a single strand out of place. Her white t-shirt was plain, but Aelin was certain a blazer of some sort was hanging in the office somewhere.

“Really well, I think. The team is amazing so far, I haven’t had any issues. Nobody is pushing deadlines I set or anything like that.” Aelin picked through the dish on her desk, selecting a vibrant green candy that she quickly popped into her mouth. Evalin waited for the plastic paper to stop crinkling before she answered. 

“I didn’t have a single doubt about that. I meant your work life balance. You have a tendency to struggle with it. You always have.” Something about the way her mother spoke had Aelin narrowing her eyes. Evalin’s lips twitched in effort to hide a smile, her fingers fiddling with the pearls that hung from her throat.

“You talked to Aedion, didn’t you,” Aelin asked flatly, lips in a firm line to hide a smile of her own. Vultures, the lot of them. Always so eager to share any shred of gossip where her love life was concerned. 

“Well, I certainly wasn’t hearing it from you!”

“I didn’t even tell him about it!” Aelin cried, throwing her hands in the air as she slumped back into her chair. Still, she grinned. “Lysandra swore she would still keep my secrets after they started dating, but I clearly can’t trust her anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Evalin’s bejeweled hand swiped through the air in dismissal. “Tell me about this young man that you met.” 

A heavy sigh loosed from Aelin’s chest as she turned the candy over in her mouth, the flavor unusual while she thought about Rowan. Where did she even begin? There truly wasn’t even much to report on, and she said as much. “He works a lot, coaches a high school soccer team— oh don’t look at me like that.”

“You secretly love the sport, admit it.” Aelin’s eyes rolled. 

“I loved watching Aedion play, but since he’s out and I have no obligations—”

“Outside of being the daughter and granddaughter to two men that own two different teams,” Evalin interjected, and Aelin winced. Both of her eyes squeezed shut as she covered her face with her hands, her mother’s gasp enough to have her peeking through her fingers. 

“What the hell does he think your last name is?” There were few instances where Evalin cursed, and that this had been deemed appropriate told her it was a bit more major than she had been chalking it up to. 

“He… doesn’t? It hasn’t come up.”  It really hadn’t.  She didn’t know his last name, either. Aelin would get around to it. How often had it been an issue before? She frowned, knowing the answer without having to say it. Over and over men had sought her out as a way to get their way in with her father, hopeful for a lifelong career.  Besides, how do you slide that into a normal conversation anyway? By the way my family is worth billions and I myself am worth millions, please don’t date me for my money. 

“You know I’ve had too many instances of people weaseling their way in to get to Dad, or Papa, or our money.  Not that I think Rowan would, because I don’t. But it wasn’t a first date conversation, and the last few times we’ve been together I genuinely haven’t thought about it.” It was the truth. Aelin didn’t feel like the daughter of a family with more numbers attached to the bank account than she cared to count. She was just, blissfully, Aelin. The same girl she was on holidays, curled up on the couch under blankets with her family around. No public image, staggering bank account. Just her.

“Does he know you founded and run Fireheart?” Aelin peeled her lips back from her teeth in a silly smile that was more of a grimace. Even on the computer camera, she could make out the faint tinge of green that stained her lips. “Gods above, Aelin.” 

“He thinks I teach dance and piano at local studios.” Her words were mumbled and muffled by the hand she’d placed over her mouth. “Which isn’t a lie! I do teach dance and piano. Just not… currently while opening the new office.” 

When she said it out loud, it was so, so, so much worse. The blossoming relationship was already built on a lie. It wasn’t one that really affected anything, but it was still a lie. Even if it was just by omission. 

Evalin opened her mouth to speak, but Aelin opened hers first and let the candy fall from her tongue onto her desk. Instead of whatever she had been about to say, her mom snorted despite her brows knitting together with worry. 

“What?” Aelin asked, using a tissue to toss the candy into the bin beside her. 

“You look a little pale, my love. Are you feeling okay?”

“It’s probably the lighting in here,” she gestured toward the ceiling her mother couldn’t see. The sun had set a while ago, leaving the fluorescent lights to cast an unflattering light over her features through the camera. A mental note was made to do something about light fixtures in here before saying, “I should go. I have a few things to finish up before I head home.” 

“I want to hear more about this man, Aelin. I mean it.” 

“I’ll tell you everything as soon as there’s a development,” she swore, grabbing her water bottle to wash away the odd taste the candy left in her mouth. 

As soon as their goodbyes were said and the call was ended,  Aelin fished through the bowl,  plucked out every green piece within, and dumped them all in the trash. 

~*~

An intensely severe frown pulled her lips down as she sighed and shoved the bowl of pasta she made as far from her as she could manage. Something had smelled just a little wrong while she was cooking, but she managed to wave it off as the scents of dinner mingled with the air fresheners she had plugged into the wall. It appeared that a fridge clean out was in order because the pasta just tasted bad. Aelin wasn’t a chef by any means, but typically the meals she made were better than this. A sour and metallic taste lingered in her mouth despite her desperate attempts to wash it away with water, soda– anything. 

She hadn’t felt well all day. In fact, the golden blonde had appeared peaky enough that several of her staff members inquired about how she was feeling. Even though she didn’t want to, Aelin had ended up leaving for the day a mere three hours after arriving in the office, barely making it through a meeting with her entire staff. When she got home she parked herself on the couch after making a simple pasta with garlic and basil which clearly hadn’t worked out. Neither had dinner the night before — something about the chinese take-out made her violently gag and spit it back into the container. It was now in the trash, a graveyard for everything she’d tried to consume in the last twenty-four hours.

It was easy to decide against eating— she wasn’t really hungry. More than anything she was trying to eat because she needed to. Breakfast was commonly skipped and normally by noon her stomach was rioting to be filled. Now, however, she found herself sinking into the couch and tugging a blanket over her body for warmth. All she wanted to do was sleep. 

Less than five minutes later, a storm of nausea, fatigue, and dizziness overwhelmed her. Aelin’s mouth began to water, a sign that soon bile would be rising up the back of her throat. She stumbled through her apartment, knees slamming onto the tile of her bathroom floor just in time for her to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Tears heated her eyes, pricking at the corners as she hurled and hurled until there was nothing left.

As gross as it felt she rested her forehead against the edge of the seat, willing her stomach and breathing to calm. Chest still heaving in gags that produced nothing, she took several deep breaths through her nose and out through her mouth. It would help in the long run, surely, but the smell of toilet water clung to her nose so much that she could nearly taste it. Drool pooled in her mouth and she quickly spit into the porcelain bowl, wiping the remnants from her mouth with the collar of her shirt. 

 Hours seemed to pass before being able to muster the energy to rise on shaky limbs and head back toward her room. There were no thoughts but to slide between her sheets and pull the duvet over her head, the hope that sleep would cure all her problems.

The nap lasted for so long that when she woke, the sky was darkening. Shades of pink and orange and blue peered between clouds as the sun began to disappear below the horizon. Somehow she had managed to sleep the entire day without waking a single time. 

Aelin patted around the bed in search of her phone, remembering with a low groan that it was still in the living room. Though she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to provoke her weak stomach, she found it in herself to retrieve a bottle of water and her cell before returning to her bed. Steady and full deep breaths kept her from feeling she might be sick again as she typed out a message to Rowan, discarding her phone onto the pillow beside her as she turned on the tv for something to watch. 

Aelin didn’t even make it through the first episode before her body was lulled back into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

~*~ 

Hot water poured over his head, snakes down his body in rivets. Rowan would have been content to stand in the shower for the next few hours if it would ease the aches he felt all over his body.  

Lucky for him, tonight he would take a few extra minutes because they had played Varese tonight and the drive to Aelin’s apartment would be fifteen minutes instead of two hours. Though he had driven down with the team on a charter bus, Rowan would take an Uber to her apartment. Fenrys was going to drive down tomorrow. Sunday afternoon they would return to Doranelle for another week of grueling practice. 

Rowan shut off the water and wrung his hair out before wrapping a towel around his waist and heading to his locker. All around him his teammates shouted back and forth about the game, a few clapping him on his back when he passed. He had played particularly well tonight, leaving his soul out on the field like he did every week. His legs were sore enough to prove it. 

By the time he dressed, bid farewell to everyone, and made his way outside the Uber was waiting. In the safety of the backseat of the car he opened his phone to read the text he’d missed from Aelin during the game. 

I think I food poisoned myself. Entirely bed ridden. Save yourself and don’t come over tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. 

She followed it up with a heart emoji as if that would make him worry less. Like hell he wasn’t going to go make sure she was okay when he was so close. Even if he had been in Doranelle, or getting off an airplane, he would have driven to make sure she had everything she needed. 

Because of the late hour, nearly eleven at night, traffic was scarce and it was a short trip to her apartment. The contents of his overnight bag hit him in the shoulder repeatedly as he took the steps two at a time. It was irrational to be so worried when she said it was just food poisoning, but he knew of people that had made trips to the hospital over such a thing. Dehydration was a very strong risk if she wasn’t able to keep her fluids down. 

It bothered him just a little bit that he had to knock on the door and potentially wake her up, but the idea of her withering away alone was worse. With a firm knock, he bit the bullet and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Rowan knocked harder, unease making his stomach turn until he heard the soft padding of feet across wood floors. Moments later the door was cracked open, a pale and exhausted Aelin peering between the space she had created. It took her a before it registered it was him, and the frown that took up her entire face quickly turned to confusion.

“Hi, baby.”

“I texted you,” she rasped, pausing to clear her throat as she opened the door all the way for him. “Did you not get it?”

“I did, and you’re out of your mind if you really thought I would go back to Doranelle without at least checking on you.” Aelin laughed softly, barely letting him get the door closed before her arms were around his waist. She nuzzled her face against his chest and took a deep breath. Rowan carefully eased his bag to the floor before gathering her up in his arms and carrying her straight back to bed. A low whine escaped her lips when he pulled away, but he promised he would be back in just a minute. 

True to his word, he returned less than a minute later with a full water bottle in hand that he placed on her nightstand. Golden hair fell across her face as she sat up and took a tentative sip, then carefully lowered herself back onto the bed. Aelin was quick to snuggle up against him when he climbed in next to her. Kisses were pressed to her forehead, cheeks, nose, and a soft one to her lips while he brushed her hair out of her face.

“I’m glad you came,” she whispered, eyes already closed, her breathing evening out. 

“Me, too.” 

~*~

Aelin was, literally, sick and fucking tired. Though Rowan had taken amazing care of her, held her hair while she vomited the next day, and ensured she drank enough water to stay hydrated, the food poisoning seemed to linger over the course of the following week. Two days ago she had been feeling absolutely perfect and thought it was over, but the next afternoon half the office heard her throwing up. 

Most of the week she’d been locked away in her office, forcing herself to make it through each work day until it was time to go home. Every night she was getting a full night's sleep– gods, she was getting more sleep than she had in years. But she was just so wholly exhausted right down to her bones that she had little energy for anything else. 

By the time she managed to crawl up the stairs and fall into bed, she was almost asleep before her head even hit the pillow. Twice this week she had woken up in the same clothes she had worn the day before. It was so out of character for her, but she had been really sick, and it did seem to be sticking around. Whatever she caught, her body couldn’t shake. 

It was why she was working from home, her laptop open and papers scattered around her bed. If she was contagious, she wasn’t going to expose her employees more than she already had. Not only could she not have half the office out for a week, but she cared about them too much to risk it. 

On her lunch break she had just made a bowl of chicken noodle soup when her cell rang. She immediately answered, assuming it would be Rowan calling to check up on her. Multiple times a day he would call and ask a laundry list of questions. Her answers never changed between morning, afternoon, and night, but he still asked to satisfy the anxiety he had. It was sweet.

“Hey,” she chirped, determined to sound less miserable than she was.

“How are you doing, babe?” Not Rowan, but Lysandra. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, leaning back onto the pillows and fiddling with the lid of her water bottle. “I’ve been sick all week. It sucks.” 

“Weren’t you sick over the weekend, too?” 

“Mhm. I didn’t know food poisoning lasted for so godsdamn long, but here we are.” In a living nightmare, dying a slow, slow death. Stomach muscles she didn’t know existed ached, her arms and legs felt like limp noodles. The bruises on her knees from kneeling on hard floors all week were probably permanent. 

“That’s because it doesn’t,” Lysandra said, curiosity in her voice. “Are you still throwing up?” 

“Not all the time, but it’s a solid fifty-fifty when I try to eat anything. The rest of the time I’m asleep because I just can’t seem to–” Perfect with the comedic timing, a gigantic yawn interrupted her– “stay awake.”

“Just curious,” the second word was drawn out, the end of it sounding like a snake. “When were you supposed to get your period?”

 Aelin snorted. Hard. Even though Lysandra had posed the question as a joke more than anything else, Aelin still swiped down from the top of her screen to double check what day it was. It wasn’t a possibility– she was on birth control and they had used a condom. Yet when she saw the date, her eyes were glued to the white numbers on the screen. Her silence drew out a little too long. Lysandra said something, maybe her name, but it didn’t quite register. 

“Let me call you back,” she said, throwing the blankets off her legs and scrambling out of bed. The work papers went flying, drifting slowly back to the floor. Even her laptop had been flipped over in the chaos but that didn’t matter. Not with the rising panic in her gut working its way up her throat.

She didn’t even bother to change out of her pajamas before running out of her apartment, down the stairs, and around the corner to the drugstore. 

~*~

Less than half an hour later, Aelin was propping her phone up against the bathroom mirror. The toilet was out of frame, but she felt like she could deal with this whole situation better if Lysandra was with her. It was silly to be so worked up over it, but she was also late. While her period did have a tendency to give or take a few days, sometimes a week, it had never been this late. As much as she could try to chalk it up to a million different things, she wouldn’t know a moment of peace until she was throwing the negative pregnancy test in the trash. 

“It’s going to be okay.” Lysandra was sitting on the couch she shared with Aedion. Thankfully he was at work and couldn’t witness the first pregnancy scare Aelin had dealt with since college. 

She pulled multiple boxes of tests from the paper bag and laid them out. Through the camera, her eyes met Lysandra’s and she had to brace her arms on the counter to keep from falling over. Her legs felt like jello and the nausea was setting in. This time, though, she felt it had less to do with being sick and more to do with anxiety. 

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “We were careful. I haven’t missed even one day of my birth control. I’m probably late because of work stress.”

“But we have to make sure.” Lysandra’s voice was soft, gentle. Though she knew they would be joking about this as soon as the tests reflected a negative result, right now her best friend was cool, calm, and collected. Everything that Aelin wasn’t. 

With shaking hands she opened the first box, removing both tests from their wrappers. She moved out of frame, the porcelain cold against her skin. It was an effort to control the tremors of her fingers in order to get the little caps off, and then she was forcing all the urine out of her body and onto the wicks of those stupid pieces of plastic. 

“You got more pale,” Lys noted, frowning heavily as soon as Aelin stepped back into frame. 

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled in response, putting the two tests side by side on the counter. “I feel like my entire nervous system is trying to escape my body.”

“Three minutes from now we’ll be laughing this off. It’ll be a fun story to tell Rowan the next time you see him.” Despite herself, Aelin laughed softly but it was swiftly cut off when her eyes glanced down at the tests. 

It hadn’t even been a full minute yet, but a response was staring up at her clear as day. She picked both of them up as ice slid through her entire body. From her head to her toes, everything was cold. Whatever blood pumped through her body had fled, soaked straight to the floor and taken her stomach with it. The shaking in her hands was bad enough that when she turned them toward the camera, it took Lys a second to be able to read it. They made eye contact again, faces mirror images of the other: wide eyes, open mouths, pale skin.

“Holy fuck.”

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @punkassbookjockey26 @shyvioletcat

[brighteststar707]

Glasses II

Me talking about Saeyoung’s glasses again because Cheritz doesn’t appreciate them enough he has been missing them a lot lately.

This draft has been sitting in its folder since the masquerade opening screen came out. Realistically, I know him not having glasses in most CGs is an artistic choice, but of course I found a reason to make it a character quirk.

The mirror in Saeyoung’s walk-in wardrobe is the biggest in the house, which is why you’ve both decided to squish yourselves in there tonight. You’re both all dressed up for the RFA party, all that’s left are the finishing touches.

Saeyoung stands in front of the mirror, running a comb through his hair for the third time. He knows his efforts are futile, and that the parting will disappear partway through the night, but he’s not going to let it dissuade him. Meanwhile, you’re bustling around the room, looking for the finishing touches to your outfit in the mess of clothes and accessories. He watches you through the reflection, his little whirlwind, and smiles when you finally find what you were looking for and let out a small aha!

You slip on your shoes and join him at the mirror, bumping him with your hip to make room for you.

“Shuffle up, you’re hogging the mirror.”

“I’m just making sure that I look my best for tonight! My hair is staging a rebellion and I’m losing!”

“You’re missing some. Here, let me try.”

He hands you the comb, turns to face you and you help him even out the parting.

He likes to think that he doesn’t get flustered quickly around you anymore, but this small action makes him blush. He loves being spoiled by you.

“There! I think we’ve tamed it.” You turn back to the mirror and take in his full outfit.

He’s pretty sure he’s outdone himself this time. He hasn’t had many chances since knowing you to dress up this nicely, so he put in extra effort just for today. He went shopping with Zen a few weeks ago and found a heavy red and white jacket that he was sure would be a perfect fit.

“You look wonderful, Saeyoung. Except… what is that?” The smooth lines of his silhouette are interrupted by something half-stuffed in his pocket.

“Oh… that’s the box for my glasses.”

“Why do you need a box for your glasses? Are you bringing more than one pair?”

“No, I’ll just be taking these off once we arrive at the party.” He demonstrates by whipping off his glasses and flashing you a smile. “Tada! Saeyoung’s beauty has increased by one hundred percent!”

Your reflection in the mirror is much blurrier than it was a minute ago, but he’s pretty sure you’re not smiling back at him.

“Saeyoung, you can’t see very far without them. How are you going to enjoy the party when you can’t even see anybody’s face?”

“Beauty is worth struggling for! Don’t worry though babe, I’ll always be able to spot you in a crowd, no matter how bad my vision might be!”

Even that comment doesn’t lighten your mood. Your blurry face still looks sad.

“You’ve said that before. About looking better without your glasses, I mean. Do you really take them off for events?”

“For most of the parties and other events where we have to look… presentable. It doesn’t make me look like Zen or anything, but it’s an improvement.” Sure, it was uncomfortable, but he had managed to get by in the past. He’d mostly use Yoosung as his guide to help him recognize people and would put them back on before his eyes hurt too bad. It was all worth it in his mind to feel pretty for one night.

You sigh, take the glasses from his hands and sternly put them back on him. As your face comes back into focus, he notices your expression has gone from sad to a sort of stubborn determined look you often get when he talks negatively about himself.

“I know what I say can’t change your mind or the way you think, but I think you’re very pretty, with or without your glasses. You shouldn’t have to struggle on a night like this.”

You brush away a strand of hair on the wrong side of the parting and your expression softens slightly.

“- also, after all the work I put into decorating, you had better appreciate it to the best of your abilities,” you add with a smirk.

He throws his arms around you and squeezes you close to him.

“How can I possibly miss out on my babe’s work? I’ll make sure to appreciate every last detail in there tonight!” He doesn’t say the rest out loud, but you know him well enough to know that under all his exuberance, he holds onto your small reassurances and compliments like they’re gold.

“Just wait until the others see us, they won’t know what hit them,” he says, admiring your outfits in the mirror. You’re dressed in all black, with slight hints of red, which he’s thrilled about. He already knows that you’re going to be the center of attention tonight, and he can’t wait to see what everyone else has to say. As much as you love giving him compliments and reminding him of his worth, he loves to see you get the recognition that you deserve. There’s only so many times he can tell you just how showstopping you look (not that it dissuades him from showering you in compliments).

“That being said, I think we’re ready, don’t you?”

You agree, and you wiggle out of his arms so you can leave the wardrobe, all the while stepping over all your discarded clothes and accessories.

Before he follows, Saeyoung takes out the box from his pocket and puts it back where it belongs. With one last look towards the mirror, he straightens out his glasses and feels a warmth spreading through his chest.

He plans to enjoy tonight to its fullest potential.

[rpclefairy]

updated tutorial on trimming posts on mobile

reply formatter mobile edition:

i’ve been trying to figure out a way to adjust the roleplay formatter to be used on mobile but unfortunately tumblr just does not render blog themes well on mobile browsers (my guess is to force people to use the app but i digress)

so i made a mobile friendly version with carrd. the only differences are the box size option and the night mode toggle, which the carrd version doesn’t have.

if you don’t use either of these you can use the carrd version on desktop as well, everything else is the same. for the purpose of this tutorial i’ll be using the carrd version as it is optimized for mobile screens.

if you can consider tipping my ko-fi or using my carrd referral code ( DPY34V1H ) to help me keep hosting the formatter ♡

this is a very easy level tutorial

even if you’re not comfortable with html!

this post may be long because of the screencaps, but the method itself is only a handful of clicks and it shouldn’t take you more than a minute.

this method technically works on any browser, but it works best on firefox as it is the only browser i’ve tested that keeps all formatting (bold, italics, color text, etc).

i encourage you to install firefox on your phone to at least cut replies, you could technically use the tumblr app to write and format your reply once you get the code of the trimmed reblog.

what you will need:

a mobile browser (can’t stress this enough i strongly suggest firefox, specially if you don’t want to have to manually add your partner’s formatting. it will make your life easier)

the mobile friendly reply formatter.

that’s it.

tutorial:

step one:

first thing you’re going to do is copy this line of text:

?redirect_to=%2Fdashboard%3Frestore%3D1&avoid_redirect=1

time saving tip! depending on your device you may have a “pin” or “lock” option in your clipboard, use it so you can keep using it without looking for this post and copying it all over again.

if your device does not have a pin / lock option, you can create shortcuts assigning a short word or symbol and when you type it the saved line of text will be suggested.

here is a tutorial for android and ios.

step two:

save the post you want to trim as a draft.

you can do this on the app.

step three:

open your draft on your mobile browser. click to edit the address bar.

the url of this post will look like this : https://www.tumblr.com/edit/USERNAME/POSTNUMBER

now delete the part with your username and one of the brackets (either the first one or the last one, it doesn’t matter which one, just don’t leave 2 brackets.

then add “?redirect_to=%2Fdashboard%3Frestore%3D1&avoid_redirect=1" (without the quotes) at the end of the link, then click on the link and load the page

thanks to this anon who figured the link trick out💗

step four:

select everything and copy

then click on the x to remove the previous reblogs.

step five:

now go to the reply formatter here, click on the paste button and you’ll get a pop window.

there tap your screen until you get the options “paste” and “paste as plain text”. use the regular “paste” option.

step six:

select the blockquote text you want to delete trimming the reply like you would on desktop with editable reblogs.

and that’s it ! you’re done.

from here you can either write and format everything on the formatter

or you can copy the html code from trimming the post and paste it on your trimmed draft on the app

ir order to do that, on step 4 add anything to the body of the post so you can save the post (it can be just a comma or a keymash)

then write + format everything on the app. just remember to switch the editor to html on the app!

bonus tip + tutorial: uploading icons

save your icons folder to your phone / google drive (and then save to your phone the icon you want to use)

on your browser (NOT THE APP) create a new post

upload your icon

switch the editor from rich text to html

copy everything, paste it in the source code of the formatter.

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[the-magicians-blue]

hi!! Usually I'd stay anon but it's more personal not, same person who asked for the comfort fic for Micah <3

Curious, do you have any general headcanons for him? :0 I really do adore the way you write, can't get enough of it rn <3

:0 well hello there! Its a pleasure to met ya! I’m glad you like my writing cause I always end up second guessing myself 😅 I’m gonna do a bulleted list this time as something quick since I’m working on a few other requests

Things About Micah That Just Make Sense in my Head 💚

On days where he’s super busy (to the point were he can’t even text you much) he leaves little files on your computer to decode.

Often its just cute little messages like “I hope you had a good day angel <3” or “A lil something to keep your skills sharp. Can’t have my rival lose their edge ;)”

If you’re into something other than coding he wants to hear all about it. He doesn’t care if he doesn’t understand a single thing you’re look excited and it’s adorable to him so he’s happy

He doesn’t tell you but he hid a little voice box in the dinosaur. It plays the song he wrote for you when pressed

He has it box set up so it pings him when you finally find and press the button. It puts a smile on his face every time he gets a notification that you pressed it again. It lets him know you still love the song

The one thing he can’t bake is macaroons, he just can’t get the little cookies right and he gets so salty every time he tries

He has a folder locked away behind several firewalls of screenshots of you that he edited hearts and other mushy stuff onto

The high security is strictly so you never see any of it

Likes K-pop but not in a fan boy kind of way. He’s just got some songs from different bands floating around in his playlist

He does know the dance to Russian Roulette by Red Velvet though…

He can’t keep a straight face with bland/bad tasting food. You’ll always know if he eats something he doesn’t like he just can’t help it

He owns cat ears. I shouldn’t have to explain why

He likes when you wear his clothes. But if you’re bigger than him he’ll go out and by his same clothes in your size and spray his cologne on them for you

If he can’t find his clothes in your size he’ll just buy clothes that have both of your sizes so you’ll match

Speaking of matching he wants matching pajamas so bad. And yes Skrunkly must be included

Its just so he can take cute photos together

He’d definitely do a whole little photoshoot of the three of you in matching pjs for a Christmas card

The card isn’t going to anyone he just wants the photos

Loves state fairs. Good food, games, and roller coasters? Yes to all of it

He feels the the need to show off at the different games. You’re not leaving until he gets you one if those giant stuffies

He’s a big ole crybaby, you doing anything sweet for him brings him to tears so fast

Especially if you’ve planned out a whole day to spend together. You spent time to plan a whole DAY with him???? He’s so happy he’s sobbing

He loves you so much it kinda scares him. He worries that he may come on to strong or may end up doing something to scare you off or one day you might get tired of him. But you’re here now so he’s gotta be doing something right.

[bestiesenpai]

Dirty Little Secret - Toji Fushiguro

I love a good meanie :) this was inspired by a thrilling convo i had femme reader lads, everyone 18+ 12.3K words

content warnings are as followed: dubcon, blackmail, age gap, manipulation, noncon somnophilia, pseudo-incest, cheating, infantilization(?), mention of guns, drinking, choking, burning(w/ a cigarette? Idk how to explain), a lot of different pet names lol and Toji calls himself daddy

It all started with the messy, bitter divorce your parents went through, leaving your mother a struggling woman all on her own. You tried to help with bills, tried to tack on a few side gigs here and there and get a couple part time jobs but it just wasn’t enough.

Until she met Toji and all the worries you two had about money just suddenly melted away. He wasn’t outlandishly rich but somehow he made enough money that both you and your mother could quit all the jobs you’d had to take on.

Your mother was ecstatic, positively thrilled about the newfound freedom she has. She’s able to afford luxuries she’d never been able to before and there was no need to worry about pinching pennies and scrounging for every last meal. You could live comfortably, but there was something about Toji that rubbed you the wrong way.

There wasn’t one singular thing that drove you to disliking him, it was all just a culmination of things. His cocky attitude, the way he acted like he owned the whole house the first time he visited, how he seemed to be eyeing you up in a way far less acceptable for a man that was meeting his new step-daughter. As soon as his eyes landed on you, it was like your mother no longer existed.

They got married faster than you could blink, a rushed ceremony done at city hall with a few random witnesses watching her take the surname Fushiguro. Your mother was beyond happy, and while you were happy to see an easy smile on her face again, the knowledge that Toji would be living with you now hung like a dark cloud in the back of your head.

“Careful there doll, wouldn’t want you to break a nail.” Toji teased as he saw you pick up a moving box that was left in the living room. He was moving his and his sons belongings into the house and you’d been tasked with helping.

“Shut up.” Glaring at him, you grabbed the box in a huff and stormed up the stairs, stomping your way into the room that was your step-brothers, Megumis. You’d only met him once at a formal dinner and he seemed nice enough. Far different than his father but strikingly similar in appearance. He was away at university in another city, only visiting every other weekend if he felt like it.

Lingering in the empty room longer than you should, you tried to steer clear of Toji. The physical labour of moving boxes had made him sweaty, a nice sheen building up on his forehead and arms that highlighted the taut muscles underneath the skin and underneath the tight black t-shirt he was always wearing.

“Why don’t you go sit pretty on the couch, hm? A little girl like you shouldn’t be trying to lift such heavy things.” Catching you coming down the stairs, Toji was sporting his usual signature smirk whenever he saw you.

“There’s still a lot of stuff to bring in and I don’t want this to take all day.” Standing at the top of the stairs, you wavered. He wasn’t making any move to get out of your way or to come up the stairs and the two of you were stuck in a staring match.

“But you’re just so delicate, are you sure you can keep up?” Toji finally started moving up the stairs, a large box in his hand that looked to be no trouble for him.

“I’ll be fine!” You snapped at him, backing up and out of the way to let him pass you.

“You sure about that?” Stopping right in front of you, Toji held the box out of the way so he could lean close to your face, almost brushing his hair against your forehead.

“I’m sure!” Face erupting in a hot flush, you scramble away from him and down the stairs. You can hear the dark chuckle leaving his throat and the incident has your hands shaking as you go to the moving van.

Starkly avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the day, you take the pizza your mother ordered for the family straight to your room and don’t come out for a good while. She knocks on your door not once throughout the night, too busy giggling stupidly in the living room with Toji.

“Good morning baby girl.” Toji croons when he sees you appear in the kitchen in the morning, a hot cup of coffee in his hands as he leans against the kitchen counter. Your ears burn at the nickname, but you ignore him and go straight to the refrigerator.

“Hey!” Shuffling back when he slams the fridge closed in your face, another shout is caught in your throat as he looms over you, large calloused hand keeping the door closed.

“You just gonna be rude and not say good morning to your new daddy?” The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs on his breath, fanning over your face. He’s cornering you against the refrigerator, using his looming stature to force you against the door entirely.

“Go away.” You whisper, but you want to shout, push him away and stand up for yourself. But something in Toji’s stare and the way he carries himself has you withering.

“I don’t even get a good morning kiss?”

“Huh?” Your eyes go wide when he grabs your jaw, tilting your face up and holding it there so he can lean in and graze his lips against yours. Slapping your hands on his chest, you struggle to keep him at bay.

“Toji, have you seen my car keys?” Your mothers shout from the other room rips away the quiet, tense moment between you two. Toji takes a few smooth steps back, shuffling back into his place against the countertop right as she comes into the room.

“Yeah, right there.” Flicking his chin to the kitchen table, there lies her keys.

“Thanks.” Grabbing them, she takes a glance at you and then a double take, furrowing her brows and pointing vaguely at you. “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Why are you making that face?”

“I-” A tiny flicker of your eyes to Toji has your face burning all over again and any words are lost on you. “I feel a bit sick.” Ducking your head down, you rush out of the kitchen, the passing cry of ‘go lay back down then’ from your mother going ignored as you slam the door to your room and lock it.

Toji leaves sometime after your mother does and for a while you’re home alone. Finally able to eat in peace, there’s a few things you’ve been wanting to do ever since you met Toji, one of them being snooping through his things.

He was secretive with so many things, it was only right that you get a little intel on him. You barely knew what he did for work, the only thing he said he did was ‘freelancing’ and that was it.

Walking through the open bedroom door, you steered clear of the things you knew were your mothers. The old dresser she had and her section of the closet was still exactly the same as before Toji came into her life.

But now there was a new chest of drawers tucked away in the corner of the room, rich dark wood that contrasted with the light color palette of the rest of the room. There was also a safe tucked under the bed and one in the closet as well, you’d seen Toji bring those in himself.

Opening the top drawer, it was no shock to find folded piles of socks and underwear, a few black tank tops. The second had more shirts, the third was the baggy pants Toji mainly lived in and the fourth had more fitted bottoms.

But sticking out from between a few folded pairs of slacks was a thick file folder with your families last name on it. It was in pristine condition and once you opened it, you saw that so were the things inside it.

Detailed records of your bank history, notes that had everything about you on them; your favorite food, color, your typical daily schedule, who you hung out with and all their personal information, the places you frequented and all the jobs you’d held in your life.

“This fucking stalker.” Reading over notes clearly written in Toji’s handwriting, the contents of the folder made your stomach churn. Shoving it back between the pants, you stood up properly and turned to the closet.

The safe in here was buried under a stack of folded clothes waiting to be hung up. Toji’s side of the closet was relatively bare, with the only thing hanging up being the lonely suit he owned that he wore to get married in.

Punching in all the possible number combinations you could think of - all the phone numbers you knew by heart, your home address and every birthday - you came up empty. There was no way to open the safe in the closet, and you had to abandon it.

The safe beneath the bed was heavy, nearly breaking your back as you tried to drag it out into the open. It was a thin black metal box with a long rectangular shape and the same number pad as in the closet. Only this time, when you punched in the last four digits of your phone number, it opened with a click.

What you saw inside wasn’t what you were expecting. Sure, Toji was a mysterious guy with secretive habits and a job you knew nothing about. You had barely information on him, yet you still weren’t prepared to see all the guns he had stored inside the safe.

There were long shotguns, handguns, revolvers and plenty of ammo and holsters. Even with the slight wear and tear on some of the barrels, you could tell Toji took good care of them as nearly all of them were freshly polished.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Just as you reached out and skimmed a finger across one of the handguns laying innocently in the pile, Toji’s flat monotone voice sounded behind you.

Ripping your hand away, your head whipped over your shoulder to stare at him in terrified shock. He shouldn’t be home, you hadn’t heard him come in or the front door open and close. Frozen on the ground, you struggled to find the air to breathe.

“Such a nosy little thing.” Toji commented, his eyes drifting to the open closet door and the dresser drawer that you’d left ajar. “If you were curious about daddy, you could have just asked.”

“Why do you have these things?” What were you referring to? The guns? Records of your every move, down to how long your phone conversations were late at night?

“They’re for work.” Pushing away from the doorframe, Toji sauntered into the room, dragging his feet lazily.

“But-”

“That’s all you need to know.” He cut you off with a stern look, kicking closed the safe.

“Why...why do you have all those papers about me?” Came your next question. Looking up at Toji, you were suddenly aware of how you were presented to him. Sitting on your knees, hands balled up into fists in your lap, looking up at him with wide scared eyes - and he noticed it too.

“You’re my little girl, why shouldn’t I know everything?” Biting his lip as he looked down at you, Toji had to stop himself from grabbing your hair and shoving your face into his clothed cock. Instead he flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders and used his foot to push the safe under the bed. Scrambling to your feet, you watched as the safe disappeared.

“What’s in the safe in the closet?” You were standing far too close to Toji for your liking, he was within less than an arm's reach of you and you could smell the dark woody aroma he liked to put on.

“Important shit. ‘Gumi’s birth certificate, passports, the usual.” Shrugging casually, Toji walked over to the dresser and kicked it closed as well. “Got some stuff for your mom and you in there too.”

Letting a lull fall into the conversation, you scurried from the bedroom when Toji went to close the closet door. You could hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath upon discovering your absence, but he closed the bedroom door shortly after and you could hear him go down the stairs.

Hours later and your mother informed you she wouldn’t be home for dinner. Something about meeting up with friends for an unexpected late night outing and staying out past dark.

Left to your own devices, you tried to avoid being detected by Toji as you milled around in the kitchen and fed yourself.

“Sweetheart, that you?”

Keyword being tried.

Biting back a harsh sigh, you emerged from the relative darkness of the kitchen and into the living room where Toji was lounging on the couch with no shirt on, all his muscles and scars on full display.

“There’s my baby girl.” Toji broke into a smile.

“Yup, I’m here.” Rolling your eyes so you could force yourself to stop ogling his body, you turned halfway back to the kitchen.

“Woah woah come back!”

“What do you want?” Not keeping this sigh at bay, you quirked a brow at him.

“Ya know your mothers not here and I’m getting awfully lonely sitting in this house by myself. Why don’t you sit with me?”

“No thanks.”

“That’s too bad, sweetheart, ‘cause I wasn’t asking.” You can feel his hand wrapping around your upper arm before you even hear him getting up from the couch.

“L-let go!” Thrashing in his hold does no good, you’re thrown onto the couch like a doll in no time and Toji sinks in next to you, spreading his legs wide and throwing an arm over the back of the couch.

“Your mother wants us to spend more time together, get better acquainted and whatnot.” Grabbing the beer he had on the coffee table, Toji drinks until it’s empty and he crushes it in his hand. “And what better time than now?”

Huffing and puffing, you adjust yourself on the couch and try to focus on whatever Toji has playing on the TV screen. It’s some cheesy action movie made way before you were born, and while it makes you groan at the cliche plot points, Toji is having a grand old time.

“You want a beer?” Toji asks, picking up a can and cracking it open.

“No.” Shaking your head, the last thing you’d want is to possibly get drunk and lose your senses around him.

“Oh, oops.” Upon hearing your no, Toji not so subtly tipped the can over and let it fall into your lap, the beer inside spilling out onto your clothes.

“Toji! What the-” Leaping up and tossing the can onto the coffee table, you could feel the cold liquid seep into the fabric of your pants and underwear, even stretching to the back of your pants.

“That’s too bad, my mistake! Better go get changed.” Toji laughed, completely unashamed of what he’d done. Flipping him off, you stormed away. “Put your pajamas on, it’s getting late!”

“Fuck you!” Angrily walking to your room, you ripped off the wet clothes clinging to you. You were tempted to stay in your room the rest of the night, but there was no doubt that Toji would come up and drag you back down to the living room.

“Aw, don’t you look cute.” He teased when you came back down in an oversized shirt and sleeping shorts. He had procured a blanket from behind the couch and it lay on the arm.

“Ugh, it’s still wet.” Even though he’d grabbed a blanket, he hadn’t grabbed a towel to sop up the beer in the couch cushions.

“It’s okay, you can sit right here.” Grabbing your wrist, Toji yanked you onto his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist as you fell into him. Throwing the blanket over you, Toji forced you to lay against his bare chest.

“Let me go sit in the other chair.” There was a perfectly good arm chair a few feet from the couch you could sit on.

“Now how could we bond if you’re so far away?” He chuckled, hiking you back up as you tried to slide off him. Biting your tongue against any further useless arguments, you tried to get comfortable in Tojis lap.

“Be careful now, baby, all that squirming might get me excited.” Toji whispered in your ear, gripping the flesh of your waist tightly underneath his fingers. Chuckling again at how your body went completely stiff, he settled back into the couch and watched the movie.

Begrudgingly focusing on it as well, it was almost inevitable that you relaxed into laying on Toji, the smooth up and down of his chest expanding with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

“This movie’s stupid.” You grumbled as a commercial hit. Your arms were crossed tightly, having gotten riled up at one particular scene for how predictable it was.

“S’not stupid, it’s a classic.” Toji replied.

“Still stupid.” Shaking your head slightly, you let out a soft yawn.

“Aw, is it getting close to your bedtime?”

“Shut up.” It wasn’t that it was particularly late, but sitting in the low light of the living room, under a cozy blanket with a warm body underneath you holding you tightly, it was more relaxing than you thought. Coupled with the quietness of the TV and the slow even breaths Toji took right by your ear, who wouldn’t get a little sleepy?

“Poor baby’s tired.” You could just feel the mocking pout on Toji’s lips. Shifting his hands and grabbing onto your thigh, he turned you to sit sideways in his lap, legs across him and your head securely tucked under his chin.

“Not tired.” Trying to reason with him was impossible, and you gave up once the movie came back on. With a secure arm wrapped around your back and his other hand resting snugly on your outer thigh, Toji had you right where he wanted you.

“Still awake?” Toji asked ten minutes later and he already knew the answer. Your breathing had gotten quiet and you’d fallen slack in his arms, and when he rubbed your back you let out a soft, sleepy hum and snuggled deeper into him.

Careful not to wake you, Toji dipped his hands to the hem of your shirt and tugged it up so he could get under it. Trailing his calloused fingertips up your back, he felt the bumps and ridges of your spinal cord as he went. Pushing under your arm, he got to where he wanted: the soft flesh of your breast.

Cupping it in his palm, Toji bit his lip to hold back a soft groan. He’d wanted to do this since the day he started dating your mother and learned about you. From the very first picture of you she’d shown him he was hooked and every subsequent move he made after was calculated to get right to this very moment.

A soft uptick in your breathing let him know that you could feel what he was doing, but you did nothing else as he pinched your nipple and rolled it between his fingers.

Pushing you to lay back a little, Toji crept his other hand up your thigh. Your legs were simple dead weight to him and with a few nudges he was able to get his hand down your shorts and cup your sex.

“Be a good girl and get nice and wet.” Mumbling to himself he pushed his middle finger through your folds, coming to your clit and grinning wildly. Rubbing it with practiced precision, Toji kept his ears trained on the sound of your breathing and he was prepared to keep going even if you woke up.

Pressing a few kisses to the top of your head, he cooed at the delicate sigh you let out. You were getting aroused, Tojis finger was starting to get slicked up and glide easier against you.

Pushing his index finger against your clit, he worked you up even further. The movie was forgotten on the television, all of Tojis focus going to you and the way your brows scrunched up at the feeling of someone else’s fingers against your cunt.

You weren’t wet enough for Toji to push a finger inside, but he was fine with waiting for another time. Just playing with your clit and pinching your nipple was enough for him for now.

Pressing his nose against the top of your head, Toji let out a shuddering breath when you came in your sleep. A few desperate whimpers fell from your lips, and your face screwed up a little, your body clenching as pleasure rolled through your sleeping form.

Taking his hand slowly out of your shirt, Toji laid it back on your thigh and tried to collect his own breathing. Getting you to cum in your sleep on his lap had riled him up more than he expected, the thrill of making you come undone without your knowledge going straight to his head.

It wasn’t long after that your mother came home, gasping at the sight of your sleeping body in Toji’s lap and delighted that you were finally getting more comfortable with him. Not wanting to wake you, she snapped a few pictures for posterity and had Toji carry you to your room.

“You want me to what?” Staring at your mother like she’d grown another head, you couldn’t hide the disdain at what she had just proposed of you in the late morning.

“I want you to spend the day with Toji! He’s going into town to do some shopping and I think it’d be a great way for you two to get closer.”

“I don’t want to get closer to him.” The memory of last night made your cheeks burn. You were far more embarrassed about falling asleep in his lap than you’d ever be willing to admit.

“C’mon (Y/N), I saw you two together on the couch last night! It was so cute, I want you to have more moments like that with him.” Your mother gave you a pout, one just begging to humor her request. The desire to say no was right on the tip of your tongue.

“Fine, I’ll go with him.”

“Yay!” Clapping her hands together lightly, your mother turned away and started to gather a few things to start her own day.

“Let’s be quick, okay?” Ten minutes later and you were sitting in the front seat of Toji’s vintage camaro.

“I think we should take it nice and slow today.” Toji replied, firing up the engine and drowning out your thoughts with the loud roar. It was hard to look at him, so you kept your gaze trained to the passing scenery outside.

“Did you sleep well last night, baby?” He asked as the car came to a stop at a light. Toji was staring right at you, a wide smirk on his face. Pressing your lips together, you refused to look back at him. You might have slept well, but waking up with slick coating your inner thighs ruined the entire experience, whether good or bad at all.

“Why do you care?”

“Ha! Why do I care?” His sharp laugh made you jolt, turning to glare at him as the car started moving again. “You must have slept well, you were knocked out on my lap.”

“Won’t happen again.” You grumbled, watching his hand fiddle with the radio and turn it to a random station.

“That’s what you think.” Giving your thigh a quick pat, Toji settled into his seat. Driving to the shopping district he had in mind, as soon as you stepped out of the car Toji was by your side with a hand on your back. “I’ve got some business to take care of first, let’s go.”

“Don’t touch me.” Shoving his hand away, it was right back where it was in seconds. A low wave of annoyance washed over you, but you started walking in the direction Toji was taking you. The annoyed feeling only grew as you passed people by on the street and women openly stared at him, not giving a care in the world about the gold band on his finger or the fact that you were next to him.

And he didn’t seem to care either. You could see the way he would look back at some of the women, sending them easy smiles or holding eye contact longer than normal. Walking into a jewelry shop, you were finally away from their prying eyes, but the hand Toji had on your back only got firmer.

“Want me to buy you a little something?” Toji whispered, leaning close to your ear.

“Like what?” You challenged, looking across the shop floor. There were countless expensive jewels just lying in wait behind thick glass cases.

“Whatever you want, baby girl. Just point and I’ll get it once I’m done.”

“Done with what?” Looking at him incredulously, you saw him nod to someone waiting against a back wall.

“Business.” Patting your back, Toji went to talk to them, slipping into a back room and leaving you alone on the shop floor. Trying not to stand out, you found an open chair and pulled out your phone, already bored.

“Finally.” You said upon seeing Toji appear in front of you after nearly thirty minutes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was doing some negotiations.” Inspecting him further, you could see he was breathing a little heavier and there was just the slightest sheen of sweat above his brow.

“What, did you kill someone back there or something?”

“Almost.” He replied with a shrug. You’d meant it as a joke, but with the way Toji wasn’t smiling you couldn’t tell if he did too. Letting his eyes roam over the shop, he flicked his chin out. “Find something you like?”

“No.” Taking a step toward the door, you were tugged back by your sleeve.

“I bet you didn’t even look.” Toji chuckled, dragging you over to a case. “How about a little tennis bracelet, hm? We could add a little charm, how about a T?”

“I don’t want it, I won’t wear it.”

“Ah, sure you will.” Brushing you off, he waved over a sales associate. “Now, tell the nice worker what color you want, gold or silver.”

Walking out of the store with a pretty little bag in hand, you followed Toji to the next few stores he had to go into for ‘business’. Sometimes he was quick and you didn’t have to wait even a few minutes for someone to hand him a thick envelope that he tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. Others, he’d slip into the backroom and you’d have to awkwardly wait around.

“Are we actually going to do some proper shopping today, or is this it?” You snapped after being dragged around for a good while. You hadn’t even wanted to come, but now you just felt like a kid being dragged around against their will.

“Relax baby, daddy’s done, he’ll pay attention to you now.” Toji teased, pinching your cheek and cooing at you.

“Whatever, lets go.” Swatting him away, you stormed off in a random direction, Toji’s laughter burning in your ears. It was your turn now to drag him from store to store, some you weren’t even interested in. Following you dutifully, Toji bought whatever you wanted regardless of price tag.

“Let’s go in here.” Toji stopped you right in front of a popular lingerie store. There were large adverts in the windows of scantily clad women dripping in lace and frilly garments, and there were a large number of people inside as well.

“You can’t be serious.” You blanched, watching in slight horror as he toed his way over to the front door.

“Cmon baby, you deserve something nice.” He said loud enough to have a few passersby giggle. Seeing your face turn from one of shock to embarrassment, Toji knew he had won. Following him into the store with your head down, you tried not to look at all the bras and panties displayed so prominently.

Taking a seat at one of the chairs near the front of the store, Toji kept his eye on you as you walked around. Seeing your fingers glide across silk and lace, pass mannequins in intricate pieces of lingerie, he couldn’t help but imagine you in some of them. He’d only gotten a taste of what you had to offer last night, and he already hungered for more.

“I think you’d look great in that.” He came up behind you as you looked at a bra and panty set, little red and white love hearts adorning lacy pink.

“Pervert.” Glaring over your shoulder, you tried to conceal that you’d grabbed a pair for yourself. “Go sit back down.”

“I get it, you wanna keep it a secret and surprise me.” Fishing out his wallet, Toji handed you the credit card he’d been using the whole day. “Take your time baby, I’m going to have a smoke.”

Making sure he left the store, you let out a sigh of relief at finally being alone in a place like this. It was bad enough he suggested it, but to have him watch you pick out underwear was downright mortifying.

Grabbing whatever you liked, you walked out with a sizable bag in your hand and a pretty long receipt. Toji was nowhere to be found outside the store, and as you scanned past the people milling about, he wasn’t on the street either.

You had his number, feasibly you could call or text him to find out where he was. But with a limitless credit card in your hand and newfound freedom, that was the last thing on your mind. He would find you eventually, say something snarky and tease you and then you’d be on your way to grab lunch.

“Excuse me, miss!” For a moment, you thought the gentle voice calling out to you as you walked down the street was Toji. But as you turn around and are confronted with a stranger, you’re reminded that Toji would never be so polite.

“Yes?” He was an average looking man, around Toji’s age.

“I couldn’t help but notice you walking around, you look so beautiful.” The man had a hopeful smile on his face, taking in your reaction to the sudden compliment.

“Oh, thank you.” Giving him a once over, you quickly spotted the silver wedding band on his finger.

“What’s your name? I’d love to take you out sometime.” Shuffling a tiny bit closer, the man was already pulling out his phone before he even finished the sentence.

“I’m s-”

“She’s not interested.” A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, yanking you back into a firm chest. There wasn’t a need to look up and see who it was, the distinct cologne wafting into your nose and the rough treatment was enough.

“Huh?” Bunching his brows together, the man looked confused between you and Toji.

“Huh?” Toji mocked, leaning towards him with a raised brow.

“I think she can speak for herself.”

“My baby doesn’t talk to insignificant flies like you.” Staring him down for a moment, Toji got him to turn tail and leave in a huff.

“I could have handled that myself.”

“Yeah, well I handled it better.” Turning you around, Toji smirks down his nose at you for a moment.

“What?” His look is unnerving, it makes your heart flutter a bit and that’s the last feeling you want to have for him.

“I deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

“A reward for what?” Scrunching up your nose, you recoil a little as Toji bends at the waist and presents his cheek to you.

“For coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress.” Tapping his cheek with one finger, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Don’t leave your daddy hanging, now.”

Looking him over, you weighed your options. It was only a kiss, an innocent little peck on the cheek. Where was the harm in that?

The harm came when, as you were leaning forward with your lips slightly pursed, Toji turned his head and kissed you square on the lips.

Jerking back in shock, you didn’t get far as Toji grabbed your chin to keep you in place. His lips were rough, dry and cracked and the scar on the edge of his mouth wasn’t helping in that regard.

Brushing his nose against yours, Toji didn’t keep the kiss going for long; even he had boundaries for being in public. Pulling away, he swiped your bottom lip with his thumb, grinning at your flushed face and slightly labored breathing.

“Daddy got you flustered?” He teased, taking the shopping bags out of your hand and holding them himself.

“No.” You reply a few seconds too late, your lip’s in a pout and your voice has a slight whine. Biting his lip, Toji scanned your face.

“God, the things you do to me.” Roughly grabbing your hand, he tugged you along down the street. “Let’s get some lunch, I’m fucking starved.”

“You’re back!” Your mother exclaimed upon your arrival, leaping up from the couch to hug both of you. She quickly hurried out of the way upon seeing all the bags Toji insisted on carrying in by himself, her jaw dropping in shock.

“Don’t gimme that look, babe, you know I had to spoil the little princess.” Toji laughed at her expression, dropping some of the bags into your hands and kissing your mother on the cheek.

“I-I’m just shocked...we never come back with that many bags when we go shopping.” Her voice was quiet as she looked between the two of you.

“You gettin’ jealous on me now?” Toji teased, poking her in the side and making her jump. “I was just following your orders, forming a closer bond with my new step-daughter.” Pointedly shielding the lingerie bag from her view, Toji passed it into your hands. “Maybe she’ll show you some of the outfits she bought, we even picked some out together.”

If by ‘together’ he meant he shoved a slew of tiny skirts and low cut tops into your hands in the dressing room and then bought them when you rejected all of them anyway, then yes, you could say you two picked some out together.

“Uh- yeah mom, I’ll show you some of the stuff later.” You nodded along, eager to escape the situation and hide in your room. Not waiting another moment after the words left your lips, you ran up the stairs and to your room.

Pouring out all the things Toji bought you, you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy going out shopping with him. There was no limit to what you wanted, anything your eyes touched was yours in an instant.

“Knock knock.” Pushing open your door and swiftly closing it behind him, Toji held up the remaining bags. “You forgot some.”

“Thanks.” Reaching out to grab them, you didn’t get the chance as Toji set them down and stepped around you, grabbing the little bag from the first store you went to. Fishing out the velvet box, Toji opened it and dangled the dainty tennis bracelet from his finger.

“Put this on for me, will you? Wanna make sure it’s a good fit.” Dropping the bracelet into your hands, Toji chuckled when you struggled to get it on. “Need my help?”

“No I’m fine.” You said, pinching the clasp between your fingers desperately.

“Let daddy help you.” Grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer, Toji swatted your fingers away.

“Your fingers are too thick, how’re you ever-”

“Got it.” Releasing the bracelet, Toji watched triumphantly as it hung from your wrist. You barely mumbled a thanks before he was grabbing your wrist again, nearly pulling you chest to chest with him. “Now, what was that about my fingers?”

“N-nothing!” Slapping your free hand on his chest, your face burned terribly and only got worse as he laughed.

“No, no, go ahead and say it. My fingers are too thick, huh?” Grabbing your jaw, Toji slid his index and middle finger across your face until they came to rest on your lips. “Say ‘ah’.” Pressing your lips together firmly, you shook your head as best you could.

But Toji wasn’t one to take no for an answer and shoved past your lips, forcing your mouth open with his other hand and flattening your tongue. Clutching onto his wrist tightly, you looked up at him with watering eyes as his fingers slid too far back and choked you.

Growling at the sight of his fingers stuffed into your mouth, Toji dropped his other hand, grabbing your ass tightly in his hand and rocking your hips against him. Looming over you, Toji ripped his fingers from your mouth and slammed his lips onto you.

The kisses you shared before were nothing compared to this one. With a hand gripping the back of your head, Toji made sure not even a centimeter of space passed between you two. His lips molded to yours perfectly, mouths slotting together as he pushed his tongue in and claimed your mouth for himself.

Drool began to drip down the corners of your lips, sliding down your neck and chest and creating a glossy mess. It was getting harder to breathe the longer you went, your body quickly growing weak from lack of oxygen.

Gasping for air when Toji finally broke the kiss, your mind was spinning, barely able to focus on the fact that you were kissing your mothers husband and certainly not paying attention to the way Toji pushed you back onto your bed, body bouncing roughly on the mattress.

“God, I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Toji says with a sigh, climbing over your body and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw. His hands pawed at your clothes, bunching up your shirt as he tried to get to your breasts.

“T-toji! Stop!” Letting out a scandalized gasp, your eyes flew to your bedroom door. Surely your mother would hear and come to save you.

“No need to be nervous, baby-” yanking down your bra, Toji palmed your breasts roughly, “daddy’ll make you feel good.” Sitting up just enough to yank your shirt and bra off, Toji held your arms down and stared lovingly at your chest, his cock twitching to life the longer he looked.

An argument had bubbled up from your chest, ready to spew out and knock some sense into Toji, but as he descended onto you, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth, the words died just as quickly as they formed.

What was the use of telling Toji to stop when you knew he wouldn’t? There wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that if you yelled at him, told him it was wrong to cheat on your mother and fuck his step-daughter, he wouldn’t laugh straight in your face.

Fire back and ask why you think he cares about that? You’ve already seen the file he has on you and the lack of information he had on your mother. He’d already proven himself to be more than enamored with you and what kind of man would he be if he let something like ‘morality’ get in the way of what he wanted?

Moaning under your breath as Toji kissed and licked your chest, you had an argument with yourself brewing inside your head. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the attention he was currently giving you. He was confident in what he was doing, so sure of himself unlike some of the people you’d been with. The knowledge that came with being older was surely showing itself now.

Especially in the way he rolled his hips against yours, getting you to moan out a little louder this time, the sound coming from deep within your chest.

“Sound so pretty, baby.” Toji groaned, peeling himself away from you to shed himself of his clothes and to take the rest of yours with it. Letting out a low whistle at seeing you completely bare in front of him, Toji slapped his hands onto your thighs, peeling your legs apart to stare right at your cunt.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The pure animalistic look in his eyes had you throbbing, both with need and embarrassment. No one had looked at you like that before, unadulterated and hungry. Shyness crept in and you flung your hands down to cover yourself.

“No hiding, little one.” Smacking your hands away, Toji laughed at the pitiful, embarrassed whine you let out. “Aw, is someone getting shy? Can’t handle daddy looking at your messy cunt?”

“S’not messy.” You pouted, but it was true. A steady buildup of slick dripped out of you, coating everything between your legs and even dripping down between your asscheeks.

“You’re my messy little girl, aren’t you?” Ignoring your light protests, Toji laid himself down between your legs, making a show of putting your thighs on his shoulders and squishing his head with them. “I bet you taste as good as you look.”

With one last wink, Toji dove between your thighs, his tongue already out and ready to lap at your folds. The first touch of the tip of his tongue to your clit made you jump, hands flying down to grip his hair as your eyes went wide.

Flicking it a few times, Toji wrapped his lips around the bud, sucking hard as his fingers dug into your thighs firmly. You moaned just as loud as Toji did, the vibrations from his mouth travelling up to the ones leaving your chest.

Toji’s dream of being here with you, having you laid out on your back with his face buried in your cunt, had only gotten stronger as time went by. He nearly lost it in the lingerie store, seeing you walk so innocently around all the thongs and delicate lingerie. He had to leave to smoke a cigarette and cool down or else he would have dragged you into the dressing room in front of everyone.

Lapping at your entrance, Toji shoved his tongue in, his nose bumping your clit as he did. Massaging your walls, he drank in your essence, easily getting drunk off the taste and feeling of your thighs crushing his head. Painstakingly letting go of one of your thighs, he brought his thumb to your clit.

“Toji!” You gasped and your thighs got even tighter around him. Toji could barely breathe let alone think about anything but making you cum on his tongue and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Shoving his fingers between your legs, he slid them down to the hilt and felt your walls clamp down onto both them and his tongue. Your essence was everywhere now and he was sure the scent of your arousal would linger on his skin for days.

Putting his tongue on your clit again, Toji fucked his fingers into you. The obscene wet sound was music to his ears, a song he hoped to play over and over. Your moans had turned into babbles, your fingers carding through his hair as the pleasure washed over you.

“F-fuck-” Barely able to get the word out, you came on Toji’s fingers, whimpering loudly as he sucked your clit harder. You were sure you had crushed him for good now with how hard your thighs tensed up around him, but Toji seemed more than okay when they finally relaxed and fell to the wayside.

“What a good fucking girl.” Toji was breathless and lightheaded himself but he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease you, slap your quivering thighs with both hands and drink up your release. Your feeble hands were too weak to push him away, just a slight nudge on his forehead that he easily ignored.

Forcing air into your lungs, you got a moment's reprieve when Toji finally pulled himself away from your cunt. Your arms wound around his broad shoulders, pulling him into a half hug as your legs were hoisted up around his waist.

“You gonna let daddy take what’s his?” Toji whispered in your ear, blindly grabbing his cock and tapping tip against your clit.

“Yes!” You sobbed, nodding your head desperately. Glancing down between your bodies, you could see just how thick Toji’s cock was; his fingers surely did not compare.

Pushing the tip of his cock in, you could immediately feel the difference from his fingers. The stretch that his cock gave was unimaginable and you nearly broke into tears as he bottomed out.

“Hurts- s’too big-” Unwinding one arm, you pushed on Toji’s chest.

“Sshh, sshh, you’re fine.” He cooed, intertwining your fingers and pushing your hand onto the mattress.

“Toji…” Whining under your breath, you blinked away the mist of tears at your lashes and looked at him. “Daddy, please.”

The soft ghost of a smile on Toji’s face fell after hearing you call him daddy. His whole face fell, in fact, eyes going wide and pupils blowing out. The hand that was holding yours tightened, smashing yours into the mattress as his other flew to your thigh.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” Toji could hardly get the words out before he was pistoning his hips, thrusting his cock into you at an alarming rate. He had intended on taking it a bit slow, savoring the moment more as he finally got to fuck you.

But that plan was gone and in its place was the plan to fuck you into the mattress, turn your brain and body into mush as he made you cum over and over again.

“Daddy! Slow down!” You wailed and in the back of your head you wondered if your mother could hear you, if she was outside the door just waiting to burst in on the two of you.

“Not a fucking chance.” Toji responded, voice muffled against the side of your neck. His tongue lashed out, hot and heavy against your pulse. Leaving bite marks along your skin, Toji growled into you, grinding his hips and getting a shiver down his back.

Already sensitive from your first orgasm, the second one came with no warning. Scratching your nails down Toji’s back, your feet dug into his back as your cunt clamped down on him. Any remaining sense you had, any thoughts about your mother or being caught were gone now, the only thing filling your head now was the drag of Toji’s thick cock against your walls and the way his balls slapped against your ass.

The sound of Toji fucking into you seemed to echo off the walls, mixing with the choked moans you let out and creating music to Toji’s ears. Every drag of his cock along your oversensitive walls, every thrust forward bringing another gush of your sticky release to coat his skin - all of it was heaven for him.

“Honey, have you seen Toji?” Your mother’s sudden call wafted down the hall as she came up the stairs, the familiar thud of her footsteps getting closer.

“Uh-” Your voice caught in your throat, fighting through the jumbled mess that was your mind to come up with a good answer.

“Better say something quick, I didn’t lock the door.” Toji smirked against your skin, forcing his hips to all but stop and grind painfully slowly against you, his skin just lightly catching your clit.

“I-I don’t know where he is.” Your tongue felt like lead, sitting stupidly in your mouth and barely forming the right words.

“Okay…” There was a pause as she trailed off and you could hear her right outside your door, feet shuffling a little as she thought of what to do next.

The sound of her footsteps trailed off and both you and Toji let out a gruff exhale.

“Finally.” He mumbled, pulling his hips back.

“Honey one more question, what do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza!” You screeched right as Toji snapped his hips forward. Burrowing your face into Tojis hair, you tried to stifle the squeals leaving your lips.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Waiting until her footsteps completely rescinded, Toji sat up on his elbow and smirked at you.

“Guess we’re having pizza for dinner.”

“Shut up.” Pushing his face back into your neck you avoided his teasing gaze. Chuckling to himself, Toji nipped at your skin.

“Now, where were we?”

Crawling out your room nearly an hour later with sweat on your brows and unstable legs, you tried to conceal the cum dripping down your inner thighs. Toji refused to let you clean up, sliding a pair of shorts onto your legs and telling you it would be a waste to get rid of the gift he gave you.

Sitting down at the table without him, you were thankful to be the only one there. No one could see the way you were trembling and squirming with every squishy gush of cum that seeped out of you.

“Hi honey.” Joining you a few minutes later, none the wiser to what had happened upstairs, was your mother. Greeting you with a soft smile, she was about to open her mouth to speak again when the front door opened.

“There you are!” She beamed at seeing Toji walk through the front door. Your brow furrowed at seeing him come through the door instead of walking down the stairs. He’d made a comment about climbing out of your window and acting like nothing happened, but you didn’t think he was serious.

“Yeah, went on a walk.” He shrugged, stepping into the house and holding the door open. “And look who I found on the way!” With a fake beaming smile, Toji waved his hand behind him as Megumi walked through the door looking as unimpressed as the day you met him.

“Megumi, you’re home!” Clapping excitedly, your mother shot up from her seat and to him, giving him a quick hug and taking the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Mhmm. Nice to see you again.” Polite as ever, Megumi smiled briefly at your mother.

“Go sit down at the table, we’re just about to have dinner!”

“Okay.” Nodding slowly, Megumi set his eyes on you, raking over your form as he took a seat across from you. The silence between you two was thick and you could tell there was something hanging on the tip of Megumi’s tongue.

“Hi.” You whispered, briefly making eye contact with him before looking at the wood grains on the table.

“Hi.” Sighing out the word, Megumi kept his eyes on your face, observing the way you bit your lip nervously and kept your thighs tightly clenched together. When his eyes dropped down to see the tennis bracelet on your wrist, you thought smoke would pour out of his ears.

“Getting acquainted with your new step sister?” Sauntering into the space, Toji roughly ruffled your hair, laughing at the way you swatted him away before doing the same to Megumi.

“You could say that.” The younger man replied, his eyes slightly narrowed looking between the two of you. Loudly pulling out the chair next to you, Toji sat down and slid his hand onto your thigh under the table.

“Alright, everyone, time to eat!” Ever the hostess, your mother appears without fail with the pizza you’d said you wanted for dinner.

As you ate, you could tell Megumi knew something was up between you and Toji. He always seemed to make eye contact with you whenever Toji’s hand strayed too high up your thigh and his thumb grazed your soaked slit. He was far too keen, sending you questioning looks whenever you would clear your throat to cover up a soft moan.

Left to clear the table with him, you couldn’t make eye contact with Megumi at all. The silence between you two was overbearing, made even more so when you went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“So, (Y/N)...my dad is fucking you, isn’t he?” Megumi’s abrupt question made the plate you had in your hands fall back into the sink with a loud clatter.

“W-what?” Staring down at the soapy water covering your hands, you could feel Megumi’s eyes burning a hole into your head.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you two at the table. And I saw him climbing out of your bedroom window.” Taking a clean dish out of your hand, Megumi peers his head into your personal space, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“And what if he is?” The lump in your throat was bigger than you expected, choking you as you tried to speak. This was it, now that Megumi knew he would tell your mother and life as you knew it would be over for you.

“Don’t cry.” He said softly, wiping off a tear on your cheek you didn’t even know was there. “My dad’s sick, taking advantage of you like this.”

“What?” Hiccuping softly, you rush to wipe the other tears off.

“I knew ever since he started dating your mom that he was into you, I’m sorry I didn’t try and stop him.” Megumi sighed heavily, shaking his head as if to chastise himself. “I’ll have a talk with him and-”

“N-no, don’t.” Sniffling the last of your tears away, you force your voice to be steady. “I can handle it.”

“(Y/N), he’s not a good man, he won’t listen to you if you just tell him to stop.”

“I know, I just-”

“Then let me help you!” Clearly growing agitated, Megumi’s voice rose and his palm slapped against the counter, making you jump. There was silence, then the shuffling of footsteps with Toji appearing in the kitchen entryway with a furrowed brow.

“What’s going on here?” Looking between the two of you, his gaze settled on Megumi. “You, speak.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Megumi glared at him. Refusing to back down, he remained locked in a stare with Toji as the man approached.

“Yeah? And what that might be?” Coming nearly face to face with each other, you noticed how close in height they were to each other, with Toji only a few inches taller.

“You’re taking advantage of (Y/N).”

“Ha, and who said that?” Flicking his eyes to you, Toji chuckled. “Cause I know it wasn’t her.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that? You’re married to her mother for God’s sake!”

“Whoop-de-fucking-doo, you’re so observant.” Spinning his finger in the air, Toji pushed Megumi’s shoulder. “What do you plan on doing about it?” Quirking a brow, Toji didn’t wait even two seconds for a response. “I know you’re just upset I got to her first, kid. Now all you’ve got is your little hand at night.”

“That’s not true!”

“Even if it’s not, keep your fucking hands off what’s mine.” Hooking an arm around your shoulder, Toji pressed a kiss to your temple. “If I catch you so much as jerking it when she’s around, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Fuck you.” Megumi spat, his fists clenched at seeing Toji touch you so casually. It boiled his blood to see his dad treating you like this; there wasn’t a doubt in Megumi’s mind that you weren’t suffering with him around.

“Sorry, not into boys.” Letting you go, Toji slinked away to the fridge and grabbed a can of beer. Leaving without another word, as he turned the corner Megumi slammed his hand down against the counter.

“That fucking bastard.” He snarled, hanging his head low and trying to calm his shaking breath. Slowly releasing the tension in his body, Megumi stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I need to take a walk.”

“Okay.” You whispered back, probably going unheard as he stormed out the back door. Leaving the rest of the dishes in the sink, you left the room as well, going up to your room and staying there for the rest of the night.

It’s deathly quiet in the house the following day. Any instance where Megumi and Toji are in the same room, the tension rises dramatically. Refusing to even acknowledge the others presence, Toji has already whisked your mother away for an impromptu date night at five pm, promising to stay out late with a biting tone directed at Megumi.

“Finally that dirtbag left.” Huffing as soon as the door is closed, Megumi slumped onto the couch. “I can’t stand him, I don’t get what your mother sees in him.”

“I have no idea.” You mumble, feigning disinterest and scrolling on your phone. In truth, whenever you had a moment alone during the day, Toji had come up to you and touched you, teasing you by cupping your ass or kissing you. All you wanted to do was go upstairs and relieve the burn between your legs, but no good excuse to leave Megumi alone came to mind.

“Some of my uni buddies sent me home with a gift, if you’re interested.”

“What is it?” Sending him a curious look, you watched him hop up from the couch.

“You’ll see.”

The gift in question was an unopened bottle of liquor one step up from the bottom shelf. It didn’t smell good when he opened the bottle and even mixed with some juice from the fridge, the burn as it went down your throat was horrid.

“Are you sure this can be called a gift?” You blanched, face scrunching up tightly in displeasure.

“When you’re on a budget like we are, yeah.”

“I thought Toji sent you money?” Swirling the liquid in your cup, you watched Megumi take a bitter sip.

“Why would I ever use his money?” Sure, Toji made sure Megumi’s bank account never hit below five digits, but that didn’t mean he wanted it or even asked for it. Leaving well enough alone, you turned on a random movie and kept drinking, keeping all mentions of Toji at bay.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get properly drunk, words slurring together and dumb drunk giggles shared between you. It was easier to get to know Megumi this way, his likes and dislikes and general personality; the harsh scowl on his lips was gone, replaced with a lopsided smile.

“I gotta take a leak.” Stumbling up from the couch, Megumi strolled out of the room, keeping his hand on the wall to steady himself. Flipping through your phone in his absence, a sudden text caught your attention.

(Toji): daddy’s bored baby, send me a little something

(Y/N): like what?

(Toji): I’d love to see you in that new lingerie

Giggling coyly as if he’d spoken the words directly to you, you kept a tight grip on your phone as you made your way to your room. Megumi and the movie on the TV didn’t even cross your mind as you closed your door and went straight to your dresser drawer.

It was a bit of a hassle getting your clothes off and then the new ones on, your vision was swimming and every few seconds you stopped to giggle at yourself and your lack of ability. Bumbling through sliding the lacy panties up your legs, you flopped onto bed and opened the camera.

Emboldened by the alcohol, you took several pictures of yourself for Toji. Nearly all of them were at least slightly blurry, some brazen shots of your cunt through the panties while others were tasteful shots of your breasts.

Sending them off with a few heart emojis and a little ‘sorry, I’m drunk’ tacked on, you clutched your phone to your chest as you waited for his reply.

“(Y/N), you in here?” Megumi threw open your bedroom door with no warning or second thought, his eyes bulging out of his skull seeing you spread out on your bed in lingerie.

“Gumi, get out!” Throwing your hands over your body, you let your phone fall to the floor. Stuck in a drunken stupor, Megumi didn’t leave the room, but he did look down at the text Toji sent you.

“Why is my dad texting you that he’s fucking rock hard?” Curling his lip in disgust as he read the message aloud, he scrolled up to see the previous messages, his mouth falling open at seeing your pictures.

“Megumi!” Snatching your phone angrily from him, you gave him a hard shove. “Leave!”

“(Y/N), don’t let him do this to you!” Megumi barely moved from the push.

“Just leave!”

“No! I won’t let him ruin your life!” Grabbing onto your shoulders, Megumi swayed slightly. “I know it can be exciting to get attention like this but- but don’t do it with him.”

“You don’t know anything.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you refuse to meet Megumi’s eyes. He’s silent for a beat, weighing whatever options are inside his head.

“I do know some things.” Licking his lips nervously, Megumi tilts his head and catches your eye. “I do know anyone is better for you than that nasty fuck. Even I’m better than him.”

“Yeah?” For some reason, you crack a smile for him. There’s something about how adamant Megumi hates his father that makes you laugh a little.

“Let me show you.” His voice drops and Megumi shuffles closer to you, the fabric of his t-shirt grazing your nipples through the thin fabric of the bra. The action, along with the way Megumi looks at you, has the heat between your legs picking up again.

You’re grabbing his collar and kissing him before you can take a full breath in, lips drunkenly smashing against each other as you stumble back onto your bed. Megumi’s hands go up and down your sides, grabbing and squeezing your flesh between his fingers.

Kissing down your neck, Megumi’s hand slides under your panties and he doesn’t speak on the fact you’re already wet enough that he can slide two fingers into your cunt with ease. Even if the fact does catch his mind it’s gone just as quickly as he grinds the heel of his hand on your clit.

Sloppily rutting into your thigh, Megumi lets out a pleased sigh when you tug his sweatpants down and free his cock. Jerking him off as you kiss, he swats your hand away when he finally gets fully situated overtop of you.

“Fuck.” You both groan as he slides in, your panties hooked to the side because both of you were too frantic to properly take them off. Megumi kisses you as he thrusts into you, noses bumping painfully together as you chase your high.

Even with Megumi looking exactly like him, you still find yourself wishing it was Toji above you. They sound nearly identical as well, Megumi’s groans a dead ringer for his fathers. Keeping your eyes squinted, you force the image of Toji to be the one in front of you and combined with Megumi messily rubbing your clit, you’re able to cum with a soft moan the same time as Megumi.

“Shit, I came inside.” When the glow of his orgasm finally subsided, Megumi pulled out of you with a hiss and slid your underwear back into place.

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill.” A decision you were happy about, remembering Toji had cum inside you as well. Sitting with you a few minutes longer, catching his breath and lightly petting your hair, Megumi comes to a slow stand.

“I’m going to take a shower, try to get some sleep.” Pulling your blanket over you, the two of you share a smile before he leaves. Your phone lays forgotten on the floor, all the ensuing text messages from Toji ignored as you fall asleep.

It’s not that he’s upset. No no, Toji could never be upset with you. He was more disappointed than anything. Coming home in the dead of night to an empty bottle of vodka on the floor and his son passed out drunk in his bed, and then coming to your room to see you still in the lingerie you’d sent pictures of with cum that wasn’t his smeared along your panties.

No, Toji wasn’t upset. But the way he ripped the blanket off your body could lead you to think otherwise. Staring at you, passed out and utterly helpless beneath him, the desire to ruin you had him rolling his shoulders. He was getting excited at the prospect of hurting you, teaching you a lesson in not sharing what was his.

Climbing on top of you, Toji spread your legs apart, a sick grin pushing his cheeks up. It wasn’t everyday he got to use his own sons cum as lube, and it surely wouldn’t happen again. But as Toji slid his cock into you and the squelch of it sounded around his cock, he couldn’t help but let out a deep, low laugh.

Lighting a cigarette over you, Toji goes slow in fucking your sleeping body. He doesn’t need to worry about your mother possibly wondering where he was; he had drugged her on the way back home. Megumi wouldn’t wake up even if you screamed, liquor was always a good nightcap for him.

Maybe Toji was a bit upset, because the longer he stared at you, the more irritated he became. He knew he would have to take care of Megumi later, smack the kid around a few times and send him on a train back to university. But with you, your punishment needed to be special.

“Wakey wakey, sweetheart.” He sang to himself, nearly dropping the cigarette dangling between his lips as he shifted forward and wrapped both hands around your neck. Slowly increasing the pressure, Toji’s eyes flew open in delight when you choked and sputtered to life.

“Toji?!” Your voice was practically none existent, there was hardly any air left in your lungs for you to make a sound. Your fingers clawed at Toji, struggling to be let go in your still drunken haze.

“Thought you could go and be a slut, did ya?” Leaning over you, Toji begins to pound into you. Although there’s a slightly softer give because you’re still wet, your cunt still burns painfully from the treatment and Toji refuses to be even the slightest bit gentle.

He lets go of your neck when your hands fall slack, clamping one hand on your waist as the other ashes his cigarette over your stomach, watching as it settles onto your skin.

“Le-let me go.” You force the words out between hard gulps of air.

“Why, so you can fuck my son again?” He cocks his head to the side and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke right in your face.

“How do you-”

“Cameras, baby. I put cameras all over the house and there’s a couple in your room right now.” Toji revels in your surprised expression and even more so in the pained one you give him when he takes another drag and puts the lit cigarette against your skin. You scream exactly how he wanted you to and he does it again and again.

“Toji! Toji stop, please-” You sob, trying to swat away the cigarette butt getting your hands pinned to the mattress instead. Looking down at your thighs, there’s several blooming burns taking shape, marring your skin and leaving bloody welts.

“Only if you stop being a slut.” Finally done with his cigarette, Toji flicks it onto your bed to be dealt with later. Planting both hands by your head, Toji sneers down at you. “Tell me, are you ever going to fuck someone else again?”

“N-no.” Tears cloud your vision and you shakily put your arms around Toji’s shoulders as he fucks you even harder.

“No what?”

“No daddy!” Fully wailing, you bury your face into Toji’s neck when he leans down close enough. “No no no no.” Your quivering little cries are all Toji needs to cum, slamming his hips against yours one last time before stilling completely. He breathes deeply as his seed mixes with Megumi’s, too much for your cunt to handle as it spills out when he pulls out.

“That’s what I thought.” Toji isn’t gentle when he removes himself from you. He’s even less so in removing your lingerie, ripping it to shreds with his bare hands and touting that it was ruined now. He leaves you alone for a few minutes, returning in only his boxers with a new shirt in his hands that he forces onto you.

Sitting at the head of your bed, Toji pulls you into his lap. His shirt does a good job of covering the burn marks littering your upper thighs, something you want to forget about sooner rather than later.

“I’m telling my mom.” The words fall slowly from your mouth, taking all your courage to say. Toji snorts, lighting another cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air.

“Life’ll get a lot worse for you if you become a little tattle-tale.” He says it calmly, meeting your eye when you pull away to look up at him. “Who do you think stopped all those debt collectors? Payed off this shitty house and filled not only your mom's bank account but also your fridge.”

“I-”

“Who’s gonna take care of her if I leave? You two certainly weren’t cutting it without me.” He’s right and you know it. The truth of the matter was that you couldn’t survive without Toji’s money and if your mother left him, the two of you would have an even harder time finding work.

The truth made tears burn your lashes and fall down your cheeks, hiccuping cries left your lips that were only slightly muffled by Toji pulling your head into his chest. Putting out his cigarette, he ran a hand down your back and cooed.

“Oh pretty baby, don’t cry. Daddy won’t do it again, he promises. So long as you promise to keep that little mouth shut and let him do whatever he wants. We got a deal?” Toji half nods your head for you, pressing a big kiss to your forehead.

“Daddy, m’tired.” Sniffling loudly, you force the tears to stop falling, biting your lip to stem the flow.

“Let’s go to sleep then.” Shuffling you under the covers, Toji follows suit. He smells strongly of cigarettes, the scent overtaking you as his head hits your pillow. Pulling you against his body, Toji grips your ass tightly. “Goodnight doll.”

“Goodnight.” Biting back another wave of tears, you push your head into Tojis chest and will yourself to go to sleep.

Being awoken with your step fathers hands around your neck had been scary and was imprinted on your mind for the rest of your life. But waking up in the morning with your legs over his shoulders and his face buried in your cunt was surely a memory that would stick with you as well.

“There she is.” Toji grinned, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Took you long enough.” Shoving his tongue deep into you, Toji stifled any opportunity for a response. Your heels dug into his back, hand shooting out to grip his messy bedhead. With how sensitive you were already, he must have been between your legs for a while.

Sucking on your clit, Toji groaned as you gripped his hair painfully hard, your back arching high off the bed as you came. Your body thrashed around, hands trying to pull Toji closer while also pushing him away. Pulling his mouth away, Toji rubbed his fingers against your clit in the absence of his tongue.

“Good morning, princess.” Laughing when you smacked his hands away, Toji sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, making a show of licking off all of your slick that coated his face.

“G-good morning.” Breathless from the ordeal, you dumbly kissed Toji back when he knelt down and captured your lips. You could taste yourself so strongly on his tongue and smell yourself on his skin.

Breaking the kiss, Toji helped you dress for the day. He didn’t make any mention or acknowledge the marks on your legs, only giving them a flitting glance as you pulled on some pants.

Walking down the stairs together, to your horror Megumi was already in the kitchen when you walked in. He glared angrily at Toji, giving the man a wide berth as he moved about the space. Slinking to the farthest wall, he sent you a pitying look and took a sip of the coffee in his mug.

“Good morning!” Your mother announced her presence with a loud yawn, barreling into the kitchen with terrible bedhead and a stumble to her walk.

“Good morning mom.” You couldn’t look her in the eyes, keeping your head bowed as you returned her greeting.

“Morning honey.” Toji smirked, kissing your mother right on the mouth and keeping her there for a few seconds.

“Get a room.” Megumi mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the two.

“Toji, what’s that taste in your mouth?” Smacking her lips together as she pulled away from the kiss, your mother furrowed her brows. “Is that a new gum or something?” Making direct eye contact with you, Toji snorts and pulls her into a hug.

“Yeah, something like that.”

[almostgenerallyalways]

A Matter of Record (1/2)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f/reader Category: fluff, angst, slow burn Word count: 2.1k (part 1 of 2) Cw: canon typical violence, military? Author’s note: I’ve been trying to write after a very long pause and I’m working on a longer fic but it’s not finished - I wanted to post something shorter for Valentine’s Day. It turned out not very Valentine’s-y, but there you go!

Summary: Adjusting to civilian life after the military is a challenge, but your job as an Information Management Specialist at the FBI is the perfect place to land. Out of all the agents you’re assigned to, you soon come to have a favorite - if only you would ever meet in real life.

---

Thursday morning at work sees you opening a box of file folders freshly received from Winchester and immediately regretting it. “Tina!” You yell, slamming the cardboard cover back in place in disgust. “Central sent us another rat!”

Your coworker Tina (in her fifties, heavily myopic and a literal angel) pops her head around the corner and tuts. “Wish they would check. That’s twice this month.”

The FBI Central Records Office in Winchester, Virginia is a state-of-the-art facility, housing billions upon billions of the FBI’s documents, going back a hundred years to the Agency’s inception. It’s cavernous, climate-controlled, and largely operated by robots – but unfortunately not completely immune to small pests.

When you left the military two years ago and took this role as Information Management Specialist with the FBI, you knew it wasn’t going to be glamorous, exactly – Certainly far removed from your X-Files-inspired teenage fantasies. You had not anticipated dealing with mummified rodents on a semi-regular basis.

Still – you couldn’t complain. After eight years with the Army and two deployments, you’d needed a change. The FBI recruited veterans, and the job was interesting enough, came with a stable government salary, and had you working right in the center of your favorite city.

And there were certain other advantages.

Walking back to your desk in the corner of the room, the landline rings. Reading the caller ID, your face lights up, and you grab the receiver. “Agent Reid, how may I help you today?”

Across the walkway between your desks, you see Tina roll her eyes, and pointedly ignore her.

“Hi!” says Spencer (you almost always address him as Agent Reid, but in your head, you call him Spencer). “How are you? I have a little bit of a strange request, I’m afraid.”

You love to hear him say those words. “I’ve had better mornings. Haven’t even had coffee yet and I’ve already got a rat corpse to dispose of. How about you? What are you looking for?”

You hear him suppress a laugh. “My condolences. I’m alright, we’re headed to Nebraska later today, actually. Could you pull anything you can find from the archives about murders or attempted murders occurring in or near crop circles?”

You raise your eyebrows, though of course he can’t see you. “You’re going alien hunting? I work in the wrong department.”

“Unfortunately, I think the person we’re looking for is very much human.”

Writing down his request on a notepad, you ask “Alright, got a timeframe in mind?”

He pauses to think for a second. “I think we can safely exclude anything pre-1990.”

“Cool, shouldn’t take too long then. I should have most of it heading your way by tomorrow. Do you want copies shipped to Quantico or do you want me to digitize them for Penelope?”

“Send them to Penelope, please. And thanks.”

You smile. “Anytime. Stay safe, Spooky.”

Spencer laughs, and you hang up.

* * *

Collecting information from the FBI’s hundred-year store of files is an art form.

While the agency went digital in the late eighties, and has since been slowly digitizing its vast amounts of pre-computer age data; those records are often rudimentary. As an Information Management Specialist assigned to support active cases, your main task is to identify and pull up physical case files requested by Agents to aid in ongoing investigations.

You open the portal for the Central Recordkeeping System and start trying out different combinations of keywords. More often than not, you have to cast a pretty broad net, since the case files aren’t tagged exhaustively (you note with some disappointment that “crop circles” is not an existing tag).

You spend a few hours poring over the summary records of homicide files in rural areas of Nebraska, until you find a few that look promising and send in a request for them to be unearthed from the vast depths of the Virginia facility. When they arrive tomorrow morning, you’ll take a quick look and discard anything irrelevant to your search parameters before having them scanned for Penelope.

Hopefully, none of them come with stowaways.

* * *

You have never met Spencer Reid, though he’s been your favorite Agent since the day you started.

“Pardon me,” you’d said (who says “Pardon me”? You, anxious as hell on your first day, apparently morphing from 28-year-old combat veteran right into British grandmother.) “Can you repeat that? I think I misheard you.”

“I would like for you,” Spencer had repeated patiently, “to please pull any files you can find involving ritual sacrifice specifically involving Beanie Babies.”

You’d held the receiver away from your ear for a second, looking at it like it could confirm your suspicions that you were being put through some kind of hazing ritual. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he’d said, unfazed. “It’s for a seminar I’m teaching. These would have occurred between 1994 and 1996.”

You’d shrugged, still not entirely convinced. “Alright then. I’ll get back to you, Agent…?”

“Reid. And thanks.”

  * * *

You’d quickly learn that, out of all the units you were assigned to, you could always count on the BAU to make the strangest requests. Spencer, specifically, took the cake – if there wasn’t an active case, he was always researching a pet project or preparing a class to teach. You’d work on these requests in between more urgent demands made for ongoing investigations, and before you knew it, you were talking to him almost every day the BAU wasn’t on location.

  * * *

It took you time to reacclimate to the DC area, having left it at nineteen to enlist. You’d found yourself a small but airy one-bedroom apartment in Alexandria, with hardwood floors and a distant view over the Potomac River. You reconnected with a couple of friends from the high school you’d attended for a few years. You joined a gym. You went out for happy hours with coworkers.

You missed your grandmother, her grounding presence irrevocably connected with the better years of your childhood: Alexandria had been her town, where she’d lived and worked as a prosecutor her entire career, taking you in on the many occasions your mom could not take care of you.

But she was gone now, and you were determined to make a life for yourself here, finally.

* * *

He’d called one day in November of your first year to request some case files, but you could tell as he was listing off search parameters that he was on a wild goose chase – not truly believing the search would yield anything useful, but trying anyway because they’d exhausted all other options.

“Agent Reid,” you tried carefully, “It’s not my place, but… Maybe you should contact the military police. Their records are kept separate from local law enforcement and the FBI’s. It’s just, the specific torture markers you’re looking for… I would bet money your guy served in Afghanistan.”

A moment of silence stretched on the other end of the line, and you’d feared you’d overstepped. You were not a profiler, or an Agent, after all.

Then you’d heard him curse under his breath. “Fuck.” Then, “Okay. I have to go. Thank you, I’ll talk to you later, alright?” He’d hung up abruptly.

Three days after this, a standard FBI inter-office envelope had shown up, addressed to you. You’d opened it, expecting a rejected copy of your expense report, but instead it was a postcard of exotic Quantico, VA, with unfamiliar handwriting, reading: Thank you – I can’t share details, but you made all the difference. Spencer Reid.

You’d tucked the postcard into the corner of your cubicle and smiled whenever it caught your eye.

* * *

You’d started dating someone, and then you’d split up. You’d repainted your apartment.

After a few solid months of civilian life, something crept up on you and you joined the Virginia Army National Guard, committing to spend a weekend every month training in Fredericksburg. It was hard, but it settled something in you that had been set adrift when you left the Army, however necessary that had been. Pulling on your boots every month felt like staying connected to something that had been your home and your family for the majority of your adult life.

* * *

One Friday night about a year ago, you had been putting on your coat to head out when your desk phone rang. You were just about getting over your stubborn imposter syndrome: you’d spent your first year coming in early, staying late, volunteering for assignments – desperate to prove you merited your place at the Bureau despite not having the upscale education some of your coworkers had. So you unzipped your coat again and reached around the desk to pick up the phone.

“Office of Record Management and Retrieval, how may I help you?”

“Hey. It’s me, it’s, um, Agent Reid.”

“Oh, hey.” You usually greeted him by that name, but being in front of the desk, you hadn’t seen the caller ID. Something about his voice took you aback. “Is everything okay?” Then, remembering you were at work: “Do you need me to run a search?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Sorry, no, I don’t need any files.” He paused. “I don’t know why I called, I just…”

Oh. You clenched the receiver between your ear and shoulder for a moment, shrugged off your coat, and sat down. “Are you okay?”

You heard him sigh. “I’m fine, it’s… things haven’t been good here.” Another pause, then fast: “My Unit Chief’s ex-wife was killed by someone we were supposed to be tracking down.”

You’d lifted your hand to your mouth. “Oh, Spencer. I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t know what’s going to happen.” He’d cleared his throat, seeming to want to find control of his voice again. “Sometimes I don’t know if I even want to do this job anymore.”

“Spencer.” You’d folded your legs under you, plans forgotten. “Tell me what happened, please.”

You’d stayed there late into the night, long after the fluorescent ceiling lighting had been switched off and the building cleared of its occupants; Quantico feeling close yet far away at the same time.

* * *

Instant message from REID, S., SSA [ Accept | Ignore ]

RS: Hey! I had to give a statement at HQ yesterday and I stopped by Records to say hi, but your coworker said you were out.

“God damn it!” You’d exclaimed, prompting Tina to look at you over her glasses and comment mildly: “Language, please.”

Hey! You typed back. I was in a training. Sad I missed you! This is a bit of an understatement. You had been dying to meet Spencer, probably not entirely appropriate where a coworker is concerned.

A couple of days after he’d poured his heart out a few months back, you’d tentatively suggested having coffee sometime that week, which he’d accepted. Then two days later, he’d called to say they’d been asked to fly to Wyoming, and asked for a rain check.

He’d never rescheduled, and you didn’t push it.

“Tina!” You could not believe she did not tell you about this. “What did he look like.”

Tina flipped a page in the report she was reading, intensely bored of your infatuation. “I don’t know. Lanky. Looked like he couldn’t shoot his way out of a paper bag.”

RS: At least I finally got to see your office. You know, where the magic happens.

You groaned, and replied: The magic of me copying 50 years’ worth of dusty complaint letters to J. Edgar Hoover while being yelled at by guys in Sex Crimes. It’s truly Disneyland over here.

The reason you never pushed for a meetup, beyond your tentative attempt at coffee, was that you were smart enough to know you were being kept at arm’s length. You and Spencer talked, a lot. But he seemed content not to take your friendship (could you call it that?) beyond that, and you respected that, not in the least because he was your coworker.

Still, it stung having missed this one opportunity to come face-to-face with him.

RS: :oD

Spencer Reid did not know how to use emojis in this decade.

RS: Maybe next time.

* * *

Crop circle cases triaged and scans sent off to Penelope, you close the last box for their return to Winchester. You’re staying late to finish this, but you don’t mind – It’s Friday, you’re meeting your friend to go see a movie downtown and get dumplings.

Your cell phone vibrates in your jacket pocket, and thinking Desiree might have changed her mind about the restaurant, you pull it out. It is not Desi – you see the number, and your blood runs cold for a second. There is only one reason this number could be calling you right now, and you straighten your back without thinking about it, bracing yourself.

(link to part 2)

[thedummysdummy]

Can I ask for jealous victor

Like her aunt want to force her on an arranged marriage

And how he will stop that .

Oh you can refuse my request if you don't want to make it 🥰🥰

You bet!

“Would you like to go to dinner at Souvenir tonight?”

The girl looked at the text for what felt like the millionth time, a frown on her face. She knew what she wanted to reply and her fingers itched to type it out, but she also knew what she had to say. The words were like slivers in her skin as she entered them: “No thank you, I cannot. But I will have the report finished by tomorrow.”

She pressed send and placed her phone face down on the desk with a sigh. She knew that she needed to have a conversation with Victor sooner rather than later, but the very thought brought prickling tears to the corners of her eyes. In an attempt to distract her mind she turned back to the proposal on the computer. However, she found herself unable to read the words as they swam around on the screen.

~~

The light Victor’s phone screen caught his eye and he casually flipped it on, expecting it to be a reply from the girl. His lips curled slightly upwards in the corners when he discovered he was correct, but they quickly fell again as he read what she had said. “Again?” he muttered, pushing the phone away without even bothering to power the screen back off. This was the third dinner invitation in a row that she had declined, and Victor began questioning what was going wrong. Had he somehow offended her again? He made a mental note to ask her tomorrow when she came to his office to make a report and a second note to prepare an apology pudding for whatever slight he had managed to blunder into this time.

With no reason to wait for the girl to show up at his office, the CEO picked up his coat and flipped off the lamp. The office felt as empty as his heart without her leaving with him, but Victor stuffed those feelings in the same box he shoved everything in and resealed the lid tightly. He put the stony expression back on his face and made his way down to the car where Goldman was already waiting, fidgeting with the contents of his pocket as he walked.

Their drive was quieter than usual. Goldman gave Victor plenty of time to bring up what was on his mind, but when he made no move to do so, the assistant sighed. “Anything bothering you, boss? You’re just staring out into space with that look on your face.”

Victor’s eyebrows tilted downward in confusion. “What look?”

“The one you get when things aren’t going your way.” Goldman glanced away from the road to look Victor in the eye, chuckling slightly at his boss’s bewilderment. “You aren’t a completely unreadable book, you know. At least not to those of us who spend all of our time with you.”

The CEO settled back into his seat and crossed his arms, his eyes focused straight ahead. “Has…has the girl said anything to you lately?” It was Goldman’s turn to be confused, and he shook his head. “Of course she hasn’t. The one time she keeps her dummy mouth shut…” Victor grumbled deep in his chest and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll just find out tomorrow when she comes to my office.”

Goldman nodded and returned to looking at the road, resolving to find out what was going on himself. The girl often confided in him so it shouldn’t be too hard. The pair of men traveled in silence the rest of the drive, each wrapped up in their own thoughts regarding the girl and her mysterious actions.

~~

A knock on the door set Victor’s heart racing. However, when nobody (aka the girl) barged right in, he frowned. “Come in,” he called, his voice short and gruff. The door opened to reveal Anna bearing a folder. She entered the office and closed the door behind her, opened the folder to pull out Victor’s copy of the documents inside, and handed it to him.

“I will be taking the boss’s place today. She sends her apologies for being unable to attend the meeting herself.” Anna looked Victor directly in the eye, searching for any hints he might give as to her own boss’s odd behavior. Seeing his eyes flash a look of bewilderment and disappointment, she sighed inwardly and pulled her copy of the report from the folder. “If I could draw your attention first to the graph below paragraph one…”

The meeting seemed to Victor to drag on forever. He was completely unable to concentrate, finding his mind wandering to the picture of the girl on his desk, her complete lack of response to his messages today, and the mystery facing him. Finally Anna drew the presentation to a close, looking at the CEO expectantly. An uncomfortable silence filled the room for a few moments before Victor realized that Anna’s voice had stopped and reigned his attention back in. “Very good, thank you. I will go over the report in greater detail and email the results to your boss. Also, could you take this back to her?”

Victor pulled a small wrapped box from beneath his desk and offered it to Anna. She nodded, eyes brightening as she took it. “Is there anything else that needs to be delivered when I return? Any adjustments to the report that you can already think of?” He shook his head and Anna nodded. “Alright then, thank you sir.” Victor rose from his desk and showed Anna out, feeling hollow inside. The girl had to be in the office since Anna agreed to take the pudding to her, right? She would have said something if she were out today, wouldn’t she?

“Anna, I did have one question. Is everything alright with your boss? Is she out today?”

Anna shook her head, clutching the cold box of the pudding tightly. “No, she’s back at the office working on another project. She said she was too busy to do the presentation herself and that’s why she sent me in her place. Why?” She seemed as interested in anything Victor might know as he was about anything Anna might know. They stared at each other for a few moments, both coming to the realization that neither had any idea.

“No reason. Just…make sure she gets the package.”

~~

“Hey boss, I’m back from the presentation.” Anna leaned in the girl’s doorway as she always did, her head tilted slightly to one side and a curious expression on her face. “I think it must have gone well. Mr. Victor didn’t have a single thing to say other than a request to give this to you.”

The girl looked up from her computer and accepted the small package from Anna. The familiar sweet caramel scent of Victor’s pudding drifted from the box and to Anna’s surprise, the girl frowned. “Thanks for handling that for me. You know, I have a bit of a stomach ache. Can you share this pudding with the others? It’s from Souvenir so I know at least Kiki and Minor will be all over it.”

Anna returned the girl’s frown, but nodded. “Of course. Why don’t you go home early if you don’t feel well? We can hold down the fort for you for an afternoon.”

“I’ll think about it.” The girl flashed Anna a half-hearted smile and gestured toward the door. “If I decide to go home, I’ll let you know. You guys go enjoy that pudding before it gets too warm.”

The moment the office door closed, the smile fell away from the girl’s face and she rested her forehead on the desk. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and quickly began to fall, wetting the report she had been working on revising.

In the main portion of the office, Anna and the others enjoyed the gift but the rumors were as thick as the pudding. “Do you think the boss and the CEO had a fight? I’ve never seen her avoid him like this before!”

“I don’t know, but it’s really odd. It’s super out of character for her to have anyone else do the presentations when she’s in town. Much less when she’s just sitting in her office! What do you think they’d be fighting about?”

“Whatever it is, I don’t think Victor knows about it. He kept asking me weird questions while I was there. Maybe we should ask the boss about it?”

“Nah, it’s not really our business. If she wants to tell us, she will.”

~~

After a full week of the girl dodging his calls and replying to his messages with only short, formal responses when required for her work, Victor found himself standing in front of the girl’s apartment. His left hand reached out toward the door, while his right fidgeted with his keys and things in his pocket nervously.

“Why are you hesitating…” he whispered under his breath, narrowing his eyes at himself and grumbling low in his chest. How many times had he been in this apartment without any worry? A scowl crossed his face and Victor willed himself to knock. Two sharp raps echoed into her apartment and he took a step back, waiting for her to answer the door.

Inside, the girl hesitated. She knew that no-nonsense knock anywhere. But was she really ready for the discussion she knew they had to have? “You can’t avoid this forever,” she muttered, standing up from the couch and walking toward the door. “This isn’t getting any easier, so operation ‘separate emotionally’ is a failure…”

Victor had raised his hand to knock again when the lock clicked and the doorknob turned. He quickly lowered it and took a half step back, eager eyes waiting to fall again on her beloved face. However, the frown deep in her eyes when she peered at him through the open doorway caused him to extend his hand to touch her face. “What is the matter?”

She shook her head and gestured for Victor to come in, which he did hastily. He put on his slippers and followed her to the couch, where she sat with her knees pulled to her chest and a pillow tightly held in her arms. She would not make eye contact with him despite his attempts to cup her cheek with his large, warm hand, and when he pulled it back he found his fingertips wet with tears.

He wrapped her in his strong arms and held her tightly, not saying anything for the longest time. The clock on the wall ticked away slowly and the muted sound of the street below carried the reminder of life going on outside their little world. Finally she took a deep breath and buried her face in his chest. “Victor…I…We…You can’t hold me like this anymore.” She pushed him away, confusion and hurt filling his eyes.

“Why not? It has never been a problem before! What did I do now that has so drastically changed the status of our relationship? I know you’ve been dodging my calls and sending the others to my office to deliver reports in your stead. And despite their best efforts, neither Goldman nor your employees have been able to crack the case on what has been going on in that head of yours.” Victor pouted, his arms crossed and his face impassible. It was such a comical look that the girl actually let out the tiniest of giggles. He sighed and restrained himself from reaching out to run his fingers through her hair.

She stared into his eyes for a long time, trying to work up the courage to say the words that had been evading her for weeks. Victor waited patiently, his own dark eyes full of tenderness. “Victor…I’m…well, my aunt has arranged a marriage for me. I’ve never met him, but apparently he’s some wealthy tycoon from America. She insists it’s a good match for me…”

It was an admission so far from anything Victor expected that he sat in stunned silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He quickly closed it, his eyes swirling from confusion, to anger, to denial, and finally to what seemed to be sadness. “I see. And…is this arranged marriage what you want? Is it going to make you happy?”

The girl sat quietly for a long moment, her breathing growing more and more irregular as she fought back the tears that threatened to stream down her face. Finally Victor couldn’t take watching her suffering anymore and he disobeyed her earlier orders, pulling her into his lap where he buried his face in her hair. “No,” she whispered, so softly that Victor could barely hear it. “No. I don’t want him. I…I want you.”

Victor felt his heart simultaneously break and soar, the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He felt her delicate form trembling in his arms and wanted nothing more than to give her every ounce of strength in his body. “So that’s it,” he muttered. “You were trying to distance yourself because you wanted to honor your aunt’s wishes? Even though it was not what you wanted?”

Her head moved slightly up and down, followed by another bout of intense trembling. Victor could feel the warmth of her tears soaking through his shirt and another wave of anger swept through his body. Anger and…jealousy? He could not let this happen. Not just because he absolutely refused to give up the only woman he ever loved. If this had been what she wanted, he could get past that. But knowing that she did not want the arranged marriage was not something he could overlook.

He had one solution, but it was a risk. Victor gave the girl a squeeze and a kiss on the top of the head before loosening his arms. She whimpered and grabbed his hand, not wanting him to let go. It was a simple thing, but the gesture gave Victor the courage he needed. “Well,” he began, shifting around so he could reach into his pocket, “I’ve been trying to ask you a question for nearly two weeks. But some dummy has been avoiding me.”

She turned her large doe eyes on him, still red and watery from crying. Victor continued, extracting himself from her embrace. “I had a much more romantic situation planned, but in light of recent events I’m changing my mind. You absolutely cannot marry this American man.” He slipped off the couch, revealing a small black box in his hand as he dropped to one knee. “You cannot marry him, because I’m asking first.”

Shock filled her face, followed by sheer relief. She flung herself off the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck, a fresh wave of tears pooling on his collarbone. “Absolutely,” she whispered, her breath hot on his ear. “I couldn’t imagine marrying anyone else.”

“Good,” Victor replied, slipping the ring on her finger and sealing it with a kiss. “Because I couldn’t imagine you marrying anyone else, either.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

📋 Hello I am putting a formal request in for more Chris Saves Himself AU ft Mama Nakamura taking him I’m home only to realize the full situation

Continuing the Chris Saves Himself AU: One | Two |

CW: Grief, memory loss, recovering whumpee, some very brief and very vague references to noncon, minor whumpee (OC is 17), angsty fluff, reunion

It takes six days for the cops to let Akio's mom bring Tristan back to their house.

He's ready to be discharged from the hospital by day two, but there's nowhere for him to go. WRU is still saying there's no record of his existence, even with the barcode on his wrist. Tristan's only known living relative, Joanne Botham, is claiming he ran away from home and she had no idea what happened to him, that what she had told the Nakamura family was out of frustration and anger at Tristan for disappearing. The governor is out on bail facing charges for keeping Tristan in the mansion in the first place.

There are a lot of charges.

Akio feels by turns numb and enraged when he hears a news anchor read them out loud, bloodless words that don't seem to reflect at all how serious their meanings are.

The first few, he can process - false imprisonment, bodily assault - but then they keep going, and they get worse in ways Akio can barely even begin to imagine.

What Tristan has lived through... Akio's brain refuses to let it coalesce fully, but he has nightmares, dreams about Tristan screaming for him and being on the other side of a door Aki can't open.

He dreams about hands on Tristan's body and the way he might have screamed for help. Akio wakes up crying, retching, running to the bathroom to throw up whatever he's eaten that day as if he can rid himself of the poison of knowing.

His mom calls a therapist.

His father tells him to stop watching the news.

Akio just waits until they're in bed and searches for everything he can find on twitter, on reddit, on every-fucking-place anyone is talking about this. And it's everywhere.

He stops telling his parents about his nightmares after the second night.

Oliver Branch says WRU sold him a product they knew was outside the bounds of the law and lied to him about it. WRU says they don't know what he could possibly mean by that and they have no paperwork or documentation that Tris was ever in the system at all, and if he was, then there must have been a mistake about his age. They swear they'll do a total review of every single Box Boy, Babe, or Buddy to ensure absolute compliance.

The soundbites make Akio's mouth dry.

How many are there, then? If they have to keep looking to find more? How many like Tristan?

How many?

Joanne Botham, who never answers Aimi's furious calls and then changes her number after the second day, goes on TV and says she did nothing wrong and there's no proof that anything happened except maybe Tristan lying about his name and age to make WRU agree to take him in. Oliver Branch says he has the proof WRU knew, and he'll provide it in exchange for immunity.

They all point fingers at each other on national television, in press conferences and through their attorneys.

Through it all, Tristan sits in a hospital bed staring out the window at the blue sky as though it will be stolen from him all over again, waiting to be told where to go, what to do.

And it takes Aimi nearly a week to get the police to agree to allow her to take him home. She brings everything she can think of to meetings with the detectives heading up the case, shows them reams of team photos and home movies, folders and folders of everything Aimi and Mrs. Higgs had ever talked about or done together with the boys.

The hospital needs the room, needs the bed. The detectives don't want to put him into foster care when he barely seems to understand he's a person. The social services people won't take him because they're not equipped to handle a situation like this one. The adjustment houses don't want him because of something to do with what kind of Boxie he was, and Aimi doesn't elaborate and something in the set of her expression makes it clear Akio shouldn't ask.

After a week of mostly just being able to look at him through the small little square window in the hospital room's door, Aimi finally gets legal permission to take him out of there.

Akio isn't prepared for the slew of news vans that are there when he and Aimi arrive, someone having tipped off reporters that they might get a glance of the governor's secret Box Boy today. Aimi, though, simply sets her shoulders, slides a pair of dark sunglasses on, and walks through the crowd like a queen with her head held high, a small duffel bag handle in hand.

Akio hurries behind her, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, hood pulled over his head, trying to ignore ten thousand camera flashes. It's so much worse than the leadup to the Olympics would have been, if he were still performing at elite.

Or at all.

He has a strange, surreal hope that Tris won't be disappointed in him for quitting after Tris died.

Even though he's not dead.

They step into the hospital room around 10 in the morning to find Tristan not in the bed, but sitting on the couch built into the wall under the window, curled up on the crinkly plastic cushions to look out the window, humming low, soft and tuneless.

The hum makes Akio's heart ache with a sudden realization that this odd waking dream he's been living for a week isn't a dream at all. Tears flood his eyes and he has to blink them away as fast as he can. He's heard that hum in his ear as kids during sleepovers, he's heard it when Tris was nervous before performing a new routine, he's heard it while they waited anxiously for scores or studied for school.

"Hey, sweetheart," Aimi says, her voice low and soft, but even so Tris jumps and turns to look at them with wide, startled eyes. One hand goes up to his neck, and Akio swallows when he sees Tris has wrapped gauze around his neck to sit like the collar he was wearing when he fell from the governor's bedroom balcony.

Akio watched the cell phone video that made the rounds over and over and over again. The flash of red hair, shirtless, the bruises he was covered with, his hazy drugged eyes. Over and over and over again.

Watch him fall, watch him land, watch the people run to him and get him out of there when Akio has been sitting here crying his eyes to red half the time for a dead best friend who wasn't dead at all.

"H, Hello," Tristan says, but he doesn't know them. Akio can tell, the way his eyes move between them is uncertain, unsure. "Hello, ma'am. Can, can, can I, what..." He swallows, shivering, and Akio watches the fear move across his face. "What... what can I... do for you?"

His slowed-down voice makes Akio feel sick. He's only ever seen Tristan do that when he's with people who don't understand him or love him for who he is. Now it seems like it's the only way he remembers how to talk.

All Tristan's muscles from gymnastics are gone, leaving only faded shadows of his strength behind. He's skinny, so pale he nearly reflects the light from the ceiling. His freckles are faded, and his hair is shorter than Tris ever liked it.

Being so thin makes his eyes even bigger, they seem to overwhelm the rest of his face.

"Honey, we're going to take you to our house," Aimi says, keeping her voice the same low gentle cadence. "While we figure out what happens next. Aki and I will be taking care of you for a while. How's that sound? Would that be okay?"

Tristan looks between them again, and something shifts in his face. A kind of desperation moves there, and he turns more fully to face them, leaning over a little to look up at them. Hair falls over his forehead, and his hands move to rub over the texture of a loose pair of sweatpants someone gave him to wear under his hospital gown. "To... your house? Would I be... yours?"

He looks at Akio again, and there's something in his face that says he sees that as the best case scenario, that he was ready for far, far worse than simply changing owners. That he's... hoping he'll be Akio's property now.

Akio's stomach flips at the thought and he has to put a hand over his mouth and turn away, catching the sob before it can make its way up out of his throat.

Aimi's arm moves around his shoulders instinctively, and she leans over, pressing a kiss to her son's short black hair. "It's okay," Aimi whispers. "It'll be hard at first. But it's going to be okay, Aki. Saishūtekini wa daijōbudesu. Tristan wa mada anata no shin'yūdesu."

Tristan, sitting on the little couch, blinks a few times. "Friend," he says in English, a little haltingly. "Shin' yu. Means... best friend." He scoots closer to them along the couch, and his eyes are so big and so very, very green. Just how Akio always remembered them.

Aimi's head raises and turns to look at him, her arm tightening around Aki, breath catching in her throat. "You remember that?"

"No." Tristan shakes his head. Scoots a little closer, even. "Yes. I don't know why. Are you..." He looks at Akio. "Wa-... watashitachiha... sh-shin, um, shin-shin'yūdeshita. Yes? Did I-... did I say it right?"

Tristan's Japanese was never great, he'd just picked up some here and there from all the time he spent around the Nakamuras at home and in their car. They used to lay awake at night during sleepovers practicing over and over until Tristan had a new phrase to impress Aimi with.

But hearing his voice, his living breathing real live voice, sounding out the words...

It's too much.

It's too fucking much.

"Yeah, um, y-yeah, you-..." Akio's words are suddenly gone. He chokes on his fear that this somehow is a dream he will wake up from to find Tris still cold in some unknown open grave, and he can't keep the tears back any longer.

His knees buckle under the onslaught of grief and hope and fear and love, and he drops to the cold tile hospital floor, hands pressed over his mouth until his lips are pushed painfully into his teeth, and he wails, muffled but loud enough that there's rustling as the cops guarding the door turn to look inside through the viewing window.

Aimi drops into a crouch behind him, rubbing at his back as he curls over himself. Her voice trembles with tears she doesn't shed. Akio remembers the days after they were told Tristan was dead, how she would cry in her room at night with Aki's dad when he was home from work, but somehow when he and Emi were bawling their heads off, her voice stayed calm, she kept her composure.

Right up until she was alone.

Now, though, she's barely hanging on as her son sobs on a hospital room floor before the emptied-out shell of his best friend.

Bare feet pad along the floor until Tristan drops down in front of him, reaching slowly out. Cool fingertips touch the back of Akio's hand, and he pulls them slowly down to look and see Tristan only a foot or so away from him, kneeling, watching him.

"I know you," Tristan whispers. "It hurts, but... I know... you. Don't, um, don't I?"

Akio can barely see him through the tears that have turned the world to watercolor suggestions. Nothing's in focus. But he grabs onto Tristan's hand, those familiar always-cold fingers, and holds tight.

"You know m-me," He manages. "You do, Tris. You know me. We-... we know you. We want to t-t-take you h-home."

Tristan tilts his head to the side, and it's such a familiar gesture, one he was so sure he'd never get to see again. "My... name is Baldur," He says, softly. "My Sir named me-"

"Please don't call him that. Can you... can you answer to Tristan? Please?" Akio is the one to reach out this time, touching Tristan's shoulder, hesitant. Waiting for him to pull back and away, to flinch like he's been doing when they watch him with the nurses.

Instead, Tris takes a breath and leans into the touch.

"It hurts," He says. "But, but, but, but-... but I can try."

Akio nods, and then Tristan is moving forward, and their arms are around each other and Akio is scared of himself for a second, scared of the welling of feelings he can't control. He's afraid he'll crack Tristan's ribs with how tightly he holds on.

Tristan's face buries itself against his neck, into the crook of his shoulder.

"I missed you so much," Akio whispers against the coppery hair. He's going to start crying again. He can hear his mom sniffing behind him, digging into her purse to pull out the little pack of tissues she always has in there. "I missed you so, so much, Tris."

"I think... I think I, I, I missed you, too," Tristan whispers back, and Akio isn't sure if he can even know if he means it, but he also knows that it's so good to hear the words that he doesn't even care.

-

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