#(Which is good because now our cat can enter any room he wishes to enter without him having to scream))

[the-mehlwurm]

I am home alone right now

[slaymitchabernathy]

Our Little Secret

On a quiet Sunday night, Soarynn finds herself curled up with a good book. She told herself that she’d go to bed once she put the children to sleep but that was hours ago and she’s halfway through this book.

Normally, she’d be in bed with her husband by now. Wrapped up in his strong embrace while he whispers sweet words of devotion.

But Coriolanus isn’t home. Isn’t in the Capitol. He’s away on a business trip in District One and won’t be home until tomorrow morning which left Soarynn alone with three children over the weekend.

It’s been a long weekend.

Soarynn is glad that their children are so well behaved because she truly can’t imagine having to manage three children under the age of five without having some sort of mental breakdown. She also knows that Coriolanus would lecture them for a good two days should he hear of them giving their mother a hard time, but still, she’s ready to have her husband home.

She glances over at her loyal companion, Petunia, her fluffy white cat who’s sitting high and mighty on her husband’s pillow. Those two seem to have a knack for lighting each other’s fuses and Petunia has been basking in his absence. “Don’t get too used to it Petunia,” Soarynn tells the feline while reaching for her cup of tea, “he’ll be back in the morning.”

Petunia rolls onto her back in response and Soarynn shakes her head, smiling to herself, that cat will be the death of Coriolanus one of these days. It doesn’t help that the children adore Petunia, always taking her side.

Soarynn takes a few sips of her tea and glances around the bedroom, noticing little pieces that are missing since Coriolanus is gone. His favorite cologne, his glasses that he only wears when he absolutely has to, his watch. Soarynn didn’t realize she was missing half of herself until she met Coriolanus, and now that he’s gone, she wishes for nothing more than to have him back and be whole again.

Tomorrow morning, she reminds herself, I’ll get up before the children to make a big breakfast for everyone.

The Snows do have a cook and two maids who take care of the house, but Soarynn gave all three women the day off tomorrow. She simply wants to bask in the company of her family and she can manage the meals for one day.

She’s beginning to think about what to make for breakfast when the doors to the bedroom slowly open and Soarynn peers over the back of the sofa to see her youngest daughter, Celeste, holding onto the door handle.

Soarynn sits up straighter on the sofa, her book and tea long forgotten. “Celeste darling, why aren’t you in bed?”

This seems to be enough permission for Celeste to enter her parent’s bedroom because she pads inside, making sure to close the doors behind her before answering Soarynn. “I couldn’t sleep Mommy.” Soarynn sighs and looks over at the clock that sits atop the fireplace mantel, it’s nearly midnight.

“Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit and try to fall asleep,” Soarynn offers, knowing that Celeste always jumps at the opportunity to be in the forbidden domain that is her parents bedroom.

Not that the children aren’t allowed in their room, but Coriolanus has been very clear that unless it’s an absolute emergency, they should remain outside. He didn’t want to lose the one sacred space he shared with his wife, the space where he was guaranteed alone time with her. And Soarynn didn’t really see any reason to fight him on it.

Rarely do the children ever try to sneak into their room, once or twice has proven more than enough for them to decide that their parent’s bedroom is of no real interest to them.

Celeste nods and hurries over to the seating area where Soarynn is currently perched on the sofa and she climbs up by Soarynn’s feet, giggling when Soarynn wiggles her toes. “Did you have a bad dream?” Soarynn asks, suddenly worried that there might be more to her daughter’s story.

But Celeste shakes her head and settles herself on Soarynn’s lap, “No Mommy. I just…I can’t wait for Daddy to come home,” she whispers the last part and Soarynn brushes some stray curls from her face. Soarynn leans in as if also sharing a big secret, “I can’t wait for him to come home either. It’s been quite strange without him hasn’t it?”

Soarynn is more used to Coriolanus going away for business but this is the first time he’s left where all the children actually understand the concept of leaving for the Districts. They all miss Coriolanus, plain and simple. Except Petunia.

Celeste hums in agreement and her hands absentmindedly reach to grab the lace neckline of Soarynn’s pink nightgown. But Soarynn doesn’t stop her, she doesn’t mind the children reaching for her in times of need. She cherishes these moments at their young age for she knows that she’ll never get them again.

Celeste’s eyes meet her own and for a moment Soarynn truly can’t believe that she’s real. Her sweet, perfect daughter. “You look so pretty Mommy.” Soarynn pulls a face because she looks anything but pretty right now in her opinion with her hair loosely braided down her back and her face bare.

Celeste giggles and rests her hands on Soarynn’s shoulders, “You do! You do Mommy. You always look so pretty, Daddy says so all the time.”

Well now she’s blushing.

Soarynn tucks a stray hair behind her ear and shakes her head, “Your Father has a way with words I suppose. But I look like I’m ready for bed if I’m being quite honest with you. We’re the only ones still up.”

That fact seems to dawn on Celeste who looks around the dimly lit room before looking back at Soarynn, “Are we…are we safe here without Daddy protecting us?”

Soarynn’s face softens and she immediately wraps Celeste in a warm embrace, placing several kisses onto her head, “Of course we are darling. We’re perfectly safe here in the Capitol. Your Father wouldn’t want us to be anywhere but here.”

It’s true. Should some random stranger wish to instill harm on them, they’d have to make it past the doorman, then past the security guard in the lobby, then up the elevator, and then through the two large and heavy mahogany front doors.

A lot of work for a woman, three children, and a cat.

Celeste nods and rests her head on Soarynn’s chest, “I’m getting sleepy again Mommy.” Soarynn runs a loving hand over Celeste’s head and looks over at her bed, her big empty bed. She’s been so lonely these past few nights without Coriolanus. She feels a smile creep across her face as an idea forms in her head.

“Do you want to sleep with me tonight?”

Celeste gasps and looks up at her, so much excitement in her blue eyes, she looks just like Coriolanus.

“Can I?”

Soarynn nods, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “Daddy will never know if we’re awake before he gets home. It’ll be our little secret.”

Well, that seems to be as good an offer as any because Celeste is full of energy in seconds, helping Soarynn prepare the bed and fluff the pillows.

“I’m helping Mommy,” she tells Soarynn while patting a pillow. Soarynn smiles and pulls back the thick covers, “Yes you are darling, you’re being such a good helper.”

Celeste beams up at Soarynn and makes sure that all the pillows are fluffed to her liking, even the one that Petunia has claimed. “We’re having a sleepover Petunia,” Celeste says, “except, you can’t tell anyone ‘cause it’s a secret.”

Soarynn smiles at the sweet sight and goes to turn off the bedside lamp, “Get under the covers darling so Mommy can turn off all the lights.” Celeste does as she’s told and crawls under the covers, looking so small in the large bed.

Marrying a tall and broad man meant sleeping in an outrageously large bed but Soarynn has come to love it. And she always finds herself in his embrace every morning despite how much room the both of them have so it works out in the end.

Soarynn makes sure to blow out any candles and turn off any lamps before she joins Celeste and Petunia in bed, both of whom are staring at her with wide blue eyes. Soarynn wishes she could take a picture of this sweet moment. “Let’s all have sweet dreams,” Soarynn whispers, pulling Celeste close to her.

Celeste curls up to her and rests her head on Soarynn’s chest, letting out a content sigh. “Sweet dreams Mommy.”

Soarynn stokes her head for a while, watching Celeste’s eyes grow heavier and heavier before she decides to sing the children’s favorite lullaby.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow, A bed of grass, a soft green pillow, Lay down your head, and close you eyes, And when they open the sun will rise, Here it’s safe, here it’s warm, Here the daisies guard you from every harm, Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, Here is the place where I love you.

꧁ ꧂

All Soarynn notices in the depths of her sleep is the smell of the lemon scented shampoo in Celeste’s hair. Which means that her daughter did not escape her grasp in the middle of the night.

She knows that she should wake up soon, get out of bed and start preparing breakfast, but five more minutes couldn’t hurt. Right?

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn must be dreaming because she swears she can feel her husband’s lips on her neck.

Which is impossible because that would mean that Coriolanus is back home.

Soarynn softly groans and shifts in her sleep, but the sensation of someone’s lips are persistent. Then she hears it. Hears his deep, throaty chuckle that she’s become so accustomed to hearing in the morning.

“I see I’ve been replaced by another blonde with curly hair and blue eyes.”

Soarynn’s eyes shoot open and she looks over her shoulder to find Coriolanus sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at her with a fond look on his eyes. “You’re back,” she whispers, still somewhat dazed from her sleep.

Coriolanus nods and glances at Celeste, “And I’ve lost my side of the bed it seems.”

Soarynn slowly and carefully detaches herself from Celeste who thankfully, can sleep through about anything. She doesn’t wait a moment to crawl into his arms and sit herself on his lap, burying her face in his shoulder. Coriolanus lets out a groan and wraps his arms around her frame, squeezing her as if he might never let go again. Soarynn could live with that.

“I missed you so much,” she whispers into his suit jacket. He’s still dressed from his travels on the train. Coriolanus pulls away and gently holds her face in his hands, studying her face to see if anything has changed over the past few days, “I’ve missed you too my love. These three days have been sheer torture having to be away from you and the children.”

Soarynn looks over her shoulder at Celeste who’s still curled up in bed, Petunia now sitting by her while glaring up at Coriolanus. He chuckles and shakes his head, “I see my presence has not been missed by everyone in this household.”

Soarynn presses her lips to his which is more than enough to silence any further agitation between him and the cat. Coriolanus responds eagerly and if it weren’t for the sleeping child next to them, she’s sure that he’d take her right here if he could. But there’s little ones near by and Coriolanus isn’t the type of man to be too handsy in front of his children.

Just another reason as to why he’s such a good husband.

Soarynn pulls away breathless and looks down at the foot of the bed, softly gasping when she sees the giant bouquet of roses sitting there for her. “Oh, they’re beautiful,” she whispers, “thank you darling.”

Coriolanus smiles and pecks her lips, “Anything for my darling girl. Now tell me, how did this happen exactly,” he nods towards Celeste who has never slept in any bed but her own until last night.

Soarynn has the decency to look somewhat guilty while she thinks about how to answer him. Coriolanus isn’t mad, he’s amused more than anything but Soarynn knows he’ll want some explanation as to why their child slept in their bed instead of their own.

Soarynn grins when she finally comes up with a substantial answer and she kisses his cheek.

“It’s our little secret.”

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[folkloreguk]

Moving Antics (M)

A/N: This was requested a while ago and I hope you will enjoy it! I always welcome feedback of any kind! Have a good day x

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation (a tiny bit), dom!bias, very lowkey roleplaying??, reader wears a maid outfit (not in a degrading way)

words: ~ 5.4 k

tag list: @mochi-ficz (let me know if you wanna be tagged when I post new fics!)

People had told you over and over. Moving is a stressful, exhausting process. It would take a while for you to settle in. Until everything had found its perfect place, weeks could pass. At least that’s what everybody said. What they all failed to understand, though, was that being in love could make the most tiring experience fun. Was it stressful? Sometimes. Exhausting? Why don’t you ask yourself that, when you fell into bed like a walking corpse at night? But all it took was a glimpse at your boyfriend as he carried inside the box that said ‘anniversary gifts’ and it was all worth it. You were confident in one thing at least. In the settling in department you were both ranking foremost.

You had lived in the apartment for only a week, and you couldn’t have been more all-over-each-other. Somehow there seemed to be an unspoken challenge you had both taken on. Maybe you two could set a record for most surfaces in a flat someone could have sex on. Or perhaps you should have started marking the rooms and spaces you hadn’t been able to add to your list yet. There wouldn’t have been many left. At the moment, there was only one downside to being so head-over-heels in love. A lot of the boxes in the apartment had been left unattended, as if you only waited long enough, the things would start flying out of the cartons and miraculously sort themselves out while you could stay there, in bed with your lover between your legs.

But this wasn’t Hogwarts and you weren’t some magician. And so one rainy Saturday noon you decided it would be thatday. The day you finally put away all the things that were still in the boxes. Not that the day had been successful so far. It was 12 pm and you were in bed. The shower was running in the bathroom next door, and you wondered how you would convince your boyfriend and yourself that getting things done would be a worthwhile pastime. Telling yourself you would come up with a tactic with your eyes closed, you tricked yourself into daydreaming for a little while longer, cuddled in the blankets that still smelled like him.

When you heard footsteps approach, your mind snapped back to reality. He strut through the door like a nude model, searching for some clothes to wear. His smirk when he saw you eye him was prominent and made your stomach flip. It took every last will of yours to not ask him to come back into bed with you, forget all your earlier plans and live like you were the last people on earth.

“Do you want breakfast?” he asked, finishing his outfit by pulling a shirt over his head. “I’ll make you some.”

You hummed, starry-eyed at his perfection. “Thank you,” you said. Quickly, he kissed your forehead and then walked off, presumably in the direction of the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, at the kitchen table, you finally brought up your wonderful idea.

“I think we really should unpack some more stuff today,” you said, “Don’t you think?”

“You’re right,” he said, “We’ve really been procrastinating.”

“You can say that again,” you laughed.

“Although I wouldn’t describe our scientific research of the last few days as completely pointless.”

“Our what?” you asked. You were getting up to put away the plates of your late breakfast.

“Us testing which room of the house is the most fun to have sex in,” he stated, matter of fact. “I vote for the bathroom.”

“You just love the mirrors,” you grinned, and he mirrored it.

“I do,” he said. His arms snuck around your waist from behind. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“I love you too, babe,” you said, “You know, there’s one room we haven’t tried yet.”

“The office,” he said. You turned your head and you kissed him deeply. In agreement you hummed, your arms wrapping around him. He pulled you closer, hands ghosting over the back of your thighs and up to your hips. You felt like jumping onto the counter and having him there, again, just like you had done it two days ago. But then you remembered you had other projects for the day. If you gave in to him now, you’d end up back in bed for the rest of the day, probably. Guilt was already setting in at the mere thought.

“Wait,” you pulled away and said, “We have things to get done.”

His nod was dilatory but then he seemed to recall his own determination from around two minutes ago. You wished you could have motivated him otherwise, but you were already struggling to spur on yourself to be productive. Then, you suddenly remembered something. Your eyes must have widened in surprise because he furrowed his brows at you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Stay here,” you announced, “I’ll make sure we get through with this today.”

And you were off to your bedroom. You pulled the box out from the far back of your closet. Memories flashed your mind, of when you and your boyfriend had been watching a show together. One of the characters had been wearing a provocative maid outfit, and you still thought about the way he had grinned at it, or how he had said he found it cute, which you believed translated to sexy, but he had been a little shy back then.

Long story short you bought one. And what better occasion to put it to use than now? You went all out, stockings and heels as well as your attempt at fixing your hair quickly, which you knew didn’t really matter, since you would want it out of the way if you were really going to be emptying boxes. You strut down the hall, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The black and white costume just about covered your ass, and on your chest was a cutout in the shape of a cat’s head. The ruffles of the material bounced as you walked, excited to see your boyfriend’s reaction.

“Close your eyes!” you shouted. “No cheating!”

“I never cheat,” he said. You rolled your eyes, remembering his video game antics from the past.

“Before you say anything…this is supposed to be a motivation for us to empty the boxes. If we do that, we can have our reward,” you said.

“What reward?” he asked, eyes still shut.

“Open your eyes and you’ll know,” you said. Oh, how dearly you whished you could have captured his face on camera.

“Babe…,” he said. Then his mouth just stayed agape, as he ogled at you shamelessly. Just because he could. Because he was just thatlucky to have you.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“Yes. Of course I do,” he said. His tone was emotionless because he was way too busy sorting out his own thoughts in his head. “But do you really think this is a good idea? How am I supposed to focus on anything but you?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you said. “Don’t you want to feel accomplished at the end of it all? If we don’t start working now, we’ll just end up feeling guilty. Again. Come on, let’s do this.”

“Alright,” he said. “Let me have one kiss.”

You laughed and granted him that one wish. His lips lingered on yours for a while. You knew he didn’t want to pull away. Neither did you. But at last, he had enough control to remove himself from you. It was the office that still needed the most work to be done. Cardboard boxes were piled on top of each other, labelled with some sort of theme or room of belonging on the outside. When you looked his way, he was only eyeing your legs. But then you grabbed the closest box to you and handed it to your boyfriend, and he snapped out of his trance.

Believe it or not, there were up- and downsides to the maid costume in this situation. The pros included feeling unnecessarily sexy whilst doing an unbelievably humane task, not getting too warm since you were already wearing little clothing and having your boyfriend virtually drooling over your appearance. The downsides were mostly reduced to one word: heels. Climbing a ladder and balancing three boxes on top of each other in your arms was an arduous task to begin with. Now add the possibility of twisting your ankle on the top step of a ladder and crashing to the floor, probably breaking your back or worse. You really couldn’t endanger the prospect of the fun you were planning on having later by taking that risk.

That’s why you chose to abandon the heels somewhere on the floor about half an hour into the process. And you came to the conclusion that finally getting over and done with what you had been procrastinating for the last week wasn’t all that bad. You were a whirlwind, running from room to room to make sure everything had its place. At some point he had turned some music on, and it was making everything even better. After all this time, you finally had your own place to decorate however you desired. As you admired how nicely things were coming together, you hummed to yourself quietly.

You weren’t sure whether he was having as much fun as you were. Especially not when you walked past him in the doorframe, carrying four pillows. Your ass – maybe not all that accidentally – brushed against his front as you entered the room. Innocence and feigned ignorance were on your face but you noticed exactly the way his eyes dwelled on you for a little longer until he got back to work.

But everything you could do he could do just as well. Fifteen minutes later, you were occupied with stacking books onto a shelf. Wanting them to stand in a very specific order turned out to be more time-consuming than you had anticipated. You heard his steps behind you, assuming he was going to walk past you. Suddenly his lips brushed against your exposed neck.

“Remember this song?” he asked. You hadn’t been focused on the music for a while now, but of course you remembered. “Remember when I fucked you to the beat of this? Because I do.”

“Babe,” you said. There was a little part in your brain that had the glorious idea of him having you right there, against the bookshelf. You wouldn’t even need to remove your clothes. With him, it took nothing but a few magic words and you felt like giving him all of you. No. It’s not time for that yet. Your rationality vanquished that little avid thought and pushed it away, back into your unconscious where it had come from. It wasn’t gone yet, only not so urgent anymore.

“You’re right,” he said. “We’ll save that for later. Just wanted to remind you of how much of a good time we can have.”

You only shook your head and grinned as he walked off, pretending to be blissfully unbothered. What goes around, comes around, after all. And you deserved that for pushing up against him earlier. It took a minute and you got back to sorting your book titles. Time passed surprisingly fast when you were being productive. Box after box emptied itself, almost as if your wish for magic powers had become reality. But it was just two people, who were so excited about their reward that they forgot to even take a proper break in between the chaos. And soon you were down to the last cardboard box. It was full of decorations you didn’t need for the current season.

Just a few more climbs up and down the ladder to the very top of the closet and you were done. He stood next to the ladder, handing you the things so you didn’t have to go all the way down each time.

“Last one,” he said, giving you a box with holiday lights. Successfully, you placed it in its new spot. When you finally made eye contact with him, he was already staring at you like you were the only thing in the room worth looking at. To be fair, from where he stood, there wasn’t much left up to his imagination. With your stockings on display, his eyes could probably go all the way up to your garter belt.

“Is this angle too revealing?” you asked.

“Absolutely,” he said, making you laugh. Smirking, he took your hand as you stepped off the ladder. You stumbled into his body as you grinned at each other. You both had the same thing on your mind, without a doubt. It was like a little inside joke you had made up just now, making you flirt through looks and small touches. His hand rubbed the small of your back as he bent to your ear.

“My pretty maid, haven’t you worked enough for the day?” he asked. “All that teasing you did today must have been soexhausting.”

You nodded overly seriously, as if riling up your horny boyfriend was physically tiring work. “I hope I did a good job. Did I?”

“No one else could have done it better,” he said. “Now let me treat you, baby.”

You hummed with your mouth already too close to his to say anything. Then your lips finally crashed onto his. It was a little ridiculous how much you missed his touch after only hours of being without it. People had told you you’d get tired of being with each other all the time. But it had been years and you still wished you could have cuffed his wrist to yours because you loved him just that much.

Your tongues fought playfully as you pushed him against the closet front. Small noises came from both of your mouths, quietly agreeing that this was what you had been waiting for – more or less patiently. Your hands became busy with the buttons of his flannel. When you came across his bare skin underneath instead of a shirt, you smiled into the kiss. Every layer less to remove meant you were one step closer to what you wanted.

“We’ve never done it in here,” you muttered against his hungry lips. “That table looks nice, doesn’t it?”

He grinned. Your hands had already messed up his hair, but nothing came close to his dark eyes in moments like these. His look never failed to make your heart skip a beat while you wondered how you had ended up with the most handsome guy in the world.

“Will you think of us, if you ever sit there and work in the future?” he asked, leading you over to the office table. He dropped his flannel on the ground on the way.

“I always think about us,” you said. “But you can make sure this one stays especially prominent in my memory.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he said, and kissed you again. Your ass was backed against the edge of the table and one of his legs pushed between your thighs. It made you whimper quietly in anticipation. He touched the little part on your thighs that was bare, playing with your garters. With your eyes closed, his tongue on yours and his hands being so close but so far from where you needed him, your head spun with dizziness. He was like a drug, like alcohol dripping straight from his lips and the more you kissed him, the less control you had over yourself. His attention gave you loose lips and the impulse to be risky, all whilst feeling so high up in the clouds you weren’t sure you’d ever find your way back down. You hissed when he pressed his fingers against your underwear.

“You’ll keep the dress on,” he said. “Will you?”

“Of course,” you obliged. “If that’s what you want.”

“Good girl,” he said, and he pulled aside your panties to slide his finger over the slickness that had formed between your thighs. As if on command, your hips moved closer to his hand as you whimpered at the too gentle friction. All afternoon you had been thinking of his hands on you. When you had watched him peel away the tape from the boxes, when he was taking your hand to help you down from the ladder and when he had run his fingers through his hair absentmindedly – all you could think about was how much you wanted those hands to grab your hips and for him to have his way with you.

“Take these off,” he ordered. His stern but gentle voice turned your insides into mush. It made you behave almost like a robot, no ifs ands or buts. When you usually liked to tease him, you knew not to test your limits when he spoke in this tone. Your underwear dropped to the floor and you kicked it a few meters away. Again, his hands ghosted under your dress and found your center. You felt like your knees would buckle from the way he rubbed small circles on your clit. Moaning quietly, you wrapped your arms around his neck for support, leaning your forehead against his chest for a moment. You let out small huffs and whimpers against his skin and nuzzled especially close to him when he touched that one special spot for a few seconds.

“Look at me.” He watched intently as your eyelids fluttered like your eyes were going to roll to the back of your head. You tried your best.

“Put your hands on the table by your sides,” he said. You hummed in disapproval but didn’t dare say so. After all, he could have also told you to put them on your back. And holding on to a wooden edge was still better than not holding on to anything, when you felt like a child standing on its feet for the first time. When he hooked his free hand under your thigh, lifting up your leg a little, your grip on the table tightened. You swore under your breath when he plunged two of his fingers into you. He curled them, pushing hard against your sweet spot and you curled your back in response.

All day you had gone without any sort of attention, when your head had been so full of things you knew you could do with him. The most release you had gotten – which was basically no release at all – was from pushing your legs together tightly when the dirty thoughts had become too much for your brain to handle. You knew it was your own fault for setting yourself up with this challenge. But now with your chest heaving and your head feeling like a tsunami of emotions was raging inside of it, you didn’t regret it as much as you thought you would two hours ago. Maybe you should play this waiting game more often, instead of jumping onto each other any chance you got.

“You look so hot like this,” he said. At the sound of his voice your eyes opened. Those eyes. While they usually held loyalty and playfulness, they now only spoke of authority. He used his thumb to rub your clit whilst his fingers were still inside of you, making you feel like floating. You were his favorite sight, by far. Above all times he watched you, from waking up in the morning to falling asleep in his arms at night, right now was the most mesmerizing. Your parted lips were the entrance to heaven and the glow in your teary, desperate eyes was putting the evening sun to shame.

“I’m so close,” you moaned. Your chest was alternating between short puffs and not breathing at all. Maybe your brain was too focused on the bliss you were chasing to care about breathing for now. You couldn’t blame yourself.

“Don’t make a mess, baby,” he said.

“No, I won’t,” you said. “Can I touch you when I come, please?”

You gave him your most entreating eyes, knowing that even though he liked telling you what to do in the bedroom, not even the strictest boyfriend was immune to your puppy eyes. You suspected that if he had declined, you might have held on to him anyways. Too overpowering was the clamor inside your head that was telling you to be close to him.

“Only when you’re coming,” he said. “Not a second earlier.”

You nodded obediently as your eyes shut again. Good thing you were mere moments away from just that. His fingers moved quickly, now that he knew how close you were to your high. It robbed your breath all at once. And it did the job, after a short while. You whined and arched your back, your hands flinging around his shoulders. Your little noises came out muffled against his skin as you closed your legs around his hand. He barely moved his fingers anymore, but kept the pressure on your most sensitive spots, making sure you could relish in every last second of your orgasm. Only after a while your grip on him loosened, and you realized how your nails had been digging into his skin.

“Sorry,” you said, rubbing over the moon-shaped marks on his shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, baby,” he said. When he removed his hand, you shuddered one last time, but missed his touch already. His magic was always working on you. Even when he had just made you come, the mere sight of the bulge in his pants, ready to spring free, made you want to pull him right into your body again.

“You came so fast today,” he said. Softly, he kissed you, but you noticed the hint of hunger that he must had been feeling as you were coming down from your high.

“That’s what you do to me,” you admitted. “Do you think you’re the only one who felt tortured all day long? It was driving me crazy, too.”

“You seemed to have a lot of fun, messing with my head,” he said, smirking.

“You’ll find that it was worth it, after this,” you said. He raised his eyebrows in question. You were already stepping forward, dropping to your knees in front of him. Like a child on Christmas morning, his eyes lit up at the sight of you.

“Aren’t you the prettiest maid?” he asked, the question obviously rhetorical. To him, you were the prettiest person in the whole universe. You tugged on his pants and pulled them down, along with his underwear. Your mouth watered at the sight of his member, hard and red from all the waiting he’d had to endure. The way he looked at you from above made you feel small, but he stroked your hair out of your face gently and you knew this was exactly where you wanted to be right now, and any other day.

“Hands behind your back,” he said. You smiled and did as he said, holding your right wrist with your left hand on your back. He caught on to your reaction right away.

“You don’t even mind, right?” he said. You were already sitting straight, mouth open, your tongue protruding slightly. “You like it when I make it more difficult for you, don’t you?”

You only nodded and hummed a small yes, then he placed the tip of his dick on your tongue. At first, you only closed your mouth around it, not taking more of him. Your tongue licked over the swollen tip almost shyly. He groaned as he watched you test the waters. After all, he was the one who could control what you did to him. For now, however, he seemed to leave you your freedom to do what you felt like. You pressed your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, licking over the tip ever so slowly. Then, you sunk your mouth further onto his length, taking as much as you could. It was so quiet you only noticed his uneven breathing as he eyed you from above.

“Shit, you’re so good for me,” he said. “Now stop with the teasing, will you? You know what happens if you don’t.”

You knew exactly. And so you shifted from your slow movements to quicker ones. You made sure to keep your tongue on him, especially when you moved your head away, swirling it around the tip now and then. His moans were music to your ears and only motivated you further. You had always loved his voice, when you sang to the song on the car radio or hummed his latest favorite song under the shower. But nothing compared to the way his voice sounded when you sucked him off. He seemed to be the most unrestrained then, not caring who heard him because he was way to obsessed with you sitting by his feet. The way he looked at you then made your stomach turn in pleasure. He didn’t even need to say anything or touch you. His overseeing eyes alone made you want him more than anything else.

His fingers in your hair curled, pushing your head further down on him. You focused on not gagging, your eyes closing. Tears brimmed behind your eyelids, but you were determined not to let them fall. Instead, you opened your lips a little wider and stuck your tongue out to make it easier for him to use your mouth however he desired.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, sighing in relief. You were awaiting treatment a lot rougher than the one he gave you, though. He thrusted into your mouth rather slowly, giving you enough of a break to remember to breathe. When you looked up at him with your sweetest eyes possible, his expression was a mix of strain and pleasure. You suspected he was trying not to overdo it just yet.

“Baby…can I fuck you or is that too much for you?” he asked. You perked up at his request. When you started humming around his length, he pulled away to let you speak.

“Please,” you said. “Fuck me. On the table.”

“Alright, my baby’s making the rules now, is she?” he said. “Come here.”

“I thought that’s where you wanted me to remember you, wasn’t it?” you asked, getting up.

“You’re right,” he said. You sat down on the edge of the office table with your legs parted for him to stand between them. Just once he kissed you. You wanted him to hurry, so you linked your heels behind his back, pulling him closer.

“Take me like a good girl.” He ran his cock over your slick folds, and he groaned when he felt your warmth on him. In response you nodded willingly, unable to wait a second more for him. Luckily, he didn’t plan on dragging out the anticipation any longer. With ease he slid into you, finding a familiar rhythm right away. As if you hadn’t just come ten minutes ago, you whimpered pathetically at the satisfaction. You leaned your weight onto your hands behind you, watching his cock enter you over and over. There was no limit to how many times you could have him inside of you. Every time it felt the same. Like he was completing you, all whilst simultaneously ruining you. His thrusts were sharp and as you raised your legs and changed the angle slightly, your eyes rolled back for a moment.

“Harder,” you asked, even though you were already overwhelmed.

“You want more?” he asked. You hummed a yes and nodded quickly. His grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer to the edge of the table. He didn’t disappoint. He never did. Swiftly, he pushed your legs further open and pounded into you, making your body shake every time his hips slapped against yours. It drove you borderline mad. A part of your brain urged you to praise him, to let him know what he was doing to you. But then, those unspoken words between you were inconsequential. You didn’t need to tell him how good he was. He could read it in every part of your body. He saw it in the arch of your back, in your curled toes and in your lip that was captured between your teeth. He heard it in the way you moaned and said his name like he was your savior.

Plus, you would tell him all about it afterward. But that wasn’t what your mind was focused on momentarily. It was the way he hit your sweet spot every time and you could barely breathe normally amidst your whimpers. You hadn’t even introduced yourself to all your neighbors yet, but they most certainly had taken notice of your arrival in the new apartment.

“Can you use your hands for me?” he asked. “Show me touching yourself, baby.”

His words and the look of dominance in his eyes was all it took, and without second thought your hands went to your center. You sucked in a breath at the added pleasure. It was almost too much at first, but then you let it all in. Like a wave was crashing over you, your eyes closed, and you hummed from the intensity.

“That’s it. Make yourself come again,” he said. “You can do it again.”

“Yes,” you said, almost breathed with the weakest voice. Your body had other things to focus on at that moment, letting your vocal chords do whatever they felt like. You clenched your walls around him and the knot in your stomach tightened with every little circle you drew on your clit. His usually tender eyes were everything but that as he watched you revel in the pleasure.

“So fucking hot,” he groaned. You tried hard to uphold eye-contact through fluttering eyelids and furrowed brows. “Good girl, keep going. Tell me when you’re coming.”

You hummed a yes as one of his hands cupped the side of your neck, the other remaining on your hips so he could push your body against his own with every thrust. After all this time of being with him you knew what it meant when his moans became higher pitched and he seemed to not realize his mean grip on your skin – not that you minded. You loved seeing the marks he left on you, especially when you had nowhere to be the next days. It always made him hungry, when he saw the dark spots on your skin, like a fading memory of what you had done.

A curse fell from his perfect lips and his thrusts turned sloppy as he came inside of you. His face, all twisted in bliss and from exhaustion, was all you needed.

“Stay inside of me. Just for a little while, please,” you plead, fingers on your clit rubbing at the quickest speed you could muster. “I’ll come if you stay.”

“I’m right here,” he said, slowing his actions until he was just filling you up, but now moving anymore. “It’s okay. Come for me.”

Just having him there, stretching out your walls and making you feel so close to him was all you really needed. And his words of affirmation sent you over the edge in no time. It was a toe-curling, mind-bending surge that overcame you at your release. Stars danced delightfully behind your closed eyelids while you tried to process all of it. He gripped your hand that was touching your clit and pressed it down, urging you to go on for a little while longer. You whined in sensitivity, feeling like your legs would give in, even though you were already sitting down. For just another while, he dragged out your orgasm as you struggled to control your overwhelmed senses. He distracted you by bending forward and letting his lips graze yours.

“You did so good,” he said. “My pretty maid.”

You whimpered and then sighed when he finally lifted your hand away from between your legs. Only then you could scrape together some words.

“We both did good today,” you grinned. “And I mean not only the last half hour.”

“Agreed,” he said. “Tomorrow we could tackle those last boxes in the kitchen. What do you think?”

“Can the maid outfit make another appearance?” you asked.

“I was hoping it might,” he said, kissing you softly. Your tired limbs and mind welcomed his gentleness as your hands went to his hair. You could already guess how the next day would go, then. But truth be told, you didn’t mind it one bit.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 22

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 22 - This Venerable One's Shizun is Getting Angry

When Chu Wanning heard this, he was so angry that he could barely keep himself from retracting Tianwen and slashing the Chen couple. But he couldn't open his eyes to confront them. Once he opened his eyes, the barrier would be broken. The Return to Truth barrier could only trap a ghost once. If his interrogation was interrupted, he wouldn't be able to listen to any more of Luo Xianxian's story.

All he could do was contain his overwhelming rage and continue listening to Luo Xianxian.

After she died, her soul entered the underworld, unaware and confused.

The only thing that she could make out was a woman wearing red and green robes with facial features that resembled the Master of Ceremonies Ghost enshrined in a temple. The Master of Ceremonies Ghost stood in front of her and asked her in a soft voice: "You and Chen Bohuan couldn't share a bed in life. Would you like to share the same grave in death?"

She hurriedly agreed: "Yes. . . Yes please!"

"Then I can let him come join you right away. What do you think?"

Luo Xianxian wanted to blurt out a yes, rushing to agree, but suddenly remembered something and froze. "Am I dead?"

"Yes. I am the Master of the Underworld Ghost. I can give you the destiny you deserve and fulfill your long-cherished wish."

Luo Xianxian was startled: "Then, if he comes to join me, will he. . . also die?"

"Yes. However, if loves persists in the afterlife, life and death are irrelevant. What difference does it make?"

Chu Wanning heard this, he thought to himself that he had been right; this Master of Ceremonies Ghost would persuade others to make a wish so that she could reap the benefits. This immortal was truly diabolical.

Although Luo Xianxian died unjustly, she hadn't yet become a malevolent ghost, so she repeatedly shook his head: "No. It wasn't his fault. You can't kill him."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost smiled compassionately: "And what did you get in return for this kindness?" It didn't force Luo Xianxian to do anything. As an immortal being, they could persuade someone to make a bad wish, but they couldn't force them. Its figure gradually faded away, its voice becoming hazier and hazier.

"Return to the world in seven days. During those seven days, go and see how the Chen family is faring. After that, I'll ask you again if you still have no regrets about your decision."

Seven days later, the day arrived.

Luo Xianxian's soul returned to a conscious form and returned to the world of the living.

Following the old road, she eagerly walked towards the Chen house to see her husband for the last time.

Unexpectedly, the Chen house was decorated with lights, and outside the courtyard, there were fireworks. Bridal flowers were decorating the halls. and a big "double happiness" banner was hanging in front of the main hall. Madam Chen was radiant, not appearing sickly in the slightest. She was smiling and instructing the servants to wrap the bouquets with red silk.

Who. . . was having a wedding?

Who. . . were the bride and groom?

Who. . . no one was engaged, what was going on?

Who. . .

She walked through the busy crowd, listening to the sound of people in the world of the living.

"Congratulations, Madam Chen. Your son is getting engaged to the daughter of the county magistrate. When's the wedding?"

"Madam Chen, you're so fortunate."

"Yao Qianjin is truly the lucky star of the Chen family and they aren't even official yet. Madam Chen, you look so much healthier already."

"Your son and Yao Qianjin are a match made in heaven. I'm so jealous, hahahaha."

Her son. . . Her son. . .

Which son?

Which one was marrying the daughter of the Yao family?

She shuttled back and forth across the familiar front yard, growing more and more frantic, looking for that familiar figure in the midst of all the laughter.

Then she found him.

In front of the peony flowers in the back hall, Chen Bohuan stood with his hands behind his back with a haggard face and sunken cheeks. However, he was dressed in red. Even though it wasn't a traditional wedding outfit, it was a Caidie Town custom. When a prospective son-in-law comes to propose marriage, he should wear this type of red gown.

Was he. . . going to propose. . .?

The decorations in the whole house, the strings of gold and silver beads, was it all. . . was it all from Chen Bohuan, her husband, as a dowry for the daughter of the Yao family?

She suddenly recalled the time when they got married.

There was nothing but two people that shared one heart - nothing else.

There was no master of ceremonies, no bridesmaids, and no dowry. The Chen family weren't wealthy at that time and didn't even own a decent set of jewelry. He went into the yard and picked a delicate orange blossom from under the orange tree they had planted together and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

She asked him: "Does it look good?"

He said it looked beautiful. After a moment of silence, he stroked her hair with some sadness and told her: "You deserve so much better than this."

Luo Xianxian smiled and pursed his lips, saying that it didn't matter.

Chen Bohuan told her that when he married her three years later, he would hold a lively wedding banquet. He would invite people from all over the world. He would have her make a grand entrance on a large sedan chair. He would give her gold and silver to wear, and the dowry gifts would fill the entire main hall.

Those vows still echoed in her ears. Now, all those promises have come true, the hall filled with gifts and guests.

He was getting married, just not to her.

A monstrous flame of anger and sorrow surged through her. Luo Xianxian screamed, trying to tear at the hanging red silk in the room.

But she was a ghost; she couldn't touch anything.

Chen Bohuan seemed to vaguely notice something. He turned around, staring at the silk moving despite there being no wind. His eyes were dull and hollow.

His little sister came over, a white jade hairpin clipped on the side of her bun. She didn't know who she was secretly mourning by wearing it.

She said: "Big brother, go to the kitchen to eat something. You haven't had a proper meal in days. You have to hurry up and go to the county magistrate's house later to propose. Your body won't hold up."

Chen Bohuan suddenly asked without thinking: "Sister, did you hear someone crying?"

". . . What? No, brother, I think you're still. . ." She gritted her teeth and didn't finish her thought. Chen Bohuan still stared at the fluttering silk sheets.

"How is my mother? Is she happy? Has her illness been cured?"

". . . Brother."

". . . I'm glad she's feeling better." Chen Bohuan stood there, muttering to himself. "I already lost Luo Xianxian, I couldn't live without my mother."

"Brother, go eat something. . ."

Luo Xianxian wailed. She yelled and bawled with her head in her hands.

Don't go. . . don't go. . . please don't go. . .

Chen Bohuan said: ". . . Alright."

The tired figure disappeared around the corner.

Luo Xianxian stood alone in a daze, large tears rolling down her face. Suddenly, she heard the brothers of the Chen family who killed her approaching. The second eldest brother and the younger brother were whispering to each other.

"Mother is finally happy. Finally, things are going our way."

"Right? She pretended to be sick for half and year. Now that that cursed bitch is gone, how could she not be thrilled?"

The younger brother tsked and said, "How come she died? We wanted to force her out, not kill her. Was she really so stupid that she couldn't even find someone to help her?"

"Who knows. She was weak, just like her rotten father. It's not our fault that she died. Even though mother pretended to be sick to get rid of her, our family has its own struggles. Think about it, when the options county magistrate’s daughter and some pauper girl, only a fool would choose the latter. Besides, even if Yao Qianjin is a brat, she's got enough money to go around."

"Yes, she's so dumb. She didn't want to live so she let herself freeze to death. No one could've saved her."

The words drifted to her ears.

After Luo Xianxian died, she finally understood the so-called "Divine Fate". She was completely broke and couldn't compare to the county magistrate's daughter who was so noble and honourable.

Only a fool would choose the pauper girl.

She finally snapped.

She returned to the Master of Ceremonies' temple full of hatred and resentment.

She died there. Unlike how weak and helpless she was when she died, she returned with overwhelming hostility.

She used to be such a kind person, but now, all the hatred and evil that had been built inside her while she was alive came flooding out. She roared, her eyes turning red, her soul trembling.

She said: "I, Luo Xianxian, would like to give up my soul and follow the path of wickedness. I only ask you to avenge me! I want the Chen family - I don't want you to kill them!!! I want. . . I want to let my beastly mother-in-law kill her sons by her own hand! All her sons!!! I want Chen Bohuan to go to hell with me!!! Let him be buried with me!!! Do it for me!!! I hate them! I hate them!!!!"

The eyes of the clay sculpture on the shrine shifted and the corners of its mouth slowly raised.

A hollow voice echoed through the temple.

"I have heard your prayers. It will be as you wish. As an evil spirit - kill all those that you resent -"

A piercing blood-red light flashed, and Luo Xianxian couldn't remember anything after that.

However, Chu Wanning already what happened next. After that, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost manipulated Luo Xianxian's spirit to possess Madam Chen and force her to kill each member of the Chen family.

The red coffin on the top of the mountain, the reason why Chen Bohuan was dug up, naturally, was because the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was fulfilling Luo Xianxian's greatest wish - "Let Chen Bohuan and I be buried together." Moreover, it deliberately placed the coffin on the property of Chen Bohuan and his new wife as an act of spiteful revenge.

As for the floral scent in Chen Bohuan's coffin, it was the scent of the butterfly fragrance powder that Luo Xianxian had worn before her death. The resentment and fragrance in the coffin were both extremely strong because Luo Xianxian's soul was resting alongside Chen Bohuan inside it.

Luo Xianxian had no family. According to the customs, if a person like that dies, their bones should be cremated instead of buried. Therefore, she had no physical body and could only be contained within the coffin by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. That's why, when Chu Wanning opened the coffin with his willow vine, Luo Xianxian had escaped the coffin's containment. Her soul flew away, and it was difficult to recapture. It was a situation of "a closed coffin being heavy with resentment but an open coffin being light".

But during the illusion, why did other people have dead bodies as their partners but Chen Bohuan only had a paper-mache ghost bride?

Chu Wanning thought for a moment and figured out this much:

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost didn't break its promise. The paper-mache bride was the "physical body" that it gave Luo Xianxian. It was a vessel so that Luo Xianxian could be buried with Chen Bohuan.

Everything was clear.

Chu Wanning looked at the weak and helpless girl in the barrier. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say.

Elder Yuheng wasn't particularly good at comforting words. He couldn't think of anything, so he stayed silent, not having anything he could say.

The girl stood in the vast darkness with her soft round eyes open.

Chu Wanning looked at her eyes and couldn't bear it. He wanted to leave. He didn't want to take another look. He was about to open his eyes and leave the Return to Truth barrier.

Then the girl suddenly spoke.

"Lord Yama. I. . . I have something else I want to tell you."

Chu Wanning: ". . . Alright."

The girl suddenly lowered her head, covered her eyes, and cried. She said softly, "Lord Yama, I don't know what I did after that. But, I. . . I really didn't want to kill my husband. I didn't want to be an evil spirit. I really. . ."

"I didn't steal the oranges. I really am Chen Bohuan's wife. And I truly, truly didn't want to hurt anyone either."

"I truly didn't want anyone to get hurt. Please believe me."

Her voice choked and trembled, her words breaking.

"I. . . didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

Why is it that, in this life, almost no one believed me?

She sobbed and screamed. Chu Wanning's voice sounded low in the darkness. He didn't say much, but he said it with conviction.

"Okay."

Luo Xianxian was shocked.

Chu Wanning said: "I believe you."

Luo Xianxian wiped her tears with her hands indiscriminately but couldn't hold them back. Hiding her tearful face, she lowered her head and bowed her head in his direction in the darkness.

Chu Wanning opened his eyes.

After he opened his eyes, he didn't say anything.

Time in the barrier wasn't the same as in reality. He had stayed there for a long time but, for the people waiting outside, it had only been a moment. Mo Ran hadn't returned yet. The few remaining people in the Chen family were still looking at him with bated breath.

Chu Wanning withdrew Tianwen and said to Madam Chen: "I'll avenge you. You can find peace."

Madam Chen froze and opened her blood-red eyes, and suddenly fell to the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

Chu Wanning raised his head again. His eyes swept across Chen's face then landed on the youngest son. His voice didn't waver, and it was still frighteningly cold.

"I'll ask one last time." He said each word slowly and decisively. "Did you really not recognize whose voice that was?"

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[gwynrielsupremacist]

TWISTER

suggested by: @imsointobooks

Read at AO3

Gwyn knew her friends were doing it on purpose.

She fucking knew it.

Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie had been friends since they'd seen each other in preschool. Since then, no one thought of those three separately, they were a formidable trio.

Her companions knew that if they attacked one, you attacked all three.

They had decided to go to self defense classes because, honestly, the world sucks and you have to be prepared for anything.

And everything had gone great, they had signed up for classes. The problem was when they came to those classes and saw their coaches.

Damn.

Coaches weren't supposed to be that fucking good.

The first classes had gone well, they had been more destined to know each other than to anything else.

The problem was that it was impossible to try to pay attention to the exercises if your coach was that hot.

There were two of them, Cassian and Azriel.  Apparently, the two had been thrown out of theie house as soon as they turned 18, and the best they did was fight, so they started a self-defense class.

Gwyn thought she remembered being told they boxed.

Well, that explained how they could have so many muscles.

Nesta said they even had muscle in their muscles, which was greeted with a laugh from the three friends.

But Nesta was not wrong.

According to her, she and Cassian knew each other before, having met at a party and, according to Nesta, she was sure they had slept.

She didn't know when or where, but she was sure of it.

And they hadn't been slow to go back to bed.  Specifically, it had taken two months to get into each other's bed.

Gwyn didn't care about that, in fact, she liked Cassian, and loved that her friend was happy with him.

The problem was when she saw Azriel.

She was sure that Azriel was not interested in her.

But, Gwyn was interested in him.

And she was afraid of being friendzoned.

They were friends, talking to him almost daily, seeing each other four times a week for self-defense classes, and sometimes he even had invited her out to have a drink, but nothing more.

She had been that way for almost a year and a half.

And honestly, Gwyn couldn't take it anymore.

That day, she was assured that she was going to propose to Azriel. She might invite him for a drink, or she might ask Nesta and Emerie to help her have a moment alone with him.

They had stayed at Cassian's apartment, which had become Nesta's part-time house, since she spent more time there than at hers. The five of them had decided to have a party, with a lot of food, a lot of laughter, and a lot of alcohol.

And as much as her friends cheered her on, she knew that she wasn't going to make any progress with Azriel.

They flirted quite a bit, yes. In the relationship they had, flirting and bantering was never lacking.

But Gwyn didn't know if they were joking or if he was really interested in her.

Although, that man was never going to be interested in her.

Those were Gwyn's thoughts as she got ready in Nesta's rented house, alongside Emerie, who was putting on a good deal of mascara and lipgloss.

"In the end you go with Mor after being with the boys?" Nesta asked Emerie, while putting on tight black pants and a crop top, accentuating her full, round breasts. Emerie said no, searching in the wardrobe a dress she could wear that night.

She wished she had that body. She did not like her own, she seemed completely undesirable, with so many freckles, so few curves ...

"Gwyn, if you're thinking again that you don't like your body, I swear I'll hit you with the 24-centimeter heels." Nesta threatened, holding some gorgeous black party heels in her hand.

"Are you going to wear those? You'll fall in the middle of the sidewalk… ”Gwyn advised, putting on some blue eyeshadow, accentuating her teal eyes, the only aspect of her features that she loved.

"No, I'm going to take these to give you the hell out of you if you keep thinking you're not pretty."  Nesta protested, dropping her heels with a crash.  She heard Emerie curse when her eyeliner moved from the bump of her heels. Emerie shot Nesta a nasty look as she reached for some make-up remover wipes and brushed off the hideous part of the eyeliner.

Gwyn avoided answering, getting up from the chair she had been sitting in for at least 15 minutes to go to the closet, opening it with a huff when she saw that she had nothing to wear.

"Do you want me to lend you my miniskirt? I think I have one that is too small for me, it may take you..." Emerie proposed, smiling when she felt satisfied with her eyeliner.

Gwyn denied, rummaging through the hangers until she found baggy jeans and a white blouse that revealed much of her collarbones and the curve of her breasts.

Glad, she undressed in the middle of the room, looking for the strap to adjust the jeans.

"Today are you going to say something to Azriel or are we going to return to the same vicious circle of 'Hello, I like you very much and it is obvious that you like me too, but since we are both assholes, we don't realize it?'"

"He doesn't like me. Also, he didn't like one of the girls in our college class? What was that girl's name ...? " Gwyn thought aloud, not remembering the name of that lucky girl who had gotten the attention of the handsome Azriel.

"The day he eats your mouth we are going to pretend to be surprised." Emerie mused, picking up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder, adjusting her gold dress snugly, ready to step out of it.

Gwyn rolled her eyes, but a spark of hope began to glow inside her.

Maybe today was the day ...

Arriving at Cassian and Azriel's loft, they stood waiting in the entryway, the cool summer air cooling their already sweaty bodies.

Suddenly she heard passing, the door opening and coming out Cassian, in a T-shirt and jeans.

Smiling, he gave Nesta a tender kiss on her lips, and then smiled at the other two.

Emerie and Gwyn smiled back at him, but the latter was a lot busier looking for the other trainer.

Cassian grinned: "Looking for something, Gwynnie, or someone?"

Gwyn snorted grumpily: "Azriel wasn't coming?"

Cassian nodded, letting the three girls enter the loft to close the door to possible bugs on the street: “He's finishing his shower. We had a much longer boxing session than usual. "

Gwyn hummed, looking around the great house they had.

In sight was the living room, two immense sofas separated by a table, the television placed on the wall, televising some soccer game.

Suddenly, Gwyn heard a door open, and Azriel came out, flushed from the heat of the bathroom, already dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants.

Making sure he didn't see her, she glanced over at him.

Hell, the shirt had stuck to his abs, giving her a very good view of what he had hidden there.

Gwyn shyly approached her coach, and when she was almost an inch from him, she gently touched his back, causing him to turn.

Az's face lit up at the sight of her: “Gwyn. I thought you weren't coming today."

Gwyn frowned, smiling: "Why wouldn't I come?"

Azriel led her into the living room, where Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie were already attacking the bowls of food that were on the head table to one side of the sofas.

“I thought Cassian had told me you had theater class. Apparently, I got it wrong. "

Gwyn nodded, almost drooling at how good all that food smelled and looked.

She grabbed an elongated bag with a foreign substance inside, and while she took a bite, she asked him, politely: "How are you doing your final college work?"

Azriel was a senior in veterinary college, and he had a final work to do on it.

Azriel sighed, earning a smile from Gwyn: “Fatal, I can't find any information anywhere and besides, I only have three weeks left to deliver it. Right now I should be upstairs, looking for information."

"I can help you find information, I am quite good at that aspect of doing work."

Azriel smiled at her, grateful, but she thought she saw, before he went to where his brother was, that the gaze had rested for a few seconds on her lips.

She quickly shook her head, dismissing that possibility. It must have been an optical effect. Yes, it must have been that.

She walked over to where everyone was, sitting next to Emerie and Cassian, Azriel finding himself in front of her.

"How are you doing your first year of university?"  Cassian asked, eating a slice of vegetable pizza.

Nesta looked at him in disgust, grabbing a slice of pizza with extra cheese and barbecue sauce: "That pizza should be off-limits."

Cassian looked at her, disappointed: “This good one! Taste it.” He asked, bringing it closer to Nesta's mouth.

Nesta chewed it, made a disgusted face, and took a good bite out of her portion, while she chewed, saying, “This is good. Not that vegetable crap.  Pizza is supposed to make you fat, not lose weight."

Emerie supported her, but decided to grab a burrito, passing one to Gwyn, which she gladly accepted.

And so it was for most of the night, talking and teasing each other, until the moment came when the food disappeared, leaving room for the bottles of alcohol.

Gwyn wasn't used to drink, so she got a shot of piña colada, one of the few licors she loved, while Nesta held a bottle of vodka caramel, which she shared with Emerie.

"We have to do something. It's still twelve o'clock and no one is sleepy, right? "

Everyone denied, even the black cat that had magically appeared in Azriel's arms.

Gwyn looked at him in shock, pointing, "Have you adopted a cat?"

Azriel nodded, stroking the feline: “He appeared at the veterinary clinic where I practice. They asked the students if anyone wanted to keep it and, well, I always wanted a pet so… I kept it. " He said, smiling.

Emerie asked to hold the cat, holding it carefully, while she stroked his head lovingly.

"Is beautiful. What's it called?"

"Black cat." Cassian replied, proud of himself, as he continued: “If I am going to allow a pet in my loft, at least it will be called what I want, so it is called 'Black cat'.

Gwyn looked at Azriel, confused and amused.

Azriel grinned, picking up the cat that Emerie offered him.

Gwyn looked at Nesta, discovering that she had disappeared at any moment.

She looked at Cassian, asking, "Where is Nesta?"

He looked up the stairs, frowning: "She said she was going to find a game to play together."

Gwyn made a sound of assent, suddenly watching her golden-brown hair flutter as she came down the stairs, a giant box in her arms.

Cassian cursed, leaping up to help her girlfriend get things down, while whispering something in Cassian's ear, both of them grinning mischievously.

The game couldn't be seen from that position, but she saw Azriel look dangerously at Cassian, who couldn't stop smirking.

When Nes put the box down, the name of the game came out.

Twister.

Emerie looked amused at her friend, while Gwyn glared at her.

Those two had ganged up on her.

Nesta took out the cloth from inside the box, as well as the little wheel with the different colors and positions in it.

Emerie got up, dragging Gwyn, whom she no longer found the game amusing.

“Emerie, Cassian, Gwyn and Azriel, you guys play. I'll be the one spinning the wheel. " She announced as she dropped the fabric to the floor, smoothing it out.

Gwyn glanced at Nesta, promising imminent death, but she did nothing but laugh, kindly asking Gwyn to stand in her place.

"Okay, whoever falls loses." Nesta warned, supervising everyone to get in their places.

Satisfied, she began spinning the roulette wheel.

"Cassian, right hand in red."

Cassian made a rather pathetic attempt to get to the red, deciding to go down when it was obvious he was failing at purpose.

"Cassian, disqualified!" Nesta yelled with a mischievous smile.

To which Cassian replied, shrugging his shoulders: "Wow, I'm really bad at these things." He mocked up, sitting next to his girlfriend.

Nesta turned the roulette wheel again.

"Emerie, right foot in yellow."

Emerie did.

"Gwyn. Left hand in red. " Gwyn could be pretty sure she hadn't moved the spinner, but she let her be, putting her hand up.

Cassian spun the wheel: "Az, right hand in green."

And so they continued, until Emerie lost, crashing down on top of Gwyn.

It was all laughter until Gwyn and Azriel were left alone.

And, although Gwyn thought she would be fucking uncomfortable, her instinct urged her to fight, she couldn't let that man win.

So she played, the flexibility helping her in many moments.

Until her winning instinct faded, realizing what position she and Azriel were in.

Gwyn had both hands extended, while her feet were together, but she had Azriel down, and she knew her breasts were fucking close to his face.

And the bastard laughed.

She looked at him, enraged and embarrassed.

She felt a wave of pleasure run through her body when he winked at her.

"Hiii, Earth calling Gwyn, left foot to green." Nesta mocked, grinning.

Getting into a much more comfortable posture, she moved, her lips forming a mocking smile, a good 12 inches away from Azriel.

"Azriel, right hand to yellow."

Azriel ran his hand from green to yellow, staying quite close to her left foot.

Looking defiantly at Azriel, she made the next four or five moves, she wasn't sure.

Of course, she couldn't be sure since Azriel, in some way she couldn't understand, was underneath her, while Gwyn was straddling his hips.

Azriel grinned, listening carefully to the next position.

"Azriel, right foot to blue."

He had smirked, while she tilted her head, not understanding what the hell had made to smile like that, until, when he was lifting his foot, he raised his pelvis minimally, making his crotch crash against the parts more intimate of her.

She almost felt faint as that prominent bulge passed through her core, teasing.

Looking at Azriel with a strong blush on her features, she heard Nesta's next command.

"Gwyn, left hand to red."

Gwyn swore she had heard a chuckle as she said that.

Fuck.

She couldn't believe that she had to put that fucking hand in that fucking color.

Stretching out as far as she could, she placed her hand on the blue panel, but she had a serious little problem with that position.

Now her breasts were, no doubt, practically on top of Azriel's face.

And, although Azriel wore a somewhat embarrassed grin, it was suppressed by the bright eyes of mockery and pleasure.

She knew her own eyes must be that way.

"Azriel, left hand to green." Emerie laughed.

Those little bastards were going to pay for it.

As soon as she took care of the overwhelming lust and pleasure she felt in those moments, her clit pulsing dangerously close to his cock, they'll pay for it.

Azriel waved his hand, and suddenly both mouths were less than an inch apart.

Their breaths were paralyzed at that very moment.

Damn, what lips the very asshole had.

They were red from having licked them so much during the night.

They seemed to share thoughts right then and there as Azriel lowered his gaze from her eyes to her lips, licking his slowly.

Her core tightened, noticing how her panties got soaked little by little.

Gwyn, feeling daring, lowered her eyes to his lips, biting her bottom lip.

What tension. She was using all of her damn self-control not to kiss him, at least not in front of all of them.

Gwyn frowned suddenly, suspicious of those three.

Turning quickly, she watched as Emerie ate popcorn from a bucket, while Nesta and Cassian appeared to be enjoying a romantic comedy.

Hint: the rom-com was Azriel and her.

In addition, the roulette that it decided where to put each person's hands and legs was nowhere to be found.

Realizing her terrible deception, she jumped up from Azriel's lap, pointing her finger at Nesta: "You little son of a bitch! You weren't using the roulette wheel!"

Laughing slightly, Emerie replied, "She hasn't used it since I've stopped playing." She scooped a bunch of popcorn into her mouth before handing the bucket to Nesta.

Gwyn stared at her incredulously, Nesta saying, smirking: I thought you'd find out sooner."

At the same time, she felt betrayed and grateful.

Well, she had discovered that Azriel wanted her. At least it was something.

She noticed how Azriel approached her silently, and she would have expected him to place beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he normally did with her, or saying something to ease the sexual tension that had been there.

However, he got dangerously close to her earlobe, licking it with the tip of his tongue and then tugging at it, whispering seductively, "Are you ready for round 2?"

TAG LIST (tell me if you want to be tagged/removed): @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel @hlizr50 @meher-sumedha @heyovivi @positivewitch @greywarens-magician @sageofthegalaxy @valkygwyn @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @snickerdoodlechittybangbang @genya-berdara @katekatpattywack @ddsworldofbooks @secretlovelybeauty @starbornsinger

[tpwkjerii]

feverish

you’re starting to come down with a serious case of the flu and, much to the dismay of your doctor boyfriend, you refuse to admit it. luckily, dr. lee minho (and his three cats) is more than ready to help.

pairing: doctor!minho x reader

warnings: ‘baby’ as a pet name, sickness, like one cuss word

genre: established relationship au, doctor au, tooth-aching fluff

word count: 1.6k+

a/n: minho in a doctor’s coat. that’s it.

“You look terrible.”

Those are the lovely words you hear upon the arrival of your boyfriend as he enters your shared apartment after a long day at the hospital. You turn, hoodie secure on your head and just poking out in the corner of your vision, and glare at him while he takes off his shoes and sets down his black messenger bag.

“Gee, thanks for the compliment,” you mutter, your voice hoarse like you smoked several packs of cigarettes a day for years (or like you’d been coughing the entire day, which you have).

“I’m just saying,” he says lightly as he slips off his white coat and places it onto the coat rack. “Are you sick?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shake your head and push him away as he approaches your spot on the couch. “No, I’m fine.”

He ignores you and gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, wincing as his cool hands meet your burning hot skin. “Wow, you’re definitely fine,” he mumbles sarcastically. He rolls his eyes when you push him away again.

“I have to finish this report,” you insist, reaching towards your side for your laptop that slipped away from your lap when you shoved Minho. “And I feel perfectly healthy,” you add as an afterthought. Unfortunately for you, right after you say that, you’re met with the familiar feeling of violent coughs building up in your chest.

Minho stares at you skeptically, watching as your face grows red and eyes widen from holding your breath to hold back your coughs. You pray that he leaves the room for his usual shower after work or that he just turns away, but it’s a lot easier for him to look at you than it is for you to hold your breath. After a good forty seconds, you breathe out heavily and cringe as heavy coughs shake your body.

You push your computer off your lap onto the couch and angle your head down as you cough loudly. Minho sighs and gently pats your back until the coughs stop and you’re able to rest your back onto the couch cushions comfortably.

He stands, stating, “The report can wait until you’re feeling better.” You watch breathlessly as he pours you a cup of water from the kettle in your small kitchen. He hisses as he turns the corner and hits the dining table, internally cursing at the cramped space. The larger (but still cozy) home he found was still bookmarked on his work computer, and he actually wanted to tell you about it tonight. But seeing your current state made him decide to wait until you felt better — you would need energy to keep up with the various spreadsheets and documents filled with pros, cons, and budgets that Chan and Jisung helped him create.

You mumble a small thanks while he hands you the warm mug, adding quickly, “My boss will kill me if I don’t hand this report in by Friday.”

He sighs and sits down next to you, pulling you down to lean against his side as his arms wrapped around your upper chest. “You’ve been working nonstop the past three weeks, you obviously have a fever, a cough, and a sore throat, and I won’t be surprised if your body will start aching and your head hurts later tonight.”

“Gee, what are you, a doctor?” you crack jokingly, but it seems that Minho is in no mood to joke as he deadpans, “Yes.”

You sigh and set your mug down onto the glass coffee table in front of the couch. “Look, I know you’re worried, but I really need to impress Dr. Kang if I want that promotion,” you start, pausing briefly to look up into his warm eyes. “I know you want to move out of this tiny place -” you gesture around the small apartment you’d shared ever since his med school days “- and the promotion can really help us out with that.”

Minho curses under his breath. “I’ll be making more after one more year, I prom-”

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “I don’t care about how much you make, Minho, you know that. It’ll be nice in the future, of course, but I don’t mind working harder now so we can move into a bigger place and get our life going.” It’s a lot to say at once, and you suppress another fit of violent coughs as you reach over to sip your water.

While Minho’s heart grows with adoration, his forehead creases in frustration. “Baby, you’re obviously sick. I wouldn’t be a good doctor or boyfriend if I let you continue to work like this,” he states firmly.

“But I -”

“You’re not fine,” he persists sharply, and you shy away at the firm look on his face. “Now give me your laptop,” he demands.

You sigh and hand him your open laptop, which was slightly warm as it ran the many open tabs and a long working document of your report. “You’ll write my report for me?” you ask sarcastically as he places your computer on his lap.

He hums and it only takes a five-second scan over the many paragraphs of your writing, filled with various statistics and phrases he didn’t even understand, for him to shake his head with a firm “Absolutely not.”

You laugh with him (which was really you just exhaling heavily so you didn’t cough again). “Thought so.”

You watch as he opens another tab and logs into his own email. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he explains, “I’m gonna write Dr. Kang an email to give you an extension. I know she loves me.”

You roll your eyes, reading the text that his fast typing produces.

Good Evening, Dr. Kang!

This is Dr. Lee Minho, Y/N’s boyfriend — we met at the Christmas party last year! I’m writing this email to let you know that Y/N has come down with a rather severe illness. Don’t worry, I’ll be treating her from home and ensure she makes a full recovery. I know she has a report due in two days, but as a doctor I insist she recovers and rests before she works on completing it again. I ask that you give her an extension of a few days so she does not strain herself and worsen her condition. I’m confident that Y/N will be able to finish soon after her recovery. If you have any questions please email me or feel free to drop by the hospital.

Kindly,

Dr. Lee Minho

“You know that she’s going to drop by and use this as an excuse to see you,” you mutter as you lean back and to the side on the couch, your eyelids drooping in exhaustion and (just like your doctor boyfriend predicted) your body starting to ache.

“I know,” Minho responds with a shrug, already moving off the couch to give you space to comfortably stretch out your legs.

“Because she’s basically in love with you — you handsome, young doctor, you,” you continue, your words slurred together and barely coherent. A smile graces your face as you feel your boyfriend slide a soft pillow under your head and a blanket over your body, which you didn’t even notice was shaking. Your smile grows as you feel a sudden weight and purring on your chest — one of the cats must have finally woken up.

“Baby, your sentences aren’t even making sense now.” Minho’s soft voice has recognizable fondness laced in it, and you don’t need to open your eyes to know that he’s probably looking down at you and either Soonie, Doongie, or Dori (you would open your eyes to check but they just feel so heavy) tenderly.

You don’t have the strength in you to respond to his remark, but the recognizable ping of an incoming email brings you to ask, “That her?”

“Yeah, I’ll read what she said.” He clears his voice dramatically and raises his voice to a higher pitch, imitating the nasally voice of your middle-aged boss.

Hello Doctor!

Thank you so much for letting me know! Of course Y/N can have an extension! Tell her not to worry about turning it in until next week Friday and please wish her a speedy recovery from me. You’re such a sweetheart to take care of Y/N and let me know on her behalf.

I’ll be taking that offer of visiting you tomorrow so I can write an official report for Y/N’s leave of absence with a doctor’s note. I promise not to take too much of your time, Doctor! Take care!

Warmly,

Dr. Kang

You scoff. “That’s bullshit. Employees on sick leave can just call in and take their time off with no doctor’s note.”

Minho laughs and leans down to kiss your forehead once, twice, and again. “Just sleep, baby,” he whispers as he caresses your head lovingly. You love this side of Minho — as cool as he may seem on the outside, everyone knows that he’s secretly a softie. It’s easy to doze off with his hand massaging the top of your head soothingly and the cats (yes, the other two joined in the group effort to heal you) purring on top of your chest.

Within a few minutes, you knock out. And right when you wake up, Minho (and Soonie, Doongie, and Dori) is right at your side with everything you needed, from pain medications to a warm cup of soup. Even as violent coughs continue to disrupt your sleep throughout the night, you feel incredibly happy and fortunate to have Minho at your side. While you don’t have much (material wise) for now, your small family is already more than enough.

a/n: sorry this is a bit late, finals are kicking my ass lskmfdls but i have a bunch of  upcoming releases planned so :’)) I hope you guys liked this shorter one & pls leave notes/comments as they help me improve !!

[angelmavmurdock]

Our Little Secret: Part Eight - A.R.

LAST OF THE SERIES

Word count: Summary: 5 years later...

-

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF MURDER AND SEXUAL ASSAULT (basically everything Arvin and the preacher did in the movie is touched on).

-

5 years later

"Well, y/n, your application is outstanding. We'd love for you to work here." The headteacher spoke to me from across his desk.

"Really? Wow! Thank you so much!" I beamed.

"The new school term starts in August and the kids really need a well-taught, professional, young teacher who can help them grow as children. I think you're perfect for the job."

"Thank you so much, that means a lot. I can't wait to start."

Teaching. Teaching year 1. It was my dream to work with kids and now finally after 4 years of college I could do it.

I've been living in Cincinnati since I left high school 5 years ago. I needed to get out of that town as soon as I could. Everywhere I went it would remind me of Lenora...and Arvin.

I kept in touch with Emma, though. We still chatted at least a few times a month on the phone and she told me every time how much she missed Lenora and how much she missed Arvin. Though it was easier with Lenora because she knew what had happened to her - well, not fully - but she knew that she was gone. With Arvin, she didn't know why he was gone, what he was doing or had done and if he was still even alive. I didn't tell her about what Arvin told me on our last night. I promised him I wouldn't.

But every time I called her it was like I was being set back on my journey of grief and getting over him. I was with a lovely guy called William and we've been together since my last year of college. He didn't know about Lenora or Arvin or the Russell's.

But he did come with me to my father's funeral a few months ago.

Daddy had gotten worse and worse since being in New Coal Creek. We thought he was going to get better once we got him into hospital but it didn't make a difference. And when I moved to Cincinnati, I hardly ever saw him and Ma and I's row got in between Daddy and I's relationship.

So I went to his funeral feeling like the worst daughter on the planet. And I felt as if I was losing everyone I had ever truly loved.

Will was lovely and he worked in the same position Daddy used to work at. We had a house together and we lived there comfortably. It's much like how I grew up living. A big house with no one to fill it with. We didn't even have a dog or a cat because of his allergies. We were engaged to be married and he had bought me a very expensive and big diamond ring which was nice but I had no interest in.

Of course, I accepted. But as soon as he asked me the million dollar question, the first person that popped into my head was Arvin. And then Lenora. And then Daddy.

Wedding planning was very stressful when you don't have many friends or family around to help.

And after my meeting with the headteacher I was heading into town to find my wedding dress.

I was dreading it.

Ma was coming down to help and we'd meet at the place.

I thanked the headteacher and walked out excitedly, ready to start my teaching career. I got in my car and I drove into town. The closer I got, the worse I felt. I didn't want to get a wedding dress and I didn't want to get it with Ma either.

I parked outside of the dress shop and reluctantly got out. The shop was extravagant and elegant. I dreaded going inside. But my feet took me in as my brain lusted for home.

"y/n!" Ma exclaimed, shuffling up to me, already carrying dresses in her arms.

"Ma, hi." She nearly winded me as she embraced me.

I lightly put my hands around her but she tore away quickly.

"This place is just wonderful! I've already found a few you'd look great in!"

"Ma, I'd love if I was the one who would get to pick out my own weddin' dress." I raised a brow.

She sighed, "Fine. Yes, of course. Go into the changin' rooms and I'll follow."

I rolled my eyes and walked to one of the rooms where a consultant with a pearly white smile greeted me.

"Miss y/l/n, lovely to meet you. I'm Angela and I'll be helpin' you today! Are these the dresses you'd like to try?" She chirped, referring to the dresses in my mothers arms.

I sighed, "Yes."

"Great! Come on in."

-

I stood on the podium in front of the wall-length mirror with the fourth wedding dress on. It was a column dress that fell straight down with only a slight cinch at the waist. It had long sleeves and a high neck and lace covered the bodice. It was not my style.

"You look beautiful!" Ma complimented.

"I don't like it, Ma." I shook my head, twisting and turning to look at it.

"It's your fourth dress and you haven't liked any of them."

"They're just...not my style." I sighed.

Ma rolled her eyes and stood next to me, "It's not about your style. It's about looking gorgeous on your wedding day."

I furrowed my brows, "It's my wedding dress and it's my wedding. I want to love my dress."

"Well you are not the one paying for it." She brushed over my hips.

I felt rage bubble inside of me.

"Fine. We'll take this one then." I stated with a scoff and returned to the changing room in a huff.

-

"Okay, your fitting will be next month and that's when you'll get your dress home, alright?"

"Thank you." I smiled weakly at the consultant.

"You're welcome. Have a nice day!"

We waved goodbye and began walking out the shop. I placed my white gloves on and adjusted the white hat ornamented with a flower on my curled hair. I smoothed out my white and pale blue polka-dotted dress and adjusted the sky blue belt around my waist. Ma opened the door for me and I thanked her before leaving and hearing the click of my heels on the ground.

"y/n, I won't keep you long, but...you're a woman now. You're 23, you're getting married, you live away from home, you're getting a job. You're a woman. But just because you are older, does not mean I stop being your mother. I will always be your mother whether you like it or not and you have to treat me as such." Ma said, folding her arms over her red, floral tea dress.

I took a deep breath and looked at her.

"You took away my freedom when I was a teenager and because of that, I lost time with - not only Lenora - but Arvin, too. I don't know where he is now. No one does."

Just as I was about to talk about our last night I remembered she still didn't know I snuck out.

"I lost my best friend and the love of my life in the space of weeks and you kept me locked away until there was no one left. I'll never forgive you for that." I said, my head held high.

Ma took a few seconds to process the information and then nodded.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I had no idea. I love you, y/n. I will always love you, alright?" She held my shoulders.

I swallowed and nodded, not looking at her.

"Congratulations on your new job, honey. I'll see you soon." She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek then turned and walked away.

I took a few deep breaths as I watched her, guilt and anger washing away gradually. Part of me didn't want to go home. I wanted to escape for a while. I didn't want to have to go back and sit alone in a huge house I didn't like and I didn't want to wait up for a phone call from Will. I wanted to be by myself. I needed to. I looked around and at my car before deciding I'd go into town for a while.

I left the car and stuffed the keys further into my handbag. I clicked down the pavement until I reached the main road of shops, leading to a lake and a park where families would walk and eat ice-cream.

It was summer, so the sun was out in full, the trees swaying in the warm breeze and the sound of a few buskers playing accompanied by the noise of town people roaming around filled the warm air.

I smiled and said good mornin' to people as I walked by, waving at a few kids and cooing at some babies. I'd never really spent much time in town. I was always working or at the house with Will. It felt good to be out and alone. I wandered around, looking in some shop windows and wishing for the dresses but deciding against it.

It wasn't until I passed a shop and briefly glanced in it that I actually stopped to look closely. I took a double take and stood in front of the window, looking up at the displayed mannequin. It was a white blouse paired with a white tennis skirt and blue ribbon tied around the neck. A fond grin grew on my face. It reminded me of high school. Though I never wore mine on my neck, I still wanted it. I never wore ribbons in my hair anymore.

I couldn't help myself but go in. I entered the seemingly quiet shop and found the nearest shop consultant.

"Hi! I love that ribbon you have on show, is it for sale?" I asked with a smile.

The woman looked almost confused, "It's a ribbon...it's for decoration?"

"Oh...well, I'd still love to buy it. Name a price." I smiled again.

She looked at me dumbfounded for a moment but then shook it off and walked to the mannequin. She untied the silk and walked back over with it, placing it into my hands.

"It's free." She smiled.

"Thank you so much. I love it." I grinned.

"Have a nice day, now."

"I will." I beamed, walking out the store.

I felt giddy with nostalgia and excitement as I pulled my hair back under my hat and tied it with the ribbon, giving it a delicate bow. I checked it in my compact mirror and smiled with joy. I felt closer to myself.

I continued walking down the road and then to the lake. I stood and leaned against the railing, watching the elegant swans float by, their white feathers contrasting beautifully against the dark blue of the water. I watched them for a while, probably for about 10 minutes before I felt a light tug on my dress.

I got a fright and looked down where a young girl was standing next to me. I immediately smiled with relief and stood back.

"Hello," I waved.

"You're very beautiful, ma'am." She complimented in a strong southern accent.

"Why thank you, Mrs." I grinned.

"Would you like some bread to feed the swans?" She offered, holding up a chunk of bread.

"I would love some. Thank you." I graciously accepted the bread, holding it in my gloved hands.

The girls' mother called her back. She looked up at me and waved.

"Bye!" She said, before running off to her mum.

I smiled and laughed a little before turning back to the swans. I broke a piece of bread off and threw it in the water. I threw some more pieces in and watched as they all swam to the food, fighting over who got what.

Once I was out of bread, I sighed, leaning against the railing by my forearms. I took in my surroundings. I looked to my left where children were playing with each other as parents stood or sat on benches, resting. A few elderly couples walked by, hand in hand, arm in arm, chatting about everything and nothing.

A girl on a pink bike caught my eye. She was gorgeous and sat atop the seat with joy and pride as she rode by. My eyes followed her as she rode behind me and kept going.

But my eyes shifted focus when she rode by someone.

Someone who looked eerily familiar.

He had brown, woven, checkered trousers on and a white dress shirt with sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows. Brown suspenders hung over his shoulders and a white vest peeked out from the unbuttoned shirt.

But the dark eyes with the brown, slicked back hair and the cigarette in his mouth gave him away.

He was already looking at me, however. Like he had been for hours. I turned slightly, feeling my heart beat rise as he threw his cigarette on the ground.

It can't be him. It's just a lookalike. It's because I've been thinking about him today. It's not him. He's not here.

He walked closer to me but stopped about 2 metres away, hands in pockets with his chest rising and falling as rapidly as mine.

I could feel my chest heave against my dress as I stared at him, trying to decipher if that was truly him or if I was just dreaming.

"y/n?" He finally said, unsure of whether I was who he thought I was.

"A-Arvin?" I whispered.

A smile began to grow on his face and I knew it was him. It was him. Arvin.

I dropped my handbag and ran towards him, throwing my arms around his neck a our bodies collided, nearly setting us back.

His arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me up, making my legs pop up. He still smelled the same and he still felt the same. He felt like home.

"I can't believe you're here." I whispered, feeling a tear fall down my face.

He placed me back on my feet and I looked at him, cupping his face with my hands. He held them, stroking my thumbs with a smile.

"Why are you here?" He asked softly.

"I-I live here. I have since...since high school." I gulped.

He raised his brows, "I've been here for four years, y/n."

My mouth dropped open, "What?!"

He grinned, his hands squeezing mine, "We've both been livin' here for four years but not ran into each other."

I stuttered, "Wh-what? How is that- oh my gosh." I laughed, bringing my hands away from his face.

"I can't believe you're here, Arvin." I gulped, my chin quivering slightly.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again." I bit my lip, trying to stop myself from crying in public.

"Hey, shh." He brought me into him, cradling my head against his chest.

"We're here. I'm here." He said softly.

-

We decided to walk around the park to catch up which seemed both amazing but alien at the same time. We were still us but we had changed so much.

"Still wearin' ribbons I see." He grinned.

I laughed, "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not. I always loved them." He smiled.

I blushed and looked to the ground.

"So, why Cincinnati?" Arvin asked.

I sighed, "I couldn't live there anymore after school." I gulped.

"It was just too hard. And I got accepted into college here so I decided to move."

"You'll be finished school now, right?" Arvin queried.

"Yeah. I just finished and I actually just got a job today, so." I smiled.

"That's amazin'. I'm happy for you." He grinned.

"Thank you..."

We walked in silence for a little longer than I would have hoped. But he broke it again.

"Why're you in town today, then? Considering I spend every day here and I've never seen you leads me to believe you don't come here often." He chuckled.

I nodded, "Yeah, I never get the chance too. But I was uh...I was actually in town for a dress fitting." I coughed, looking down at the floor.

"Goin' somewhere nice?" He asked.

I scoffed a laugh and looked up at him, "My wedding."

He stared at me in surprise, eyes wide and mouth open, soaking in the information.

"Y-you're engaged?" He croaked.

I nodded, removing my left glove to show the sturdy ring that sat on my finger.

"W-wow. I mean...he must be rich if you got a ring like that." He swallowed, looking down at his shoes.

"I mean...yeah, I guess." I shrugged awkwardly, putting the glove back on.

"How long have you been-"

"Uh, since last year. We met in college. He was doin' finance and Daddy actually put in a good word for him and he got his old job."

"He got your daddy's old job?" Arvin repeated.

"Yeah...yeah once uh...once he passed, they needed someone to fill his shoes so." I gulped.

Arvin stopped, "Your Dad passed? When?"

I chewed the inside of my lip, "Earlier this year."

"y/n, I am so, so sorry." He placed a hand on my arm.

"No, don't be silly. It's fine. He just never got well after he took a turn in Coal Creek." I said, beginning to walk again.

"I remember how sick he was..."

My chest fluttered. It was as if our past was an alternate universe. Like we never really lived it. It was just a different version of ourselves that did. Because now, we were here and it didn't feel the same. Not completely.

"So...should I ask how you ended up here?" I asked cautiously.

He tilted his head from side to side as if trying to figure an answer out himself.

"I don't think you'd like the details." He stated, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette.

"Did you..." I stopped, looking around us before lowering my voice.

"Did you do what you implied you would?" I asked, looking into his seemingly innocent eyes.

He inhaled some smoke and then exhaled, turning away for my sake.

"I did what I implied." He stated simply.

My stomach turned. I kept chewing my lip with nervousness, looking into his eyes. He didn't seem like a killer. He wasn't a bad person. I knew him. I knew who he was. And a murderer was not in his description.

I wanted to know about it. About him. I needed to know. So, impulsively - a word I hadn't used since our last night in Coal Creek - I invited him back with me.

"Would you come home with me? I live 15 minutes out of town and I'd really like to talk but I don't think a public park is appropriate." I said in a hushed tone.

He thought about it before nodding, "Sure."

-

The drive to my house was a little awkward. The radio played at a low hum while we sat in near silence, only the sound of the wind and other cars passing by filling the air.

"Used to be me drivin' you everywhere." Arvin commented with a chuckle.

I smiled, "Oh, how the tables have turned."

He laughed and so did I, then we resumed our mutual silence.

When we got to Will and I's estate, I drove through the gates of the house to the driveway where at the top, a large house sat - much like the one in Coal Creek.

"Our drivin' might've changed but this certainly hasn't." Arvin sighed, almost as if he was disappointed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with a raised brow.

He shrugged, "Feels all too familiar, that's all." He said before getting out the car.

I screwed my face up at his comment but decided to let it slide. I got out of the car and locked it before following Arvin who seemed as if he knew the place, up the steps of the porch.

"Is your fiancé home?" He asked the ground, hands in pockets.

I shook my head, "He's out of town for a weekend with work."

I stuck the key into the lock of the wide, white front door and opened it. I walked inside then held it open for Arvin.

He walked in and looked around, taking in his new surroundings.

The hallway was wide and white, only paintings filling the wall space and a large staircase to the left winded up to the next floor.

"Wow...I mean, you've done well for yourself." Arvin scoffed a laugh.

"Thank you." I smiled weakly, taking my hat from my head.

He looked up at the high ceilings, appreciating the chandelier that hung above the doorway.

"Come on through. Do you want tea? Coffee?" I offered, walking down the hallway and into the open kitchen/living room area while taking my gloves off.

He walked in behind me, looking around the new room he was in before following me into the kitchen.

"How about a scotch?" He asked with a smirk.

I smiled, "That'd be appropriate, I think."

I got the crystal decanter and two glasses from the tray that sat atop the kitchen table. I poured us two glasses and then handed Arvin one. I brought the decanter with us as we migrated to the couch.

I slipped my heels off before sitting down, my dress puffing and fanning out over my lap. Arvin sat opposite me, his ankle resting on his knee comfortably.

"So..." I started.

"So." He repeated.

"I think I might have more questions about you than you do about me." I smiled weakly.

He nodded, "Probably right."

I took a deep breath before asking any questions.

"Who got Lenora pregnant?" I asked.

I thought that would be a good starting point. It was what started everything.

"Reverend Teagardin. The new preacher that came to town." Arvin answered.

My eyes widened, "What?!"

"He took Lenora - and other girls - into the woods," Arvin began to explain.

He stared at the crystal in his hands and the liquid floating inside of it. He didn't once look up at me.

"He'd make them pray before they got started and he'd take advantage of them."

"Didn't he have-"

"A wife? Yeah. But he was abusin' her at home, too." He gulped.

"Oh my god. That's horrible." I sighed, my stomach feeling uneasy.

He finally looked up at me and I could feel his curiosity burn into me.

"Do you...do you still talk to Grandma?" He asked, his voice slightly shaky.

I smiled and nodded, "Yeah. I talked to her last week."

A slight smile grew on his face with relief, "How is she?"

"She's okay. She always talks about you and Lenora. Mostly you now, though. I mean, I never told her a thing about our last night and she still doesn't know about Lenora's pregnancy. She knows just as much as when you left."

He licked his teeth and nodded, "Thanks for keepin' in touch."

"Of course. I said I would, didn't I?" I grinned.

He nodded with a smile.

"So how about you? Livin' here in this big house with a big-shot fiance. Must be nice." He quirked his brow, taking a sip of his drink.

He was trying to pry something out of me, I could feel it.

"It's good. He takes care of me and we're happy." I stated.

"It's not boring?"

"No." I lied.

He tilted his head, "I can tell when you're lyin', y/n."

I scoffed, "You haven't seen me in five years and you think you can just come back here and tell me you know me so well? Don't start with that bullshit, Arvin."

He furrowed his brows, "Are you mad at me? What did I do?"

I rolled my eyes, "You don't know me, Arvin. So don't act like you do."

I sat my glass down and swiftly stood up from the couch. He did the same.

"I might not have seen you in years but I think I know you better than anyone on this planet. Am I right?" He asked, watching as I paced up and down in front of him.

I scoffed and shook my head.

"You're tellin' me that this guy- this guy - knows you better than I do?" Arvin lifted a picture of Will and I up to demonstrate.

"Yes. He does."

"Bullshit." He spat.

"You don't get to say shit like that Arvin. You know why?" I challenged, standing close to him with my hands on my hips.

"Why?" He retorted.

"Because you left! You left to murder someone! You'd have rather been a killer livin' with guilt for the rest of your life than to be with me." I shouted.

I didn't notice how close we were until he laughed and I could feel his familiar breath on my face.

"I had to do it. That preacher was no good. And neither was that cops sister and her dirt-bag husband." He snapped.

I blinked at him in confusion.

"Wh-what do you mean the cops sister and her husband?" I asked in a soft tone.

He looked away from me and gulped.

I gasped and held my hands over my mouth, "Did- did you-"

He grabbed and held my hands, "They were gonna kill me, y/n. They would take hitchhikers and murder them to take pictures with their dead bodies. I wasn't about to be the next one."

I widened my eyes, "They did what?!"

"And then I got caught out by the cop...his sister was the wife. He followed me to Knockemstiff and tried to shoot me with a shot gun. I had to, y/n. He was gonna kill me I-"

I could see the tears and the panic in his eyes. I just reached my hands up and wrapped them around his shoulders, bringing him into my arms. His face went into my neck and I could feel tears drip onto my skin. I threaded my fingers through his hair.

"I'm a bad person, y/n. I killed four people..." He sniffed.

"Arvin, look at me." I tugged him from my neck and cupped his cheeks.

"You are not a bad person. You were just caught up in some twisted shit and you had no other way. You are a good person, Arvin." I said sincerely, feeling tears spring into my own eyes.

"I lost you because of it, though I just- I can't-" He cried.

"I know." I sniffled, feeling a tear drip down my face.

I looked at him; teary, eyes swollen and red, complexion pale. I didn't know what else to do.

"You're a good person, Arvin." I said again, leaning up on my tip-toes to kiss his cheek.

He hummed at my touch and I kissed his other cheek, "You did nothin' wrong."

I went back to his right cheek and kissed it again like I needed to feel his skin on my lips once more.

Just as I went to kiss his other cheek, he leaned forward and caught my lips with his instead.

I gasped, pulling away from his body and looking at him, touching my fingers over my lips.

"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You're an engaged woman and I-"

I launched forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and crashing my lips to his. It took a second to make sure it was real. But as his hands slid effortlessly onto my waist, I knew.

"You're the love of my life, Arvin. You always have been and always will be." I whispered, pulling away briefly.

He stared into my eyes but didn't say a word. But I knew what he was thinking. He kissed me again, our lips moved over each other's with fervour and passion, the excitement and thrill of tasting each other again for the first time in years. In too long. He felt and tasted the same but more mature and wiser.

He pushed me back by my waist until my back hit the wall. I let out a moan of surprise and pleasure. He smirked against my lips before devouring me again. His tongue slipped easily into my mouth and I hummed, fully tasting him. My fingers ran through and tugged at his hair, and his hands ran up and down my sides and my back.

His touch felt nostalgic but euphoric and in the heat of the moment, everything was perfect.

"Your lips taste amazing," He said breathlessly between sloppy kisses.

"So do yours." I replied.

He wrapped his hands around my back and skilfully unzipped my dress. It fell to the floor in a pool around my ankles. I brought my hands to his shoulders as our kiss got heavier, teasing his suspenders before sliding them off his arms. I began unbuttoning his shirt in a hurried fashion as his lips started trailing down my jaw to my neck. I was finally able to push the fabric from his shoulders and then pulling his vest over his head.

And as his hands came down to my thighs to lift me up and around his torso, and as he carried me up and into my bedroom; I knew that he was it. He was the person I was destined to be with. He was the love of my life.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

5 years later

(Play ‘That Old Feeling’ by Doris Day now)

I placed the needle carefully onto the record and turned it up.

I walked through the house and got to the porch where I looked out and saw Arvin and Jack playing catch. I stood with a grin as my husband and 4 year old played enthusiastically - the old baseball still intact and very much in use.

I crouched down and placed the 2 year old who rested on my hip, onto the ground. She wobbled slightly but quickly got up and running. She made her way to the stairs which I quickly intervened and grabbed her hand to help her down onto the soil.

"Go get Daddy, Charlotte. Go!" I laughed, pointing to Arvin.

She squealed happily and ran towards her Dad, arms flailing clumsily as she sprinted. Arvin stopped the game of catch briefly as he saw his daughter coming towards him.

"Hey princess!" He grinned, crouching to his knees and grabbing his daughter.

He lifted her up and sat her on his knee, handing her the ball.

"Throw the ball to Jack, Charlotte!" Arvin prompted, pointing to the blonde haired boy who stood confidently.

She babbled a few words and then threw the ball onto the ground. At least she attempted. I whooped and clapped as I walked over.

"Good job, baby!" I praised in a baby voice.

Arvin stood up, letting Charlotte run around with her brother for a while, the dog joining them, enthusiastically bounding around them.

"Hey, handsome." I grinned as I reached Arvin.

"Hey, beautiful." He smiled.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed me, tongue briefly slipping into my mouth. I hummed in surprise and pulled away.

"Careful, Arvin or you'll be makin' another one of those tonight." I giggled.

We stood side by side, an arm wrapped around each other's back as we watched Jack attempt to play catch with his sister.

"Why don't we make another one, then?" Arvin suggested.

I looked at him with raised brows, "If you want to push one out of your ass, then by all means let's do it."

He chuckled, "I'm serious, y/n."

I turned to face him and he wrapped his arms around my waist while I played with the bottom of his hair.

"Another baby girl or boy? With a dog?" I laughed.

"Yeah...I mean it's crazy but it's our crazy." He smirked.

"Hmm, depends how nice you treat me tonight." I bit my lip.

He held back a shit-eating grin, "Oh...you're so gettin' knocked up tonight."

I gasped, smacking his chest with a laugh.

"I love you." He smiled.

"I love you, too."

"Forever?" He quipped.

"And ever." I smiled.

And we meant it.

-

A/N: oh my god. that's the mini-series done! i loved writing for Arvin it was fun with the southern dialogue and the 60s time period! i hope you all enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing. If you'd like to request any one shots, head over to my instagram @tomholland1510 to request!

ALSO!! bonus points to anyone who understands the easter eggs in the kids' names! do they seem familiar? ;)

-

{Tags: @notandordinaryprincess96 @imagine-yourself-happy​}

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 6: Andersen’s Fairy Tales

…in which Harry teaches Ezi how to read.

Word count: 4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: please please let me know what you think. I can't write without motivation 😭

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When Harry finally decided to answer his mother’s call, he had prepared himself for some verbal ass-whooping. He was twenty-four years old, a celebrity and a millionaire, yet still getting scolded by his mother on a daily basis. Life was good.

“Is your date okay?” The first thing his mother said to him was this. At first, Harry thought he’d misheard it. But then she repeated the question in a more urgent and concerning tone. “Harry, is Ezili okay?”

His mother had never remembered the name of any girl he’d brought home. His mother always had a lot to say about the way those girls had dressed, talked, and carried themselves. Had Ezi charmed his mother with her siren magic?

Harry shuddered at the thought. “Y-Yeah...why?”

“Dawson told me you and Bax got into a fight at the manor.”

Harry smacked his forehead. Fucking Dawson. “How did Dawson know?”

“He found Bax lying on the floor.”

Although Harry hated to recall that night because he couldn’t imagine how scared Ezi must have been, it was funny to think about how pathetic Bax must have looked when Dawson had found him. The mental image made Harry laugh. “See?” he told his mother. “It wasn’t a fight if it was one-sided. I beat him up.”

His mother exhaled sharply. Harry could imagine her with her eyes closed, shaking her head. “The only reason I will let you get away with fighting your cousin in my house is because I know what he was trying to do with Ezili. So I called to ask if she was okay.”

“She’s okay. Don’t worry. I think she also scared him.”

“She’s a woman. Any strong woman would’ve been terrified in that situation,” said Harry’s mum. “I feel bad for having let that happen. I shouldn’t have invited him.”

“It’s not your fault, Mum. He’s always been scum.”

There was a pause, and Harry knew exactly what his mother was going to say. “Bax’s parents have always hated us. They envy your father. I think they’re trying to sabotage our wine business. Maybe if you’d change your mind--”

“Mum, we’ve talked about this,” Harry sighed. “I love my career. I can’t...I’m not a businessman like Dad. Isn’t Dawson doing a good job managing our family business already?”

“He is. But I know your father would’ve wanted it to be you.” When Harry stayed quiet, his mother knew it was a sign that this topic shouldn’t be continued, so she switched to another. “You should invite Ezili to lunch at the manor.”

“Mum, that wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Nonsense! Her first time in our house and she got absolutely traumatised. I’ll make up for it. I’ll send you an invitation in the afternoon.”

“Mum, there’s no need for an in--”

But his Mum already hung up on him.

Sighing, Harry sunk back into his chair. A staff member knocked on the door and informed him that he would have to return to the set in fifteen minutes. He told them he got it and intended to call his mum again and try to talk her out of the lunch thing with Ezi. That was when he got another call.

“Don’t tell me someone’s injured. It’s only been an hour.”

“Worse!” Niall screamed. “Dawson kidnapped the girl!”

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Ezili didn’t know if the bookstore was small or Harry’s house was just too big, but she liked the cosiness of it in contrast to what she’d always been used to. There were bookshelves climbing all the way up to the ceiling. The walls were covered with hundreds of books of all sizes, and there were dozens of piles on the floor in the corners as well. But seeing that most of the furniture was covered in dust, Ezili guessed they didn’t often have visitors.

She wondered why nobody wanted to come into this fascinating place. She loved books even though she couldn’t read or write. She’d found a few books in her room and some of them had pictures, but she could only guess what the stories were about. So she wanted to read, but it would be something her mother would never approve of. If she learned to read, she’d become a laughing stock for her kind for sure.

Entering the bookstore, Ezili and Dawson were greeted by an old lady with crazy chestnut hair that looked like she was wearing a fluffy dog on her head. Her eyes were huge behind those thick round glasses that gave her a psychotic kind of look that absolutely terrified Ezili.

“Hello, love birds,” she said with an ear-to-ear grin. Ezili could not take her eyes off the shiny wires attached to this lady’s teeth. They sparkled every time she opened her mouth. This woman must be rich if she wore silver on her teeth.

“Oh, we’re not birds,” Ezili said as she pulled Chilli tighter to her chest.

The crazy lady hugged her stomach and burst out laughing. “She’s a funny girl,” she told Dawson, pointing to Ezili, then her face turned serious. “But no cats allowed.”

“She’s with me. Her name is Chilli and she’s very nice--”

“She can stay here while you pick your books.” Before Ezili could protest, the lady took the black cat and put it on the counter. “So what are you looking for?”

“Thank you. We’ll just have a look around,” Dawson said with a tight smile and pulled Ezili with him. They turned into one of the aisles and heard the lady telling them she’d be here if they needed help. What kind of help would you need in a bookstore? It wasn’t like books would attack you.

“The Book of Wisdom,” Dawson said as he took out one colourful book from a higher shelf. Ezili peered over his arm as he scrutinised the front cover. He smelled like coconut and summer, which reminded her of those tropical islands she’d visited with her mother. And the fact that he was a lot taller than her made her want to bury her face into his chest to get soaked in that homely smell. But then she remembered what Harry had taught her about consent. Realising her chest was touching his arm, she stepped back and felt him relax a bit more. She hoped he didn’t think she was sexually hairdressing him. She had no idea why they called it hairdressing, and she kept forgetting to ask Harry.

“Hey, why do they call it hairdre--”

“Lesson 1: Be polite.”

Ezili jumped and hid behind Dawson’s back, her heart pounding violently. “Did the book just..talk?”

“Yeah, it’s a talking book for children,” Dawson chuckled. “I like your sense of humour.”

He flipped to a new page and the book talked again, “Remember, kids, if you accidentally raise your voice with someone, always apologise to them. It’s not nice to yell at other people.”

Ezili couldn’t decide if she was in awe or creeped out by the talking book. Maybe a little bit of both. But then her eyes zeroed in on a picture of a beautiful siren on one of the covers. She passed Dawson to try and was trying to reach for the book when his hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked up to see him grab the book without effort and hand it to her with a smile.

“You like this? It’s the new edition of Andersen’s Fairy Tale.”

“The Little Mermaid!”

“Yes.” Dawson’s eyes squinted behind his glasses. “You’ve never read Andersen’s Fairy Tales?”

“I have,” Ezili lied, hugging the book to her chest. “I want this book.”

“Great. I’ll buy it for you. As a gift.”

Harry had told Ezili that humans couldn’t just take the things they found because they would get arrested, and apparently, they couldn’t fight and kill each other for things either. It didn’t sound fair and was kind of stupid. Why were humans so dependent on these stupid papers they called money? Ezili couldn’t understand how their inferior brains worked sometimes.

“Hey, look,” Dawson said, holding up his phone that was buzzing in his hand. “Harry’s calling.”

Ezili couldn’t care less about Harry now. She let Dawson speak to him while she flipped through the book to look at pictures. But...why was there a picture of the prince and another girl? Didn’t he marry Ariel? She tried to look for the ones that revealed the new ending, which was apparently different from what she’d seen on the telly, but the rest of the chapter was just text and no pictures. She hated this. She wished she could read.

“Yeah, she’s here with me. The bookstore is just a few blocks near your house…” Dawson finished the call with Harry and turned back to Ezili. “He’s coming to pick you up.”

She found it strange that Harry would speak about Dawson with such hatred, like the way Koa would speak about Ezili, while Dawson had always been so nice about Harry. She couldn’t recall him saying anything bad about Harry when in fact, she could go on and on for days about Harry’s bad qualities. And she’d only known him for a week!

“Why doesn’t Harry like you?”

The question seemed to have caught Dawson by surprise, but he was quick to put on a smile.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m helping his mum run the business his father left for him. But he was the one who didn’t want it. He wanted to become a singer.”

“Harry’s mother doesn’t want him to be a singer?”

“No.”

Ezili closed the book and gave an understanding nod. “My mother never lets me do things I like, either. She never thinks I’m good enough because I’m not like her.”

“I’m sure your mother loves you,” Dawson said. Ezili liked the twinkle in his eyes and tenderness in his voice when he reassured her. Maybe he had a special gift that only sirens had. The gift to charm anybody they wanted. “Every mother has their own burdens and loves us in a different way.”

“But...if they love us, should they want us to be happy?”

Ezili didn’t know where that had come from. For the last twenty years of her life, she had never once thought of this. Why now? Why now that she decided that she could have been happier if her mother hadn’t been the way she was? But sirens were all supposed to be the way her mother was. Cold and dangerous like the ocean itself. So did it mean...did it mean her mother and sister were right? That she was too weak and emotional to become Queen?

“Ezi!”

The sound of her name pulled her out of her own head. She snapped her head up to find Harry padding toward her. He looked just like that night when he’d scolded her for biting his cousin. She hated this Harry.

“Let’s go home,” he told her coldly.

Before she could reply, he took her wrist and pulled her with him. The book fell to her feet and she was too appalled to even pick it up. She was about to remind Harry that Dawson was standing right there, but then she realised Harry had intentionally ignored his cousin.

“Ezili, your book!”

Harry and Ezi stopped before they got into the car parked out front. Dawson handed her the book and beamed. “I already paid for it.”

“Thank you.”

“Very nice. Get in, Ezi.”

Dawson seemed slightly annoyed by Harry’s attitude, but he didn’t act on it. Instead, he gave Ezili another gentle smile and told her he’d see her another time. Then, he went back inside the bookstore.

Ezili wished she could have stayed with him.

“Rescue mission accomplished!” said an energetic voice as Ezili got into the back of the car. A stranger she had never seen before peered around the passenger seat and smiled at her before he started speaking in a funny accent, “You’re welcome, by the way. The name’s Niall.”

Chilli was sitting on Niall’s lap, licking her own paw, which showed that she was comfortable around Niall, and Niall wasn’t an enemy. To human Ezili, of course. All humans were enemies to sirens.

“I’m Ezili,” Ezili said, then, she recognised the funny accent. “You’re Niall...Horan?”

“You know me?”

Ezili could feel her grin stretch from ear to ear. “I saw you on TikTok! You’re so funny.”

“Look, H, a fan!” Niall exclaimed as he shook Harry’s shoulder, but Harry didn’t react as he manoeuvred the car back onto the road. “I like her already.” Niall laughed. “I’m Harry’s best friend. Are you following my TikTok?”

“Yeah. I’ve watched every single one.”

“Good, good, good,” Niall said, nodding slowly. He turned to the front and back to Ezili immediately. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened to you. The accident must have been awful.”

“What?”

“Niall,” Harry growled. “Seatbelt.”

Niall flinched. “Sorry.”

Frowning, Ezili hugged her new book and sunk into her seat. She hated this Harry. He reminded her of a whale with a toothache, and even with that image in mind, she still couldn’t laugh. That was how angry she was with him. Yes, she was angry with him being angry with her. And for pulling her out of that beautiful bookstore. For making her drop her book. For holding her hostage like a prisoner. For being rude to Dawson. She hated him. She hated Harry Styles.

So when they’d arrived home and he told her to go inside and hang with Niall, she had to chase after him and let him know how much she hated him.

“Harry Styles!” She called when they reached the white stairs leading to the enormous courtyard where he’d parked his car. “Why are you upset? You have no right to be mad at me after you lied to me.”

Harry stopped halfway down the stairs; it seemed like Ezili’s words had finally hit him. He slowly spun around with a stunned expression as if she’d accused him of manslaughtering. “I didn’t lie to you,” he said, his jaw tight. “I told you to stay in your room. You were grounded.”

“You didn’t tell me that you’d leave me with your assistant and Niall!”

“But I didn’t lie to you.”

“Telling half-truths is telling lies.”

Harry held Ezili’s gaze for a long moment before he started ascending the stairs. She stiffened as he stopped right in front of her, leaned in, and stared.

“Oh, so you’re so honest, aren’t you?” he asked in a mocking tone. “You’ve never lied to me?”

“Never,” she said confidently.

Well, that was also a lie. But since when had Ezili felt bad for lying? She’d eaten men like him. Why did his presence now make her nervous?

She hated that the more she stayed human the more human she became. That thought terrified her even more than the possibility of getting caught and killed in this foreign land.

“I’ve never lied in my entire life,” she added, making Harry's eyes grow wide.

He said nothing, and when he turned to leave, she hurriedly followed him down the stairs. “Speechless by my honesty?” she asked.

“Speechless by the lies that come out of your mouth,” he said. “Is your name even Ezi?”

“No, it’s Ezili.”

Harry let out a scoff but he didn’t stop, so Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. Hard.

“Shit! How are you so strong?” he cried out, facing her again.

“Apologise.”

“What?”

Ezili folded her arms across her chest and sharpened her gaze. “Apologise right now.”

“For what?”

“For yelling at me.”

“And why should I apologise for yelling at you?”

Ezili bit her lip. The voice inside her head told her to push him down the stairs. She could just say it was an accident, and no one could prove that she’d done it. However, she needed him alive. Sucking in a breath, she said, “Because that’s what decent people do. A talking book told me that.”

“You mean those children's books you found in the bookstore,” Harry taunted, giving her a despiteful smirk.

She scowled at him even harder. “Apologise.”

“Fine,” he breathed. “I apologise for yelling at you. Now you apologise for stealing my cat.”

“I tried to save Chilli. You see, your assistant said something about the Master of the House being dead. I thought you were dead. But she was only talking about a show--”

“Yeah, famous Netflix show. It’s good. But that’s still no excuse for taking my cat.”

“Fine.” Ezili glared at him. “I’m sorry for stealing your cat.”

“And for getting into Dawson’s car.”

“And for getting into Dawson’s car.”

“And for leaving with him and liking him.”

“And for—What is your problem with Dawson?”

Instead of answering the question, Harry pulled out his phone, looked at it, and then told Ezili, “Go inside. We’ll continue this talk when I get back.”

He was just about to run when she pulled him back by his sleeve. He gave her a ‘what do you want?’ kind of look as she stammered, “When...when you get back…”

“Yeah?” He stressed out the word, an eyebrow arched impatiently.

“Can you teach me how to read?”

“What?”

“Teach me to read. Are you deaf?”

“You can’t read?”

When Ezili shook her head, Harry’s frown transformed into a smile. “That explains a lot.”

She smacked him on the arm and he gasped and leapt down two steps.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! Why are you so aggressive?” Harry winced and backed away from her. “We’ll talk about this later. Now go inside and film a TikTok with Niall or something. I’m late for a photoshoot.”

Ezili opened her mouth to ask him what time he’d be home, but Harry had already run back to his car.

.

.

.

Harry got home at around 10 PM. He’d had a rough day. His manager had been furious because he had run out on a magazine photoshoot without saying a word to anyone. In his defence, he’d been in a rush, and couldn’t figure out an excuse to cover up for the fact that he’d almost let a mythical creature get loose. He shouldn’t have been so careless and left her with his assistant and Niall. That was his fault. Also, he could never think straight when he was angry. He thought about the look Ezili had given him when he’d pulled her out of the bookstore. The look Dawson had given him. Fucking Dawson. If it wasn’t for him, Harry wouldn’t have had to be mean to Ezi.

“Hey.”

“Jesus!” Harry shouted when the light switched on and he saw Ezili sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room. “Wha--Why are you on the floor? Get up.”

“This is Chilli’s favourite spot so I thought I might try to see how comfortable it is. Pretty uncomfortable, I must say.”

Harry rolled his eyes and offered Ezi a hand to help her get to her feet. “Why are you still awake?”

She pulled away from him and rushed over to the table to grab the book Dawson had given her. She shoved it at him. “You promised to teach me to read. This is a collection of fairy tales. Andersen’s Fairy Tales. I noticed that one of the details from The Little Mermaid story was different from the film, so I want to know how the story actually ends in the book.”

Harry sighed as he took the book and looked at the cover. When he glanced up, Ezi was giving him these big puppy dog’s eyes with her hands clasped together in front of her chest. “It’s late,” he said tiredly.

She shook her head. “You promised!”

“I can just tell you the ending.”

“No, I want to read!”

“Fine, fine.” He put his hands up, left palm out, the other holding the book. “I guess there’s still time to teach you the alphabet then we’ll call it a day.”

Harry could have sworn he had never seen anyone as excited about learning as Ezi was, which was quite amusing, he must admit. So they sat on the couch as he taught her the alphabet and how to put letters into words. She was a fast learner, so it didn’t take long for her to memorise everything.

“It’s been three hours and I still can’t read,” Ezili whined as she hit him with a pillow.

Shocked, Harry blinked at her. “That’s not how learning works. You need time.”

“You said my brain was more developed!”

“Yeah, but still!”

Scowling, Ezi kicked Harry’s feet. “You’re the worst teacher ever. I’ll never get to know how it ends.”

“Okay, Miss Drama Queen,” Harry scoffed. “How about I read you the story now, and when you can read on your own, you can practice by rereading it?”

Ezi thought for a moment, then the line between her brows eased, and she nodded once. “But you must teach me everyday until I can read.”

“Fine,” Harry breathed as he opened the book. His body stiffened when Ezi suddenly leaned on him like he was a pillow, her cheek against his arm, and he could feel every beat of her heart.

“Go on,” she urged him, giving him a nudge.

He cleared his throat and opened the book, trying to distract his naughty mind with the innocent words of a fairy tale.

Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls are built of coral, and the long, gothic windows are of the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl, which would be fit for the diadem of a queen...

By the time they’d finished one-third of the story, Ezi had already fallen asleep with her head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry wished he’d read this to her in bed so he wouldn’t have to carry her upstairs now. She was small and slender, but he’d had a bad day, so even the littlest inconvenience could bring down his mood. Cursing under his breath, he picked her up and carried her to the stairs as she curled against his chest like a little cat.

When her eyelids fluttered, he thought she was going to jolt awake, but then her brows knitted, and she murmured, “Mother, please...give me more time. I will bring you the heart…the heart...”

He chuckled and put her down on the bed.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

PLEASANT SURPRISE

Prompt: Requested by the lovely @romanreignsgirl20 , as a surprise to her friend @jazzy-bella02 I hope you girls like it 😉

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, rough sex, degradation kink (name calling), dirty talk, asphyxiation kink (breath play), cursing, dom x sub dynamic

Editor: @rheacanbreakme

Tag: @marlananicole , @bellalutionn , @yungbludjazz360 , @sassymox

Notes: *insert passing out gif here* I wish, girl, I fucking wish! You can check out my previous stories on my Masterlist if you’d like (it would make me your girl here very happy 🤗). And now, let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy...

My first AEW live event, how exciting is that? I’m excited for everything, but to be honest, the thing I was most excited about was to see my favorite wrestler (and my eternal crush) Jon Moxley. The only reason I had bought tickets for this live event was because of him. And I couldn’t wait to see him face to face.

Suddenly his music started, and there he was. Beautiful, with that bad boy attitude and swagger. He passed through the middle of the audience, cutting his way through the people to get to the ring, and that’s when he stopped by my side to stare at Darby, who was waiting for him in the ring.

He smelled amazing! Masculine, earthy, fresh, spicy and kinda musky. That was when he looked down at me.

“Hey there, doll” Jon said, winking

My voice got caught in my throat and I could only nod as a greeting

“Are you gonna root for me?” He asked, seriously

“Y-Yes...I- I came here just to see you” I said, my cheeks beginning to flush pink in embarrassment

“Oh really? So why don’t we make a deal? If I win you come backstage with me” He proposed

“And what if you lose?” I asked

His only response to me was a loud laugh as he ran to the ring.

The match ended as fast as it started. Jon took over Darby like he was nothing, and when the match was over, he asked for a microphone, squatted down next to Darby’s body and said

“What you have witnessed, is a message for anyone backstage who wants to fuck with me. Try your luck, buddies, but don’t you never forget that” His eyes searched through the audience until he found me, and while smirking, he continued “Jon Moxley NEVER loses! And at the end of the day, I always get what I want” He dropped the microphone on top of Darby’s chest, and made his way to the audience. When he was in front of me, Jon picked me up in his arms bridal style, and walked towards his locker room.

He placed my feet softly on the floor of his locker room, locked the door, and asked

“So, what’s your name, kitty cat?”

“Y/N”

“Is it true that you came here today just to see me?” Jon slowly started to get closer, and closer to me

“Yes..I-I drove five hours just to see you, Mox” I shyly responded

“Five hours?” He whistled “Wow, that’s a whole lot of effort just to see my sorry ass” He cackled, lighting up a cigarette

“I have a sore spot for you, so..” I joked and Jon chuckled

“Oh yeah?” He sat on the black leather couch, and patted his thigh, almost as a hint for me to sit down on it

“Tell me, kitty cat, besides that sore spot is there any other spot that you might have for me? I don’t know, maybe like... a wet and warm one?” He asked, as one of his hands caressed my ass through my jeans

My face escalated through one thousand shades of red reacting to his words..

“Oh,” Jon laughed, amused, “Kitten is one of the shy ones, huh?”

“I’m not used to hearing those things..”

“It’s ok, doll. I like the shy ones! They always surprise you anyways” He smirked “Will you surprise me, Y/N? Will you make me believe that you’re all sweet, innocent and collected and then, when I’m fucking you, you’ll say the most filthiest things that can even make ME blush?”

I don’t know where the courage that took over me came from, but I grabbed him and said

“I guess you’ll have to find out”

Jon’s eyes became a darker shade of blue, as an mischievous grin took over his lips

“Oh, you’re definitely one of the fun ones! We’re gonna have a good time, kitten. I can already tell”

I straddled his hip and asked “Are you gonna talk the whole night through, or are you gonna do something, Jon Moxley?”

He quickly grabbed my thighs and laid me down on the couch, pinning my body down with his weight.

“You’re gonna wish you never said that” He threatened, coldly. And I believed him.

One hand quickly came up to my throat, and squeezed, hard. Jon leaned down to kiss me, but when he got close enough and I closed my eyes to savour it, the fucker leaned back, laughing

“How bad do you want it?” He asked, with mischief dancing upon those blue orbs

“Very badly” I panted

“Yeah? Are you gonna scream for me? Let everyone know how much of a whore you are for me?”

“Yes, sir” I moaned

“Oh, she’s a trained slut! That’s good. At least I won’t have to waste my time teaching you shit” He bit my lip forcefully

“Safeword?” Jon asked

“Color system, sir”

“Good” He released my neck and stood up “Strip for me” He commanded, sitting down on the armchair across the couch

I clumsily stood up, and began to mechanically take my clothes off.

“Stop” He said, making me look at him in confusion

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“Taking my clothes off, as you requested, sir”

Jon shook his head in disappointment “Unbelievable” He muttered under his breath

“Are you deaf, Y/N?”

“No, sir” I replied, still confused

“I told you to strip for me! Not for you to take your clothes off without any passion” He said with disdain in his voice

“I’m sorry, sir”

“Start again” Jon commanded, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the fly down.

I swallowed my embarrassment and did as I was told, and began to strip for him

I removed my t-shirt slowly, followed by my bra, which I let teasingly slide down my arms. Jon groaned at the sight of my bare breasts and started to touch himself through his boxers.

When I began to pull my jeans down, Jon said

“Come closer, Y/N”

I obliged and he told me to turn around, so my back was facing him now.

“Pull your jeans down, slowly” He said and I did as he wanted, pulling my jeans down, torturously slow.

“Hmmm, fuck. That’s it, kitten. Just like that” He cooed and I could hear him spitting on his palm “Take a few steps back, doll” He requested

I walked backwards until he told me to stop, that was when he told me to continue

“Fuck, you have a beautiful ass” Jon said, licking my (now exposed) ass cheeks.

He asked me to turn around, and so I did

“See through?” He asked, caressing the thin layer of light blue lace that covered my mound.

His soft and lazy caresses soon found my clit, and he began to circle the nub through the lace panties, making me moan at the friction.

I could now see that Jon’s cock was completely out of his boxers, as he was stroking himself. And I could already feel the pressure of my release, building up. As I was about to cum, he stopped the action on my clit and told me to lose the panties.

“Go to the couch, kneel on it, and rest your chest on the backrest” Jon quickly said, as he opened the condom.

Seconds after, I felt his presence behind me. He pushed my hips back slightly, and positioned himself on my entrance

“Are you gonna be a good kitten for me?” He whispered in my ear

“Yes, sir” I gasped, when I felt him sliding in

“Are you gonna scream for me?”

“Yes, sir”

“Are you gonna let everybody in this backstage hear how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, sir...please” I moaned

Jon forcefully thrusted into me, making the air escape from my lungs.

“Sir” I cried out, grabbing his wrist

“So fucking tight, kitten” He moaned “But don’t worry, we’re about to change that” As he moaned again and laughed.

Jon began to move slowly in and out, stretching my walls to fit him perfectly and once he could move easily in and out, his thrusts became so hard that my chest smacked the back of the couch each time he entered me. It all felt so good that I instinctively started to meet his thrusts

“Oh fuck yes, kitten! That’s right, baby, take it! Fuck yourself on my cock”

His encouragement made me move faster and faster and without noticing I began screaming

“I’m Mox’s good little whore”

Jon growled, pounding harder and deeper.

“Yes you are, kitten! Fuck, you’re such a good little slut! My perfect slut” He bit my neck and circled one arm around my waist, until he reached my clit and started to rub it

“I want you to cum for me, Y/N. I want you to milk my cock, baby. I wanna feel you clenching around me”

His words worked like magic on me, making me explode around him. My walls became so tight, it even got hard for him to move.

A few seconds later, Jon grunted as he came.

“I knew you would surprise me, but fuck!” He chuckled, as he slid out and took the condom off.

Jon threw the condom in the trash can and returned to the couch. I reached down for my panties, but he was quicker, taking the piece of fabric off the floor and tucking it in the front pocket of his jeans. Leaning down, he finally, for the first time, kissed me. An addictive kiss, that tasted like whiskey, mint and cigarettes.

“Wanna go get some burgers?" He asked, smiling

“Sure” I cackled

“Would you like to come to my place afterwards?” Jon questioned

I looked at him in surprise “You want to see me again?” I asked, shocked

“Of course I do! You’re my own little Pandora’s box, I need to know what else you’re hiding in there” He narrowed his eyes, making me laugh

“So, c’mon” He stood up and offered me his hand “Let’s go get our burgers, kitty cat”...

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[robininthelabyrinth]

extra 3 for Tedious Joys

A/N: For all the anons who begged for the AU in which Lao Nie's stupid idea from extra 2 about a happy WRH/Lao Nie/LQR ever after actually works out, with specific shout outs to the ones who suggested (1) WRH as a bastard cat, (2) possessiveness, (3) erotic reading, and (4) that I couldn’t write WRH being anything but thoroughly awful, because so there.

A/N: warning for adult content

-

“Congratulations to you both,” Lan Qiren said, looking between Lao Nie and Wen Ruohan with what he was certain was an expression of utmost bemusement. “I don’t see why your decision to enter into a formal relationship merits a private announcement to me personally.”

“Formal relationship?” Wen Ruohan echoed.

“He means that we’re actually calling it a relationship instead of just skulking around in each other’s beds,” Lao Nie explained briefly, then turned back to Lan Qiren. “We’re telling you because you’re a critical part of it.”

Lan Qiren blinked.

“If I am to enter into a – formal relationship with Lao Nie,” Wen Ruohan said, his sneer expressing his thoughts on the matter of Lan Qiren’s wording choices, “he has made it clear that engaging with you is necessary.”

“Engaging with me,” Lan Qiren said.

“As an equal partner,” Lao Nie said, nodding.

“With…me.”

“Yes.”

Lan Qiren rubbed his eyes. “Lao Nie,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, this would sound a great deal like a husband introducing his first wife to his second.”

“Equal partner,” Lao Nie said, as if that was the problem. “It isn’t a marriage, so there’s no need to rank –”

“Lao Nie, we’re not married.”

“Aren’t you?” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren gaped at him. “Once you put aside the question of sex, which I’m given to understand you’re squeamish about.”

“I’m given to understand that that is a rather critical aspect in a marriage,” Lan Qiren said archly, ignoring Lao Nie’s mutter of it’s not squeamishness, he just doesn’t like it. “At any rate, I do not live with him, I do not bear him children –”

“You support him, you understand him, you are irrevocably associated,” Wen Ruohan said impatiently. “Of all other people, he would pick you first, and you him. You can use the term ‘sworn brothers’ if you prefer, but you must admit that your – formalized relationship with Lao Nie goes well beyond the usual intimacy of mere friendship.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lan Qiren said, although on second thought he thought that perhaps it might be true. He had loved Cangse Sanren dearly, but it was very, very different from how he felt for Lao Nie.

Wen Ruohan snorted. “This is your problem,” he told Lao Nie.

“Our problem now,” Lao Nie said peaceably. “Qiren, I have no expectation of the two of us entering into a sexual relationship –”

Lan Qiren nodded, having not expected anything like that.

“Nor do I expect you to enter into a sexual relationship with Hanhan –”

Good.

“But I would appreciate it if you made an effort to get along a little better, at least for my sake. I care very deeply for both of you and would like to have you both in my life. At once. Without murder.”

Lan Qiren eyed Wen Ruohan, who eyed him right back.

“Well,” Lan Qiren said after a while. “I suppose?”

After all, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t already sharing Lao Nie’s time with him. This would simply be a further extension of that.

Nothing more.

-

“If it makes you uncomfortable –”

“I’ve already made clear that I don’t mind you two having sex while I’m in the room,” Lan Qiren said impatiently. “As long as I am not personally involved, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“See,” Wen Ruohan said. “It doesn’t bother him in the slightest.”

Lan Qiren ignored him. He’d found that that was the easiest way to deal with Wen Ruohan when he was in a mood – not entirely unlike the way he dealt with some of his more troublesome students, in fact.

“What if you’re the subject of conversation?” Lao Nie persisted.

“Conversation?” Lan Qiren said, frowning. “Do you often converse while – uh –”

Wen Ruohan sniggered. “Yes,” he said. “Quite a great deal. We can be quite noisy, even.”

“I can assure you I’m already aware of that,” Lan Qiren informed him, long-suffering. Wooden walls, even with insulation, were simply insufficient.

“We’re getting away from the main point here,” Lao Nie said.

“The main point being that you wish to involve me in your sexual antics, but from a distance?”

“…basically.”

“Antics,” Wen Ruohan said, looking pained. “We’re not twelve. Sect Leader Lan, can we not agree to simply say that we wish to objectify and sexualize you as part of our relationship, but that your personal participation is not required?”

“If we wish to be pretentious about it, we can,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan blinked as if surprised that Lan Qiren had the capacity for even such a mild rebuke. “Yes, go ahead. It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

Now they were both blinking at him.

“Being objectified,” he clarified. “Even with being lusted over, fantasized about within my hearing, that sort of thing. It’s quite common, you know.”

“It…is?” Wen Ruohan said. He had now started blinking rather rapidly. “You often allow people to have sexual thoughts and conversations about you, then?”

“Oh, every day.”

“Every…day?”

“My students,” Lan Qiren explained with a faint sigh. “The majority of them prefer to imagine me as far away from being sexualized as possible, which I appreciate, but quite a few of them go so far as to end up on the other end – and of course they’re at that age when their thoughts tend to dwell on all matters connected with sex.”

“Oh,” Lao Nie said. “Your students.”

“That makes a great deal more sense,” Wen Ruohan said, nodding.

“What did you think I meant?” Lan Qiren asked, frowning at them both. “I’ll have you know that they are exceedingly indiscreet about it – in terms of conversation, or the notes they include in their books, or even in offers –”

“You’ve gotten offers?”

“Too many. I’ve refused, of course.”

“Poor children, I can’t blame them for trying,” Lao Nie mused. “You’re very commanding when you take charge of a classroom.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “Listening to Sect Leader Lan ramble on does not strike me as the most inspiring set of circumstances.”

“That’s what I’ve always thought!” Lan Qiren said. “It was always a surprise. I’m well aware that I tend towards toneless monotony – yet apparently there are people who find that attractive.”

“I would,” Lao Nie said at once, because of course he would. He’d find just about anything attractive, as long as it had the capacity to end his life…though what that said about his views of Lan Qiren’s lectures, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure. “I’d be very happy to get off to you reading out one of your lectures.”

“You are not tainting my lectures with your deviance,” Lan Qiren informed him. “I’m happy to read any spring book you like, but leave my lectures out of it.”

They were both staring at him again.

“What?” he said, suspicious.

“Would you really?” Wen Ruohan asked, leaning forward. His gaze was suddenly very intent, in a way that resembled the way he usually looked at Lao Nie. “Read us a spring book?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “If you like? I warn you, it’ll be in the same tone I do all my other readings.”

“That’s fine,” Lao Nie said. He, too, looked oddly intent. “Very good, even.”

“Very good,” Wen Ruohan agreed effusively.

“…very well then,” Lan Qiren said, now completely lost. “Go fetch one, then.”

He’d never understood what people saw in sex, and he was starting to think he never would.

Especially if they were all this ridiculous.

-

“You don’t actually need to keep me company just because Lao Nie told you to,” Lan Qiren said to Wen Ruohan, who was sitting across from him and refusing to leave.

“No, he won the bet fair and square,” Wen Ruohan said, looking sulky. “While this is not exactly the promise I had hoped he would extract, I will comply with his wishes to the letter.”

Wen Ruohan had probably been hoping for a kinky sex game, Lan Qiren reflected. It was a pity that the threat against Lan Qiren had come in so soon before their bet had been resolved – and that they had not yet identified who it was that had sent the threat, nor how serious it was – and Lao Nie was for some reason convinced that there were internal threats within the Cloud Recesses that needed to be guarded against.

Thus the request.

“Then I suggest you find a way to entertain yourself,” Lan Qiren finally said, looking down at the papers at his desk. He really did need to finish reviewing them all, and he had wasted enough time attempting to play host to a recalcitrant guest who didn’t want to be appeased. “I can order more tea, if you’d like…”

“No, no,” Wen Ruohan said. “I can entertain myself just fine.”

Lan Qiren was unfortunately familiar with that tone of voice, and was therefore unsurprised when Wen Ruohan began to undo his robes, albeit just enough to pull out his cock.

Personally, Lan Qiren would not find public masturbation with gratuitous leering to be entertaining, but then again, he wasn’t Wen Ruohan.

He peacefully did his work for a while, ignoring the sound of self-pleasure from a few feet away, but after a while – and it was taking a while, presumably because Wen Ruohan kept getting distracted by his irritation with Lao Nie – he couldn’t help but glance over.

He frowned.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he said.

Wen Ruohan’s hand stopped. “Excuse me,” he said. “What did you say?”

“You’re doing it wrong,” Lan Qiren repeated.

Wen Ruohan gaped at him. “Are you – you – attempting to instruct me in how to – this?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and Wen Ruohan’s shoulders relaxed – sanity and order returning to the world, no doubt. “I’m referring to your cultivation. You don’t have to share details, but you do use a yang-oriented cultivation method, do you not?”

“I do.”

“You have a small blockage in the meridian next to your neck,” Lan Qiren said. “It’s slowing it down. You should release it.”

Wen Ruohan concentrated, then frowned. “I sense no such blockage.”

“It’s only apparent when you’re flushing your meridians with yang energy,” Lan Qiren said. “Do both at the same time.”

Wen Ruohan scowled at him. “That’s easier said than done.”

Lan Qiren shrugged and put his papers down, standing up. “In that case, I will assist.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes bulged slightly.

Lan Qiren walked over and settled down behind him. “Carry on, then,” he said.

“Assist with releasing the blockage,” Wen Ruohan said. “Right. Yes. That makes – more sense.”

And then he did carry on, because he was shameless like that.

Lan Qiren waited until he could see the blockage again, and then put his hands on Wen Ruohan’s shoulders.

Wen Ruohan flinched, and the energy dissipated.

Lan Qiren heaved a sigh. “Really?” he said, disapproving. “Is this the best you can do? Sect Leader Wen, please. You are a famous cultivator, far more powerful than me – I would expect your concentration to be better than this.”

“Right,” Wen Ruohan said. His voice was strangely hoarse. He started moving his hand again. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, Sect Leader Lan.”

Lan Qiren huffed, and noted that Wen Ruohan shivered. Perhaps he was sitting too close, and his breath had hit the back of Wen Ruohan’s neck, exposed as he curled forward over himself. “My request from you isn’t exactly difficult,” he said, a touch of asperity in his voice. “I’m certain you’ve done it many times before, and will many times again. If you can’t even perform such a straightforward task –”

Ah, there it was.

He put two fingers against the blocked meridian and firmly pressed, wielding his not inconsiderable arm strength against the tough skin Wen Ruohan had cultivated over the years.

Wen Ruohan made a choked noise.

The blockage released, the latent tension in the muscles releasing with it, and Wen Ruohan shuddered all over – presumably the yang energy that had been knotted up in there had also released, flooding through his meridians.

“Well done,” Lan Qiren said, inspecting his work. “The flow of energy is much smoother now. You should notice an immediate improvement in both temperament and swordplay.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and sat up straight again, starting to straighten his clothing. Apparently he’d finished the self-pleasure portion of the evening as well.

“I’m much obliged to you for your guidance, Teacher Lan,” he said, and it was Lan Qiren’s turn to blink, surprised – Wen Ruohan had never used that term of address for him before. “I look forward to attending your classes with you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to,” Lan Qiren told him, although he used the opportunity to rise to his feet and return to his desk, intent on finishing his review. “There’s hardly any danger from my students.”

“No, no,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’m interested to see you – in your element, so to speak. I was perhaps too hasty in disregarding Lao Nie’s exhortations regarding the quality of your pedagogical skills.”

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said, a little suspicious. “You understand, of course, that you would not be permitted to…?”

“Around children? I assure you that that is not one of my proclivities.”

“Good,” Lan Qiren said, even though he was well aware that Wen Ruohan’s particular character was such that the fact that something was not within his so-called proclivities would in no way stop him if he thought he could get some benefit out of it. “Very well, then. If you insist –”

“I do,” Wen Ruohan said firmly. “I promised Lao Nie, did I not? I intend to keep my promise in the spirit in which it was requested.”

Lan Qiren sighed. This would probably end up only distracting his students more…hmm. Unless he used it to his advantage.

“Would you be willing to demonstrate some array techniques?” he asked. “I know they’re your area of expertise, and there are certain philosophical points I wish to convey to my students that may be more easily expressed with a visual demonstration.”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes, but it seemed to lack the usual sense of malice.

“You may use me as you wish, Teacher,” he said with a smirk. “I am at your service.”

-

“Is there anything you actually like?” Lan Qiren asked Wen Ruohan, aware that his tone was coming across as tetchy and irritable and wholly unable to stop it.

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows at him.

“Other than myself and Lao Nie, and definitely not sex,” Lan Qiren qualified. “Your birthday is coming up, and I’m having difficulty thinking of an appropriate present.”

“My – birthday?” Wen Ruohan asked, and then started smiling in amusement. “You can just get me whatever gift your sect has picked out for the event. I’m certain someone has already selected something –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lan Qiren said. “You’re my – lover by proxy, I suppose, or at least something resembling a friend.”

To the extent one could befriend an especially large, especially poisonous serpent, anyway. Despite this, Lan Qiren liked to think he wasn’t doing too bad a job at it.

“The least I can do is get you something you actually enjoy,” he added, scowling. “Unfortunately, despite all of our years of acquaintance, I honestly have no idea what that might be. I’m aware of your general penchant for torture, so I had initially considered a text on anatomy, but in all honesty supporting torture even by proxy makes me queasy so I had to discard that idea –”

“A text on anatomy,” Wen Ruohan interrupted, blinking in that strange way he had when he was surprised by something. Usually Lan Qiren, actually, although Lao Nie sometimes managed it, too. “You were thinking of getting me something on anatomy so that I could – torture people better?”

“It does seem to be one of the few things you like to do,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “And it’s not as if I have any treatises on clever machines one can use to extract entrails or something.”

“I’m delighted you even considered it,” Wen Ruohan said. He seemed to be fighting a laugh.

“Perhaps some medicine?” Lqn Qiren mused.

“I’m fairly sure my sect’s pharmacists are better than yours. I get all sorts of herbs to aid in cultivation from sects all over –”

“Not in aid of cultivation; I’m hardly going to gift you with your hundredth strand of ancient ginseng, am I? I meant for your anemia.”

“My – what?”

“You have a strange fixation on blood in all forms, whether the shedding in battle or merely at dinner. It occurred to me that you might be minorly anemic.”

Wen Ruohan covered his mouth with his sleeve. His shoulders were shaking.

“Listen, your only hobbies are sadism, blood, and power, and there’s nothing I can do for you on any of those scores,” Lan Qiren said, scowling. “You have to have some sort of thing that you can do –”

“I paint.”

Lan Qiren blinked. “You paint? Recreationally? Really?”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I used to, at any rate. It’s been – rather a while.”

For someone like Wen Ruohan, that ‘while’ might very well be as long as Lan Qiren’s life.

“I used to be rather good at it,” Wen Ruohan said thoughtfully. “Or at least I thought I was.”

“Have I seen any of your work?” Lan Qiren asked, and Wen Ruohan blinked at him. “You have art all over the Nightless City. Is any of it yours?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Privately, Lan Qiren thought that it was because personal paintings did not demonstrate the extent of Wen Ruohan’s power over others, and were thereby less satisfying, but Wen Ruohan had shifted over to looking contemplative and even nostalgic.

“You know,” Wen Ruohan murmured. “I’m really not sure.”

“Well, I can certainly get you paints,” Lan Qiren said. “And Lao Nie and I can drag you to some secluded location with a good view to allow you some time to indulge in it; I think that sounds like an excellent gift. Thank you for the idea.”

“…think nothing of it.”

-

“I will rip him limb from limb,” Wen Ruohan hissed. “I will tear out his stomach and feed it to him.”

“You’re overreacting,” Lan Qiren said.

“I am not,” Wen Ruohan said, like a liar. “He nearly killed you!”

Lan Qiren turned his gaze to Lao Nie, who was usually fairly good at keeping Wen Ruohan back, but his old friend had his arms crossed over his chest and a thunderous scowl fixed firmly on his face.

Apparently, he agreed with Wen Ruohan.

“It wasn’t an attack meant to kill,” Lan Qiren tried to explain. “It was only meant to paralyze –”

“Oh, so severing your spine is no big deal then?”

“You have at least a dozen tools that are designed to do just that in your basement,” Lan Qiren reminded Wen Ruohan.

“I don’t use them anymore,” Wen Ruohan growled. “You’ve taken all the fun out of it, the two of you. If I want to hurt someone, Lao Nie is more fun; if I want a challenge, Teacher Lan is always available to be at my throat; if I want to exert power, I need only remind any sect leader in the cultivation world of our relationship and they will have no choice but to submit unhappily to reality. It’s hardly worth wasting my time on some random prisoners. Now don’t try to distract me – you can’t honestly say that you want to live the rest of your life without your legs!”

“Obviously not, though one might argue that my mobility is already limited enough that adding a wheelchair would not make that much of a difference. I’m just pointing out –”

“When he’s fully healed, we’re taking him on vacation,” Lao Nie said to Wen Ruohan, who nodded furiously. “A long one. The Lan sect can cope.”

“How did we get on the subject of vacation?” Lan Qiren asked, starting to wonder if it was him or them that had lost the thread of their conversation. “I merely wished to say that your reaction is overblown. The threat has passed, and I remain alive and intact –”

“Except for the gaping hole in your back.”

“It’s been bandaged and stitched up. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, yes, you will be,” Wen Ruohan said, and finally sat down again, putting his hand on Lan Qiren’s hip to start transferring spiritual energy over. He had a truly obscene amount of qi – something Lan Qiren supposed he had to be grateful for, as it had been that, in conjunction with Lao Nie’s extraordinary fighting skills, that had saved his life. “I will make sure you’re fine. By force if necessary.”

“He was just upset –”

“Stop making excuses for him,” Lao Nie said. His voice was low and tight and angry and tired. “You’ve been apologizing for your brother since the first day I met you, Qiren. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“You were his friend once, too,” Lan Qiren reminded him.

“I was,” Lao Nie said. “There was something worth being friends with there, once. You’ve paid dearly for every mistake he’s ever made – but not this. Not this.”

“There is a boundary to filial piety,” Wen Ruohan agreed. “And in the end, he is only your elder brother. He is not entitled to your life.”

“He didn’t want my life,” Lan Qiren said. “He wanted me to suffer as he suffers. He’s not well.”

Insane, in fact. That would be the word for it.

Mad, raging, ravening – if Lan Qiren could blame a qi deviation, of the sort that tended to end Lao Nie’s family line when their meridians weren’t being constantly tended to by the most powerful cultivator alive with an obsession for keeping his lover alive, he would. That might yet be found to be the cause; he didn’t know, he wasn’t involved in the investigation.

It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to be involved, whether as the direct victim or the closest living family of the perpetrator.

Lan Qiren…didn’t know what to do with any of that.

He didn’t recognize his brother in the madman that tried to kill him simply for being happy, for being reputed to have taken on lovers. He didn’t recognize even the faintest shell of him.

“Maybe we should take him on that vacation now,” Lao Nie said to Wen Ruohan, who looked thoughtful. “Hanhan, do you still have that – that ridiculous carriage, the big wide one, the one designed to avoid any bumps…?”

“You’re not taking me away from the Cloud Recesses before the trial,” Lan Qiren said, though he wasn’t actually sure if there would even be a trial. It seemed like the sort of thing that his sect would prefer to cover up, though it might be difficult to do so with two other sect leaders aware of what had happened and angry about it. “I’m sect leader, remember?”

“Acting sect leader,” Wen Ruohan said, and for once the reminder wasn’t meant to be poisonous. “Leave the matter to your sect elders.” He paused. “Or to me, I could handle it.”

“You could commit a murder, you mean.”

“A justified murder.”

“No, Ruohan-xiong.”

“How do you put up with this?” Wen Ruohan complained to Lao Nie, who unbent just long enough to look amused. “This stubbornness.”

“Oh, come off it,” Lao Nie said. “You love it.”

“I admit to nothing.”

“You stopped trying to conquer the world for us, I don’t need you to say that you love us,” Lao Nie said. “You can give up on this murder for us, too. Now shift over, I’m taking the inside of the bed.”

“What? No! We’re not sharing a bed,” Lan Qiren said. “You’re both far too elbow-y.”

“That’s too bad for you,” Wen Ruohan said, curling up behind him, even as Lao Nie firmly planted himself in front of him, both of them careful to avoid the wound on Lan Qiren’s side and back. “This is an excellent position for dual cultivation –”

“Ruohan-xiong!”

“Non-sexual dual cultivation, Qiren, stop whining. You’re going to live a good long life whether you like it or not.”

“That’s not how that works,” Lan Qiren complained, but he knew he was already yielding.

“Yes, it is,” Wen Ruohan said in his ear. “I’ll make it be the way it works. You’ll see…”

[liquid-luck-00]

Connections 10

Chapter 10

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving in Themyscira, they were greeted by Queen Hippolyta and guided them to large hall. Introductions were made and Tikki zipped towards Hippolyta, nuzzling her cheek.

"You are the Ladybug of this generation?" The Amazonian Queen asked the youngest in the room.

"Yes, Ma’am." Marinette answered quickly and slightly panicked in the Queen's presence.

"Your soul is a true creation soul," she began her explanation. "As your soulmate and intended cat is a true destruction soul." As if on cue Damian, in corporeal form, 'crashed' through the ceiling, falling, and landing with a thud.

"Nice entrance Demon spawn." Jason snickered as Damian stood up.

"Tt. When I get my body back Grayson and Drake help me with this.” He demanded, but was actually asked of his brothers. He held up two batons.

“Dick would be better than...” Tim’s voice cut off as Damian merged the two and it expanded into a bo staff. “I stand corrected.”

“The Black Cat is the most offensive Miraculous," Hippolyta continued to explain. "As you've already found the first two, attempt to find the third."

"There are five total," Tikki chimed in. "But you'll need Plagg for the other two and to use your Power." Damian nodded and sat down fiddling with the staff, then batons, then the staff again, while listening to the Amazonian Queen.

"What does this have to do with the Lazarus Pit and bringing Damian back?” was asked by Bruce.

"Everything. Understanding the power that she is and he will, wield explains why there will not be an adverse effect on him." Hippolyta calmly explained. “The Ladybug as you may know uses a yo-yo as the primary weapon, but you also have two collapsed escrima sticks. Your powers include the 'Lucky Charm' and 'Miracle Cure’ used together you can reverse all damage caused as a result of the miraculous, or if any miraculous took part during anytime of the altercation. It is also possible to revive the dead with your power."

"So is it possible for Mari to bring back Damian?" Was asked by a hopeful Dick.

"Unfortunately not. What occurred was a result of the soul bond and the magic embedded into Marinette." A sad knowing look crossed the Queen's features. "This is where the Pits of Lazarus comes into play. As Marinette is the embodiment of creation and luck, as Damian is the embodiment of destruction and misfortune they are the two souls of this generation who can enter its waters without corruption."

"Why?" was chorused by the four eldest Waynes.

"The Pits were created by a wish merging the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous." Tikki now spoke again. "But with such powerful magic it comes with a cost. Pit madness comes when a person has a soul alignment with a miraculous, like Jason. For others it may vary, but for souls like the two of you, as part of Plagg and I, you are immune to the madness only reaping the benefits."

"Why didn't you say this before, Tikki." Tim brought up. "Because I can't see souls like my chosen can and Mari is too young to see them now." the miniature goddess responded.

"Pits as in more than one?" Bruce whispered, as if in deep thought.

"There are half a dozen pits around the world hidden away. Each is guarded by one of the inner kwamii, but that is more of a tidbit than necessary information." the Queen smiled. “Now has that calmed some concerns?"

"Is there a Pit not controlled by the League?" Jason blurted out. Because logically the league couldn't control all of them.

"A few, such as the one here on Paradise Island." Queen Hippolyta answered in turn.

"I can get my body back without the League?" Damian whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

This was the best news they could get. Damian could be revived while not having to struggle with the Pit madness. He wouldn't need to be near the League which means he wouldn't question himself. That he is able to build upon what he has since moving to Gotham without being the Prince of Assassins.

"Yes. Now come little bug, little cat." Marinette and Damian each flanked the Queen as the rest followed behind.

A short trek into the Mountains and they arrived at a pit. The same acidic green with chaos and creation swirled. Damian's body was deposited next to the swirling pool.

"Understand that when you emerge, both of you, will train here in order to strengthen and teach you the magic you will wield." the two children nodded, clear resolve on their features. "Good."

After bringing Damian back from the dead they almost immediately were placed into training. It was true that there was no madness, his mind was intact without being clouded by anger. Their soul bond was a huge benefit. Where Damian caught the physical aspect quickly and it transferred to Mari. While Mari was a natural at magic and helped guide Damian through.

Yes the Amazon’s did not particularly trust men but they could recognize Damian as a Black Cat, which along with his brother’s nickname Demon Spawn, he gained the name Hellcat. That and they could clearly see that Damian was Marinette’s soulmate, but didn’t treat her as a damsel in distress, instead as a partner and equal. Which helped him earn some respect to the warriors around them. Which was how the two spent most of the week before going back.

What they couldn't be prepared for was the tornado named Jagged. As soon as they arrived in the manor he was there in a fury of a whirlwind.

"Hey little Rocker, how was the trip?"

"It was fun." Marinette smiled at her dad.

"So got any pictures to show your papa, love." he asked excitedly.

"Pictures?" she repeated quizzically.

That was when the Wayne’s and Mari began to laugh

"What’s so funny?" The rocker asked confused.

"Apparently we were so caught up in the vacation we didn’t take pictures." Tim grinned, the little liar he is, spoke up. He had pictures but they were mostly of his brothers getting their asses handed to them by the Amazons. And he couldn’t explain how they happened to be on the secret hidden island filled with Amazonian warriors. "Their also was zero service on the island." He finished with a shrug.

"Ohh I did bring back some shells and crystals and some seeds for my garden." Mari chimed in. "I can tell you all about it."

"Yes you can on the plane to wherever you and the bird you choose to come with us." Jagged smiled at his daughter.

"Jared what are you..." Bruce near finished his sentence.

Jagged having interrupted his thoughts he sentence. “Come now Batsey you steal little rocker for a week so I steal one of your birds." He stated as a matter of fact.

Bruce just stood with his jaw slack. Sure Mari told them he figured them out, but he forgot, he had a child to revive goddamn it. “Fine but I think it’ll be a good idea to tell him Mari." He turned to the young girl.

The girl chewed her lip before putting her hand in her light vest shirt. A red pixie bug flew out and sat on Mari’s head.

"Hello I’m Tikki the Ladybug kwamii, Marinette is my chosen holder." Tikki's voice rang through the room.

"I’m sorry what now?" The rocker was eerily still and quiet.

"Long story short your daughter is a magical girl and Demon Spawn is her soulmate and is also a magical girl, boy, you get the idea." Jason chuckled.

"Okay let me get this straight. Mari's soulmate is the Grumpy Gargoyle, they are both magical kids who are chosen by fairies. All of you are Gotham's vigilantes, which I'm assuming you've been training Little Rocker."

"Yes.??” Dick answered unsure.

"Okay."

"Okay." Dick again responded. Before realizing, "Wait! Okay!”

"Ya," Jagged shrugged. "You've all met Mari. This is completely plausible with her. So who are we stealing from Bruce?"

"Dames!" she jumped to hug him from behind, arms wrapped around his neck.

Damian for his part didn't throw Marinette off. In fact he repositioned to piggy back her, a ghost of a smile spread on his neutral features.

"So where are we going?"

Yucatan Peninsula

Why?

The Twins said a gift for future bugs and cats were there.

Haven't their been cats and bugs since them?

Yes but travel was limited.

In other words scavenger hunt.

Yes. How's your Spanish? Because the most logical place to start would be the Mayan ruins.

"Mejor que eI tuyo." she smirked at him.

"God damn it their doing it again." Jason dragged his hands down his face.

"Doing what?"

"Their bond is shockingly rare, its a Mind link sharing knowledge, meaning basically anything one knows so does the other. As if that isn't enough now they can communicate telepathically."

"So why the Spanish rocker?"

"Cancun, Mayan scavenger hunt." she grinned.

"Sounds good. I'll shoot Penny a text and we'll leave tomorrow sound good?"

"Yup." She responded, Damian nodded and finally set her down.

Your helping me pack.

As if I'd let you do it yourself.

Knowing you, you'd pack your Robin uniform.

'Pfft'

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[maturemenoftvandfilms]

My Rumsfeld and Cheney story.

***

I am in my late 20s and have been at my job in the White House for several months. Despite my age, I have been handed the task of helping to organize and arrange the administration’s new initiative to expand the humanities in America’s schools. I have an Ivy League education but I know the real reason I have the job. It is because my father has been lifelong friends with the President and is one of his closest advisors.

But being this is Washington, my father has enemies. At the top of the list are Donald Rumsfeld and his acolyte Dick Cheney — notorious for their scheming, ruthlessness and ways to grab power at the expense of others, and they are eyeing up putting a knife in my father’s back.

I am walking down the hallway. There are two things in my mind. The first is career preservation. If my father is forced out by them, then my career goes down the toilet.

But the main reason is because of something I have finally admitted to myself — that they are both incredibly attractive, and I want to submit to them.

I see Rumsfeld’s hatchet face of a Secretary. She buzzes. I wait for a few minutes, hearing him laughing on the phone. Finally, he has me sent in as he peers over some files and is writing something on a notepad, not paying me any attention, giving me a terse, “How may I help you? I’m not sure I can be of any service to your program.”

I shiver.

“Well, Mr. Rumsfeld,” I say. He perks up a bit hearing the deference in my voice. “I did not come specifically to ask you that. I came today to tell you...” I gulp. “I came to tell you that I know you are coming after my father. And I want to tell you that I know you are going to push him. And that my full loyalty and allegiance is with you.”

He stops writing and looks up.

“I see,” he says, with no emotion at all. “You see, I know my way around Washington. And this is something that I find highly dubious. Some kind of trick. So, you may go, even though you are correct about your father’s fate.”

I knew he would doubt me. So I have him a file.

“Well, in advance of that, I prepared a briefing document for you. It is a lot of information you may find useful to destroy him. Not that you need my assistance.”

He opens the file, adjusts his glasses, and chuckles.

“Well, I know some of this already. But this... I will say, that this could be useful in making my job that much easier.”

He leans back and steeples his fingers.

“Of course, I still do not quite believe you yet.” He swivels his chair. “Come here now and kneel before me. Denounce your father and your entire family and beg me to accept your loyalty.”

I pace around the desk and get on my knees.

“I denounce my father and an ashamed of my family’s name. Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. I beg you. Please accept my allegiance to you. I promise I will serve you in any capacity that you wish, Sir.”

He lets out a Cheshire Cat smile and laughs.

“Very good. That is a good boy.” He then stands and beads to his belt. “Now there is one more chance to show your utmost loyalty. If you do this, and do this well... I will allow you the chance to serve me, as you put it.”

His pants and shorts drop with my assistance. He sits back down kingly, and I begin to take him in my mouth. His hand quickly moves to the back of my head, the weight of his Princeton class ring evident, as he steers me at the pace and depth he wants.

“That’s it. You’re starting to prove your worth to me. I assumed you were as worthless as your old man. But I can see what you think of me. Look up at me and tell me you worship me.”

I pant and look up at his smirking face.

“Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. I worship you like the superior person you are, and have done so since the first time I heard your name, Sir.”

He nods and forced my mouth over his cock again, now gripping my hair snugly and fucking my face. I am moaning as I suck away. Finally, I can hear him gasp a bit. Moaning, and I sense what is coming. He explodes all over my face, and then laughs.

“Let me look at you. The son of my arch-enemy, dripping in my cum.”

I let him look as he smiles at his trophy. Finally, he nods to the tissues, and tells me that I may clean myself up, he will be in touch, and I may take my leave. He then heads right back to his work, paying me no mind.

I head to the door and pause.

“Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. May I please say something before I leave?”

He looks up, nods, and tells me to be quick.

I walk towards his desk and am opposite it. I kneel once again, and this time cup my hands like I am praying.

“Thank you so much for letting me suck your cock, Sir. I know how lucky I am to be able to breath the same air as you, let alone to know I can pleasure you. I hope I have shown my allegiance to you, Sir.”

He looks at me with a stern and serious gaze, pausing as he does.

“You recognized your place and chose wisely to admit it. You’ll be able to rise up the ranks here so long as you remember that you are beneath me and you live to do as I order. Now you may take your leave.”

***

It is a few weeks later and he has finally been in touch. 7 pm. That night. His estate.

I arrive promptly. A maid answers the door. I head him laughing, and I am not sure who. The maid tells him that the guest has arrived.

I walk in and am paralyzed with fear. Flanking him to one side is Dick Cheney. To the other is his wife, Lynne.

“Well, there he is! The ambitious young man who will be a big help to us that I told you about.”

Their mouths drop a bit. Dick just stares at me coldly.

“Surely this is a joke,” Lynne says, hoping it is not the case. Rumsfeld tells her it is not, and then directs me to tell them both what I think about my father, especially in comparison to him, and what I wish for out of my life.

“My father is a pathetic excuse of a man and not even fit to shine your shoes, Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. The only thing I wish for out of life is to be your faithful servant.”

They both stare at me incredulously, although evil grins cross both of their faces. Rumsfeld smiles widely and orders me to tell them what I did to serve him. So I told them how I sucked his cock and was lucky to wear his cum.

“Now, boy. I want you to know something. It is very hard in DC to find people you can trust and actually respect. Dick and Lynne are the only two people alive I call friends and consider as my equals. And that means that you serve them, too. Do you understand that?”

“Yes. I understand that I also serve Mr. and Mrs. Cheney.”

“Oh, let’s see about that,” Lynne says, grinning as she leans back in her chair.

Lynne and I have crossed paths a few times in my past. I am tasked with the humanities project. She is in charge of the agency that issues our humanities grants. She does not like that I am running this program and let me know about this and has done all she can to prevent me from enacting it unless it meets her goals.

I turn to her.

“Now, I told you that you did not deserve the job you have. You probably thought it is because of your age or who your father is. But that’s not the reason why.” She pauses. “Tell me if you agree with me... but the reason why is because you are an idiot.”

I hear Rumsfeld stifle a laugh. But I have no choice, even though I hesitate.

“You’re right. I’m an idiot, Mrs. Cheney.”

She laughs and nods.

“I am so glad that we cleared that up. I am sure that from now on, you will do as I say. I will tell you the programs I support and how much I want them supported financially. You are going to meet with me once a week with a draft of succinct reasons why you now support exactly as I want, which you will then defend to the president. Of course, I know you lack the intellectual capabilities to perform something like that up to my standards, so you can expect me to red mark your work with a pen like a kindergarten teacher.” She smirks. “And I am sure your father will be in the room, too.”

“Now, there is more than just that. One thing I want you to do — anytime you enter my office, you will show me proper respect by kissing my feet. Why don’t you do that now?”

I steel myself, press my lips to her shoes, and then thank her as she laughs as loud as she ever has in her life. She tells me to stand up and then ask her husband what he thinks.

He just smiles at me. Before I can even say anything, he starts to speak.

“I am so glad that you have recognized this about yourself. It is not easy to admit you are inferior. But I have always seen a lot of potential in you.”

He continues to smile.

“It won’t be too long until your father is back home in Wisconsin where he will be buried. Once that happens, and I inherit his job, I am going to have a need for a chief aide. Usually, this job is in an advisory capacity. But for your role, I envision it more fit for your capabilities. Having me coffee ready. Shining my shoes before any important meetings. Not saying anything beyond ‘Yes, Sir,’ and ‘No, Sir,’ unless I tell you to speak beyond that. Any sort of errand or task me or Lynne or Don want, it gets done. Got that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, your peers and people who have worked for your father for a very long time are going to see you hold my coat or wipe off my desk for me. What do you think they will say about this?”

“They’ll mock me, Sir.”

“They will. But deep down inside, they are going to be jealous because each and every single last one of them wants to be in the position you find yourself in — dominated by your superiors.” I can see Rumsfeld not in agreement. “Now, you will also perform the same tasks that Don had you do... only I will not be so gentle. And I will also make sure Don keeps you on his calendar as well so you can continue to serve him as well, being that he made you his toy before sharing you.”

“And don’t worry. I will still find the time and ways for you to correct your work so you can try to come up to even half of our level.”

I meekly say “Thank you.”

Rumsfeld stands up, as does Lynne. He slaps me on the back,

“Just think that your epitaph is going to read about how you were the faithful servant to the most powerful three people who ever lived.” He and Lynne head to the door. “Now get on your knees before Dick.”

I do, and he chuckles and heads to his belt.

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

[elsewhereuniversity]

rescue mission

It’s been five weeks and two days since Fake Dana was kil- disappeared and Real Dana came back. I didn’t know exactly what would happen to me should I complain about it to anyone but the dean, so I was laying low, but… the recent discovery of my roommate’s skin being a bright shade of green changed some of my plans.

When I told him - Threeox - about Real Dana murdering Fake Dana, and now living invisibly on the campus (I’d never seen her again), he sighed, locked the door and windows, before making me sit on the floor between our beds and getting out a small wooden key out of a seemingly lidless box made of shimmery dark brown wood. The box was amazingly carved, so much so that looking at it too long made me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes not to faint as the patterns on the lid started to sway as to a sharp breeze.

“Threeox, what’s that about ?” I asked, a little confused - and a whole lot scared.

That was probably not my smartest move - Threeox doesn’t talk per se, he just… gets his point across in a remarkable way that I had yet to pin down. A series of drawings of a cat with five eyes and a full ten minutes of interpretative dancing later, I kind of gathered that Fake Dana was trapped in the mirrors in the North Dorm, and couldn’t get out because of all the iron.

Naturally, I tried to organise a rescue mission, but gathering partners proved difficult. Real Dana apparently gained quite a reputation among the Student Witches, and everyone kept looking at me weirdly when I asked where Fake Dana was and if we could, like, rescue her maybe ? No one wanted to talk to me for more than two minutes, fidgeting uncomfortably and asking me if I’d packed my suitcase yet. I wasn’t going anywhere without Fake Dana, but hey, who am I to contradict the masses ? I’d just have to lay low a little longer.

It started on rocky grounds but I did gather for this mission a few seniors, all knights that had a history of being kind(er) to the Changelings, even though I’d never heard of them before. Their names were Toll, Bell and Eulogy, which - okay, some of us have weird names, but… It’s not that hard to pick a happy one. I couldn’t quite remember what mine was now but people had no trouble remembering me when I talked to them, so I assumed that was fine.

Add to the knights a freshman, EXO. Freshmen are probably a bit too young and frightened for that, but the fearless EXO wasn’t, uh, exactly a freshman ? Freshperson ? They were at least two metres tall and they had that look in their eyes that told you not to mess with them or they’d do unspeakable things that I, well, couldn’t speak of. Just know they were good for stuff like this. Or so I assumed, since they were the one who brought the knights to my bi-weekly “Where is Fake Dana” search.

We got some supplies: the baseball bat Fake Dana hid under my bed that one night the dean decided to do a room check, a good couple teaspoons of charcoal, some rags, a freaking battleaxe that Toll swooshed around like it weighed nothing, and that one river rock the archivist kindly lent us, and we departed for the wild wild north. Midnight seemed an appropriate time.

The dorm looked fancy, not gonna lie, the iron structure glimmered and almost rippled under the moonlight. I felt EXO shiver as we entered, their eyes losing any life that they might have had, their skin getting that weird greenish hue it didn’t have just moments before. The knights also shivered, but that might have been the cold.

The entrance was deserted, no sign of life save for a calico cat who meowed at us and tried to eat my shoelaces. She promptly departed when I told her they were a gift from the president, though I didn’t specify which president. It was the president of the cross-stitching club I was in in middle school, and she, uh, suffered from a slight eye issue after she looked through my hagstone. I mean, I did warn her about seeing the Nethers through the hole, but she didn’t listen.

Anyways, enough of that. Toll started to hack at the nearest door with his axe, waking up the poor unsuspecting students living there. “Where the fuck is she ?”, I asked, peeking around Toll’s shoulders. The two girls looked at each other, at Toll’s axe, at each other again, and one of them ended up spitting out “Basement. Third door to the left. Hope you die a slow, painful death, girl, you deserve it.”

Eulogy, true to her name, sang a few verses in Tamil, and we all collected our spirits before walking towards the basement. The iron in the walls seemed to sing to the beat of our steps, the doors creaking to the rhythm of our breaths. EXO seemed paler and paler under the dimmed overhead lights, until Eulogy sprayed us all with what I can only assume is water from that Wishing Well we’re not exactly supposed to talk about. That seemed to calm us down a little. I squeezed EXO’s hand when they looked at me questioningly, my smile thin and eyes dulled by fatigue. I couldn’t sleep that well since Fake Dana was gone, so I just wanted this to be over with already. 

The third door was cracked open, but no sounds emanated from behind the heavy iron and the weird, Tolkien-inspired words of advice in elvish. I could recognise “The way is shut, and the Dead keep it”, which wasn’t even the full correct quote. The door swayed to an invisible breeze and it opened way too silently for something made of rusty metal. As we went down the stairs, we could hear the stone crackle with contained electricity, so much so that Toll, Bell and Eulogy decided to stay up to guard our backs. EXO grit their teeth but didn’t stop, grabbing Toll’s axe on the way.

“Good luck, bro, and good riddance, you girl,” Eulogy waved, and the three knights were gone as if they were never here. I wondered what she meant by that, but I couldn’t ask in time. EXO gestured to the stairs, mouth shut tight. I was kind of getting tired of everyone telling me I should leave, so I hoped at least Fake Dana would help with that. Hadn’t I been working so hard to rescue her ?

At the bottom of the narrow stairs were two doors, also made out of metal, and what Threeox told me about - the mirror.

Ten feet tall, circled with iron chains, the metal behind the glass pane was reminiscent of clouds, though it was most likely silver. I could see a prostrate silhouette in the bottom right corner, faint tremors running through her whole body, sobs muffled, whimpers of pain spread between fits of coughing.

I yelled something I couldn’t really understand, a guttural sound that made her raise her head, and I saw Fake Dana’s eyes grow wide as she recognised me.

“Missed me ?” She smiled, teeth sharp.

My throat went tight as she started to slam her fists against the glass. “It’ll be okay soon. I promise,” I said, examining the lock keeping the iron chains together.

“Hey, move, I’ll take care of it,” a voice I pinned on EXO whispered in my ear. “Tell her to stand back.”

I did so, and Fake Dana retreated to the far side of the mirrorspace. With three swipes of his axe, EXO managed to hack away most of the chains, and the rest I hastily discarded, fists pounding on the glass as Fake Dana pounded back. 

“The key. The lock.”

“Fuck.” I started rummaging through my satchel, finally finding the small piece of wood that has slithered into the bag of crackers I keep for the crows. “Where is that fucking lock ?”

EXO gestured to the back of the mirror and helped me turn it around, their skin starting to sea as they kept pushing the metal. They eventually managed to shift it enough that I could wrestle my arm in and fit the key into an oddly shaped keyhole. 

The back of the mirror started glowing a pale green before cracking open, revealing a room barely large enough to fit Fake Dana. Tears welling up in my eyes, I did my best to extract her without causing her too much damage until she finally made it out to the other side.

“Friend,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you ! Thankfully Threeox helped, and there’s - look,” I continued, turning back to face my rescue team, forgetting it was only me and EXO now.

They were smiling, too, and they gestured at the stairs. I understood what they meant - out.

I turned to Fake Dana again, still somewhat relieved to see her dry her tears and gracefully get up without giving me the time to offer help. She smiled like nothing was wrong. I followed her up the stairs and into the hall, her naked feet sizzling and leaving angry red marks on the floor, probably due to the iron dust covering every inch of the place. EXO swung the the front door open, touching the iron pane with a quickly blistering hand, and as I looked at them more closely, I couldn’t help but mouth “Threeox”. 

“Oh shit, right, come here !” Fake Dana grabbed my face with both her hands, her palms wet with leftover tears and blood, the feel of them sending shivers down my spine. She spat in my eyes like she’d done before, and suddenly the night became less bright, her skin less pale, EXO’s features morphing into the face of my roommate, skin going from that red I’d been kinda surprised about, to the vibrant green that the cat warned me about. 

Toll, Bell and Eulogy were nowhere to be seen. I started wondering if I’d dreamed about them, if they were ever here at all. Their names had stuck in my mind and once again I wondered what mine was. I know Sizzle, my roommate, was quite upset before shoving me out of the room - which room was that again ? 17 ? 23 ? I forgot.

Fake Dana interrupted my thoughts with a light shove on my arm. “You can leave, now, you’ll remember who you are soon. It’s okay, it’s done.”

“What’s done ?” I tried to ask, but my eyelids suddenly became so heavy I had trouble keeping them open.

The last thing I heard were guttural sounds, so unlike Fake Dana’s voice, and a wet caress on my back.

I woke up on this train a few moments ago. I don’t know where it’s going, except from “Far away” and “Not where I came from”. My suitcase is filled with all my belongings, except the iron jewellery I acquired during my two years as Elsewhere U. And as I look at the landscape we are zapping by, I do not recognise the streets nor the trees.

The only thing keeping me from falling asleep again is the sticky red liquid pouring out of my nose, making me curse out loud as I scramble for a handkerchief. The blood stops flowing after a while, and I catch my reflection in the window across me.

I have several streaks of white hair, the contrast sharp with my otherwise dark brown ponytail. My eyes are bloodshot and I have blood caked on my face in the shape of hands. My skin is pale, my eyes gleam a quickly fading red.

I remember it now. My name is Dana.

x

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VI/VII)

"the downfall"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language, allusions to sex

A/N: my apologies for keeping y'all waiting for this one darlings, but here comes the next part YAYY! Enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

He had left me in the room that morning, alone, with regret and guilt straining my chest, with embarrassment and panic heaving over me, my only company being a terrible headache and a sore body.

I was still waiting for him to come back. Of course, he still lived in the apartment, but the day after, he slept at Shell Cottage because Bill needed help with the chores, and the next night at the Burrow because Molly had asked to keep an eye on 'the kids' —the kids being Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione— while she and Arthur were off to visit Andromeda, and at Lee's because Angelina was away and they were going to have a boys' weekend; in summary, he managed to avoid stepping into the flat while I was in there for an entire week.

I would be lying if I said the idea of moving out hadn't crossed my mind, but I knew I was being dramatic— we were being dramatic; we were adults, even if we forgot about it more often than not, and adults talk things out, so I decided to confront him at the only place I would manage to corner him; the shop.

When I descended from the office on the second floor, I spotted the ginger turning the 'CLOSED' to face the glass door. "Oi!" His head snapped to me as I climbed downstairs and he instantly walked to the shelves on the opposite side. "Can I have a word?" I requested, following him, only for George to move on to another shelf.

"Right now I'm quite busy." He replied, seemingly absent-minded as he pretended to check the products in front of him.

"This is important." I insisted, moving to stand besides him.

Not fast enough, though, because he was off to yet another part of the shop as soon as I got close. "I'm sure it can wait."

"You know it can't," I assured intently, stalking after him, only for him to speed up his own pace, moving from product to product without stopping too long in front of him. "George I'm- Oi, stop! We need to talk about this!"

"Well maybe I don't wanna talk about this!" He exclaimed, taking big steps under one of the stairs in order to shamelessly dodge the hand with which I had reached out to stop him.

"George Weasley don't run away from me!"

"I'm not running away from you!"

"You're literally RUNNING AWAY!"

He stopped circling the counter and stood across from me, slamming his palms over the till. "ALRIGHT, LOVE!" for the first time, I didn't like the way the name dripped off his tongue. "Let's talk about how we accidentally FUCKED! That's what you want so badly, isn't it?!" Flush crept up his neck and ears, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or from timidness. "Go on, darling, lead the bloody way!"

I felt my own cheeks going red, partly because of his straightforward statement but also because I genuinely had never heard George raise his voice like he had just done.

"Cat's got your tongue now?!" My stuttering seemed to fuel his anger more. "C'mon, Y/n, talk! You wanted to talk!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, GEORGE!" He clenched his jaw as his freckles drowned in a sea of pinkish red. "Yeah I want to talk! 'Cause that's what grown-ups do! We don't know how to act around each other so we just don't spend time together anymore— Fuck, I've barely seen you! AND WE. LIVE. TOGETHER!" I emphasised each word with stomps. "We can either pretend it didn't happen or talk it out to make sure we're on the same page, you choose but for Merlin's sake, don't avoid me!"

"OKAY!" His eyes widened, surprised at his own tone, and then he repeated in a softer, self-conscious one, "Okay." He breathed deeply and then added. "We're on the same page, right?" His eyebrows raised as he looked into my eyes. "It was... A mistake."

I should have noticed the uncertainty and hope in his voice, but I panicked and was too quick to respond, "Yeah! A massive mistake." My words stung my heart and, to my dismay, his own just as much. "Can we go back to being friends? Because I'm going crazy without you." I blamed our watery eyes to the argument we had had, and not to the fact that it had been a mistake.

He circled the counter and walked to me, hesitating before pulling me into a hug. "Can I...?" I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his middle. It took a moment for him to ease into my embrace, and I could tell we had fucked up our friendship for good. "It's alright, we'll make it right again." His words made me squeeze him tighter, as if he was about to vanish from my side.

And from then, we tried to make it right, we tried so hard, because it seemed so easy to make it wrong again.

Everytime we stood too close, everytime he leaned on to whisper something, everytime I helped him with his tie, our eyes would fall on each other's lips; I would sometimes drift off the conversation, staring too much at his mouth and hands, wandering if they would feel just as amazing as they had done while we were drunk.

"Y/n are you listening?"

"Uh yeah- I mean, no- sorry, what?"

I was so focused on trying to hide it that I didn't notice George was in the exact same situation, meaning that neither of us could give in, because we would go down together. In all honesty, it was doomed to happen at some point, we were just delaying the inevitable.

The moment came the last night of January, when George showed up in my room due to a really rough nightmare, and I, as always, invited him in so we could lay down together.

"Isn't this... Weird?" He murmured as we scooted closer. We had kept physical contact at bay for obvious reasons, and cuddling had been off the table since New Year.

"It doesn't have to be." I replied, my voice as quiet as his. "We've done this a thousand times."

"Right." He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from mines as we shifted in our places ever so slightly, trying to find a position where the situation turned less awkward.

And it happened, my mind got lost on the way his neck tensed, on the damp locks hanging over his forehead, sweaty due to the nightmare; on his plump lips, which he had just wetted with his tongue in the most subtle way. It was a nervous habit of him, something he would usually do, but that didn't make it any less hot.

"George..." I called his name without noticing, my heart hammering violently against my chest when his gaze landed on my eyes, quickly falling on my lips.

The next thing I knew was that he was holding my thigh over his hip, his other hand on the back of my neck while we shared a hungry kiss that, as soon as my hips involuntarily rocked against his, turned into something more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The next morning we swore to each other that it was just another accident, that it would happen again.

And the next one too.

And the following.

The fifth time that happened, we agreed to call the situation a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing, well aware that it was an euphemism for the downfall of our friendship.

I had longed to be hers for so long, and it that moment, as I lay by her side in her bed, that wish seemed so close yet so far; I could reach out and my fingertips would touch her skin, yet I had never felt that distant towards her.

The moment my eyes were averted from her form, her gaze was laid on me. "You don't have to go."

"I know." I replied in a mumble, already sitting up and reaching for my pants. "But soon we'll have to get up, so I might as well do that and let you sleep." I didn't want to turn around, I didn't want to see her beautiful irises pleading for me to stay by her side, because I knew I would.

I saw on my peripheral vision her fingers attempting to carefully wrap around my wrist, and I was quick to stand up and walk to the door; sadly, I did not miss Y/n burying her face into the pillow, her hands fisting on the fabric ever so subtly.

She tried to hide her tears like that, and I agressively wiped mines as soon as I reached the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morning, lady!" I light-heartedly greeted Y/n without turning my back to the making of our breakfast when I heard the steps approaching the kitchen.

In the morning it was easier to pretend everything was back to normal; usually, the refreshing sunlight and the drowsiness provided by a night of sleep were enough to wash away the sad truth of our relationship.

"Good morning, sir." She responded with a yawn, rubbing her eyes as she walked to stand besides me, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. "Smells good." She commented, leaning on to take a peek at the scrambled eggs.

I was about to make a cocky, playful comment when it dawned on me what she was wearing; it was my jumper, one of the old ones that I exclusively used for pyjamas.

I knew she didn't do it intently; I had left it on the floor the previous night, and it was probably the first thing she grabbed, but it struck a nerve.

I had seen a similar scene way too many times before; a sleepy, dishevelled Y/n entering the kitchen with an ugly Weasley jumper as only clothing, ready to start the bickering with an almost identical version of me who would be making breakfast.

My head then travelled to the thought that lately crossed my mind more often than not and my heart clenched; In Y/n's eyes, I was, most likely, just a poor replacement for Fred.

"You alright?" That worried furrow appeared between her brows too often lately. We were both walking on eggshells, and it got me on my nerves.

"You don't have to ask if I'm alright every time I'm quiet." I hadn't meant it to come out harsh or curt, but it definitely did.

"You're not quiet, you're overthinking." She responded with a tinge of hostility.

"What's to overthink?" I fought the need to raise my voice.

"Dunno, you tell me." She squinted her eyes with a scrutinising gaze directed to me.

"Can we not do this?" I almost pleaded; heated arguments had become a usual thing between us —yet another sign of the unfixable problem we refused to address.

Y/n was about to reply something that would lead us into a fight when the doorbell rung. "Mister Weasley?" I took that as a cue to go open the door to Verity, already dressed on her uniform. "The Valentine's Day products arrived, should I unpack them or..." Her eyes flickered behind me and her cheeks heated up. "Y/n—" When I looked over my shoulder, I felt my own face flushing out of embarrassment. Y/n was still my employee and Fred's ex, so Verity catching a glimpse of her dressed in my jumper wasn't the best thing for any of us. "I— am I— sorry, am I interrupting?"

"You're not interrupting." I assured her with a reassuring smile. "Leave the boxes on the puking pastries section, we'll be down in ten."

"Alright, sir." Her curious gaze travelled to Y/n one last time, and with that, she was rushing back down to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The ache that had appeared on my chest the day after New Year would end up killing me, or at least it felt like that.

I had a dreadful gut feeling of knowing what caused that pain, but my mind refused to believe it was that, and kept pushing the sensation back into my heart day by day.

George had gone to relocate the puking pastries in the upper level of the shop so I could prepare the section with the Valentine's Day products.

My eyes dawned on the small packages of Amortentia. I knew it was a terrible idea but I needed to know.

I took a look around, making sure Verity wasn't near and George was up still, and brought one of the Amortentias under my nose. It didn't take long for the scents to besot me, and I had to put all my will on not to fall under the potion's spell.

The first smell to reach my nostrils was gunpowder; my heart skipped a bit when the next scent was vanilla.

Then strawberry and chocolate; candy floss cupcakes and George's cologne.

The tiny, heart-shaped bottle fell from my hands, scattering all over the shop's floor. "Shit!" I rapidly kneeled to pick the shattered glass when I realized it had echoed in the empty establishment.

"Oi! What was that?" George descended from the second floor, using the ladder. "Oh shit—" his hands took a hold on my bicep and pulled me away from the pool of pinkish pearl liquid that seemed to be attracting me. "Don't!" He warned Verity, who had attempted to jog in the potion's direction too. "Verity, can you bring me my wand?" The girl complied running up to the office.

In Verity's absence, George took the chance and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to check my eyes. "You alright?" I managed to give him a slow nod, my mind buzzing with the newly acquired information. "Getting the Amortentias was a bad idea, wasn't it?" I nodded again, producing a frown between his eyebrows. "No 'told you so'? Are you sure you're alright?" He chuckled nervously, his hands falling to his sides right in time for Verity to rush back to us.

"Here, Mister Weasley!"

"Thank you, darling." He politely replied, taking the wand and restoring the potion bottle in a swift movement. His eyes peeked at me again; I could see the worry growing on him. "Y/n-"

"I'm gonna go wash my face." The words hastily left my mouth before I dashed off to the restroom.

I closed the door behind me and took a look at the mirror; my pupils were blown and my cheeks pink. I ran the tab and splashed the water on my face a few times until the potion's mild effect was gone and my mind clear.

It was in that moment that it dawned on me that I was in love with George Weasley.

[victorianoruben]

{Untitled yet}

Ruvik X F!Reader

Chapter 1

Warning: none, I guess?

Written by: me and @another-bryk-in-the-wall

(thanks to my best friend for beta-reading it!)

Sometimes the hours are blurring together on nightshifts. Sometimes they are extremely stressful. Emergencies where there are only two people on a shift.

Other times you have 6 hours of complete rest and boredom.

That day it was the latter.

You haven't been working here for long and already find this hospital to be “different from others".

Many employees were emotionally cold and absolutely not interested in anyone, while just some liked to make jokes with you and treated you like a normal person. Also, the whole atmosphere here seemed very private. There weren’t too many patients who were going out of their way to socialize or make friends inside of the hospital. Hell, most didn’t even leave their rooms.

You sat bored in the lounge with your mobile phone in hand until you suddenly heard footsteps. They reverberated eerily in the long hallway and you turned to face that direction, startled. It was rare that anyone was wandering the halls this late at night. You saw a man in a tight red uniform aiming to walk past you, not even acknowledging your presence.

Only when you took a closer look at him, did you notice his burn scars. They were covering half of his face. When he noticed that you were looking at him from head to toe you decided to greet him, instead of just awkwardly staring at him. A relatively meek "Good evening, Sir" came out of you. You felt very overwhelmed by his dominant presence, which intimidated you a bit. That feeling only worsened when you let your eyes wander to the top of his head... Was that his brain surrounded by glass? No, that couldn't be. You were surely imagining things. But, what if you weren’t. Oh god damn it, what had he been through?

He emanated a unique self-confidence unlike anything you had ever seen in anyone with facial scarring. Usually patients like that were unsure and shy, afraid of being judged over something they had no control over. Human beings could be downright nasty to anyone with a scarred face. Something about facial scars disgusted people and the victims could clearly feel the contempt of others and as a result, they tended to lose all confidence.

This man, however, seemed to practically ooze confidence, which you respected and you caught yourself of being fascinated by or more like interested in his presence. You felt how your heartbeat rose from 0 to 100 when you both made eye contact, though you tried all your best to keep yourself collected and professionally polite. But that didn't work that easily.

"Good evening.", the man replied, his face completely blank and his voice monotone. He was just looking at you without a friendly gesture, without a smile. The man was simply studying your appearance as well. One of the many abilities he gained over the years was that he could read people like an open book, left open for him to peak in. Someone had longer fingernails on their right hand and short on the left? Guitar player who doesn't want to destroy the neck of said guitar. Some dog owners always carried treats with them, even if the dog wasn’t coming along. All those little clues told him enough about a person before they even spoke their first sentence.

But you. He couldn't read you yet, and this peaked his interest.

You hadn't been here for a long time, because he knew all the long-term workers and their darkest secrets.

"Are you busy right now?", the man pointedly looked at the phone in your hand, currently playing a silly cat video. Truth be told, he enjoyed that kind of content, but would he ad this? Never. Absolutely never. He would rather get the other side of his brain exposed than to admit that he liked cat videos.

"I need some help with my studies. Care to join me?", that was a big lie but he was curious -

Who were you and why did you peak his interest more than the average nurse in here? He'd find out soon enough.

Only now did you wonder what he was even doing here during these late hours. He didn’t look like a doctor. Was he a lab assistant? He certainly looked like some sort of scientist.

Pressing your lips in a thin line with a weak smile you put my phone in your pocket and nodded, slightly mortified that he had caught you watching cat videos of all things. It surely didn’t look professional.

"No, I'm not really busy. I’m just having a long boring night- I mean, not that I’m complaining... I wouldn't wish for emergencies either. So, yeah… I’d be glad to help you," You fumbled a little over your words, still slightly unsettled by his presence.

You’d do nearly anything to escape the boredom of a quiet nightshift, though. And you weren’t really worried about him being some kind of serial killer. Sure, your colleagues were weird, but they weren’t really the kind of people to chop you to pieces and bury you in the closest forest. Weird didn’t equal serial killer. Besides, you were curious about the man.

You were walking next to each other in silence that was quickly going growing awkward. Nervously you were fumbling with your hands in your smock overall, thinking of starting any conversation just to get out of this uncomfortable silence.

"I've never seen you before. I'm still pretty new here. Do you work here as a laboratory or doctor assistant? Also, with many nightshifts? Is that really that common in this mental hospital? " You had narrowed your eyes questioningly when you looked up to him. By reading his facial expressions it didn't seem like he liked to answer you. His forehead was wrinkling in silent contemplation, which made you suspicious. It was unusual to have an assistant running around here so late at night.

Maybe you weren’t so far of with the serial killer suspicions. You actually contemplated hightailing out of there.

'Quick, think of an answer. She is just a pretty and naive nurse'

But even a little slip up could cost his head. He could tell by her tensing posture that she was seconds away from fleeing the scene.

‘That could end badly’

"I mostly work nights," he tried to keep his answers short and to the point. Laying on a confidence in his answer that he didn’t actually feel. He made sure to look her in the eye shortly and casually avert his gaze back to the hallway. If he didn’t look her in the eyes at all he would look like a liar and if he stared at her too much he’d look like one too. It was a delicate balance, that he had mastered over the years "That is because the nights are quieter and I can focus on the patients better this way."

You took a glance at him, still wondering about what his actual job was. His answer was too vague for your taste. But the curiosity was still grown inside of you.

You had decided to work in a mental hospital because the human psyche had always been kind of a mystery to you. Mental illnesses were both fascinating and tragic in your eyes. The mind was even more delicate than the body, in your eyes. It was so easy to break and healing it was a true challenge. It was your goal to help people with mental illnesses like depressions, dissociative disorders and PTDS.

So, you really wanted to know what this scientist - or whatever - was working on.

You both arrived at the door to his office. You signed an NDA before, but who knew what could happened once you opened mouth. He didn't trust anyone in this damn hospital.

"Do not be surprised by the sight in front of you once I open this door. All I am asking you is to check the vitals of the patients in the bathtubs. I want to make sure they are doing well but I am not entirely sure how to do that.", he lied through his teeth, ready to push you into one of the bathtubs once the chance was there.

Or could you be useful to him in the near future?

When you entered his so-called office after his warning you had expected anything - but that!

Never in your life had you seen a machine this far developed... It looked like something directly taken out of a science-fiction movie. The construction filled the whole room. There were wires everywhere, all connecting to a weird sphere in the middle of the room. Completely gob-smacked by the strange… whatever that was you took a while to take notice of the bathtubs. When you did, though you froze up immediately. There were people - no patients - in lying in the bathtubs, connected to the cables, which were attached to the back of their necks.

Like a statue you stood there for at least 20 seconds. Staring at one patient, you slowly went to him just to check his state. Curious to see if he was aware of his surroundings or if he was unconscious – maybe asleep . What was this system?

Could that reach possibilities to help several people out of mental illnesses or was this just a machine designed from a psychopath just for his own use?

And why would he need help from just a nurse like you?

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Looking at this huge thing… I highly doubt that you don’t know how to check vital signs ", you shook your head and crossed your arms, taking several steps back, out of his direct reach. No way would you let him put you into one of these tubs!

You really wanted to run away and never go to the hospital again.

"So, tell me. What do you really want from me? Do you expect me to go into one of the bathtubs? Gotta tell you, that’s not gonna happen. I mean... not to sound judgmental. Because technically this could be something to help our patients. But I gotta tell you, this,“ You gestured towards the patient that was laying in the tub right in front of you, “looks quite suspicious and not very save. I hope the patients volunteered for this, because if they didn’t I have to report this. Don’t get me wrong, you seem to be quite intelligent and this looks interesting, but I cannot allow something like this to continue without - "

"- You are annoying. All I want you is to check the vitals of the patients and you are throwing a whole speech at me.", he shot back, not amused with your behavior.

"I am a scientist, not one of your doctors. What I am doing here could change the world forever. It is a system which helps people with heavy trauma to forge new memories and get rid of the trauma. Do you understand me?", the scientist continued to spit out. There was a look of passion in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. They had looked quite dull and emotionless up to this point. It was clear to you that he truly cared about that project of his.

What you weren’t aware of was that the man had a plan. He'd snow you . Make you feel comfortable. And then, he'd put you in the bathtub too. The next one on his list would be Tatjana from the reception area. And then it was your turn.

What even was your name? He chanced a quick glance of your name tag, just enough to read "(Y/N)" on it.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). This is a top-secret project. If I find out you talked about it outside of this room, I will make sure you suffer great consequences. And trust me, I have my eyes and ears everywhere. Now go and check on the rest of these people before I get angry. Then, you may leave."

Author's Note:

I'm still unsure if I keep making this as a slow-burn whole Fanfiction or just cut the whole thing I'm planing into single parts like One-Shots