#I KNOW ITS A RUSE AND HE'S LYING THROUGH HIS TEETH BUT STILL...

[todayisafridaynight]

arakawa's interchangeability between calling sawashiro 'jo' and 'sawashiro' makes me loco cause i cant really discern when he decides to refer to him as one or the other. except i can.

when it comes to 'professional' matters (i.e. explaining the 'arakawa party' to ichi and explaining the coup against aoki) he refers to him as 'sawashiro'

alternatively, when speaking directly to him and personal matters (i.e. asking ichiban for the two of them to get along) he calls him 'jo' (this literally the same scene as the 'arakawa party' bye you might be able to argue this can be a professional matter too tbh ngl--)

so when arakawa calls sawashiro 'jo' while explaining The Murder to ichi on new years day bitch im going to eat dry wall

[kakaxhi]

Kotaro Bokuto | Us, Always

Pairing: Kotaro Bokuto x Fem!Reader (college au!)

Summary: when Bokuto finds out your ex is pestering you, his immediate response is to pretend to be your boyfriend

Warnings: mild language, creepy exes

Word Count: 1.9k

Your morning was already ruined before they showed up.

As hard as you tried to ignore your ex, they were insistent on talking to you despite you politely - and sometimes not-so-politely - told them to leave you alone. It was a messy break up and they couldn’t get the message that you wanted nothing to do with them.

“I know you have a few minutes before your next class. Let me say something, please?”

“I really don’t have anything to say to you, as I’ve said multiple times. Please just leave me alone.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned around only to be stopped by their hand holding onto your wrist. The way their hand felt on your skin made you want to curl into yourself. Just before you could say something, another hand came into view.

“Hey, hey, hey! We got a problem here? Don’t bother lying, because I know for a fact [Y/N] has asked you to leave her alone.”

Your ex glared at Bokuto before taking off, but not before glancing at you once more. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding before turning towards Bokuto. You bowed respectively as you thanked him.

“You really didn’t have to get involved though, they usually stray away after awhile.”

“I could see how uncomfortable you were. Ah, I hope I didn’t make you more nervous by knowing your name. We’re in the next class together and I’ve heard you with your friends. I’m Bokuto Kotaro.”

You smiled, a small laugh escaping you, “I know, I’ve been to a few games since one of my friends is on the team with you.”

Bokuto smiled, “Really? Well now I’ll be sure to look for a familiar face in the crowd.”

He motioned for you to follow him, walking with each other to your next class. The conversation continued before class started, Bokuto giving you a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t you meet me after classes are over? I’d love to get to know you better.”

-

“Is your ex still bothering you?”

You nodded, “Yeah, every time you’re not around.”

Bokuto frowned, playing with the hem of his shirt. Once the two of you got to know each other better, you gave him details here and there of your past relationship and your ex. With the more information he received, Bokuto liked your ex less and less. Something about them just irked him, adding onto the fact he hated how they treated you.

“Well, I have an idea. It’s up to you if you want to go through with it.”

“Well, let’s here it.”

“What if we went out?”

You sputtered on your drink, covering your mouth before the liquid went everywhere. Bokuto rushed to help, rubbing your back as he handed you some napkins.

“Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you coughed, “just didn’t expect that. What do you mean go out?”

Bokuto sat back down, “I meant like fake dating. You said your ex only stays away when I’m around, so maybe if they get the idea you’re with me they’ll leave you alone.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position or anything.”

“It was my idea. If anything, I’m tired of them making you uncomfortable. I wanna help.”

“How about I think about it?”

He nodded, “Sure, just know I’m always here. Whatever you need.”

You quickly shoved the butterflies in your stomach away.

-

It was at Bokuto’s next practice game where you agreed. Your ex had been pestering you more when you weren’t with Bokuto and the day just really got on your nerves. Walking into the gym, you found Bokuto and waited for him to notice you by the bleachers. He waved excitedly before excusing himself from the conversation he was having before coming over to meet you.

“Hey gorgeous, what are you doing here?”

You sighed, playing with your fingers nervously, “That plan we discussed the other day? Is that still an option?”

Bokuto pondered for a moment before nodding quickly, “Yeah, of course. Fuck, you look so stressed out. What happened?”

“It’s just been a really long and difficult day.”

He nodded in understanding before pulling you into his arms. Your own circled his middle, hiding your face in his chest. He smiled, giving you a quick squeeze before pulling away.

“Practice is going to start soon. Why don’t you stay and watch and then I’ll walk you back to your dorm? We can discuss things further.”

You nodded, “Sure. Thanks, Bokuto.”

He gave you a sweet smile, “Anything for you.”

He sent a wink your way before jogging back out to the gym floor. You sat on the bleachers, eyes widening every time he hit the ball. Even if you didn’t know the sport well, it was clear Bokuto would make it very far if went professional.

After practice, Bokuto came over to you. He wiped his brow with a small towel, grabbing his water bottle.

“I’m gonna take a fast shower and then we can leave. I can have one of the guys sit out here with you if you want.”

“No, it’s okay. They’re probably all tired. I’m fine, promise.”

He squeezed your hand as he stood, “If you’re sure. My phone’s in my bag if you need something. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

True to his word, Bokuto was out of the shower quickly, his hair still slightly wet when he came out to meet with you. You followed him out the door, laughter filling the air around you as he told you a story from his past.

“You’ll have to meet Akaashi sometime. I think you two would really get along.”

You smiled, “Yeah? Well, maybe we can arrange it. Oh, turn here. My building’s around the corner.”

Bokuto followed you up to your room, glancing around at the little things you had laying around. He stood in the doorway awkwardly as you moved some things around.

“You can sit wherever, my roommate spends most of her time at her boyfriend’s place so we have no interruptions.”

He nodded, placing his gym bag down and sitting besides you. It didn’t take long for the two of you to discuss the plan and whatever boundaries you wanted to have. Bokuto was an absolute sweetheart, as you’ve come to know, and wanted to make sure you were happy with everything.

“Maybe you could come to my games too? I mean, not just for this plan but I genuinely enjoyed having you there tonight.”

“I’ll be there.”

-

You didn’t miss the way people looked at you and Bokuto the next day. People were jealous of both you and it honestly was a bit overwhelming. Bokuto squeezed your hand, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Ignore them, they’re just mad. Whatever they’re saying or thinking means nothing.”

You leaned into him more, your free hand resting against his arm. A triumphant smile made its way to your lips when you spotted your ex looking at the two of you, and you knew the plan was working.

Bokuto stopped in front of your first class, thumb brushing against your cheek once you lifted off of him.

“I’ll see you later, okay baby?”

You nodded, smiling as he planted a kiss to your cheek. His hand slowly left your waist, a smile resting on his lips before going to his own class.

Once again, you pushed the butterflies away, reminding yourself this was all fake.

-

Your plan with Bokuto went on for another month before your ex confronted you both. Bokuto treated you to a date after a hard week of classes and practice. Fake or not, he wanted to treat you well. As the two of you were talking, Bokuto quickly got up from his seat once your ex started walking towards you.

“Seriously? This is getting out of-“

“You don’t shut up do you? I’m here to talk to [Y/N].”

You rolled your eyes, “What could you possibly want now?”

“You’re not actually dating him, are you?”

Your heart started racing, panic rising in your veins, “Uh, yes we are? Are you that dense?”

“Really? Then how come I’ve never once see you two kiss? Is this all a ruse to make me jealous or something?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose before standing, “I don’t know how many time I need to tell you, but I want nothing to do with you. Whether I’m with Kotaro or not is none of your business.”

Bokuto smiled at the mention of his first name, something he wanted to hear you say over and over. He maneuvered his arms around your waist, holding you as he glared at your ex.

“Fine, kiss him and I’ll believe you.”

“Or I could just knock you on your fucking ass and call it a day.”

You shook your head, knowing if he got into a fight he wouldn’t be able to play the big game coming up. Turning around, you face him with a sweet smile.

“It’s fine, Ko. If it’ll get them to leave us alone.”

Bokuto checked to see if there was any signs of you being uncomfortable before he leaned in. Your hands gripped onto his dress shirt as your lips pressed to his. His nose gently rubbed against your own before deepening the kiss. Teeth nipped at your bottom lip before he pulled away, chuckling at your ex’s retreating figure.

“Serves them right. So, are you okay after all that.”

You nodded, “Just glad to have you with me.”

-

Things changed between you and Bokuto after that. It was a few days later when he found himself outside your dorm. You had no afternoon classes that day and he didn’t want to wait until later to see you. He knocked on your door, a soft smiling pulling on his lips when he saw you.

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

You welcomed him in, shutting the door behind you once he was settled. You could see the stress on his features, even as he tried to hide it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this fake dating thing with you anymore.”

You nodded, “I figured as much. You’ve been avoiding me, I figured I did something to upset you.”

Bokuto stood, placing his fingers under your chin, “You did nothing wrong, I don’t think you understand me. I can’t do this fake dating, but I want to date you for real.”

“Scared me, thought you didn’t want to be around me anymore.”

He chuckled, his arms encircling you, “Sorry, you’re stuck with me. I mean, if you want me around that is.”

You nodded, “As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

Bokuto smiled, “So, does this mean I can take you on a proper date now? Make you mine?”

You chuckled, “Yes, of course.”

“Well that’s good,” Bokuto bent down to kiss you, “because you had my heart from the day I met you.”

The butterflies in your stomach told you, you felt the same way.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 16

<- Part 15 | Part 17 ->

Summary: A flirtatious moment in the hospital garden turns sour. 

Warnings: Brief nsfw themes, injury-recovery angst, post-traumatic stress/flashbacks, graphic past injuries, KISSING, hurt/comfort. Love and fluff. 

3,700 words

After being gutted left him with a limp, a cane, and an overbearing sense of weakness, Frederick Chilton began copying Hannibal Lecter. His patterned suits, his clean-shaven face. The mimicry wasn’t deliberate exactly, but he looked to a man who radiated calm dignity and strength, and tried to capture some of it for his own.

It didn’t work. Frederick Chilton was still Frederick Chilton.

But shaving the beard did make him look younger. The razor glided over his smooth cheek as he cut through the facial hair that had grown unruly in the hospital. A new man stared back at him. One not traumatized by Gideon’s knife.

Only a few months later, he was shot in the face, and let the stubble grow back to distract from the scar. To obscure the hollowing where maxillary bone was missing. Like a chameleon, Frederick was always changing—hairstyles, wardrobes, colognes—always imitating someone, drawing the eye away from a flaw, never comfortable with himself. Ever improving. Refining. Hiding.

Every day, the burn ward’s physical therapists had him using one exercise machine or another. A pedaling machine lowered over his bed so he could build muscle while lying on his back before he was able to walk. The next step was a tall, rolling frame that he strapped into like a fighter pilot hanging from a parachute harness, which allowed him to take a few weightless steps. His legs shook. His feet did not know how to align themselves on the ground anymore. He hissed curses when you cheered him on just for shuffling one foot forward along the smooth grey linoleum.

One damned foot.

As if he couldn’t walk before. As if one shaking, machine-assisted step was an accomplishment. He was an overgrown baby in a Jumperoo.

While he could not walk on his own yet, he could get into and out of a wheelchair without screaming bloody murder. This allowed him a new level of freedom, if not autonomy. He still required two nurses to lower him into the chair. Still needed help getting to the bathroom. But he could at least use the bathroom instead of a bedpan and catheter.

Healing came at a cost.

Until now, he had caught flashes of his reflection in polished surfaces. Warped teeth in a metal IV pole. The fuzzy silhouette of a mask in the black of his computer screen.

He stood with his hands on the bathroom sink, staring. The nurse at his left elbow tugged him, told him it was time to sit back down in the chair. He needed support to stand, a babysitter to ensure he didn’t fall, and she was tired of waiting.

The thing staring back at him did not move.

When he took the compression mask off for the one hour per day he was allowed to remove it for cleaning, he somehow expected to find his own face beneath it. Skin. What he saw was a stranger. Gnarled scars made an uneven backdrop for one dead blue eye and a skeletal grimace. His own bones were buried somewhere underneath like bedrock, but the flesh was rearranged and distorted.

If he had met this man a year ago, Dr. Chilton would have felt inward pride at his ability not to sicken at the sight. He would have shaken his hand with a smug, professional detachment that said, “I am accustomed to horrific things in my line of work—abnormal psychiatry. This does not shock me as it would a layperson.”

He was a creature to be pitied.

Then a familiar reflection appeared out of the blind spot of his left side. Your image wrapped its hand behind the broken stranger, and he felt it land on his lower back. Warm. Comforting as your face, which was knit with worry. You told the nurse you could handle it from here, and she retreated out to his room.

When she was gone, Frederick began to laugh, dark and cruel, eyes never leaving the matching set staring cruelly back.

“What is it?” you asked, tightening your grip on his arm as he began to tremble.

“Do you think I look younger without a beard?”

The laugh cracked in his throat. His shoulders heaved as he finally looked away. It was too embarrassing to watch a grown man cry.

***

The heat of July was not easy on a body that could no longer sweat and was covered head to toe in a compression suit, but Frederick Chilton was thrilled to be outside. As the automatic sliding doors opened, he breathed in deeply through the nose and exhaled the spinning summer fragrances with a blissful sigh.

You resisted the urge to tease him. Of the pair, you were the more outdoorsy by far, and the last time you dragged him camping, he’d managed to complain the entire two days. He was not, generally, one to appreciate sunshine and birdsong. But this was different.

It was his first time away from the lifeless hospital air—the same smells day after day—in four months.

Now a breeze hit his face—a breeze! He had forgotten what that felt like—and brought with it the smell of cut grass and flowers, and exhaust fumes from the nearby roadways. The scent of gasoline urged his stomach to wring itself empty, but it was faint and easy enough to shake off as sparrows chirped and flitted about the hospital’s “meditation garden.”

Gently curving paths snaked through the landscaping of lush greenery and small trees. Few flowers were planted, out of respect for patients with allergies, but a fountain at the center babbled soothingly. The walkways were wide and smoothly paved, so the grey wheels of the hospital-issue wheelchair rolled over them easily, performing their function despite being over-worked and worn down, not unlike the staff. The black rubber handle grips had a dull patina from hundreds of hands, yours being the latest to circle around them as you pushed.

It was nice to have a private courtyard to enjoy the fresh air without the eyes of the general public watching.

Frederick was able to wear clothes from home now, but they had to be loose-fitting and short-sleeved to not interfere with his treatment. In a navy polo shirt and athletic shorts, he felt horrifically under-dressed, and did not want to be seen that way. The fashion crime was almost as bad as the face he could not bear looking at.

An elderly patient and what appeared to be her adult daughter sat on one of the benches between two daylily patches, blooming garishly cheerful red and gold. The daughter looked up, and Chilton looked away.

“You are certain you checked the bedroom closet? Left-hand side, second drawer to the bottom?” he asked again, agitation rising.

He was looking for the more fashionable Chino shorts he rarely wore, preferring to overheat in long pants than expose his pale, door-knob knees to imagined ridicule. You told him the housekeeper must have misplaced them.

He clenched his fist as tightly as the pink, shiny-scarred claw could manage and went on a gruff, impotent rant about the help growing careless without him to keep them in check. (If anything, the “help” were desperate to keep you in check without him there to manage your habit of leaving everything out—your clothes on a chair, the cereal box on the counter.)

“I know, I know. Awful,” you nodded along to the music of his words, if not the lyrics. You wished he would change the subject, but he pressed on with his investigation of the Case of the Missing Shorts.

“Mrs. Pérez brought a load of laundry down from the bedroom last Wednesday,” he noted. Frederick had taken to watching the security feeds remotely from his laptop. “Has she been using the cheap dry cleaner on Cherry Street instead of the good one so she can skim the difference? I have explicitly instructed the staff not to use them—they have lost or ruined several articles over the years. Inform Mrs. Pérez that I will not stand for lazy—what?”

Your tense smile began emanating a tenser whine.

It was rather suspicious.

Frederick watched you for a moment, puzzled, and then resumed, “The new security guard shares my pant size. Perhaps—”

“I DID IT. I brought them to Good Will.”

“You what?!”

Clicking the wheelchair brake, you doubled over the back of it, laughing at your childish ruse and how seriously Frederick had taken it. God, the man could never let anything go! “Over a year ago! You never wore them!”

“Come here.” His clipped tone did not invite argument.

You walked around to the front of his chair, the repentant pout on your face strongly undermined by rounded cheeks that were barely holding back a chuckle.

He growled with affectionate anger—the kind where he wanted to grab behind your knees and pull you into his lap, telling you with a low purr exactly how much trouble you were in. Except at the moment, your weight crashing onto his skinny, bony lap would have bruised a femur and torn five stitches. And if he was not confident enough for a kiss, he was in no condition to promise punishments of that nature.

So he gave your rump a sharp smack and tried to make his mouth smirk in that playfully disdainful way that said, “I love you, but I am going to kill you. You know that, right?” Sometimes wanting to kill someone can be such a personal, intimate love language.

“Doctor Chilton!” you gasped, feigning shock. “Such a naughty patient. I have told you time and again, this is simply unprofessional.”

The old woman and daughter had moved on, leaving you alone in the garden.

He let out a soft huff of amusement, catching on to the new game you were playing. Back when he was the administrator of the BSHCI, you would often saunter into his office playing the oversexed patient to his sleazy therapist. Now the roles were reversed.

“You protest,” he said in a low, lecherous tone, “and yet you continue to lavish extra attention on me. Do not think I have not noticed.”

“I don’t know what you could mean,” you deflected coyly. “Please keep your hands to yourself, sir.”

He grabbed your hand and spun you to face him, skeletal fingers interlocking with yours. Even through the compression glove, you could feel how skinny they had become, knobby knuckles protruding.

“Doctor,” he corrected.

You swallowed. “Doctor.”

“Why deny it? You guard all my treatments for yourself like a prize when other nurses could do it. You crawl into my bed to warm me with your body heat—hardly standard practice. I think you like the attention,” he said, giving your ass another lurid slap.

“D-Doctor! I’m not supposed to—we’re not supposed to…”

“If you worked at my hospital, I would fire you for such fraternization. Yet you call me unprofessional.” His hand still rested on your ass.

“You would fire me, doctor? Why fire me when there is so much I could offer?”

“And what is it you would offer me?” he asked, voice thick with meaning. His fingers kneaded the fat of your ass gently. It would have been harder, more possessive, if his hands were at full strength.

Not long ago, getting an erection had been painful, though he’d had several corrective surgeries since then, and the grafting had time to heal. Perhaps the sunlight was sparking him back to life. He was in a flirtatious mood—more excited than you’d seen him in a long time, and you were not about to tell him to slow down.

“Anything you want, doctor.” You lowered yourself in front of his chair, kneeling between his legs and looking up at him expectantly.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

No one else was in the garden, and statues and shrubberies hid it from the road, but it was not entirely private. Anyone could walk in or see from a window of the tall buildings. You were just pretending. You weren’t going to slip his cock out right there and suck it for all the world to see. And yet… it had been so long. The thought of your moist lips closing over his lonely, aching hardness, your head bobbing in his lap…

“You… are fascinated with me, nurse,” he observed, licking his non-lips. His composure was holding, but barely. “You have seen many patients, but never one as badly burned, have you?”

“No.”

“Does it excite you?”

You took a moment before answering. Part of him resented you for still finding him attractive. At his lowest, he even blamed you for wanting these brutal injuries to happen. A bird sang a few metallic notes on a nearby branch before fluttering down to drink from the fountain. You stroked the top of his narrow thighs, careful not to push too far by going near his cock, but he showed no sign of hesitation today. The heat in his eyes as he watched you was not accusing, but hungry.

“Yes,” you panted. “You are striking. I’ve never met anyone so strong, so resilient.”

“Do you dream of kissing me? Your most striking patient?”

“Yes.”

The sun beat down hotter, but it was only your own internal temperature rising. The birds seemed to pause in their songs, and the leaves on the trees ceased to flutter.

You had waited so long—was he really asking?

His gloved hand reached down between his legs, and nailless pink fingertips stroked the side of your face thoughtfully a few times. Then he motioned you to get up off your knees, offering his hand as a symbolic gesture only. You put some of your weight on the padded rubber armrest as you stood.

“It will not be pleasant. For either party, I imagine,” he said, breaking character.

“It will be for me.” Your voice was soft.

“I do not know what to do like this. Mash my teeth against your face?”

You laughed a little. It was probably more nuanced than that, but that sounded basically accurate. “We’ll find out together.”

He looked off into the distance, toward the humming road weaving through the city. A warm breeze brought the smell of sea off the harbor: salty, humid, and stagnant with rotted fish and garbage. “The memory of your lips against mine is already fading,” he said. “That memory is all I have left of them. Whatever this will be, it will not feel the same.”

“I know.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. The dark blue polo was informal for his old life, but the woven cotton texture was rich compared to the thin hospital gowns you were used to him wearing. The last kiss you shared with Frederick was preserved behind a glass display case in your memory palace. A new kiss might break the hermetic seal. You could forget what it felt like to kiss him before. But it seemed worth the price to build new memories—a future just as full of love as the past.

He looked up at you like a broken ceramic being pieced back together with gold. His eyes shone with love, but his shoulders were slumped low.

“You may say I’m a slutty nurse for wanting to kiss my patient, but you’re to blame!” you said, playing the game again. “How could I resist your charm? I bet you seduce every nurse—I’m only your latest conquest!”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“No, my dear,” he purred, grabbing your arm and pulling you down to him until your face was inches from his. “Only you. I only want you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathed in. He nodded.

You leaned the final inch down, and pressed your lips to his teeth.

The Red Dragon’s teeth sunk through flesh and tore deep. Coppery blood flooded his mouth, the taste so metallic and strong it drowned out almost everything else out—the pain, the unnatural tearing, little pops of veins, ligaments, and muscles stretching to their limits before giving up, his own screams. The truth of his face with all its illusions of grandeur was revealed before him: it was just meat. Nothing but raw, shredded meat.

“NO!” he screamed, and pushed you hard.

It was different than the peevish denials other times you’d tried to kiss. He pushed you away with so much force you staggered backward, and his wheelchair nearly tipped over. It reared on two wheels like a panicked horse and would have fallen except the worn brake gave way, and he shot backward several feet until the vacant bench stopped the chair’s momentum.

“No, no! Get away! No!” he begged no one, shaking and thrashing so violently he risked ripping his healing scars.

His back, legs, and arms were glued to the wheelchair, and he couldn’t escape. No—could have if he were desperate enough, strong enough. But he was terrified of ripping his skin off. The thought made him break out in a cold sweat and made it difficult to think straight. Dear god, he was afraid something happened to his back. Of being disfigured again.

He was afraid to die, but he dreaded even more the thought of surviving yet again to find another piece taken from him.

Not another. Not again.

If he cooperated, he had to be spared this time. He would cooperate. Do everything The Red Dragon said, and fate would be merciful. He had to go home. He had to go home. To see you again. It was not fair that he survived two attempts on his life only to die here. It was not fair! He was going to get married to the love of his life. Things were finally going right. The Dragon’s shadow fell over him. The acrid stench of his breath as he leaned down toward Frederick’s mouth—

“Frederick!”

You ran after him and tried to restrain him before he climbed out of the wheelchair and fell to the pavement, but it only made him struggle harder. Fuck. You weren’t sure if touching him again was a good idea, but you didn’t know what else to do. He was going to hurt himself.

“Shh, I’m here.”

Crouching next to him, you tried to keep him seated, murmuring soft, reassuring words. Eventually, he stopped thrashing to escape, his jerking limbs resigning themselves to passive trembling. His eyes were open, but they didn’t see you. They didn’t see anything but a dark room with a flickering projector.

You laid your head on his lap. “I’m right here. It’s OK. You’re safe, Frederick. You’re safe. Shh, shh...”

It took several minutes, but his breathing began to slow, and he began to calm down. His fingers found your hair and stroked it, mindlessly running over the contour of your scalp. Familiarity. Recognizing you, he grasped at your shirt to draw you closer, clutching you like a teddy bear to his chest. It was an awkward angle, but you shifted so your butt was partially supported by the bench he’d crashed into, and used the chair’s armrest to hold yourself in the bent position. Frankly, even if every muscle in your body cramped up, you weren’t going to leave him as long as he needed to hold onto you.

Finally, he whimpered your name and asked what happened.

“I… kissed you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

He sniffed and wiped his face, which he discovered was soaked with tears, and looked off into the trees. You sat back onto the bench, straightening your crooked spine, but keeping a firm hold on his hand, staying close as he returned to reality. He would be embarrassed. Add this to the growing list of Ways Frederick Chilton is Broken and Useless. But for now, the humiliation was dulled by the fact that he was not in that room again, with the projector flickering. You stayed that way for a while, sitting in the dappled shade of the garden and the warm breeze, the fountain burbling a constant, relaxing, tuneless song.

“The last man to bring his lips to mine bit them off.”

“I’m so sorry, Frederick. I shouldn’t have been so stupid...”

He squeezed your hand. Straightened up in his chair. “I heard the FBI has the video. Have you watched it?”

You shook your head, then quickly added, “No,” aloud, knowing his vision was poor and still focused on the tree branches swaying and morphing in the wind. Jack Crawford had offered, but you didn’t want to see it. You couldn’t bear to.

It had been hard enough hearing him describe how Francis Dolarhyde glued him naked to his grandmother’s wheelchair and made him watch macabre home movies of the families he had slaughtered. His voice was too calm, too distant from the memory as he dictated graphic details for the Journal of Psychology, desperate to tell his story, grab his fame before he died.

You should have known how your mouth coming at his would make him feel. You were so caught up in your romantic imaginings, you forgot how kiss-like that moment of horror must have been, just before the pain.

The nightmare his life had been for months already, and would continue to be. The scar tissue that wouldn’t fully mature for two years. Two years wearing a compression suit to help them heal. Years of follow-up procedures so that he can continue to move. To breathe. To hear. Longer until he could get a new face. His entire life altered forever.

It started with a kiss.

“We don’t have to kiss. I should never have pushed you to,” you apologized, wincing preemptively.

You expected him to be angry. To sarcastically tell you, “Now you decide we don’t have to? Now that it is too late? What fine timing.”

“I am not weak,” he bristled instead, but his agitation only spanned the length of a breath. He squeezed your hand softly, and pulled you halfway into his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and back. “I did not think that would happen either,” he spoke comfortingly into your hair. “Attempting it for the first time in a wheelchair was a mistake. I should have been more aware of that, but I grow tired of not being able to show my affection. You are not the only one impatient for my recovery, darling. I want to try again.”

“Now?” You pulled back, widening your eyes at him.

“No,” he said plainly. “I think not.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @barbingchilton​ 

[lavenderlucy]

4x9 AU Part 3

Here’s the third and final part of my 4x9 AU. This takes place immediately after the end of the second part. Caroline has just confronted Klaus after she found out that he killed Carol. This part features only Klaus and Caroline (just how we all like it). If you’ve been following along, thank you. These three drabbles were my very first time writing anything and I’ve had so much fun.

Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here

4x9 AU part 3

Their moment of peace was broken when Caroline saw Klaus fighting internally with himself. He looked like he was trying to decide whether or not to speak. She knew whatever he had to say would pop the perfect bubble they had been in for the past few minutes. He parted his lips to speak and tightened his grip on Caroline’s arm and face, afraid she might run from him.

He licked his lips, sending a jolt through her body, and spoke, “How did you find out about Lockwood’s mother?” His voice was even and soft, like he was trying to calm a scared animal. Caroline thought about lying, but knew he would see right through her.

“Tyler told me this morning.” She whispered. She knew the gravity of what she’d just done. She told Klaus that the boy he wanted to kill, the boy she was supposed to love was just a few miles away. The guilt of her admission weighed heavily on her shoulders. She turned her head to the side so she wouldn’t see the look of murderous intent she thought she would find on Klaus’s face, but it never came. Klaus turned her face back to face him and brushed his thumb over her lips like he was trying to touch all that he could before the spell they had both been under was inevitably broken.

“Please don’t kill him.” Caroline pleaded with tears forming in her eyes.

“You can’t save him, love.” Klaus wiped a tear that had slipped out of Caroline’s eye so softly that she thought she might start sobbing. How could he be so gentle with her and want to kill Tyler at the same time? There were so many sides to Klaus that Caroline had only just begun to learn.

Caroline was going to ask a second time for Tyler’s life to be spared when Klaus continued speaking. “I thought he would have had the good sense to run and be following the wolf girl across state lines by now. Those two seemed quite enamored with one another last I saw them together. I stumbled upon them in the mutt’s garden after your pageant. I would have been surprised when she sold him and his pack out to me last night had I not lived as long as I have.”

“You knew they were together?” Caroline asked in a small voice, her eyebrows furrowing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Klaus knew that Tyler really had been cheating on her, that she still thought their display just a few weeks ago had been a ruse, and that she really had no idea Hayley and Tyler weren’t acting. He had hinted at it before their fake breakup, but she didn’t want to look too closely at her boyfriend and they way he looked a little too comfortable in Hayley’s presence at the time.

“Would you have believed me?” Klaus asked with hesitation and what Caroline thought might be vulnerability in his voice.

“Maybe,” she admitted softly, looking up at him. “I think you’re the only person in this whole town that’s never lied to me,” she added before she could stop herself. Her own honestly shocked her. Klaus, the big bad hybrid, had been more of a friend to her than anyone else in Caroline’s life. Klaus started to pull back from her and Caroline moved her hands to his chest, bunching the fabric of his shirt between her fingers.

“Please stay here. With me.” She whispered so quietly that Klaus would not have heard had he not had hybrid hearing.

Klaus moved even closer until his lips were hovering over hers. One hand was still cradling her face and the other had dropped to the curve of her waist. Caroline’s heart was pounding loudly in her chest and she couldn’t look away from his deep blue eyes. He was close enough that she could smell his body wash, the scent washing over her. His nose brushed hers lightly and her gaze fell to his mouth. Before she could talk herself out of it and move away Caroline surged up on her toes and pressed her lips firmly against his. Klaus was frozen in shock for a few seconds at the feeling of Caroline’s petal soft lips against his before he responded. He moved the hand on her waist to her hair and gripped her soft locks between in fingers. His hold on her was desperate, like he thought she might slip away at any moment. Caroline let out a quiet, involuntary moan at the feeling of Klaus’s lips moving over hers. Klaus took the opportunity to let his tongue enter her mouth and slide along hers. Caroline moved her hands to cradle Klaus’s face and pulled him impossibly closer to her. Their chests touched and Caroline gasped. She felt like her entire body had been electrified by his touch. Somewhere in the back of mind she knew she shouldn’t be doing this, that Klaus was the bad guy, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care when the way his body was pressed up against hers felt so right. Caroline didn’t know why she hadn’t started kissing Klaus sooner if this is what it felt like. He tasted like expensive whiskey and something so uniquely him. Their kisses turned more passionate and Caroline found herself being pressed even further into the wall behind her. Caroline dropped her hands to Klaus’s shoulders and then wound her arms around his neck. Klaus moved the hand in her hair back to her waist and squeezed tightly before trailing his lips from her mouth to her neck and placing bruising kisses on the skin he found there. He ran his tongue along her pulse and bit lightly with his blunt teeth. He soothed the spot with an open mouthed kiss.

“Klaus.” Caroline moaned. She felt like she might pass out from the feeling of Klaus’s lips and tongue on her neck. Klaus moved his lips to her collarbone and began to taste her, determined to hear her say his name again. Caroline tugged his head back up to hers by his hair and covered his lips with hers once again. Kissing Klaus was addictive and Caroline hadn’t had enough yet. Caroline bit his full bottom lip and he shuddered, a low groan coming from the back of his throat. One of his hands slipped down to her neck, holding her in place, while the other slowly made its way down from her shoulder to her breast. Klaus squeezed her through the fabric of her light sweater, making Caroline press herself eagerly into his hands and release a breathy moan. Klaus ran his thumb over her nipple through her bra before letting his hand continue downward until he met her hip and squeezed. His other arm banded around her lower back and pressed every part of their bodies together. The feeling of Klaus’s body on hers was making Caroline completely forget why she was here in the first place. She knew her cheeks were flushed and her panties were growing damp. Determined to give as good as she got, Caroline pushed Klaus back slightly and ran her nails down the sides of his neck and down his chest and stomach, stopping just above the waistband of his dark jeans. The feeling of her nails made him groan and push his tongue past her lips with renewed fervor. Caroline tugged Klaus closer to her by his belt and spread her legs slightly. Klaus took the hint and moved his hands to her thighs and lifted her so she could curl her toned legs around him. Caroline’s arms moved to wrap around Klaus’s neck and she moaned loudly at the feeling of his need for her pressing into her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted him. She inwardly cursed the jeans they were both wearing.

Their heavy breathing filled up Klaus’s foyer as they continues kissing and running their hands all over each other. Caroline shifted slightly and rolled her hips into Klaus’s erection, the zipper of his jeans rubbing pleasurably against her clit. The action made them both moan. She threw her head back to catch her breath and Klaus began peppering her neck with kisses and licks. He grabbed her ass and pressed his cock that was straining against his jeans back into her denim covered center.

“Kla-aus!” Caroline’s cry broke in the middle. She had never felt the kind of desire that was coursing through her body before. Caroline circled her hips as best as she could in her position to chase the delicious friction that Klaus was creating against her.

Klaus lifted his head from Caroline’s neck and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were full of lust.

“I want you, Caroline.” He ground out, arousal evident in his tone. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Caroline didn’t think she had ever heard anything sound as sexy as Klaus saying her name in that moment. The way his tongue curled around the syllables in it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Then have me.” She uttered, voice breathy and full of want, before she could think of all of the reasons why she and Klaus shouldn’t be doing this.

Klaus bit back a groan at her words and licked into her hot mouth once more. His hands pushed under her sweater with purpose and moved up to her ribs until his fingers skimmed the line of her bra. His hands felt so good on her feverish skin. Klaus pushed his thumbs under her bra just enough to touch the undersides of her breasts. Caroline felt like she was overheating and would explode at any second. She didn’t know sex could feel like this and they hadn’t even gotten that far yet. Klaus pulled back from her lips, staying close, and looked her in the eye. His lips were kiss-bruised, pupils blown and rimmed with gold, his hair was a mess from where Caroline ran her hands through it. He looked wrecked. For her, she thought, and that gave her so much satisfaction. The influence she had over Klaus had always made her feel powerful and sexy, not that she would admit that to a single soul.

“Are you sure, love?” Klaus asked, voice deep and gravelly. He was barely holding on and Caroline knew that he might not be able to control himself if they went much further.

“Yes. I’m sure. I want you, Klaus.” Caroline panted out, putting them both out of their misery. A part of her thought that maybe she was giving in too easily, but she just couldn’t help herself. As terrible of a person as it made her, she wanted him. All of him.

If she thought that Klaus would take her answer as a green light to rip her clothes off, then she was wrong. He pulled back even more from her and his gaze turned hard and suspicious. Caroline could barely keep up with his sudden mood swing. He removed his hands from under her sweater and put her back down on the floor before taking a step back from her. Caroline’s face fell and she felt the sharp sting of his rejection. Her mind instantly told her that yet again she was not enough and she never would be.

“Klaus? What’s wrong?” Confusion and insecurity filled her voice. Never in a million years did Caroline think that Klaus would be the one to pump the brakes on sex between them. She had felt his want for her, she had seen it in his eyes. Did he suddenly realize she wasn’t worth it?

“How do I know that your friends didn’t send you here to distract me?” Klaus spat at her.

“Kla-“ Caroline began.

“How do I know that you aren’t desperate enough to fuck a monster in exchange for your pathetic boyfriend’s life?” He interrupted crudely.

“What? No! That’s not what this-“ Klaus still would not let her speak.

“You’ve taken part in every plot against me and I have no reason to trust you!” Klaus’s wolf was pressed up against his skin and his eyes were flashing between gold and blue. Caroline could tell he was trying to control himself and avoid fully lashing out at her. Maybe he did want her. Maybe he wanted her too much and was afraid he was being tricked again. After all, what he just said was true. Caroline’s heart fell when she realized this.

“Klaus, I swear I’m being honest with you. I’m here because I want to be, not because I’m trying to distract you or bribe you with sex. I’m not in love with Tyler anymore. I just don’t want to see him dead. Please believe me. Please don’t kill him.” Tears were now running down her cheeks. Caroline realized that she really didn’t love Tyler. She had been holding on to him out of obligation for most of their relationship, but now she was doing what her heart wanted. Her feelings for Klaus scared the hell out of her, but she couldn’t deny herself any longer. She couldn’t ignore the way she felt when she was with him. She had to see where this could go and right now she wanted things to go upstairs or at least to the nearest sofa.

“Why? He betrayed me. He betrayed you, love. He had the sun right in front of him and threw it away. And then he turned all of my hybrids against me.” Klaus gritted out. He was still fighting to control his wolf.

Caroline rolled her eyes at the last part and stepped forward until she was right in front of him. She was pretty certain that none of this would have happened if the were-slut hadn’t talked Tyler into it, but that was a conversation for another time.

“Yes! He cheated on me and he tried to kill you, but you killed the other hybrids and his mother! You’re even!” She shouted in his face, chest heaving. She wasn’t asking him to like Tyler or even forgive him. She just wanted him to spare him for her. She just wanted to be able to continue to get to know Klaus without the shadow of Tyler’s impending death hanging over them. If Klaus would just get out of his own way they could move forward, together.

They stared heatedly at each for a long time before Klaus let out the breath he had been holding, looked up at the ceiling, and spoke. “Tell him to leave town tonight and run. I’ll give him a head start. If I see him again after that, he’s dead.” He looked back at Caroline, eyes sharp and desperate for her approval. The suspicion was gone from his gaze. Caroline knew what this compromise had cost him. He chose her over revenge. He chose her. She gave him a small smile.

“Thank you.” She said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I need to go tell him now and officially end things. I don’t want anything standing between us.” She added before turning to walk to the door. As much as Caroline wanted to resume the foreplay that would lead to the hot hybrid sex they were about to have, she knew that this was the right thing to do.

Klaus grabbed her hand and spun her back toward him. “I’m not a good man, Caroline. I don’t think after a thousand years of darkness that I could even try to be. I know who I am, what I’ve done and what I will do. I’m not good,” he repeated, “But I will be good to you. Can you accept that?” He was still clutching her hand like his life depended on it. His eyes bored into her own and she could see that he was being genuine.

Caroline gave him a small smile and leaned in closer to him, bring her other hand up to hold on to his shoulder. “I’m not asking you to be perfect. I know who you are, Klaus. I’m just asking you not to hurt me or my friends. If you can do that for me, then I can accept you. Every part of you.”

Klaus brought her hand up to his lips and placed a searing kiss on her knuckles before speaking. “I won’t hurt your friends unless they move against either of us.” He said lowly. Caroline nodded at his condition and smiled brightly at him. She placed a heated kiss on his lips and then slowly pulled herself out of his grip and walked back to his front door before he could reciprocate.

“Caroline?” Klaus called after her as her hand touched the doorknob. She turned to look back at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“I would very much like a chance to take you on a real date. One away from Mystic Falls and your friends.” His voice gave away his vulnerability. His hand were in his pockets and he looked nervous.

“Pick me up tomorrow at 7. No flowers and nothing that involves leaving the country.” She responded and flashed him a smile.

He smiled back at her, dimples on display. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

Caroline couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the sight of his devastatingly handsome smile. She playfully rolled her eyes at him, lips still turned up in a smile, and turned back to walk out of the door. Caroline had no idea how she and Klaus were going to work, but she was excited to try. She shook her head at herself and unlocked her car. She had a cheating boyfriend to officially break up with and force out of town. As she drove out of Klaus’s driveway she also wondered what the hell she was going to tell her friends.

[ppersonna]

organic - ksj | thirteen

a social media au

↳ summary- You agree to do your childhood best friend, Namjoon, a favor by working as his boss’s gardener.  However, Namjoon fails to tell you just how much of a rich ass Kim Seokjin really is. You hate him, and he hates you, so why does it bother you when his ex makes her way back into his life?

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- seokjin x reader

↳ warnings- 😬 smut, oral sex (m/f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, teasing, bratty!yn, brat-tamer!jin, unprotected sex (dont be dumb), aftercare (ig), lmaoooooo here we mf GO.

↳ a/n- omgomgomgogmogmogmogmomgomgogmg. thats all i gotta say yall.  also, so sorry but the tags are currently being VERY BAD and i am sorry if they didnt work.

taglist-

@rjsmochii @broke-bts-stan @kookiesjoonies @sistaflubs @sombreboy @brilliantlybasicb @sugarly-laysa @absoluteyoongit @chimoona @ladyartemesia @lemonjoonah @jinsearth @tiddieshakeshownu @hannahdinse8 @imluckybitches @55west81st @xoxrinaxox @remplazable-yellowpink @lustingstae @lidda @amoreguk @deadleaves278 @devotedlywriting @koostime @fangurl-ontgeside @hauntedlilies @gukniverse @simplymemyself @alyboo-jpeg @themyscirarey @taetaewonderland @jinhitwhore @softychimseok @amberaesthetics @lovesjenmoong @bangtansbun @garii71 @sweetnspicy93 

The house was empty. Too empty. 

The normally chaotic space of the living room, where all the roommates and friends usually joined was silent. 

You walked around aimlessly, still confused by Jin’s texts, and hoped to find someone to distract you, keep you from going into the bedroom Jin most certainly occupied. 

You couldn’t wrap your mind around the man. In one minute, you’d be daydreaming about his lips and the way he felt pressed up against you. The next, you’d be contemplating methods of murder and if you could bury his body next to the freshly planted rose bushes in the back courtyard. 

A sigh escaped you. No one was home. You were stuck with Jin.  

You grumbled under your breath as you made your way down the lush hallway.  Some friends. Didn’t even invite you out. Left you here with the extremely handsome, tempting, annoying asshole. 

The door opened before you even reached your hand out to grab the handle. Jin appeared with a sleazy smile. 

“Little vixen,” he said, grabbing your wrist. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

It was almost starting to get annoying. 

Jin motioned to the bed. Pretty, pink lingerie lay on the luxe fabric, arranged delicately yet with full intent displayed. 

“I can’t wait to see you in it,” Jin spoke. He moved closer. So close it made your throat swell up. His hands ran up and down your arm. “I knew you’d give in.” 

His words snapped you out of any sensuality you felt at his embrace.  Your hands pushed at the expanse of his chest. 

“I didn’t fucking do this!” You snapped. “Why the fuck would I want you?”

“You think I don’t notice the way you slide in bed towards me until you’re practically humping me?” 

Jin’s smirk was reaching levels you’d never seen before. He was pleased with himself, with this situation. You were sure if you glanced down his body you’d see proof of his arousal. But you couldn’t. You’d lose all ability to talk, to fight. 

“Okay, I was cold! That’s the only reason!” 

Jin tsk’ed and shook his head. 

“Darling, it’s okay. You’re meant to be my wife, you should know how your husband performs in bed. It’s natural to be curious.”

Your hands balled into fists. 

“I’m… not curious.” 

He quirked his head and smiled. “No? Not even a little?”

Jin stepped towards you again, this time slower and with heat. 

“Not curious how deep I can get inside you, how wet you can be for me?”

You would be lying if you said your body didn’t react, didn’t heat under his intense gaze. 

“Clearly, someone set this up,” you whispered, trying to navigate the conversation away from the topic of your wet pussy. 

“Did they now?” Jin asked as he played with a piece of your hair. “You sure it wasn’t all a ruse to get the worldwide handsome in bed with you?” 

“You’re so arrogant,” you snapped. “You think every woman is falling on their face to fuck you.”  Your words were sharp but lacked any of the heat behind it. 

Jin chuckled. “That’s because they generally are.”

His fingers trailed down your face, your neck.  His eyes were fixated at your collar bones, magnetized to the juncture of your throat and shoulder. 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Say someone set this all up, say I believe you… you still aren’t putting up much of a fight.” 

Damn. 

Jin had you there. 

He continued before you could speak. “It’s almost like you’ve been wanting to find out more ever since I kissed you.” 

Your eyes closed in reply.  The kiss.  The god forsaken kiss.  

“You played me.” 

Jin sighed and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, eyes now level with yours. 

“It’s okay to be curious. About me. About us. I think about it too.” He admitted. 

It piqued your interest and made you swallow hard. 

“I think about what it would be like to have your fiery little body underneath me. Trying to be big and bad and headstrong while you’re getting stuffed full of my cock.” 

You couldn’t help the soft whine that left your lips, and you kicked yourself for allowing Jin to see your moment of weakness. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He asked as he moved you towards the bed.  His eyes burned into yours and it felt like all the air in the room left, leaving you suffocating. 

“You want me to take control, to tame the little brat inside you. I can do that, baby. All you have to do is admit you’re the one who did all of this.” 

You fell against the bed with a soft thud, right next to the expensive lingerie. It was your style, your type. Even through the rage of Jin believing you were trying to seduce him, you can’t help but envision yourself in the lace and letting the man unwrap you. 

“It wasn’t me,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t buy something so expensive. You know I prefer secondhand.” 

Jin visibly recoiled and rolled his eyes. 

“I should spank you for that.  You don’t have to lie. You don’t have to save face. I know you did it, baby.”

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

Jin stared at you, eyes seeking answers in your own. 

“You’re such a petty bitch sometimes, you know that?” He stalked closer to you, pushing you down into the bed. “Such a little fucking tease.  You act like you hate me, yet you can’t stop looking at me. You can’t stop thinking about me. You made me get in bed with you every fucking night and still try to claim you hate me?” 

He looked infuriated.  It was scary as much as it was arousing. 

“Don’t you fucking get that I want you?” Jin asked as he pressed a finger under your chin to make you stare him down. “Do you not understand in that thick head of yours that you drive me fucking crazy?”

It’s the straw that breaks the camel's back. 

Instantly, you tugged him down and crushed your lips to his. You kissed him wildly, no finesse or skill. It’s all mouth and teeth and tongue.  Jin groaned into your open mouth, and you pulled away. 

“I didn’t fucking set this up,” you stated with intent. “But I will fuck you until you’re not a goddamn asshole anymore.” 

He never got the chance to retort any smart-ass remark—your hands pushed him onto the bed and your hands flew to his tight, teasing jeans. Your mouths melded together again with the heat of an oven, meshing together with all passion and fire of your argument now funneled into pure, sexual charge. 

Jin’s head rested on the pillows as you hovered above him, trying to tug at his jeans while maintaining a steady assault on his lips. 

He chuckled, his own hands coming to assist you as his tongue explored your mouth. He pulled away to kick the jeans off, leaving him in his expensive Balenciaga tight boxers. 

“God,” you groaned. You were part aroused by the impressive length pressing against the black fabric, half annoyed that his underwear likely cost half of your paycheck alone. “Fucking ostentatious rich asshole.”  

Jin couldn’t help but laugh out loud, but it quickly escaped him as your hand rubbed at his hot bulge, gripping tightly and gritting his teeth to keep from moaning. 

“Shit,” he sighed. “If you make me cum in these, I'm taking the cleaner fee out of your paycheck.” 

You made a show of rolling your eyes, moving down his body and tugging the fabric down along the way. 

“The fact that you get your fucking underwear dry cleaned…,” you sneered. 

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Jin’s impressive length was now free and thick and hard in your hands. His expensive underwear fell to the floor without a care from either of you as you eyed the stiff cock in your hands. 

“Is it everything you’ve dreamed and fantasized of?”  He tried to act cool and collected, using his bravado to mask the absolute pleasure he felt at your delicate hand gripping him tightly. He was certain he would cum instantly if he wasn’t careful. 

“Hmmm,” you sighed as you gave long, languid pumps with your hand. “I mostly fantasized of kicking you here. But, I’m sure this will be a suitable way to shut you up, too.” 

Jin opened his mouth in reply but cut himself off with a strangled groan as your hot mouth descended, taking him fully to the hilt at the back of your throat.  His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he felt your tight mouth envelop him and suck. 

Your mouth worked eagerly, licking and sucking as you began a pace.  You’re determined to suck the cocky attitude right out of him. And judging by the look that crossed his face—eyes glazed over in bliss, mouth ajar in pleased disbelief—you’d say you did an outstanding job at it. 

His hand moved to your head, a surprisingly gentle grasp in your hair as he held back pieces of your fringe that fell in your face.  Your heart thumped harder against your chest, eyes flickering up to his to gaze at him as your mouth continued its assault on his cock.

You cursed yourself the moment your eyes locked with Jin’s.  It would be easier to hate him, to think of this as a way to get back at him, if you hadn’t.  Now, all you saw was the side of Jin you saw before.  The sensitive, passionate Jin who kissed you deeply and held your hand through dinner.  The look in his eyes now spoke more than just of sexually charged thoughts—it spoke something tender too.

You quickly forced yourself back to the task at hand.  Your tongue swirled around the tip of his head.  You forced yourself to see this as sex, nothing more.  Your heart was too sensitive to allow other thoughts invading in.  What was it that Tae always said to do? Get the dick, secure the bag?

Oh, what did he know—wasn’t the boy head over heels for Jimin, anyway?

Jin’s hand tightened around your hair, encouraging you to come up for air.  Your hand kept a steady pace as your lips popped off his length.

“What? Enjoying yourself too much?” You teased as you used your free hand to wipe at the saliva running down your chin.  

Jin groaned as he watched your fist still work its way up and down his slick cock.  

“Mm,” he sighed and bit his lip. “Yeah, actually.  I don’t wanna cum yet.  Wanna save it for that bratty little pussy of yours.”

The words made your breath hitch in your throat.  

In an instant, Jin had you flipped over and you were prone to him.  The devilish grin on his face told you he had you right where he wanted you.

“I hope you had fun thinking you’re the boss,” he murmured as he sat back on his heels and unbuttoned his tight shirt.  “Daddy’s in charge now.”

The shiver you feel run down your spine makes you feel too vulnerable, too attracted and exposed to the man above you, now completely naked.  His body was cut to perfection, hard lines of his muscles exposed that made your mouth water.

“Didn’t realize you had a daddy kink.” Your attempt to sound bratty failed—both you and Jin knew it.  Your eyes were still locked at the way his lower abdomen formed a perfect V line, the slight thatch of hair just above his cock.  

“My eyes are up here, baby.”

Your eyes snapped up to him instantly, cheeks turning pink.

“It’s okay.  Don’t be shy.  Lots of women get overwhelmed when they see the worldwide handsome in the flesh like this too.”

His words rolled around in your stomach uncomfortably and you’re forced to face the reality that Jin does this—a lot.  With a lot of women.  And you’re overwhelmed by how jealous it makes you.  You want to be the only one underneath him, the only one able to graze your fingers down his chest, the only to cry out his name.

And the thought scared you.

So, you did what you did best—ignore it.

Jin’s hard, burning gaze bore into you.  His hands reached towards the tops of your jeans and you noted the way he ignored the patches of dirt on the knees from your day at work.  In fact, you’re surprised he even let you on the bed in clothes that were shabby too.

The jeans quickly left your body, and Jin hovered over your legs.  His hands trailed down the soft satin of your panties, barely covering your core.  Your body reacted instantly, thighs moving to press together, but Jin would have none of it.

“Ah, ah,” he warned.  “Don’t tell me you’re shy.  You never seemed so shy when you’re biting my head off.”

“Shut up,” you murmured, allowing your legs to spread apart again.  

Jin lowered himself between your thighs, fingers wrapping around the fabric.

“I see you’re wearing the panties I bought you.”

The look on his face told you he was proud of himself.

“I still hate that you made me buy underwear.  Not like you were going to see them.”

Jin sent a look at you, tearing his gaze from your soaked core.  

“Oh, then what do you call this?”

Your words caught in your mouth.  He got you there.

“...shut up.”

Jin grinned and moved his eyes back towards your cunt, pulling your panties down.

“So mouthy.  Someone needs to put you in your place.”

Your mouth opened in a gasp as the panties slide off, a string of slick arousal following it.  Jin can’t help but chuckle.

“For all that big talk, you seem to be very excited.”

The desire to be touched quickly outweighed the need to hold your own.  With your pussy open and exposed, and Jin’s eyes focused on it like it was his last meal, the burning desire in your stomach nearly bubbles over.

“Jin,” you gasped. “Please.”

“Now, look who’s begging.”

You wanted desperately to wipe the smirk off his face, to put him in his place, but your resolve quickly faded the closer he got to your glistening folds.

“You want me to eat your sweet pussy? Tell me you do.  Tell me it’s all you’ve wanted.”

The pride in your heart thuds hard—you can’t find it in you to say it but you ache for his sweet mouth, plushy lips, harsh tongue that would spear into you deliciously.

“Jin, fuck, please,” you begged.  “I can’t…”

“I won’t touch you if you don’t,” he explained. “You could be halfway to a screaming orgasm by now if you’d just suck up that pride of yours as well as you sucked my cock.”

Your body squirmed uncomfortably and his hands gripped your thighs, keeping you secured to the bed.

“Fucking say it,” he demanded and the timbre of his voice had your cunt pulsing around nothing.

You’ve finally had it.  

“Please! Jin! I fucking need you!  God, I always think about fucking you, are you happy?” You asked with frustration boiling over.  “I think about you fucking me all—fucking—day.  Please, I need you, daddy.”

Jin smirked at the sound of his honorific and knew he had you wrapped around his finger.

“Good baby girl,” he cooed.

His mouth latched onto your cunt in seconds.  His hands spread the folds apart and his tongue darted out to begin a licking motion on your clit.  Your eyes snap closed and mouth gaped open in silent pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!” You finally found your voice and your hands grasped at his brawny arms below you, fingers digging into his skin gently.  

Jin didn’t hold back.  His tongue worked your clit in a frenzy, knowing just where to suck and nibble and lick just right.  You hated to admit that for all his bragging he had the skills to back it up.

Your moans encouraged him more, and his hand worked its way in, two fingers slipping into your heat.  The added sensation made your back arc off the bed.

“Shit! Oh, shit!”  The combination of all the sensations made you keen and your core tightens impossibly.  “Oh, fuck, Jin! I’m going to cum!”

He smirked against you and kept his pace, increasing the speed of his finger as his tongue worked you to the height of your climax.

It washed over you—hard.  Your vision blacked out around the edges and you’re sure you stopped breathing for ten whole seconds, before your lungs burned and gasped in for air.

Jin pulled his fingers from within you and licked them clean.  The cocky aura surrounding him was gone.  Now, it felt worshipful.  It felt pious.

He didn’t want long before crawling up to you.  His lips pressed against your own, your own unsteady breath mixing with his as you tasted your own slick on his tongue.   The flavor of your cum and his mouth made you gasp. 

Jin pulled away and peered down at you, his thick length now lined up at your soaked core.

“Can I fuck you?”  Jin’s voice was gentle.  “I have condoms, if you want....”

You nodded your head quickly. “If you’re clean, please… just fuck me like this.”

You didn’t know what came over you—normally a good rule-following type of girl, but something deep down wanted to feel Jin, all of Jin, uninhibited.

His eyes sought into yours for a moment.  He held an emotion in there—one that you couldn’t quite recognize , and your heart clenched at the idea that anything other than lust flickered through his consciousness.

“Okay, I’m clean too,” he whispered as his length breached you. 

Jin pressed his lips to yours as his cock slid into you, tenderness lacing the movement as he stilled inside you.  He held you there for a moment, hands moving to cup your face.  His hips remained motionless, and you both melted at the feeling of your bodies joining.

You forced yourself to look away from whatever emotion Jin was trying to reveal through his gaze and moved your hips slightly to encourage him.

He seemed to get the idea and quickly slid himself in and out.  The feeling of his bare cock stuffed inside you, each ridge and vein dragging itself in and out of you, felt better than any sex you’d ever had.  

Jin’s pace became quicker, and the tender sensuality became quickly replaced with raw passion and lust, which loosened the feeling of vulnerability you felt before.

“God, you’re taking me so good,” he gasped as he plunged himself deep into you, as if to make a point.  “You’re so fucking tight and wet for me, fuck, baby.”

Your moans echoed off the luxe walls, and you threw your head back against the fine egyptian cotton pillows.  As much as you wanted to hate the display of wealth, you couldn’t help but be grateful for Jin’s need for expensive fabrics.  They felt like heaven against your bare skin, and the friction of Jin’s movements made them rub on you deliciously.

“Yes, fuck!” You exclaimed.  “You feel so good!”

There was no need to hold back the praise, and you had no desire to either.  Jin was fucking you so good that any ideas of hating him had left the second he entered you.

Jin let his head drop to your ears—whispered praises of how good you were, how fucking tight you felt.  He continued as he pounded you deeply and pulled your body close to his, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

It didn’t take long for you to feel your second high coming.  Jin’s cock hit just the right places, and he dropped a hand to your joined centers to rub at your clit, encouraging your climax to spiral towards the end.

His pace became frantic as he fucked you with fervor and no finesse, hips snapping and pistoning into you as deeply and quickly as he could.  Idly, he realized he wished he could be buried in your cunt forever, that he’s likely never felt such a better pussy in his life.  And he didn’t want to allow himself to think too hard about what that meant.  

He could feel it building, climbing to an ever growing peak that he felt on the brink of summiting.  His breath hitched, yours panted heavily, and he felt hypnotized by the way your cries escalated to near screams.

The chase to the end was quick, as Jin quickly worked himself up to his climax as your cunt became tighter and fluttered around his cock the closer you edged to the end.  Jin groaned as the feeling inside of him snapped.  It pulsed with each shot of his seed into your womb--and he groaned as he felt your walls clench around him as you soared over your own edge.

His name was the only thing you could scream as he kept his pace, allowing your walls to milk him dry.  He held himself inside you, allowed him the chance to soak in the feeling of you and him mixing as one.

Your come-down from the orgasm felt slow, languid.  Jin’s body laid next to you and his cock still nuzzled deep inside your walls.  It felt secure.  It made you feel safe, love, full.  Your heart beat erratically, combined with the exertion of the act and the physical proximity of the man now lying next to you, breathing just as hard.

His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you in tight, only allowing his cock to slip out of you after he was sure you were secure in his arms.  His forehead pressed against yours—eyes seeking your own with that same, tender look from before.

No words were spoken for a moment, just the silence and combined breath of your exhaustion.

Jin kissed you, then.  Deep, soft, loving.  It felt too real.  Too much.  It bothered you how much you loved it and wanted it to continue.

“Do you,” he began, before pausing for a moment. “Do you want to maybe… stay longer than a week?” 

You bit your lip, pondering his request.

Did you want to leave? Did you want to return to a life of working for the man you just let cum inside you?  Could you still pretend to be his wife after experiencing this and walking away?

Did you even want to pretend at all?

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I think I kind of like this gaudy house.”

Jin’s soft smile turned into a smirk and his hands gripped your waist tighter.

“Next thing you know, you’ll be shopping only at Armani.”

“In your fucking dreams, daddy.”

[spookysmujer]

Cherry, O.Diaz

Summary: Oscar and Y/N have been casually hooking up for sometime now and when feelings get too involved, true colors come to show.

warnings: mentions of sex, angst

word count: 2.9k

A/N: sorry for the delay of content! Twin and I have been really cracking on an upcoming project she is working on. Y’all don’t even know the investment we have into it 🤣 This idea came to me, I’m emo for this angst shit + Spooky, strayed from my original plan but oh well. I notice y’all like the cute fluff fic with him, would you like to see more fluff with Oscar? Let me know! I’ll be getting to the Sad Eyes request soon 😘

If someone had told you you would be doing hook-ups with Spooky, you’d laugh at them. The two of you had known each other growing up in Freeridge, not close but also not strangers. He definitely flirted with you a lot. But nothing ever ensued, especially not after he was sent to Corcoran for 4 years.

It wasn’t until a few months after he got out that the two of you bumped into each other at the little corner liquor store. The devilishly handsome look he had on his face began the little thing you two have going on. No strings, just sex. And it’s gotten you two awfully close.

The clock on the nightstand blares 5:32am as you try to rub the sleep from your eyes, not that you got much anyways with recent activities. “Always running away before the sun comes up.” You hear the deep voice of the tattooed man next to you. A smirk creeps on your face as you stand to get dressed. You only get your undergarments on when he pulls you back down and lazily climbs on top of you.

“Com’n I’ve gotta go, I open today.”

You tell him as he kisses your neck, which always makes you weak. He ignores you for a bit but eventually rolls off of you, licking his lips with satisfaction.

He lays back and watches you put on your clothes, bummed that the weekend came and went by so quickly. Oscar likes having this little ruse between the two of you. It allows him to be satisfied and not have to deal with all the relationship shit, hynas be trippin’ and clingy as fuck with him.

“Come back tonight.” He calls out to you as you pull your hair into the bun and walk out of his room. You shake your head and laugh to yourself.

Friday and Saturday nights are usually designated for the tootin’ and bootin’ as Oscar likes to put it. It was good for you too. The stress of trying to keep up with bills and student loans has you working doubles almost 3 times a week. You definitely needed some kind of hobby, turns out sex is a great one.

“Fun night?” Your co-worker tells you as you two go through a 10 hour shift. You roll your eyes which are focused on the screen in front of you. But she doesn’t stop staring at you, waiting for an answer. After only being about to take so much daggers, you twist your chair to her and pull down your top a bit to show the hickies that scatter over your chest. Her cheeks tighten with a large smile. “Oh yeah, fun night.”

It wasn’t a secret that you and Oscar are sleeping together. Like everyone else’s business in Freeridge, people were aware the two of you shacking it up. “Man can’t keep his hands off ya!”

“He definitely likes to mark his territory for sure.” You reply as she has a giddy moment.

The work day goes by quickly thanks to working with your favorite co-worker. It’s open to close day for you and when the familiar red impala pulls into the parking lot, your body had a natural reaction to tingle. “Look what the cat dragged in and you telling me that y’all aren’t a thing? I don’t know what booty call comes to his booty calls work place to pick her up, I know I wouldn’t be doing all that just to get some.”

Oscar showing up definitely makes it look like it’s more than just casual sex, he says it’s because he’s a gentlemen at the very least. The same guy who will spank your ass raw and tell you keep your mouth shut.

After closing and walking your co-worker to her car and waving her by, you get into the car where a tank-top dressed Santo drags on a blunt. He puffs out the smoke before flicking it out of the window. You set your things at your feet, “Wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

“It’s how I know you’d come back tonight.” He puts his arm on the seat behind you. The look he gives you, a look with absolutely no effort, makes you shift in your seat. “What?”

He shakes his head, licking his lips and tilting his head for you to move closer. With a sigh, you scoot over right next to him. His other arm leans across him and settles his hand on your thigh. Oscar tilts his head down and plants an open mouth kiss on your neck, instinctively your head moves to the side. With his hand caressing your thigh, you totally forget you are in a public area. And you’re getting aroused quickly. When his hand starts to creep closer to your heat, you grab it and scoot away slightly. He looks up at you with a bothered face.

“We really gonna do it here?”

Oscar only shrugs and pushes you back to him with his arm draped on the seat. It’s like your body has no control to his touch. His lips press against yours, slow at first then more needy soon after. His free hand pulls your farther thigh to get you pressed more against him. And at this point, you’re horny and well, no one is around.

You release from the kiss to straddle his lap and pull off your top. He bites his lips seeing all the marks he had left on you from the weekend. A low moan sounds from him as he pushes his face into your chest, pressing hot kisses to the bruised skin. His teeth scrapes against your covered breast, while you unhook your bra.

“Hmmm, fine ass hyna. Nothin’ new.”

-

After the scandalous public car sex Oscar tells you he hopes to hear from you soon. With your flustered state, you drive home in a haze. Once you get home, you lean against your front door, still feeling the numbness on your lips from all the kissing. You didn’t know how you got to this point. The careless sex and the amount of it you’re having. You didn’t think how much further it could go.

“I’m telling you. He has claimed you and soon enough, without even knowing it? You’re his girlfriend and living in the Santo Trap house!”

Your younger sister tells you as the two of eat breakfast the next morning. She is constantly getting at you about how your friends with benefits situation will evolve to something more. More serious and more dangerous.

“For the last time, we agreed on just sex. Nothing more, nothing less.” You explain her to which she only rolls her eyes at you. “He leads the Santos. You think I wanna date someone like that?”

She scoffs, “But you fucking him? Spends the night? Picks you up? What about that time he dropped off your glasses? Hm? He knew you were going back to his place yet he drove and took his personal time to bring them to you. Keep lying to yourself but at this point, one of you is feeling something.”

She stands from the table and leaves you to finish up. You play around with your food and try to shake any ‘whatifs’ from your mind. Oscar didn’t seem like the type to care about the relationship part, just the sex.

As another work week had gone by, and multiple texts from Oscar asking if you were free to stop by but you kindly denied because of how tired you were. It’s Friday night and you’re contemplating whether to go over to his place or take the time to recuperate. You didn’t have much time to thoroughly think when your phone rings and Oscars name pops up.

“Well well well the devil himself.”

He chuckles into the speaker, “Hola Mami, whatchu doing?”

“Hm, trying to think if I have enough stamina to come over.” You roll over on your bed, “I could use some convincing.”

You can practically hear the smile in his voice, “The temptation mamas. How about we get some 40s and drive around for a bit?”

“Sure, I’ll be ready in 10.”

You didn’t think much of it, but some free drinks convinced you enough to go with.

Oscar picks you up soon after you change. You weren’t paying enough attention to notice the warmth of his cheeks along with his signature side smile as you get in. A brown paper bag sitting between you that carry the 40s and you’re off out of Freeridge. You have no idea where you’re headed but the scenery is nice as the dark night passes by.

Soon enough, you pull into a parking lot that sits in front of a beach. The moon shines against the water that looks like its out of a movie, he pulls out the drinks and hands one to you.

“How was work this week?”

“Long as hell.”

He wipes his chin, trying to loosen the restrain of his smile, “Had to be, dodged me all week long.” You look over to him, your smile forming as your shake your head at his comment.

“Well, I did say I could be convinced to go over you your place tonight but you wanted to come out here like we’re 18 or something.” Taking a long gulp from the bottle, you lick your lips.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute before striking up another conversation. To which leads you two talking for a while not even noticing the time go by. When you finally become aware at how much you’ve been talking, you look at the time on his stereo, 3AM blinks. You sigh as you set the empty bottle by your feet.

Oscar leads against the car door, watching you as you stretch and look out at the water.

You finally look over at him,“What?”

He looks away and smiles to himself, “I’m just trying to figure it out, that’s all.” You look at him confused considering there was no prior conversation.

“How you got me to take you here. I don’t take anyone here, I only brought mi hermano out here once. Y’know, deep convos and shit. Special place and all. So I’m tryna figure it out.”

As you pay attention to how he tells you this, your mind instantly goes back to the conversation you had with your sister that morning. How you told her that this thing is nothing but an itch to scratch. But now? You hear your sister saying, one of you is feeling something.

You clear your throat, sitting up straighter in your seat. “Um, maybe it’s on your bucketlist to get a hyna to have sex on the beach?” A chuckle escaping you but Oscar doesn’t react much to the joke.

He didn’t know where he was going with this. Hell, he never had a problem with the ladies, ever. Not in high school before he became the leader of the Santos and certainly not after. But most of the hynas he been with truly were a ‘toot it and boot it’ situation. And for the last few weeks, that’s all it had been with you. But as the week had passed by and you weren’t there, he started to think. To think about the what if’s: you not needing to sneak out for work or having real conversations about things like hopes and shit. Oscar realized that maybe he wanted more than just sex with you.

“Nah, sand gets everywhere. Y/N... this thing we got. I’ve been here before, sorry to say but a lot times and usually, they come and go but nena.. you really got me thinking about shit other than just sex.”

Usually, the confession of love for you would give you butterflies. But because of the life he led, it terrified you, “Oscar.. the thing we have, it’s good. It works for us both, I mean granted we lead two different lives... it fits in well. You were the one who dominantly established this was going to be no strings. Sounds like you are saying that’s what you want... strings?”

“What could be so wrong with that? Is it hard to believe a man like me could want that?”

You let of a breath, turning your body to him, “You lead a gang. A group of people who try to rid the streets of violence... with violence. Do you see how that’s fighting fire with fire?”

Oscar kisses his teeth and his body language changes in a snap. He is constantly being looked at like a big bad guy, when really he truly did care for his community. His way of life is a tricky one, sure. But people always looked at how he handled things rather than the fact that he handled them. And now with you using that as a reason for how a guy like him could want something like a real relationship, Spooky is peaking.

“Anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?” His voice snappy and dripping with venom. Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting like he just dissed you at prom or something.

“I usually don’t, but when the cover got bullet holes? I know it’s not the Bible I’m reading.” You snap back, not liking how he suddenly changed his demeanor. How he went from sappy to snappy in an moment. Typical Spooky, you thought.

Oscar only wipes his face, straightening in his seat and turning the key in the ignition. The impala roars to life and he switches the gear to reverse. Much like the ride to the beach, it’s quiet going back to the familiar hood. The atmosphere is cold and chilling. You have your arms crossed over your chest. This definitely not how you foresaw this night going.

As he pulls in front of your house, he still doesn’t say anything. You sit there for a moment and watch him, he grows impatient, waiting for you to get out, “Need me to open the door for you or something?”

The snap in his voice makes you scoff, “A gentlemen at the least would do it. You really gonna be like this? Because I don’t feel comfortable to make it more than what it is.”

Again no answer. With that NOT being said, you fly the door open and close it. You weren’t even given another second before he speeds off and away from your residence. With an audible groan, you march back into your house, cursing to yourself for getting involved with him.

-

The next couple of days went by as normal. You worked your shifts, went to the gym, spent a night out with your sister to whom you didn’t mention anything about the blow up between you and Oscar, dinner and repeat. But in the back of your mind, it gnawed. When you lay in bed getting ready to sleep and the little doors begin to open. What will I eat for lunch tomorrow? When is the electric bill due again? What is Oscar doing? That one comes up more than your usual wonders. There were a few times where you stare at your phone, finger hovering over his contact name but nothing.

As another weekend approached you thought about it again, you even made the effort to see him but when you drove by his place, seeing that his car wasn’t, you kept on driving.

“The fuck are you doing, Y/N?” You tell yourself as you sit in the parking lot of the beach you were at with him nearly a week ago. It’s a sad attempt to go crawling back, really. But when those thoughts crept up to you, you replayed the words you said to him. You spoke to him with such judgement, something you hate about others doing to yourself. Because you weren’t some random hyna. You do know him and truthfully he isn’t a bad person even labeled the elicit Spooky, gang leader of the Santos.

A sigh escapes you, the ring in your ear as you wait for him to pick up. Maybe after your failed attempts to make contact, he’d answer. But to avail.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. It’s been a week and we haven’t really talked or seen each other. I, uh, drove pass your place and you weren’t home and I wanted to call but figured you might have been busy,” You roll your eyes at yourself. “Anyways, I’m sorry for how I said things. Though I stand by what I said I could have been kinder with my words. I don’t like when people use my image to assume who I am. You aren’t the big bad wolf who blows the houses down, matter of fact you’re probably the one who picks up the houses after... um, so I’m sorry. With how I look at you, I thought being with him would be a mistake waiting to happen but if you think there could be something worth trying... maybe you can convince me. Call me back.”

Oscar listens to the voicemail as soon as he gets notified of it. He sits at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees. The cold air hitting his bare back, he sighs.

He feels hands rub over his shoulders and onto his chest, a hot breath on his neck. “What’s the point of being in Sin City, if we aren’t constantly sinning?” Leti’s voice in his ear as she reaches to take his phone, tossing it aside. She scoots off the bed and pushes him back, climbing to straddle him.

Oscar begins to regret making this trip to Vegas as a means to get over you.

[illicitivywp]

thigh

part one 

"Take another picture and I swear, I will kill you."

His empty threat strings a melodious giggle from your throat, powered greatly by the three or four flutes of bubbly champagne you had earlier enjoyed, "don't be grumpy, Harry," recently, it's become your favourite pastime; teasing him relentlessly over his grouchy tendencies. 

Fire crackles calmly, contained securely in a pit, placed efficiently in the centre of where your friends chat and sip alcoholic beverages.

"I'm not grumpy. Delete the pictures."

You hum in faux thought, cinching your lips to one side and twisting to face him and subsequently irritate him further, "no, I don't think I will."

He raises an eyebrow in challenge, allowing his head to rest lazily against the cushion he had nabbed from your own chair before you even got the chance, "you will."

"Will I?" raising your phone to snap yet another picture of him, he frowns dramatically, presumably with the purpose to ruin any future plans of more photos, one which you still intend on following through, "what if I posted them on Instagram, huh? What then?"

"Then, you die."

"That is so truly terrifying," honestly, the ruthless humidity of the previous few days holds more terror than his hollow, dismissive tone, but for every word that you're uttering enthusiastically, he's not relaxing peacefully with creamy sand wiggling between his toes, and he grows only more and more irritated. Despite the absence of seriousness behind his indignation, he will genuinely consider murder if you don't finally retire in your determination to piss him off. So far, you're successful, but he won't admit that. His narcissism, whilst newly embraced as part of his inept personality and often subjected to self-deprecating jokes whilst on stage, is far too considerable for him to submit to your attempts that easily.

"If you post any of these..." his cheekbone pokes curiously at his creamy skin as his jaw shifts to allow his tongue to transport the wad of fresh mint gum from one concave of his cheek to the other, "I will throw your phone into the sea. And then, maybe you."

"You're feeling extra murderous today, aren't you? Not get laid last night?" you suggest a potential reason for his uncharacteristic irritability tonight with a quirked eyebrow and mischievous smile curled onto your glossed lips. Although the late evening dew of the air is rather unbearable at times, the temperature is pleasurably mild - certainly warm enough to constitute several cooled beers and decisions of short shorts, not a single sleeve anywhere in sight.

Tonight is your blessing of relaxation after a lackadaisical day spent between lounging lazily in the sun and dodging burns, stumbling over your limited knowledge of the complicated Greek language in bids to order a fresh soda or peanut butter ice cream (both which are, luckily, one tiny section of your all-inclusive holiday) and visiting various quaint cafes in groups, where you had already formed a sort of signature of trying the baklava from every food establishment you hit in a flippant attempt to discover the best recipe.

His glare is lethal, even through the costly sunglasses beginning to ski along the attractive slope of his nose, undeterred by his knuckle nudging the bridge back into place barely two minutes prior, "no."

"No?"

"No, I didn't, but also that's not why I'm pissed."

"I thought you weren't?" you smile luminously at the opportunity to simultaneously slip him up on his previous claim and, as it appears, irritate him further, "c'mon, H. Why're you so mad today?"

He sighs a puff out of his nose, scrunching it up like he often does subconsciously, "you really want to know why I'm feeling so angry?" he glances in your general direction, though it flies far over your shoulder and seems to focus on something of his interest in the distance, most likely located somewhere on the vast innocence of the beach that is often shadowed by the towering hotel where you and your friends are currently residing during your month-long trip.

"Please, enlighten me."

"It's because..." he leans forward, gesturing for you to follow with a flick of his index finger, indicating a private matter, "this really, really noisy, annoying girl won't stop taking pictures of me whilst I'm trying to relax." 

Your expression flattens, faking an impartial expression and hoping the quirk of your lips, forcing them into a momentary smile, is simply a hallucination, produce of the alcohol floating casually through your usually organised thoughts and jumbling them wildly. However, a tipsy giggle slips free regardless, "at least I'm successful in pissing you off."

"Remind why I invited you to Mykonos again?"

Although he's acting displeased at your disruptive presence, you do manage to spot a small smile of bemusement before he turns intentionally away, "because you love me," you shrug nonchalantly, and Harry can't help but notice how the bulbs glowing brilliantly behind you form an angelic inverted shadow of warmth, reflecting naturally from the leftover champagne smeared over your lips. 

"Hm, do I?”

"Why else would you let me do this?" grasping his wrist before it rises instinctively to block your attack, you launch from your personal seat with a pure laugh at his inability to hold his burst of comical chuckles any longer the second you come to rest peacefully, one foot supporting your balance by the floor and the other pointed highly as the respective knees each pause - beside his lowly slouched hip and between his thighs. Your own hands raise in time with his; you click another blurry picture of him and he playfully pushes at your stomach, "see! You just love me."

"That's debatable. Mitch, can you control her?" he laughs brazenly at your faux objection, appearing to have emerged from his earlier mystery of irritation - although you'd love to know the genuine cause, you would much rather mess around with the Harry you see every day. 

Mitch chuckles, a reasonably rare sight despite his contempt with life, "I'm already struggling with Sarah, she's probably way too drunk right now," for this breezy comment, he receives a light smack to the arm from Sarah beside him. Her ankles are crossed comfortably and hanging loosely over his legs, and as adorable as they currently look, she is certainly way too drunk and practically dropping off to sleep, aided by the reassuring flames trickling from the pit separating us and the countless alcoholic drinks she had consumed in a brief period of the last few hours. 

"Can you just get off me? You're heavy," Harry tries again, lying straight through his teeth because, as it seems to be turning out, he's not so opposed to you claiming a place atop his thigh, and he surely doesn't mind the shortness of your shorts that he hadn't quite noticed before, "please."

Your hips sway instinctively as you pause foolishly for thought, and his fingers itch around his cool beer bottle to grip onto your waist and set you down much, much closer than your previous (strictly friendly) interactions would imply. Eventually, you smile shamelessly at his unsettled request, lowering yourself gradually until the denim hem of your shorts brushes his

skin and electrifies a taunting shiver along his spine, almost as if you're entirely aware of your actions and their consequential effects. 

Dipping forward, his jaw is already mentally loosened to the floor, and you assist him in flipping it into reality; your thumb digs gently into the acute impression of his cheekbone and your fingers wrap steadily around his jaw, shimmering palm covering his chin and essentially silencing him. "No," your playful whisper worms its path languidly through his hazy thought process, the faint feeling of your free fingers tilting forward into his mouth clutching his wrist tightly and yanking him unwillingly back to present day. Once here, however, his eyebrows furrow in irritation yet again - your entire display, intentional or not, had been a ruse to pluck his half-chewed gum right from between his slick lips. 

Instinctively, (he kind of hopes, too) his teeth clamp together strongly before you can rip your fingers away, not enough to seriously injure you but definitely sufficient to shock you into a melodious giggle, "that's mine," he states blankly, waiting with much more patience than any normal human would have remaining with you at this point.

"No, it's not," your grin is utterly infuriating, yet radiant enough to set alight to an urge Harry's felt a fair few times, one that - up until now, it seems - hasn't quite slipped into the state of insatiability. Frequently, during your relatively common drunken nights out, he's had one or six too many drinks and you just look so incredible, so inviting, practically begging him to utilise any part of his body to pleasure you, even just to kiss you. 

Unfortunately for him, however, you've never expressed any interest in him aside from platonic cuddles during your harder breakups or holding hands with the purpose of deterring any creeping men who may, like he had a pathetically long time ago, admire your effortless beauty, which often results in Harry sat sullenly with his chin in his palm, ignoring any attempts to chat to him and viewing you from afar, silently cherishing your incandescent smile and silly dance moves. It also, most of the time, ends in you gaining a meaningful interaction with some random guy who Harry always wordlessly disapproves of but remains quiet on his opinions for your happiness, whilst Harry usually returns home either directly from whatever club or party or shamefully calls his personal driver to pick him up from whoever stranger's bedroom he finds himself inside. 

The only pacification that appears to work successfully in tearing his focus away from you is the few lasting relationships he's experienced; enjoyably, of course. He's even been in love once or twice, but the one connection that seems to endure any test - crazed fans, endless months of touring, even the brutal argument that followed shortly after he had darted any instruction you had given him and sought out and punched an ex-boyfriend who had laid his hands on you once, and that was once too much for Harry - is yours. 

"Give it back," his demand is so stern you consider obeying for a brisk moment, although after an agile deliberation, you follow your original plan and pop the gum directly on your own tongue, chewing it complacently a total of twice before he recreates your gesture.

His movements are much rougher, stronger, and considerably quicker; he squeezes your cheeks correctly and physically forces your lips to part, glaring candidly straight into your eyes when he snatches one end of the stretched gum, luckily hooked onto your canine and reassuring an easy job. In spite of his inept advantage in terms of tenacity, you had readily prepared for a fight, ensuring to grasp his jaw until the gum was resting triumphantly in your palm. 

His first mistake is releasing you before shifting his hand safely with the gum away, allowing your teeth, much like his own had, to clench down, catching the end of the mint instead of his fingers.

His second mistake is refusing to surrender his rescue attempt, inefficiently stringing it along rather than stealing it directly from between your teeth, now wrapped around the tip of your tongue.

His third mistake is maintaining eye contact...for him, at least. You're giggling drunkenly though your bite, emotionally unaffected by your proximity. 

You shift above him, and whilst you don't particularly feel how smoothly your legs fit with his, you do notice the jolt of hormones swirling through your bloodstream and the subsequent uncomfort deep inside of your tummy. Simply, you're horny, and, naturally, you attribute it to the champagne. 

His first score is regaining his sense swiftly after your slip, observing dazedly that you appear to spend a little more time caught in your head, and he wonders absently if you feel it, too. 

His second score is gathering his wits enough to squeeze once on your jaw, prying it open once again and victoriously unhooking the gum from your tooth, all before your thoughts regulate.

His third, and final, score is preserving his grip and testing his strength by repositioning your head until it levels flatly with his and twisted away from him, placing his velvet lips right beside your ear. He tucks an escapee strand away, his touch so feathery that it animates unexplainable shivers across your skin, raising goosebumps across your lower arms that are instantly noticed by Harry and earn a confident smirk; maybe, you are interested. 

You're partly oblivious to the atmosphere created around you, whilst Harry is so aware, it's already beginning to hurt. 

Disregarding the thin denim of your shorts that intervenes his bare thigh, clothed only in boxers and a white t-shirt due to the soaring heat, and your pleasure, your warmth is prevalent; he almost allows his eyes to roll backwards when he feels it, and he just can’t control himself for much longer. 

Inadvertently brushing his lips against your ear, he exhales, “you know I can feel you, right?” Your expression softens into confusion, a half-hearted plea that he’ll consider being mistaken and pretend that this entire situation never existed, “what? Did you think I couldn’t?” His tone is so low and mean that a heavy swallow constricts your throat, causing him to almost laugh lightly at your abrupt plunge of realisation, “you think you can sit right there, on my thigh, and I wouldn’t be able to feel you throbbing? Poor baby--”

“Stop,” it’s a pathetic whisper, little to absolutely no conviction roaring behind it because, for the first time in a while, you’re recognising that you don’t really want him to stop. 

“Stop?” he repeats your doubtful obstruction, an attractive chuckle hidden beneath his overly condescending voice, “do you really want that?”

His eyes twinkle with your hesitation, his lips parted just enough to allow his bunny teeth to poke out, and you’re considering your answer hurriedly; do you want that? Do you want him? Flustered, you glance towards Mitch and Sarah for an excuse to protest, disappointed yet strangely excited to find that they must’ve taken off back to their hotel room, leaving you entirely alone with Harry.

“I--” as fast as you had realised your privacy, a distinctive, drunken cackle of laughter disrupts, your stinging focus flipping speedily from his offer to your friends returning. 

Mitch’s arm is slung loosely around Sarah’s shoulder, tugging her closer when she giggles at the ticklish feeling of his relatively lengthy hair resting on her upper back. They reappear with fresh beers held in their wobbly hands, clearly oblivious to the situation they’re interrupting as they greet you with a nod of acknowledgement before flopping cheerfully into their chair.

In spite of their unexpected reentry, Harry’s bold determination doesn’t waver, “if you want me to stop, just say,” it’s another nudge of encouragement, challenging your temporary reluctance, all of which melts like ice cream dripping from his tongue when his thigh shifts purposefully beneath you and he mouths inaudibly, “quiet.” Your chest is already rising shallowly, stealing large gulps of oxygen to prevent an absence; your core pulses in replacement for the gasp that would naturally escape if you weren’t in literal public, right in front of your friends, no less. 

“Harry, have you heard from Harris?” Mitch calls out, entirely impartial to the connection between you. 

He glances over, simultaneously pushing up his sunglasses to rest in his messy nest of curls and retrieving his beer from the round table beside you, “yeah, they called earlier. They’re arriving at like... five in the morning, I’m pretty sure - said they’ll text when they land, though.” 

He moves again, clearing his throat inconspicuously and straightening his body a little when your muted whimper punctuates the friction he creates, explicitly grazing the fabric of your shorts against your clit. Mitch hums in affirmation, “what’s the name of that restaurant? The one we’re going to tomorrow?” 

“Um, Aggie’s, I think,” his free leg bounces restlessly, the several rings adorning his slender fingers clinking with the glass in his palms, “about five minutes away. ‘s got good breakfast foods, maybe we should go earlier,” he suggests evenly; if you weren’t the one struggling to silence your moans at the hands of his expertise in women’s pleasure, you would assume he’s completely unaffected. 

“Nine?”

“If you think I can be out of bed and functioning by nine…” Sarah heckles his proposition, causing everyone, with the exception of yourself, to chuckle in agreement. 

Harry’s eyes connect fiercely with yours as he raises his beer to steal a brief sip, his thigh beginning to deviate from peace at a faster pace, and you grit your teeth into a smile when he recklessly drives his muscles upwards a little to apply additional pressure to your sensitivity. When your eyelids flutter closed at the inconceivable rush of pleasure, he snaps his attention away and hides his smirk behind his bottle. 

“Ten, then,” Mitch proposes humorously, and Harry nods gradually in confirmation. 

“Is ten okay for you?” you require a beat or two to realise that his question, accompanied by a smug smile and glimmering eyes, is directed towards you. It places all attention on you suddenly, and the struggle of withholding your whines and charming sighs, knowing that everyone is watching you, mostly unaware of your current battle, heightens unbelievably, 

You nod, silent aside from a gulp of nerves and broken into pieces when he nudges his thigh upwards yet again, “yeah, that sounds great,” you spit out an answer with a faux smile, presuming that to be the single method of preventing his cruel actions from continuing. 

“Fantastic,” he speaks aloud to the group, yet his eyes remain drawn to yours, flickering momentarily to your rosy cheeks and silky lips, “we’ll meet in the lobby at quarter-to,” he surveys your surroundings, particularly where the other’s attention lies currently. 

Apparently, he deems it to be safe to speak quietly to rile you up further. However, you lunge at the opportunity of his distractedness, experimenting discretely and raising your hips slightly from his leg, swiftly clamping your thighs together in a desperate search for relief; the alleviation of pressure you do receive and the pleasure that follows suit is unimaginable. 

Harry disapproves immediately. One, firm squeeze of your waist lands you right back where you had managed to temporarily escape - despite how much you’re enjoying the implication of riding his thigh, (which is utterly insane in itself, you can’t believe you’re genuinely allowing yourself to do this) the pace he’s setting isn’t nearly as fast as you desire. 

His hand glides intently from your hip, grazing over your centre in passing before sliding haltingly along your own thigh. Although they’re about half the size of his, you appear to mold perfectly.

Eventually, his fingertips tap lightly at your knee, slipping beneath to grasp it in one, heavenly palm with incredible ease, physically restraining any potential movement and quashing any hope of relief you foolishly had clung onto like life support, “Harry…” 

“Shh, c’mere,” he whispers lowly, a mischievous glint sparkling in the green of his irises and informing you that he has some sort of plan. You almost moan out when he hits exactly the right spot once, and by the time he figures out a subtle rhythm, nudging your clit with every single shift of his thigh, your own are shivering and your teeth are digging into your bottom lip to the point of pain with the sheer effort of maintaining relative control. 

“I--” you trail off, scrunching up your nose and knitting your feathery eyebrows together, burrowing your nails into the fleshiest part of your palm.

“Hm?” he hums knowingly, removing his hand from your knee and running soft lines along your leg. If you weren’t already trembling from his superficial touch, you certainly would be now. His fingertips travel further towards where your shorts are already displaced an inch or two each time, a wild glance cast over to where your friends sit, unaware and chatting amusedly, secures your fragile safety, “you gonna come, is that it?”

The smugness dripping from his words like honey strings a soft sigh from your lungs, your stomach and fingers quivering visibly as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

You nod in response, squeezing your eyes shut to quell the risk of a stray moan slipping out and humiliating the both of you, but, for Harry, this doesn’t seem to be satisfactory. He requires a spoken answer, and you don’t even have the ability to speak, currently. 

His mellow fingertips finally reach the apex of your thighs, terrifying yet relieving; if he slips his touch anywhere near your bare, warm skin, you surely wouldn’t be able to physically withhold your whines, and yet, you’re silently begging him to disregard that possibility entirely and and rip all of your clothing to shreds right here. 

Deliberately lazily, he slides the fabric covering your center aside, and, as much as he’s craving just the sight of you, he knows that you’re not exactly in the correct mindset to permit him to see anything without liability, so his eyes hover directly on yours. Your eyelids flutter closed in anticipation for his touch and preparing for the unbearable pressure built in your stomach to release shortly.

Expecting warmth, you jolt in surprise and gasp quietly at the iciness of his fresh bottle of beer pressed snugly against your bare skin, risking a timid dredge of your nails along his bicep which flexes with the effort of spreading your legs for him. 

He smiles, satisfied at your reaction, not bothering to focus on you any longer; his forearm runs along the entire length of your thigh, two fingers supporting the bottle and his elbow pushing on your knee as he plucks his phone from the table with his free hand, holding it loosely and without an ounce of care. The prospect of him making you feel this senseless and barely even paying attention to your tiny trembles is driving you dangerously close to the edge. 

“Hey, Mitch,” he speaks normally, catching the attention of everyone and forcing you to quieten to full silence, “what’d you think of the beer?” 

“It’s pretty good - not as good as that one from Madrid, though.”

Sarah chuckles in agreement, “no wonder. Nothing could be better than that.”

“Actually--,” Harry pauses, abruptly removing the bottle from between you, appearing to the others to have been resting innocently on his lap, and raising it. You physically clench your mouth shut tightly when, instead of taking a sip, he tilts his head and, in one, large sweep of his tongue, he cleans your dripping arousal from the glass, smiling angelically in your direction. This time, he does take a small drink of the alcohol you have always preferred to avoid, “tastes really good.” 

Mitch nods in fairness, assuming his comment to be about the beer, but you know better, “I’m definitely not complaining.”

“I think... it might be the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he laughs, as does Harry, and as it seems, Sarah has fallen asleep with her forehead landing on her boyfriend’s shoulder. 

His eyes meet yours yet again, a quirk of his eyebrow implying to lean down, “are you listening?” You nod compliantly, “you’re gonna keep riding my thigh until you come, understand?” 

Jaw clenching as you swallow thickly at his demand, you feel as if you could finish just by the viciousness to his tone, “yes.”

“Good girl, and be quiet about it,” he instructs decisively, frowning slightly when his phone alerts with the buzz of a phone call. At your brisk glimpse, the screen reads Jeff, and you feel somewhat comforted yet horrified at the fact you know the caller personally, because, after all, his client and close friend is about to make you come. “Hi, what’s up?” 

“Harry, have you been on instagram recently?” Jeff sounds seriously concerned, which instantly matches in Harry’s expression; you would mirror his nerves if you weren’t so focused on the pleasure of his bare thigh rubbing against your clit repeatedly. Understandably, you’re a little preoccupied.

“Uh, no, I’ve been out for a while. Is something wrong?” this particular comment is certainly enough to catch your attention, and you freeze with nothing but an artful grin. 

“Someone appears to have posted some photos of you, from tonight, I’m assuming,” he announces, and Harry’s gaze snaps maliciously to you, “I’m guessing the culprit is with you right now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” if you thought the intensity of his glare was fiery before, you’re now blistering from the blaze, “don’t worry, I can sort it out.”

“I don’t think many people have caught them quite yet, but a few have tweeted about it.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll deal with it.”

“Have a nice night, H.”

“You too, mate, speak to you tomorrow,” he exhales as if he were exhausted shortly after ending the call, calmly setting his phone and beer upon the small table. In a sudden twist, your hair is tangled around his wrist and becomes leverage for him to yank you closer, “I’m gonna fuck the shit outta you, you know that?” 

Your squeak of anticipation is barely audible, though the hint of hilarity is strongly set within your darkened eyes, “mhm.”

He releases you with a unique roughness that stretches a gasp from your lungs, “make yourself come,” the comment is flippantly articulated, and yet, utterly cataclysmic for the pressure you dare to cover your centre with again and again. Within thirty seconds, your thighs are trembling, your stomach is clenching in count with your core, and your features are scrunched up firmly. 

Usually, he would view the contortion of your face to be adorable. He has many times in the past, in fact. Right now, however, he’s concentrating heavily on not coming just from the sight of you curbing your whimpers and trying so hard not to alert your drunken friends of your provocative acts. Absently, he wonders how an outsider would perceive the two of you at this moment; is it obvious? Do you look like a happily married couple or is it clear that you’re simply friends who slipped and accidentally blurred the boundaries set naturally between you? 

You muffle your sob against his shoulder, and, in an effort to appear in the eyes of others like a platonic act of comfort, he buries his fingers into your messed hair, embracing you closer and allowing him to drive his thigh upwards in time with your subtle movements. 

His lips, craving to be connected to yours, flatten neutrally, mirroring the rest of his face - Mitch, who’s awoken by Sarah’s quiet snores, smiles privately at your proximity. Whilst it’s obvious he’s not aware of the deeper purpose of your closeness, he had figured out that Harry was completely over his head for you barely weeks after meeting him, and he’s pleased that you seem to have crossed the line of friendship. 

“I- I’m so close--” you choke out against his supportive weight, your voice cracking pathetically and causing the corners of his lips to quirk up smugly, “Harry…” your jaw drops laxly whilst the rest of your body tenses; your nails dig crescent moons into his bicep, your thighs quiver around his, your core pulses in nearly painful relief at the abrupt dissipation of pressure.

He thinks you look so, so incredibly pretty at any given moment, but he has to say, seeing your highest inhibitions unravel so profoundly as you come for him, you’ve truly never looked better than when you’re his. 

Chest rising hollowly, a sharp inhale rips through your lungs and reinvigorates your perception of reality, and, this time, your jaw plummets for a whole other cause. 

Oh, my God, what the fuck did you just do? 

You actually, genuinely just rode the thigh of one of the biggest celebrities in the modern industry, topping every chart and barely batting an eyelid at women hurling themselves at him, exactly as you had just done. 

And you liked it--loved it, even.

He made you come; an occurrence that (unfortunately for your childish expectations that were shattered several years ago) is often rare and difficult to achieve. And he did it without so much as a single touch. 

Regaining movement as your senses begin to slow down in their innate tingling and his hand shifts from your untidy hair, he tries not to focus for too long on your flushed cheeks and puffy lips, “you good?”

“Did you really just ask if I’m good?”

“Yeah.”

“...yeah, I’m really good, Harry. What was that?” you stutter in a panic; sure, you’d had your moments of appreciating his attractiveness and wondering what it’d be like to potentially obscure the boundary of friendship between you, but you had never even considered that. 

He smiles youthfully, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb, “a preview. C’mon, I’m so, so far from done with you.” In one sudden swipe, all of your hesitance, all of your anxiety over the implications of whatever the fuck you just did, disappears into thin air, and you’re willing for absolutely anything.

Your platonic relationship is fucked already, why not destroy it entirely?

[broadwaycutie16]

Jerk in Sheep’s Clothing Chapter 1

Marinette's feet felt as heavy as stone as she trudged up the sidewalk towards the school. A month ago, her feet felt light and airy whenever she started walking to her first class. She used to look forward to girl talk with Alya and the others, mooning over Adrien, and what other wonderful surprises the day had in store for her. But ever since Lila had returned to school and gotten the class under her spell, Marinette never knew whether she would spin another tale and make everyone mad at Mari.

It was taking all of Marinette's strength to keep things as calm and neutral between her and her friends as possible. She had been trying desperately to relieve some of the tension with only some success. But no matter how tense things were between them, they were still her friends.

Besides, Marinette could not blame them entirely for believing Lila's wild tales. As much as she hated to admit it, the Rossi girl had had a valid point—people believe what they wanted to believe. After all, Marinette had only seen through her lies because of her most infamous fibs of being besties with Ladybug—who was secretly Marinette. If Lila had not unknowingly lied about Mari, would the pigtailed girl have been onto her in the first place?

At first, she had been upset at Adrien for not helping her expose Lila. But soon, she remembered Gabriel, and how he had raised his son to obey without protest, to always been seen and not heard. Marinette could not blame Adrien for following his upbringing, no matter how abusive it was. Victims of those things applied that knowledge to everyone they came in contact with.

As such, Marinette knew that all she could do was hold on and hope, hope, hope with all her heart that sooner or later, the class would see through Lila's ridiculous stories. Because that's what friends did, even if things had been rather one-sided lately. She believed in them. Amd nothing could deter her from that belief.

In her deep trance of thoughts and fears of what drama the day might bring, Marinette did not notice a rock in her path, not until it was too late. The next thing she knew, she was jerked from her train of thought and went stumbling forward. She shut her eyes tight, preparing to feel the hard slap of concrete against her face. But it never came.

It was only moments later that she felt two strong hands on her arms, holding her up. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see a handsome face. The features were chiseled, coated in smooth, tan skin. The eyes were a rich cocoa brown, matching the color of his smooth, shiny hair, slicked back into a feathered style. The half-smile he wore on his face, showing his pearly white teeth, would make any girl swoon.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice deep and charming. "I know we just just met, but no need to fall for me."

Marinette laughed, half at the joke and half at their awkward meeting, as she pulled herself to an upright standing position. "Sorry about that.", she said, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear nervously.

The boy waved it off. "No problem. I'm flattered. Its not everyday that I literally bump into a pretty girl."

That made Marinette's face turn red as her Ladybug costume. They had only just met less than a minute ago, and he had already made a pass at her, and called her pretty. And she thought Chat Noir was forward.

The boy thrust his hand out towards her. "Henri LeRoi."

She smiled and shook his hand. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

His brown eyes grew wide.  "Marinette...lovely name.  Just rolls off the tongue."

He said it again, slower and softer this time.  "Marinette...its beautiful.  But hey...I can't expect less from a beautiful girl."

Now her awkwardness factor had been pumped up to eleven. She looked away, fiddling with her pigtails. She had just been promoted from pretty to beautiful in a matter of seconds. This boy definitely knew how to make a girl blush, as proven by the dark crimson color the skin on her face had taken on.

"So...I better get to Francois Dupont..."

Henri smile brightened. "What a coincidence! I'm starting there today!"

She looked back, matching his grin. "Really? That's great! That means we'll be seeing more of each other!"

"Might I be so bold as to escort you onto the premises?", he asked, in a teasing tone.

Marinette giggled at his hoity play accent and replied, "T'would be my honor, Mousier LeRoi."

And with that, they linked arms and went marching into the school. Marinette's heart suddenly felt much lighter than it had in weeks. --------------- Lila Rossi finished gathering her things from her locker when she noticed Marinette enter the room. Lila always had a sixth sense for when her foe walked in. But the thing that really caught her attention was that the rival was on the arm of a really good-looking dude. He was tall and muscular and dressed fashionably, and he and Marinette were laughing, like they had known each other forever.

"Seriously? You're in Madame Bustier's class, too?"

"It'll be so great to have you there! I'll save you a seat, kay?"

The new boy smiled at her charmingly. "Kay. See ya in class, cutie."

And he winked and shot her finger guns. Imagine Lila's surprise when Marinette giggled as she skipped off to class. Oh, no. She wasn't going to let Marinette have that boy as a friend or anything else. She didn't get that. Time for another play of the victim card.

Once she was certain Marinette was gone, she snuck up next to the boy and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, and Lila put on her best pitiful face.

"Hey...I saw you talking to Marinette. I know she might seem nice, but there's something you should know about her..."

To her surprise, Henri didn't let her get another word in. "Save it. I know about you, Lila. Marinette told me all about you. How you're lying to everyone, trying to turn them all against her."

Lila fumed. The class had listened to her stories. Why wasn't this boy?

"Whatever she's said about me, its not true! She's the one bullying me! She hates me for no good reason! She's just jealous that I've done all these awesome things, meeting princes and rockstars and seeing the world for the past year, and she's just a dumb baker girl!"

Henri raised his eyebrows. "Really? You traveled the world? Because last I checked, your mom hasn’t left Paris in a year."

Lila's face paled. How had he known that? "How...How did you..."

"I looked you up on social media when Marinette mentioned you.", he said, stroking his chiseled chin with a devious smirk. "Didn't find any profiles matching you, but I did find your mom’s official webpage on the site for the embassy she works at. I know its her because she mentioned you were her daughter and posted the occasional childhood photograph of you on the family tab. But the embassy rules on the website clearly state that the members aren’t allowed to take their kids with them on foreign missions. I wonder...if she didn’t take you, where have you really been all that time? Maybe I should go to the address on her profile and ask her. Tell to check in with the school, just to be safe..."

Never, in all her weeks of careful planning and manipulations, had Lila been so terrified. This new boy saw through her ruse. What's more, he held the keys to her demise. This was something that she had been dreading since she returned to school, yet had hoped and prayed would never happen. Her whole world was threatening to crumble right before her very eyes.

But before she lie her way out of her situation, or at the very least, get on her knees and beg him not to follow through on his threats, promising him anything under the sun if he only kept her secrets, the new boy surprised her by simply saying, "But instead, I'll make you a little bargain."

Lila blinked twice, confused with this sudden and unexpected turn of events. "Pardon?"

The new guy folded his arms over his chest, leaning in towards her, speaking softly so their conversation would not be overheard by unwelcome. "Here's the deal...you keep playing that little game of yours, and I'll keep my mouth shut. What's more, I'll steer her clear of her friends...especially that Adrien guy."

Lila blinked again. A minute ago, this guy had been threatening to expose her to the world. Now, not only was he promising to keep silent for her, he was offering to keep Marinette away from her friends, leaving them all to herself. Lila's one eyebrow and suspicions rose. "What's the catch?"

”No catch.", he said. "Just keep doing what you're doing. This way, you can have your crowd of admirers without any interference...and I get Marinette all to myself. Everybody wins."

It all clicked in Lila's mind. So that was his angle. He figured that if all of Marinette's friends were against her, he would have no problems keeping her all to himself, like a dragon hoarding treasure. Of course, when someone offers to not only keep your darkest secrets, but also help you carry on your charade of being special, you don't pass it up. A part of Lila was disappointed that she had failed to turn the boy against Marinette, but she figured it was a worthy sacrifice if it meant no more pigtail girl trying to expose her.

So, she smiled wickedly and said, "Deal." And they shook on it before parting ways. ---------------- Adrien walked into the classroom, double-checking that all of his school supplies were in order, when he looked up and saw Lila sitting in Nino's seat. Nino and Alya followed in after, seeing what their friend saw.

"Oh, is your tinnitus acting up again?", asked Alya.

Lila nodded. "Sadly, yes. But don't worry about Marinette. She'll be just fine." She jerked her thumb behind her, and all three looked towards the back row.

There was Marinette, sitting there, only she did not see any of them. She was too engrossed in a conversation with a boy that they did not recognize, with dark hair and dark eyes and a smile on his face.

"His name's Henri. He just transferred here.", explained Lila. She eyed Adrien with a mean smile. "They look pretty cozy, don't they?"

Nino shrugged. "Well, long as she's got company, I guess it'd be okay for me to sit in her seat."

He and Alya went to sit in the second row without any protest, but Adrien stayed behind, staring at the sight before him. He wasn't sure why, but his inner alarm bells were ringing when he looked at the new guy. There was something about him that sent his Chat Noir super senses tingling.

Marinette looked into her backpack for something, and that's when Henri noticed Adrien's stare on them. Their eyes met across the room, and that's when it happened. Henri's brown eyes narrowed, and he sent a nasty smirk Adrien's way, one that made the model boy's blood turn to ice in his veins. Then, the moment right before Marinette turned back, Henri was back to his former, cheerful, non-threatening self, chatting happily with her.

All of the sudden, Adrien felt sick, his head spinning, his stomach churning, his heartbeat ceasing fir a few seconds before it started beating a hundred times a minute. He didn't know what had just happened or why, but he had an awful feelings that things would never be the same again.

[writtenisolation]

A Series of Firsts - Part 3

Read Part 2 here

First Phone Call

Carson wasn’t the kind of person who was attached to his phone. But after getting Melissa’s number and starting a conversation with her, he could not bare to be apart from his phone. They texted practically all the time. Since he was in radiology, he didn’t really have very many procedures to attend and so he literally had all the time in the world to text her. Unfortunately for him, she could only text when she wasn’t putting someone to sleep for a surgery or waking them up after the surgery.

He hadn’t really seen her since the run-in at the grocery store. Yes, they worked at the same place, but she almost always took her lunch break way after him and it hadn’t really occurred to him to just go later as well so that they could have lunch together. He wasn’t really a breakfast guy and so lunch always had to be at its earliest possible.

He didn’t know why, but for some reason, the thought of seeing her outside of his phone, in real life, made him nervous. He could have great conversation with her over text and he was quite sure that his boldness at that party only shone through because of those 3 beers he had had before bumping into her. The confidence at the grocery store also happened to be just a ruse, he was so nervous inside he literally had to stop and take deep breaths to calm himself down after she had left.

He was worried that conversation in real life wasn’t going to be as good as it was on text. And although he really did want to see her at work or even outside of work (at a date he still had to ask her to), he didn’t want to compromise on what they had over text.

It was Wednesday already, two days since he had gotten her number and they had literally not stopped talking. He was scrolling through his chat with her while waiting for his pizza to get done in the oven. They were talking about music and the concerts and festivals they’ve been to, when she mentioned that her profile picture was from one of those festivals. But instead of clicking on her profile picture, curse his fat fingers, he ended up clicking on the call button. Cursing loudly, he cut the call almost immediately and hoped it hadn’t gone through. Forgetting about his pizza, he walked into Dylan’s room and flopped on the bed letting out a huge sigh. Dylan, his best friend and roommate, laughed at him before asking him what was wrong, which only made him sigh even louder.

A couple of seconds later, when his phone dinged from the kitchen, signalling a new text, he made his way back to his pizza and his phone.

Melissa: hey, sorry i missed your call, i’m making dinner! would it be okay if i call back in like half an hour?

Carson did not know how to react to that message. On one hand, he was annoyed that the call went through but on the other hand, he was also kind glad that it went through because now she was going to call him and he could have an actual, not over text, conversation with her.

Carson: Yeah, sure. I should be done with dinner by then as well :)

He didn’t want to tell her that he called by mistake and so he just pretended like it was actually what he had meant to do.

After finishing his pizza (yes he ate the entire thing), he still had around 10 minutes before his call with the one person who was always on his mind. He knew he wasn’t seeing her, it wasn’t a video call (at least he hoped not) but he still spent time brushing his teeth and hair and making himself look presentable. In his head, it was like he was going on a date without really going anywhere.

His phone started ringing and he panicked, she was a whole minute early and was not ready for that. Taking a deep breath, he answered the phone with a soft greeting.

“Hi,” came her sweet, soft reply. His grinned to himself, already liking the way her voice sounded on the phone. “You called me earlier?”

“I wish I could say it was intentional,” he muttered, embarrassed but then she giggled, almost making him forget his embarrassment.

“I did think it was a mistake too,” she replied, making him groan loudly, which in turn made her giggle again. Carson already loved the sound of it and he was quite sure that he would keep embarrassing himself if it meant that he could hear it more often. “But then Baz said that I could take it as a way to call you, so I did.”

“I don’t know who Baz is, but remind me to thank him when I meet him,” he said, grinning at himself.

“Baz is my best friend and flatmate,” she said. For some reason, knowing that another male had a close relationship with her made him jealous.

She went on to tell him more about Baz and her and how they met (orientation week of med school) and then ask him about his friends. He liked that she was interested in his life. He told her about Dylan and some of his other friends from radiology, some of whom she happened to know. The conversation was slowly dulling, he didn’t know what to ask her (he was always awkward on the phone) but he didn’t want to stop talking to her either.

He was looking around room for inspiration for a topic to talk about, when she suddenly yelled loudly right into the mouthpiece and into his ear.

“Is everything alright?” he asked her, concerned about her wellbeing.

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” came her reply, almost sounding as though she was brushing him off.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing, to be honest,” she told him, which only made his curiosity grow even more. After a couple of moments of him urging her to tell her what happened, she sighed and gave in. “Baz and I are watching Pokémon and Charmeleon just evolved into Charizard.” His eyes grew wide as soon as she said that.

“I love Pokémon!” He exclaimed, and grinned widely, even though she couldn’t see him.

This was exactly what he needed. This opened up a whole new conversation and he could go on and on when it came to this topic. And knowing that she liked Pokémon only made him fall more in love with her. He couldn’t help himself, this girl was literally perfect.

They went on talking, the conversation moving from Pokémon to other cartoon shows they liked (both big fans of Spongebob) and just everything in general. After speaking to her for only half an hour, it felt like he had known her all his life and he did not want to stop talking to her. Their conversation continued, neither of them wanting to hang up the phone.

It had been over two hours since their call started and he was lying in his bed, his phone on loudspeaker next to him as he played catch with himself. He was in the middle of telling her a story from his childhood (the one about the scar just above his eyebrow), when he realised that she hadn’t answered him in a while. He paused and called out her name a couple of time but there was still no response. It was only then that he heard the slightest of snores, making him laugh softly at the realisation that she had fallen asleep. He almost wanted to feel offended that his stories had put her to sleep but the fact that she snored made her so dang adorable that he couldn’t stay mad at her. Not wanting to cut the phone on her without saying goodbye, he left his phone on loud, plugged it into his charger and curled up with a pillow in his arms. She was the last thought he had as fell asleep, diving headfirst into a dreamworld filled with what he wanted his life to look like with her in the picture.

[damn-daemon]

Critical Mass - Prologue

(While I’m still writing this for NaNo, I have no self control - @chuck-hansens​ did this to me. This isn’t the final version, but please let me know what you think!)

Ring of Kafrene

It had once been a populous mining site, home to a multitude of cultures and corporations, but the collapse of the Empire lead to many of the mines being closed down – no more Death Stars to build after all – and the area fell into disrepair. The Hutts attempted to take control of the area, but their reach had dwindled over the past decade, leaving the station in the hands of local gangs. It had become a hotbed of illegal activity – not that things had been easygoing under Imperial rule – with a reputation that rivaled some of the Outer Rim worlds.

So, of course his person of interest would be holed up here. 

Poe Dameron sighed as he stepped into the space port, vaguely paying attention as the docking clamps ground into place. The old, two-seater freighter was a far cry from his T-70, but the point of the mission was to not draw attention to himself. Also to preferably not get his ship stolen. An X-Wing wouldn’t last more than an hour in this space port. He didn’t even think the freighter would, and that rusting block hadn’t seen active service since before the Clone Wars. 

BB-8 rolled up beside him, gently nudging his boot and whistling softly. 

“Yeah, buddy, I’m starting to think I should have left you home too,” he replied.

The air was stale and stank of grease, oil, and other things he’d rather not think about. Most of the equipment was retrofitted mining machinery with exposed wires and layers of rust. Something electrical was sparking on the far end of the docking bay, and there was a lone astromech lying on the ground. Occasionally it beeped, but no one seemed to care. 

Inside the station was bound to be interesting. 

“I wouldn’t linger, if I were you.”

Poe turned to the bay doors, finding them open and occupied by a dark green Rodian. He was tapping on a datapad. 

“This level’s got a faulty grid. Power tends to cut and then you’re off for a nice – if brief – space trip.”

Panicking, BB-8 cried, launching a cable into the nearest wall. 

Poe pat the poor droid before walking to the doors. Eventually, he heard the sound of his friend rolling behind him – and then rapidly in front of him. 

“What’s my docking fee?” he asked, feeling a small amount of relief when the doors closed behind him. 

“Hundred fifty credits first day. One hundred for every day after.”

“And what’s the fee if I don’t want my ship to go mysteriously missing?”

If Rodians were capable of smiling, the one before him would be grinning from ear to ear. 

“Add another fifty credits on top,” the Rodian replied, accepting his credit chit. “Here I thought you were another one of those Core pilots. Come to this heap looking for adventure, and they lose everything but the clothes on their backs. Sometimes, they lose those too.”

“I used to be,” Poe said, walking down the narrow corridor. He ignored the way the lights flickered as he walked by, as well as what could be described as whimpering on BB-8’s part. 

The doors at the end opened slowly, grinding on gears that were undoubtedly rusted as well, revealing an unusual world. 

The Ring of Kafrene was an outpost that connected two asteroids. There was no atmosphere, gravity, or vegetation. It was rock and metal, a self-contained unit that relied heavily on trade to keep running. Problem was, Kafrene didn’t lie on any well-traveled trade routes. Without the allure of a thriving mining community, most vessels moved on to safer, better known stops. 

Metal towers, conduits, and piping shot upward for as far as Poe could see. The air was thick with steam and other chemicals being churned into the atmosphere out of various vents, clouding the passageways so that there always appeared to be a fog. Everything was a shade of brown, and he doubted that it started that way. 

Outside the few windowpanes, ships drifted outside. As did garbage.

Aliens of every type shuffled around the area, some in piloting gear, others armed to the teeth, a few sat on the ground begging for spare credits. A bounty hunter dragged a shouting Dug through the crowd. No one reacted. Most just moved along, quiet and plodding. It was another day for them. 

“Maybe I still am,” he whispered. 

He wandered with the crowd for some time, actively keeping BB-8 in front of him – only three passersby attempted to interact with the droid, each met with the same number of volts – until he came across the cantina he was looking for. At least it smelled like something remotely edible over the same stale air. 

A young Twi’lek held her hand up as he entered the space, looking him over like she could smell the offworlder on him. 

“We don’t serve droids here.”

Poe looked down at BB-8, who looked up at him. They both looked at the droid working behind the bar, serving drinks and making programmed small talk. 

“Well, I’ve never seen a droid eat anything.”

Her eyes glazed over, pupils momentarily scraping the top of her head, before she sighed and moved on, handing drinks over to a rowdy table of miners. 

Poe shrugged, and sauntered up to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools.

And there he waited. 

Time passed slowly, and Poe had to actively restrain himself from constantly checking the door. General Organa’s mission layout was simple: the contact would come to him. He wasn’t to move until then. 

Three days ago, C-3PO received an encoded message from one of his contacts – frankly, the idea that a protocol droid had an underground spy network at his proverbial fingertips was still strange to him – detailing a curious event that had occurred on Canto Bight. It alleged that a First Order operative had gone rogue. Leia had decided to err on the side of caution until yesterday when 3PO received a second transmission from this space port. 

It was potentially the largest lead on the First Order they had ever received – someone who was actually on the inside, and actively seeking a way out – yet Leia had still offered him a choice. It would be dangerous – and was possibly a trap – and if he felt the risk was too great, then they would leave it be. 

“It’s like you don’t know me, General,” he’d said with a smile. “I haven’t met a risk yet that wasn’t worth the effort.”

Her smile wasn’t quite there. “Sometimes, Dameron, I wish you had.”

He’d spent the entire trip mulling over those words. 

The Gran that had been occupying the bar since he arrived stood to leave, mumbling some obscenities as he shuffled toward the door. That left Poe alone at the bar – nearly alone in the cantina minus the miner party – and a little sullen at that. A crowded place was better for meeting. Here might have been downright suspicious. 

He chanced a glance at the door. 

“You humans never were good at being subtle.” 

Poe looked back to the droid behind the bar. It was a tall, thin thing, with one red sensor that watched him. Perhaps the only thing not rusting in the area, it still maintained a metallic sheen. Someone had jokingly tied a bow tie to what would have been its neck region. 

“Excuse me?” 

The entire time, the droid had been speaking in simple phrases, exhibiting a simple etiquette programming, but that appeared to have been a ruse on its part. 

“Your species fidgets too much. It has a low tolerance for sitting still. Imagine how little would get done if a droid acted the same way.”

Poe lowered his voice. “Are you…?”

He could have sworn the droid looked disappointed. “Were you expecting something organic?”

You know, he really didn’t have an answer for that. 

Poe waited as the droid continued cleaning the bar top, now acutely aware of how much movement his body was making. He continually caught his fingers tapping on the counter-top and would put his hands on his lap, only then his knee would start bouncing. BB-8 had grabbed his foot with a little claw to keep it still. 

“You’re not helping.”

The droid whistled shrilly.

Poe pointed a finger at him. “That was rude.”

Eventually, the bar droid placed a small cup in front of him without a word. Poe watched it briefly, but it no longer acknowledged him, chirping out a chipper greeting to a Talz that had just entered. 

Inside the cup was a small data drive.

Poe watched it a moment, wondering if he shouldn’t pretend to take a drink. Instead, he counted to one hundred, grabbed the drive, and made his way out of the cantina. 

The crowds had died down slightly, apparently having gone through a shift change when he first entered. Still, there was a steady current of aliens traveling down the narrow passageways. Poe let himself be directed by them, hoping to blend in as much as possible until he chanced upon a more private setting. 

They passed through a small market place, where the citizens of the station haggled over used equipment and fried food. The walk became suffocating as it was apparent that the stalls had not initially been considered as part of the station’s original layout, leaving the travelers packed shoulder to shoulder. 

A small fist fight broke out, knocking over a fruit stand. This led to several individuals grabbing the wayward Jogan fruit and making a run for it, leaving the owner cursing in what he thought was Huttese. 

Poe took the momentary chaos as an opportunity to stray from the beaten path, taking a narrow passageway that was lined with piping and probably served as more of a maintenance access. It widened out at the middle, opening up to a chamber that was filled with steam drifting from various vents rising up through dozens of levels. BB-8 just barely managed to roll through, leaving him somewhat confident that they would be alright for the time being. 

“Alright, buddy,” he said, taking a knee before BB-8 and handing out the drive. “Let’s see what you can make of this.”

BB-8 beep in acknowledgement, taking the drive. It only took a moment for his systems to process the data, producing a hologram of a still image – a young woman looking over her shoulder, face slightly blurred – and a few sentences of info. 

“Arrived on the station in an unauthorized Republic ship,” Poe mumbled, confused by how random the information seemed to be. “Logs wiped clean. Dock personnel unable to locate. Incident on level eighty-two involving half a dozen casualties potentially tied to her. I don’t know, this seems like a lot of loosely connected stuff. How do we know it’s her?”

His droid whistled and another image appeared, this one dated for the incident in Canto Bight. The projection wasn’t nearly as clear as the first, but Poe could tell it was clearly the same woman. 

“Alright,” Poe acknowledged, standing up at the holograms disappeared. “So, now we just have to find her…in the middle of all this. Yeah, no problem.”

The droid beeped.

“Yes, I know I said it would be worth it.”

Poe ran a hand over his face. It wouldn’t have been the first time he was wrong. 

“Is that a BB-series astromech?!” 

Startled by the sudden voice, Poe almost pulled the blaster hidden in his jacket, but was able to restrain himself long enough to get a good look at the boy that was now watching them from the opening. 

He couldn’t have been older than ten, staring at them with curious hazel eyes and a grin nearly too big for his face. His blonde hair stuck up in all directions, his clothes were covered in grease and grime, and in his hand, he held a single Jogan fruit, clearly having taken advantage of the tussle as well. 

BB-8 whistled, his head bobbing back and forth like a proud little shake. 

“How did you get one here?” the boy asked, darting out from the narrow passageway and fallen to his knees in front of the droid. “Last decent looking droid I saw got scrapped for parts within the hour.”

Ignoring the cries of panic from his friend, Poe actually smiled at the kid. At least someone around the area hadn’t had their spirits dampened yet. 

“Beebee-Ate isn’t about to go down with out a fight, and trust me, this guy’s got a lot of it in him,” he replied, patting the droid.

“Has he seen a lot of action?”

Poe shrugged. “A skirmish or two. Nothing he couldn’t handle.”

BB-8 was practically humming from the attention. 

The boy looked up at him. “So, you’re not from around here. Why come to this place? We’re not exactly near anything.”

“Business.”

“What kind of business?”

Poe felt his eyes narrowing. “What’s with all the questions, kid?”

The boy shrugged, taking a bite from the Jogan. “I have to ask them.”

“Why?”

“I needed to distract you somehow,” he replied, eyes landing on something that was definitely behind him. 

Poe didn’t even get the chance to reach for his blaster before something struck the back of his knee, hard, and his leg crumpled to the ground. The other leg followed suit as something struck it as well, except when it hit the ground, he felt a mass remain there, applying pressure to his calf. It felt like a knee. 

An arm wrapped around his neck, squeezing. The pressure wasn’t enough to render him unconscious, but warned that the outcome was possible if he didn’t comply. 

A shot fired, an electrical burst striking BB-8. The poor droid short-circuited, his components shooting out haphazardly before his systems automatically shut down to prevent further damage to his internal drives. 

“Hey! What are you-” Poe choked as the arm squeezed tighter, making his vision pulse. He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay.”

The boy frowned. “Sorry.”

He felt the attacker’s hand reach under his jacket, securing the blaster. 

“Can I have it?” the boy asked, face lighting up briefly before he assumed the attacker gave him a look. The frown returned. “Okay.”

“So, I take it you’re the fugitive from the First Order, right?” Poe asked, risking further damage to himself, but the arm did not squeeze again. “I mean, you have to be. You’re not asking for any credits.”

There was no response.

“You didn’t shoot me, which is nice. Means you don’t want me dead. And if you don’t want me dead, that means I have something you want, right?”

Still nothing. 

“You know, I’ve never been good at these guessing games. You’re gonna have to speak u-”

Their free hand slapped against his forehead, pulling his head back until he had a good – albeit upside down – view of their face. 

And there she was, the woman in the hologram. 

She was young, somewhere around his age, though the stern look on her face made her look older. Her dark hair was falling out of a bun, framing a bruised face – the incident wasn’t completely one sided then – and equally dark eyes. 

“Do all members of the Resistance talk this much?”

“No. Just me,” he mumbled. “I’ve been told it’s a problem.”

She sighed and shoved his head forward again.

“Get the droid,” she ordered. The boy dropped his fruit and immediately went to BB-8, pushing all his components back in place.

Poe watched it happen, slowly moving his free leg to the side. If he could just knock her off balance, he might have a chance. 

When the time felt right, he clasped her arm with both hands and pushed with his leg, careening them both to the side. Using his weight against her, Poe made her land on her back, the force of his shoulders striking her chest causing her arm to release him. 

He scrambled out of her grasp, rolling to the side, but the woman recovered fast. Poe felt her hands grasp the back of his jacket, halting his escape attempt and pulling him back. She swung her leg over his body, sitting on his chest, this time not bothering to ease the pressure. Breathing was difficult. 

She pointed a blaster at him. 

“Using the stun setting within two feet of a target causes irreparable damage to the nervous system,” the woman said, the words tumbling from her mouth without a single inflection, as if she was reciting it from a lesson. “You won’t be doing that again.”

Poe Dameron couldn’t help but wonder if General Organa wasn’t suddenly feeling smug at that moment.

@marvelousthronewars​ Look a present for youuuuu.

[ikesenhell]

Flesh and Iron

Elysium, Part Three. You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine in my Masterlist. NOTES: Mild horror/medical stuff, very mild. Otherwise have fun! Also shout out to @a-shout-to-the-void for her rosary headcanon and catholic help!

—

Jean was used to the voices. Once upon a time, he thought they were angels. They’d taught him how to tend the crops on his childhood farm, whispered the weather patterns, hummed songs that lingered in the thin spaces of the world. 

Now he knew better. As they neared Penrith, carriages rattling, Jean heard them. This was no human tongue; the crush of a thousand dialects pressed in around him, borne by the wind current. Danger, danger, danger. Not all is as it seems–

Heaven above and hell below, why did they test him so? Jean gripped the reigns and gritted his teeth, drowning out the whispers with a familiar hymn. “Pange, lingua, gloriosi, corporis mysterium, sanguinisque pretiosi, quem in mundi pretium, fructus ventris generosi Rex effudit Gentium…”

Napoleon pulled up alongside, Isaac perched on the saddle with him. “Alright, there?”

The forest fell away behind them, the flat plains of Penrith before them. It had been so long since they returned here. Jean tried to count the years. Was it three? Four? Four. It had to be four since the war, since both Marceche invaded and Penrith tried to slide their troops in a pincer from the other side… 

Wrestling himself from memories, Jean finally answered, “They’re loud here.”

“Huh. So far from Oswego? That’s not good.”

Isaac peered over Napoleon’s shoulder. “How loud?”

Cue the wailing in his head. Jean reached on reflex for the rosary hanging on his belt, pressing the rosewood cross to his nose and inhaling deeply, absorbing its rich scent. Years ago, Napoleon had given him this one. It never failed to comfort him. “Nobis datus, nobis natus ex intacta Virgine…”

“Oh.” Isaac paused. “That loud.”

The walls emerged in a field of half-harvested wheat, red banners emblazoned with the Guild’s seal fluttering in the breeze. It was prettier now. No field of dead, no armies laid out before them, no suffering widows on the battlements…

Isaac interrupted once more. “So. We shouldn’t tell them what happened in the woods.”

“No?” Napoleon hummed, clearly considering. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t trust them.” Isaac gripped at his vest and smoothed it, a nervous tick. “They said the highwaymen were holding up people in the area, killing them, sacking coaches. None of that happened to us.”

“And?” Their liege kept his jade eyes straight ahead, but Jean knew that look.

“…And they were looking for something.” 

That was true. Jean wondered about their leader. What was their name? August? Who were they? Man? Woman? They weren’t one of them, at least–the voices would have told him–but the blazing light in their eyes lived on as a ghost before him. They’d untied his hands without a second thought. It wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was an oddly noble one. 

“Probably,” he agreed slowly. “It’s another matter getting the rest of the travellers to agree to silence.”

Isaac waved that off. “That doesn’t matter. We talk to the Guild first, then any stories getting out won’t matter in the long run. We just need to figure out if we can trust them in the first place.”

—

The gates opened for them readily. They rode in ahead of the carriages, down the broad streets, straight to the central quarter and the lavish building that seated the Guild. Marble pillars and polished cherubs adorned it. From inside, a man strode forward and greeted them. 

“Lord Bonaparte.” He grinned with all teeth, lush fabrics thrown around his shoulders, jewels on every finger. “It is an honor for you to personally come. How was your travel?”

“Uneventful.” Napoleon dismounted easily. Isaac struggled down after him. Lying was a sin, but Jean chose not to mention it. “I bring my trusted advisors with me.” 

“Wonderful. I am the Chairman of Penrith.” And he clapped his hands together, not even acknowledging their names. “Come! We have much to discuss. Tell me, Lord Bonaparte–have you given any further consideration to our open borders request?”

Jean often marveled at Napoleon’s ability to maintain a calm facade. Now was no different. Their leader stepped forward, side by side with the Chairman as they headed inside, a neutral smile on his lips. “Elysium traditionally does not enter into such arrangements. You know this.”

“Oh! But the times have changed, my friend. In this day and age, it is becoming for friends to open their doors to one another, is it not?”

Isaac thrust himself between the two men, ears almost scarlet. “So, the bandit problem. What of it?”

The Chairman clearly hadn’t expected this. “Yes, the bandit problem. Come. We will all have a seat and some drinks, and I will tell you all. What is your name?”

“Isaac.”

“Isaac. A pleasure.” And those beady eyes finally roved to Jean, absorbing him for the first time. How strongly he wanted to look away! Somehow, he managed to hold that invested gaze. “And yourself, sir?”

“Jean.”

“Jean,” the Chairman repeated, halting in his steps. “General Jean d’Arc?”

Dangerdangerdangerdanger– The voices surged again. Jean stood rooted, struggling for an answer. “Yes.”

People often stared at him. He wasn’t unused to that. So often he wondered if the truth hung in his face. Did they know? Did they all know, just by looking at him? Could they see every terrible truth about him in his face alone? The Chairman stared long enough that at last, Napoleon intervened. “Tea, then?”

Finally the moment broke. The Chairman averted that intense gaze and smiled. “Of course.”

The sitting room was as opulent as the rest of the space. The red carpet was thick and intricate, overstuffed chairs perched around a glass table. A servant waited patiently in the corner. Already the trappings of a tea were laid out on the table–fine silverware, snacks, delicacies aplenty. Candles glittered in fine holders. The Chairman sat first, his fingers picking over the table and settling on a bizarre object. 

“I hope you don’t mind my asking for a guest to do a trivial thing for me,” he started, and lifted a silvery metal candle snuffer from the tablecloth, extending it to Jean. “But we have a tradition here in Penrith. Before tea is taken, we snuff the candles.”

An odd request, to be certain. Jean extended his hand to the snuffer–only for Isaac to snatch it out of the Chairman’s hand first. 

“Wh-what metal is this?” He demanded, turning it over in his hands. 

“Why do you ask?” The Chairman intoned.

“B-b-because–” Isaac was a terrible liar and everyone knew it. “The stamping–it’s–it’s excellent–iron, isn’t it?”

Jean stayed his face as best he could. They knew. They knew. How did they know? The Chairman didn’t move a muscle, just smiled that false smile. 

“I’m pleased you care for it so much. If someone would snuff the candles?”

“I’ll do it,” Jean murmured. “Isaac, give me it.”

“I–”

“I was requested. If you would.”

He’d prepared, but no one could really steel themselves for the agony. Jean curled his fingers around the iron handle and regretted it instantly. Even through the gloves, it seared. He’d burned once. This felt the same–except it crawled through his blood like a disease, poured venom in his veins. There was no faltering here. As steady and calm as he could force it, Jean snuffed the candles, one by one, and extended the snuffer back to the Chairman. 

“As you requested.”

The Chairman took it back politely, eyes searching. “Peace be with you.”

“And with your spirit,” Jean answered automatically, the heat of his hand blazing in his chest. “And bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.” 

Shock hovered in the other man’s eyes before he recovered himself, reciting back a strangled, “Amen.” 

“Amen!” Napoleon rubbed his hands together and took a cup of tea. “Shall we discuss business?”

The Chairman smiled–a smile like the Devil–and settled back in his chair. “Yes. We shall indeed.”

—

“That was a goddamn trap.”

“To take the name of the Lord thy God in vain is–”

“I don’t care!” 

Napoleon barred the door to their inn room and motioned to the other men for quiet. Isaac complied, his face flushed with anger, fists balled. Jean, for his part, merely crossed the room and fumbled with the water pitcher placed there. During lunch he’d looked so strong. Now? Now he groped weakly at the glass. 

“Let me help,” Napoleon murmured, pushing his friend aside. “And take off your gloves.”

Jean set his jaw stubbornly. “No.”

“You need to be bandaged.”

“This is the will of the Lord. I accept his punishment–”

“Jean,” Napoleon snapped, “Shut up and take off the damn gloves. If we’re attacked here, we need you ready to handle a sword without dropping it. The last thing we need is an iron infection. The Lord helps those who help themselves.”

Downstairs, the inn’s kitchen clacked and bustled with life, happy voices echoing through the thin floorboards. But there, in the room, all was utter silence. Or was it? Had the voices stopped since they arrived in Penrith? Did they scream in his mind still? Napoleon had no idea. All he knew was Jean’s purple eye wavered, flitting from one corner of the room to the next. 

“If–” Isaac was terrible at kindness, but he made an attempt nonetheless. “If you’re n-not comfortable or s-something–something stupid like that–I can look away–”

“…That won’t be necessary.” Jean sat heavily on the bed, undoing the buttoned glove clasp. “Fine.”

Long ago, they’d decided the gloves were a necessary safety precaution. It wasn’t as if one could inquire about the metal makeup of every object handled. For the most part, the ruse worked. This time it clearly wasn’t enough. Part of Jean’s skin came away with the fabric, the raw red flesh of his palm bubbling and sick. Isaac muttered another sacreligious curse and turned away. 

“That really was iron, huh?” Was all Napoleon could think to say. “Hold still.”

They had salves for this kind of thing back in Elysium. Here, all they had was water and clean bandages. Hopefully that was enough. He gathered Jean’s hand in his and dabbed at the open sores with a wet cloth as gently as he could manage. 

“Who told them?” Isaac questioned aloud. “And they were clearly lying about the highwaymen. Saying they were murdering people left and right, ransacking food storages, stealing all they could. This feels like a trap. Are they still talking to you, Jean?”

Jean’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”

“Something is very wrong here.” Isaac wrung his hands in his vest and paced restlessly, golden eyes ablaze. “Very, very wrong. And there’s no one we can get the facts from.”

Was there? Napoleon tied off the bandage and patted Jean’s shoulder reassuringly. “I can think of one person we might ask. That bandit: August.”

[kloxbian]

You’re my Little Secret Chapter Six

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/F

Fandom: The 100 (TV)

Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Characters: Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100), Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake, Anya (The 100), Mountain Men (The 100), Raven Reyes

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Forbidden Love, Secret Relationship, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Sort Of, Opposite of slowburn, More tags to be added

Language: English

Words: 21,046

Chapters (as of 4/6/2020): 8/?

Previous Chapter: Lexa could feel herself seething. How dare that insolent boy treat Clarke like she was some branwada goufa who needed a caretaker. It was blatant disrespect, and Lexa had to restrain the urge to knock him in the head to see if it would put some sense into his brain.

Lexa began her return to her own camp, pondering over what it was about the skai girl that made her feel such emotions.

It came out of nowhere.

The first sign that it came was the scream, then the sound of ripping flesh. Clarke jolted awake, scrambling out of the dropship into the night.

You couldn’t see it at first; its coat was as dark as the sky. But you could see the movement. Two people sprinted for the dropship, one of them falling down at something leaped onto their back. They screamed as claws dug into their back, pulling them to pieces.

Clarke grabbed her knife, charging in the direction of the mysterious assailant. A reckless, stupid move on her part, but what else was she to do? With a yell, she stabbed her knife between the shoulder blades of the four-legged beast. It yowled, turning so fast that she lost her grip on the hilt. It was on her before she could blink.

It was heavy, she noticed as it stood on her chest, claws tearing at her stomach. Its yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, tell-tale signs that it was a feline. With this discovery, it took a second for the pain to hit. But when it did, it hit full blast.

She couldn’t hold back her screams. It wasn’t on her for long, though - someone, some stupid, wanna-be heroic kid tackled it to the ground. She rolled over, attempting to stand but collapsing back into the dirt. She could hear the shrieks of the big cat, far too big to be normal, and the chortled wail as it died, but she was only aware of the excruciating pain, the blood leaking from her torso and soaking the ground.

In all the confusion, someone grabbed her by the armpits, pulling her back. She bit her lip hard enough that it bled. Eventually, they slipped their arms beneath her, lifting her to their chest, and the shock of pain that went through her was enough to send her spiraling toward the darkness. Hushed whispers filled her ears but she was gone before she could hear.

-

She woke up more comfortable than she’d ever been.

Unfortunately, she was also in agonizing pain.

It had dulled since she was last awake, and there was something cold smeared over her wound that soothed a bit of the heat, but it still hurt to even breathe. She groaned loudly, opening her eyes and immediately closing them. 

She heard a quiet laugh and slowly blinked awake. Sitting beside her bed, dressed in a way she’d never been before, was Lexa.

She flinched, wincing from the pain. “Lexa?” Her voice cracked harshly. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Tondisi.” She reached over to rest a hand on Clarke’s arm. “I brought you here after the attack on your camp.”

TonDC. The Trikru capital. She remembered Lexa telling her about it. “Why am I here?”

“The Skenripa did great harm to you. I feared the skills of your delinquents would not be adequate enough to care for you.” She looked at Clarke, slightly nervous but hidden behind a mask that she hadn’t seen for a while. “I had to use the ruse that you were a prisoner. I hope you do not mind.”

Prisoner? “Will I be able to leave?”

“Assuredly,” Lexa replied. “I will have you back to your people as soon as you are healed.”

“I need to get back to them now.” She struggled to sit up, the bandages around her stomach keeping her stiff. “They’re probably worried.”

“Oh, they are. They’ve sent out search parties for you. But you cannot go back to them as you are.”

“I have to.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed, gritting her teeth painfully. “There are probably a ton of injuries. I’m the only healer there.”

“Yes, but none are on the same level as yours,” Lexa argued. “The others can survive with what they have until you are fit to travel.”

“Which would be days, maybe weeks. I have to get back.” She rose to her feet, swaying unsteadily for a second before her knees crumpled. Lexa lunged forward and caught her, helping her sit back onto the bed. 

“Klark, you cannot even stand. There is no hope for you getting back to your people today.” Lexa pushed her into the furs. “Rest.”

“No, Lexa, I can’t!”

“Heda?” They both froze, Lexa’s face instantly turning emotionless. A guard peeked his head through the entrance. “Em ething ait?”

“Sha, Gostos. Em’s ogeda ona rak op.” He dipped his head respectfully, backing out of the tent.

Clarke was frozen in place. “Who was that?”

“My guard.” Lexa sat down next to Clarke, thinking carefully about how to word this. “Klark, there is something about me which I haven’t told you.”

Clarke knew that she was uninformed about Lexa’s life, very much so, but the way she spoke made it sound huge. She stiffened, nodding for Lexa to continue.

Lexa took a deep breath, schooling her face into apathy. “You have heard me speak of the commander, yes?”

“Of course. She was the one who kept us alive.”

“Yes, well…” Lexa, always one to keep things blunt, pushed right ahead. “The commander - is myself.”

It took many long moments for her words to register. Clarke’s face turned from something akin to concern to confusion. “You’re the commander?”

Lexa nodded mutely.

“But then -” Clarke inhaled long and deep, struggling to keep her mind in one place. “You were the one who spared us? Who ordered us to be watched? Who was the one observing us?”

“Yes.” Lexa pursed her lips. “You have to understand, Klark - I am revered as a god among my people. If you were to tell the other Skairku, not that I believe you would, but if you had, it is entirely possible I would be evicted from my position. To have friendly relations with what my people consider to be an enemy is sacrilege.”

Clarke thought over it all in her head, leaving Lexa waiting anxiously. Finally, she answered. “Then why tell me now? Why bring me to TonDC?”

“Because I need you. Out of all the Skaikru, you are by far the most promising. To lose you would be to lose the most powerful influence they have that is keeping them from starting a war with us.”

“Oh, so this is all about politics?” Clarke knew that it wasn’t, deep in her heart, she knew, but the way Lexa was speaking of her as if she was only cared about because of her influence- it got to her. “I don’t matter, of course not, just that you keep a handhold over my people.”

“Klark, no, that’s not all it is.”

“But that’s part of it. A big part, probably. Why would the great commander want to befriend a measly Skaikru girl?” Clarke narrowed her eyes. “It was all a part of a plan, wasn’t it? To use me as a pawn in your scheme?”

“It’s not like that at all!” Lexa reached out to take one of her hands, feeling a pang of hurt at Clarke’s rejection. “Maybe it was at first, but I trust you, Klark. In ways I should not. I consider you a friend and hope it can stay that way after this.”

God, Clarke wanted that, too. Every moment she’d spent with Lexa had been one of the best. Never before had someone treated her the way Lexa did, not like she was the daughter of Jake and Abby Griffin, but like she was Clarke. Lexa didn’t know of her past, and what she did know, she didn’t judge her on. It was a feeling she’d soaked in every time she was in Lexa’s presence. But to learn that all this time, Lexa had been lying to her-

She took a deep breath. She needed to look at this from Lexa’s side. And, even through the feeling of betrayal, she could see that Lexa was right. It was a smart move. 

But still-

No. She couldn’t.

“I don’t forgive you.” Lexa’s face dropped even more, her emotionless facade completely gone. “But I’ll give you another chance. I want to be your friend, Lexa, I really do, but I have to know that I can trust you. Even if you are the commander.”

Lexa nodded. “Of course, Klark.”

“Then get me back to my people.”

Lexa sighed. “I cannot convince you to stay, can I?”

“No.”

“Then I will have it arranged to be taken back to your people as soon as I can.”

Clarke paused at that. “You won’t be taking me back?” No, of course she wouldn't, she’s the damn commander. Then again, she had been the one watching them.

Lexa cocked her head. “Do you want me to?”

“I’d… prefer that, yes.” As much as she despised Lexa right now, she still trusted her more than anyone else that might be in the town. At least she knew her.

“Then I will. Let me inform Indra that I will be taking you back myself, and then we shall depart.” Clarke nodded, unsure exactly of what Lexa’s position as commander entailed for this, but deciding now wasn’t the time to ask. Not when it would only delay them.

Lexa left, and Clarke waited impatiently, left alone to her thoughts. Why had Lexa been watching them personally? She had scouts to do that for her. And then why had she of all people decided to try and make friends with one of the Skaikru? It would’ve been easier for her to have someone else do it. Unless she didn’t trust her people to do it correctly. 

She pondered over this for the entire time she was alone, her mind filled with questions about Lexa. If she had been lying about this, who knew what else she was lying about?

Lexa finally stepped back into the tent, walking over to the bed. “Come, Klark. If you are ready, we are prepared to leave.”

Much to her dismay, she needed Lexa’s help to make it out of the tent. With Clarke leaning heavily against her side, Lexa led them out of the tent over to the stables.

Clarke took one look at the horses and shut down. “Oh, no. I can’t ride a horse.”

Lexa sent her an inquisitive look. “Why not? They will hasten our journey.”

“I don’t know how. Plus, it wouldn’t help my injury.”

“Neither would walking the entire way there. It is a day’s walk, Klark. The horse will at least lessen the pressure placed on your injury.”

Clarke frowned, her mind searching for an alternative. “But what about crutches?”

“Crutches.” Lexa’s mouth contorted awkwardly around the word. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“They were things that you put under your arm and acted as legs. You’d step forward with them and then use them to walk.”

Lexa cocked her head. “I have never heard of such a device. Is it like your tek?”

“No, it’s… nevermind.” She sighed loudly. “Do you at least have painkillers?” “Sha. I asked a sekon to retrieve them for me earlier.”

“You mean the girl currently sprinting toward us?”

Lexa looked in the direction and had to hold back a chuckle as the girl skidded to a stop, holding out a bag of herbs. “Thank you, Tris. Do you remember what Anya told you about running through the village like that?”

Tris flushed. “That it is undignified of me.”

“Sha, it is. It could also cause harm to yourself or others. You are not a child, Tris.”

She ducked her head. “Moba, Heda.”

Lexa nodded. “Good. Now run along.”

The girl scampered off. Lexa opened the bag, plucking out two of the berries. “Eat these. They should take effect soon.”

Clarke took them from her hand and bit into them, grimacing at the bitter taste. “Now can we walk?”

“It will take longer. On the herbs, as long as you have a steady mount, your injury should be able to handle a lope. It will cut the time in half.”

Clarke bit her lip. As much as she hated the idea of riding a horse, she couldn’t deny the benefits. “Fine. But we leave them behind once we get close to camp.”

Lexa nodded. “Of course, Klark.”

A stablehand brought out two horses, a mutated two-headed mare and a large, regal white stallion. The stablehand helped her onto the horse while Lexa easily mounted hers. Lexa quickly briefed her on how to ride a horse while she guided them both through the streets, nodding politely to the guards as they opened the gates for her.

Before they could make it out of the gates, a loud boom rocked the earth. Clarke’s horse reared up, still held in place by Lexa, who had its reins in her hands. Clarke gasped at the sudden pain but quickly forgot it as she watched something come flaming down, outlined by the setting sun. A thwump so strong they could hear it from there sounded as a parachute sprang out behind it, slowing it down until it crashed behind the trees.

Lexa wrapped the reins of Clarke’s horse tightly around her hand. “Hold on.”

Clarke had to hold back a yelp as Lexa kicked her horse into a gallop. She grasped at her horse’s mane, leaning over its shoulders and watching the trees fly past in a blur. The jolts made her wince with each stride, but she could hold it together. She watched Lexa instead, the way her braided locks sailed out behind her, how the red sash flickered and whipped in the wind, the way her jacket flared out behind her. 

They rode through the setting of the sun and past the starry twilight, only stopping when the starlight dimmed so low that it was impossible to see the trees around them. Lexa dismounted, tying both horses to a tree. “I hope you are comfortable sleeping on the ground,” Lexa said, helping her off her horse. “You will have to tonight.”

“I’ll be alright,” Clarke said, hovering awkwardly. Lexa sat down with her back to one of the large oaken trees. Watching. Waiting.

Clarke leaned against her horse, eyeing Lexa back. Lexa nodded to the ground. “Are you going to sleep or not?”

“Are you not?”

Lexa shook her head. “Dangers lurk in the night. If we both slept, we might never awaken.”

Oh. That wasn’t at all worrying. Though after last night’s attack, she supposed she couldn’t argue. With slow, careful movements, she stumbled away from the horses, dropping down onto the forest floor. She hadn’t realized how much her legs ached after riding for hours, and she was thankful to succumb to sleep.

-

Clarke woke to the smell of cooked meat. She rolled onto her back, groaning as her injury stretched. Eyes opening blurrily, she could see that Lexa had lit a fire, and had a rabbit cooking over it. From the other side, her eyes met Lexa’s.

She sat up slowly, her hand reflexively clutching her stomach. Lexa smiled politely at her. “The food is just about ready. We’ll mount up immediately after. I hope to reach the new skaiship before your people do.”

The other ship! Clarke looked up at the sky, noting that it was just barely dawn. She doubted any of the delinquents would be awake. They’d probably reach it before them unless they had to ride for another couple hours. Whether she wanted her and Lexa to reach it first would depend on what was inside.

Neither she nor Lexa spoke as they ate, both avoiding the other’s gaze. Clarke clearly remembered yesterday, Lexa newfound position as commander of the twelve clans. For someone so powerful, she seemed oddly affectionate, at least toward Clarke. She wondered if that was on purpose, and if so, why.

Or maybe Lexa genuinely wanted Clarke to like her.

With such a large political divide between them, it was hard to be sure.

Back on the horses, Lexa set a slower pace, more comfortable but still speedy. Clarke was thankful for that,whether or not Lexa did it for hert. Her thighs already ached from last night’s sprint.

They reached the ship within the hour. Lexa had left their horses behind, two people falling from the trees to take them, people who Clarke now knew were Lexa’s guards. She had no doubt some were following them now. They’d probably had eyes on the ship since it landed.

The ship had mostly settled, a bit of smoke still leaking from the engine. It looked untouched. Lexa hung back at the tree line and watched Clarke approach it, a hand reaching back to settle on her sword. She had no idea what the Skaikru could send in the Skaiship.

Clarke opened the door, ducking inside as soon as she could. There were no supplies, no stores of food or blankets for the cold, but what there was…

Clarke clambered into the ship, kneeling on the adjacent seat and shaking the shoulder of the girl inside. Her helmet had been completely fogged up with her breath, cracks running all across it, leaving the face obscured. Blood leaked from the top. A concussion, most likely, if not something worse. She was alive, at least. Clarke could see that much.

The girl moaned in pain, head lolling to the side as a hand reached up to touch her head. Clarke caught it. “Hey. Leave it.”

The girl removed her helmet, shaking her sweaty hair out of her face. She blinked up at Clarke. “Where am I?”

Clarke couldn’t help a grin. “You’re on the ground.”

She helped the other girl out, first noticing that Lexa was nowhere to be seen. The next thing she noticed was Finn bursting out of the trees.

Finn froze, staring in disbelief. The other girl stared right back, a huge grin stretching over her face. Clarke hesitantly let her go, watching her waver a bit but was otherwise fine. “Raven?”

Newly-named Raven laughed. “Finn!”

They rushed to each other, embracing heartily. They spoke softly, too low for Clarke to hear, and she watched with rising disgust as they kissed. 

Breaking apart, Clarke wandered closer, listening to their conversation. From what she could gather, Raven had rebuilt the ship from scrap, coming down to the ground… to be with Finn. “I would do anything for you,” she said, voice filled with adoration. “Just like you would for me.”

At Finn’s glance toward Clarke, she knew that Finn would, in fact, not do anything for her. Not when it came down to obsessing over another girl.

Raven faltered, knees collapsing, and Finn carefully set her down. Jogging back to Clarke, she handed him a medkit. He looked at her guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

Ha. Like that would cut it. “Let’s not talk about this.”

Finn nodded, pursing his lips and turning back to Raven. She followed him. “This is Clarke,” he said. “She was on the dropship.”

Raven looked back to her, eyes widening in recognition. “Clarke? This was all because of your mom. This was all her plan. We were trying to come down together, we were waiting, but…” Raven’s smile sank. “Oh, no. We were waiting because the council was voting whether to kill three hundred people to save oxygen.”

Clarke felt her breath rush past her lips. “When?” “Today!” Pushing past them both, she stumbled over to the ship, grabbing hastily for it. “We have to tell them you’re alive!”

Ducking under the door, Raven leaned against the control panel, bending over to see the radio. She was still for a moment, unmoving, before she turned back to them. “The radio’s gone. It must have gotten loose during reentry.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, that was bad. If the Ark was going to slaughter three hundred people and they had no way to tell them otherwise? They’d stay up in the sky forever, slowly losing oxygen until there was no one left alive.

Raven cursed, pounding her fist against the side of the pod. Clarke put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey. We have someone at the dropship working on a way to communicate with the Ark. If you’re as genius a mechanic as you claim to be, maybe we can have it done before they start the killing.”

“Is it close to done?”

“I have no idea.” She looked at Finn. He shrugged. Clarke swore under her breath. “Last time I checked, no, but I’ve been gone all day. I don’t know.”

“Speaking of which,” Finn said, drawing both their attention. “Where have you been?”

Clarke pursed her lips. “The middle of the forest. Don’t ask, because I don’t know either.”

Not very believable, but it would have to do.”

“Well, let’s get going!” Raven said, grabbing Finn’s arm and pulling him. “Which way?”

Finn led her away, looking back at Clarke with perhaps the most pitiful expression on his face. She scoffed. If he thought he could get off the hook just from that, he was sorely mistaken.

She followed behind them, watching Finn and Raven talk softly, grinning like they were crazy in love. One of them was, at least.

She felt something brush her shoulder and turned, startled to see Lexa, feet planted against the side of a tree, one hand gripping a branch above her. Clarke felt both relieved and annoyed. “What, was I not walking quietly enough?”

Lexa ignored that, leaning closer. “We have a bit of a problem,” she muttered, so quietly that Clarke had to strain to hear her. “My scouts reported that one of your people had wandered a distance from camp and fell down a slope, injuring herself.”

Clarke glanced warily back at Finn and Raven, but neither were paying attention to her. “Where are they?”

“That’s the problem.” Lexa’s eyes followed hers to the other skaikru. “One of my scouts disobeyed my direct orders to leave the Skaikru alone.”

Clarke felt dread settle in her stomach. “And?”

“He took her. I’m afraid one of my people has one of yours hostage.”

Chapters 1-8 up on ao3 here.

First chapter on Tumblr here.

Previous chapter here.

Next chapter here.

[ill-skillsgard]

Hell and All Its Devils - Alex Høgh Andersen/Valter Skarsgård/Bill Skarsgård

Title: Hell and all its Devils

Description: Going to Hell and finding out all the devils are handsome is an eternity you might be able to get comfortable with.

Warning: 18+ for sex/slight DDLG/weirdness/swearing etc. 

A/N: The first (and technically only so far) fic I’ve written with AHA in it. 

I wanted to break up with him. Alex and I just weren't meant for each other. And before you begin to think ill of him, let me just mention that it didn't have anything to do with something he had done. At least, nothing he had done on purpose. His acting career was starting to take off and I was seeing less of him because he was always abroad. Even though he sent me video messages that I could watch over and over again before I chose to let them disappear, it wasn't enough to fill the lonely void. I had stopped going out to bars because fending off strange men was not something I wanted to do while I was hopelessly drowning the sorrows that had arisen from remembering that my boyfriend was having a blast filming in Ireland, New Zealand, South Africa or wherever. It became obvious to me that going to bars was only fun if you were there to attract mates. So you can see how it seemed pointless for me to attend Ladies Night or Friday three-for-two cocktails when I was tied down to a boyfriend I thought I was just making up in my head. The music reminded me of him and the way he would always dance to pretty much anything that was playing over a speaker. He didn't care if it was country or reggae or gangster rap. Alex always liked to move. In his sweats with his hair up in a bun, walking down a store aisle pushing a shopping cart, at parties sprinkled with TV actors, on the beach when someone walked by with music playing on a cell phone- he cracked a smile and did a dance. Sometimes it was downright exhausting trying to keep up with his high energy for an entire day but when those blue eyes darted at me and scanned me from top to bottom and concluded with a delectable lick of his lips, I couldn't help but melt in my panties a little. That's why it hurt so bad to envision the scenario of me sitting him down after he had come home to explain why I couldn't be with him anymore. All those times I watched him shake his ass while we were shopping for groceries or how he looked when he got home from the gym still pumped and rosy from his efforts weren't enough to quell the raging fact that I was so desperately alone when he left for his work. I thought I could swing it. I thought I could date an actor but it was less glamorous than wrap parties and helping him prepare for auditions by reciting lines with him. It was trying not to beg him to fly out to see me on an off day of filming when I knew he wouldn't be able to stay awake through the time change anyway. It was putting on his show just to watch him speak. It was me thinking about how invariably sad I was when there was nobody beside me in bed. Then one night, Alex fucked me and everything changed. And when I say "everything" I mean everything. Alex insisted that he would get a car home from the airport so that I didn't have to pick him up. When I told him that I didn't have to and that I wanted to pick him up he scoffed and said, "No, no, no, you're not going anywhere. Just get yourself ready for me. I have a month's worth of cum to dump inside you." "You're lying," I said. He laughed heartily. That laugh that I loved so much. "What do you mean?" "You sent me a snap of you jacking off last week," I reminded him. "Oh, yeah... Well, that doesn't count." "It counts." "Fine! I have a week's worth of nut to bust inside of you, okay? Get excited. Daddy misses his tight... Fucking gorgeous little pussy." "Oh my God! What did I tell you about referring to yourself as Daddy?" "Sorry! Sorry. I know you don't like that." "It creeps me out." "Hey, but can you actually do me a favor?" He asked. "Yeah." He dropped his voice low and rumbled, "Send me a picture of it." "No!" "Why not? Please! Please... I want to see. Get me hard before I even get home." "I have to... Shower. You'll see it soon enough." "Never soon enough, baby. Never. Okay, I'm going to let you go and I'll see you in half an hour, yeah?" "Yeah." "All right, bye." When he came through the front door hauling only one suitcase with him I knew that meant that he was only staying for a little while because when he had initially left he had two cases with him. Nevertheless, I was elated by his warm presence. Every time I watched those bright blue eyes light up I couldn't believe that they were sparking for me. "Come to me. Come to me, now!" He threw his arms open and I bounded into them. He lifted me and whirled me around like I weighed nothing and when he kissed me I instantly turned to mush in his arms. The overwhelming glow that he gave off made me forget all about how much I had been thinking about breaking up with him. How could I? He kissed me deeply with both of his hands on my cheeks. His dark hair was down and I ran my hands through it. "Go on and get upstairs. Get naked. I'm going to put a hundred babies inside of you." Alex came vaulting up the stairs and met me before I had a chance to take off all my clothes. Luckily he was there to help and soon I was stripped down to nothing while he was still wearing jeans, a long-sleeve, and his denim jacket. I pulled at his clothes but stood back after he dropped his jacket on the floor and took off his shirt. He must have been really keeping up at the gym while he was away because his body looked just as cut or even more so than when he had left. It was another thing about us that was different. Alex liked to keep in really good shape, or rather, he had to for his role even though I knew he would still be a gym rat without the acting career. I didn't much care for working out even though I tried. Alex had been a good trainer at first but I never kept up with it while he was away. He could always tell how badly I had been slacking whenever he would convince me to work out with him. He could run around the block ten times easy and I could hardly make it around twice without panting like a lost mutt. He didn't care if I worked out or not though. He tossed me on the bed and climbed up between my legs anyway. His evil tongue slithered out after he pressed a few kisses to my legs. "Baby, can I ask you something? And you're allowed to say no and I expect that you will but... Fuck... Would you... Nah, nevermind. Some other time." I sat up slightly with pause, "What? What is it?" He shook his head and continued to trail kisses down my inner thighs. I pulled my leg away from him and he laughed as he tried to catch me. "It's nothing. Nevermind!" he said, flashing teeth with a cheeky grin. "It obviously isn't nothing if you brought it up now. What were you going to ask?" Alex rolled his eyes but continued to giggle, "I just... Fuck, I get so... Horny on set. I can't get off to porn. I mean... I can but it sucks. I was sitting there one night thinking how great it would be to have you up on my screen whenever I wanted... Doing dirty things for me." "Alex... I send you videos all the time." "I know but I usually don't get them until morning when I have to go to the gym. Then they disappear. You should send me ones that I can keep." I swallowed hard. The idea of sending each other explicit videos had been discussed several times and we always drew the same conclusion; although we trusted each other, we both recognized the type of damage one could do with a single video and since Alex was starting to get recognized everywhere, he particularly paled at the thought of a video of him stroking his cock getting leaked across the internet. I completely understood. "We talked about that-" "-Let me make a movie." Crossing my arms over my exposed chest, my look soured and he scoffed again at me, nudging my knee to indicate he was just kidding around. But I knew he wasn't kidding. The mischief in his eyes was undeniable. He was a good actor but I could tell when he was withholding the truth just by how playfully he decided to approach a touchy subject. "See? I told you it wasn't worth bringing up." "What do you mean 'a movie'?" I interrupted. "Like... You know. A video of you and me. Just a little something to keep me going when I'm away for so long. Something that can hold me over until I can afford to take you with me." Another thing about Alex that bothered me was how easy it was for him to charm me into doing things that I knew were bad ideas. He had this innocent young pup look that was just a ruse for a snarling wolf of a dark side and I usually didn't recognize I had been coaxed until it was too late. He pulled out one of his nice cameras and popped in a memory card that had been tucked away in the same camera bag. "I'll have to get you to send me it later," he said with an unrelenting smirk of victory on his handsome face. "Why can't you just use your phone?" I asked. "Because! I want full HD. I want to see every fucking drop of my cum leaking out of your pussy in 1080. If we're going to do this, we might as well do it right, yeah?" Trying not to blush, I shoved my face into the pillow until he had his camera all set up. When I looked up, the lens was pointed right at me, mounted threateningly on a tripod that had been tucked away in his half of the closet. "No! What the hell? Alex! I can't do this with that pointed at me so aggressively!" Alex ignored my complaints and went about making sure the framing was to his liking. He surveyed the screen and made adjustments all while looking completely enraptured in his work. This was an art project for him and himself. He got behind the camera again and unzipped his jeans with one hand while gently setting the angle of the camera with his other hand. "Do me a favor and start playing with yourself for me... Please?" When I watched his hand disappear into the front of his pants it was like a trigger that wiped any memory I had had of denying him what he wanted. I leaned my back against the cushioned headboard and spread my legs, reaching down the center of my body to stroke my clit to life while I watched him bite his lip and rub his cock in his jeans. "Oh, that's nice, baby, yeah. That looks good." "Does it?" "Yeah. Fuck yeah," he hissed. "Get it all nice and wet for me. Get it nice and wet for Daddy." I bit back what I wanted to say to him and just did as I was instructed because he started slowly pushing his pants down and that was what I ultimately wanted whether there was a camera pointed at me or not. My boyfriend fucked me like an animal, in all positions and ignored every rule we had ever set for each other. We started off in classic style with me slowly licking at the head of his cock while up on all fours as he stood at the bed's side edge. I missed him so much that I was moaning around his length in no time. Snapping his hips back before he got too close, he smiled and pushed my hair out of my face. "Oh my, that's a nice mouth," Alex nodded at me, slapping my pouting lips with the underside of his cock. "Daddy likes." He wasn't supposed to call himself Daddy and I wasn't supposed to just grab his balls and cause him to gasp but we were both breaking rules. When I had them firmly in my grasp he shivered. "What did I tell you about that?" He whispered so that the camera couldn't pick up his voice. "I don't remember, Daddy." That demonic giggle waltzed from his throat as he grabbed my wrist and squeezed hard so I let go. "Turn around, now. Show the camera your ass. Go on. Get down closer. Closer to the end of the bed. Yeah, that's right." I don't know why I was so pliant to his command but I did what he said and he climbed onto the bed after me and I could feel the entire corner sag beneath his weight. With both his hands on either one of my ass cheeks, he spread them apart and gave one a firm slap that echoed off the walls of our bedroom. "Good evening, Mister Andersen. I'd like to present to you something that I'm sure will get your cock automatically hard. This gorgeous set of holes that this incredible young lady has gifted to you and you alone to fuck. Tonight, I'm going to do all sorts of nasty things to it for your viewing pleasure. So sit back and enjoy the fucking view, my good man!" A laugh threatened to escape my mouth after I had realized that he was narrating homemade porn to his future self. It was a ludicrous idea but nothing was too silly for Alex to try once. He continued to slap and pry me apart, looking at me and then back at the camera, nodding with a smirk as he went to work. I tittered when I felt his mouth suck a nice sloppy kiss on the right side of my ass before switching to the other side. "Already so wet," he mused, slapping my slit a few times for emphasis. "Listen to that... Pure fucking wetness just for me." Instead of slapping me some more he dipped his middle finger between my slick folds and gently into my opening just for a moment. When he took his finger out he popped it into his mouth and moaned with extra drama projecting his voice. "So good. Is there anything better than fresh, sweet pussy juice?" We started the night with a plan and by the end of it, I think the camera's battery had run out. He had been playing with me all night long and well into the early morning. When I looked out the window with my make up crusted in the corner of my bleary eyes I could see a watery screen of the pale violet morning sky driving the dark back down into the horizon. Alex and I had fucked for hours and the sheet was spotted with various stains from drool, his cum, my cum, and our sweat. We passed out with his cock still inside of me, no pillows and the camera still mounted on the tripod.

~*~

Our little romp into the amateur porn world was mind-numbing enough to make me forget that I had ever thought about breaking up with him. Even when he left I stopped wallowing in the tars of my self-pity. Life seemed to return back to normal and I could maybe handle him being gone for weeks at a time. I didn't want to lose him. I had been stupid to question my devotion to him. But I'd like to remind you that I did say that everything changed. He called me one night before bed. It was the afternoon for me but for him, it was nearly midnight and he had admitted he was bored in his rented apartment, alone and craving a good old-fashioned orgasm before going to sleep. His voice sounded weird on the phone like he was doing a bit and making his voice lower and more resonant. "Why are you doing a character right now? Or are you starting to lose your voice?" I asked him as I made my way upstairs to take the memory card out of the camera so I could send the file to him using a card reader. "I'm not? What are you talking about?" He asked. Even his accent sounded different and I was certain he was joking around and changing his voice just to be an idiot. I laughed it off but when he started telling me about something else it honestly sounded like I was talking on the phone to a stranger. "Seriously, Alex, what the hell are you on? Why does your voice sound like that?" "Alex? What the hell are you on? That's not my name. Why are you being weird? This is my voice." "No, it's not! Why are you doing a character right now? I thought you wanted me to send you this fucking video?" "I do! You're making it weird!" "No, you are!" "Just send me the video for fuck's sake! Or get on FaceTime and show me your pussy." I shook my head as I popped the memory card into the reader and stuck it into the computer. "It's going to take a little bit. The file is huge." He laughed and it wasn't his normal laugh. "Yeah, we fucked for hours, didn't we?" "Are you there with your buddies pulling a prank on me? Because it feels like that's what you're doing right now." "Babe... I'm literally alone in my apartment." "Put Alex on the phone." "Who is Alex!?" "My boyfriend!" "I'm your fucking boyfriend! Who the fuck is this Alex guy you're talking about?" I stared at my cell phone screen and saw the name Husband<3 at the top of the screen with a picture of us together in the mountains when we went to Norway but something was extremely off. It wasn't Alex in the picture anymore. It was somebody I had never met holding me, smiling with me. The voice filtered loudly through the speaker trying to get my attention and I scoffed. "Okay, Alex... This is the most elaborate prank you have ever pulled. You honestly got one of your buddies to photoshop our picture from Norway together? I'm impressed." "Babe... I'm seriously starting to get angry. You need to stop calling me Alex. It's getting really weird." "Then what is your name then, huh?" I humored him. "It's Valter, you idiot." "Well, Valter. I have no fucking idea who you are or how you got my boyfriend's phone but this has gotten a little out of hand. Please put Alex back on the phone." "Stop it. Now," the voice said angrily. "You stop it!" "I don't know why you're being such a brat but I'm definitely not in the mood anymore. Forget I asked about the video at all. Goodnight." I stared at my phone in awe for a long time. Each time the screen would time out I would touch it and bring it back to life so I could stare at the picture of me and the stranger I had never met before in my life. The photoshop job was legitimate. I honestly could not tell that there had been any tampering at all and I half expected to get a phone call right back from Alex laughing his ass off for having fooled me so hard. The phone call never came but when the file transferred from the memory card to the computer I was hit with an even harsher blow of confusion. The video was definitely of me from the other night, naked on the bed, standing on my palms and knees, swirling my tongue all over the head of someone's cock I had never met before in my life. It was the same guy from the picture. He was tall- much taller than Alex and blonde. I covered my mouth when it had gone dry from falling open. Watching the video was equal parts disturbing, striking and bewildering. I shook my head a dozen times to make sure I wasn't having a crazy dream. The audio was real and I remembered everything that happened on the screen as it had happened that night only what I was watching was not me and Alex. It was me but the man with me was somebody I had never crossed paths with in my life. Alas, he was fucking me in all of the same positions that Alex liked to fuck me in. I clicked up the volume and heard him saying the same words that Alex said. I knew I was really losing it when, on the screen, he made me clamp my legs together and turn over on my side with my ass so depravedly displayed to the camera. The man in question used one huge hand to part me so he could slide his cock into my opening slowly and deliberately, showing his future self how good it felt by keeping my cheeks separated, moaning each time he pushed in and pulled out. The blond man leaned over to me and said, "I'm going to fucking come so hard inside that nice little pussy. You ready for it?" I watched myself twist my neck to face him and he kissed me as he pumped himself into me. I moaned and he nodded with a smile breaking our kiss. He looked at the camera and gave my ass one more satisfying smack. "She said I could come inside of her. What a nice, pretty girl. Are you a nice, pretty girl?" He asked me. "Mm-hmm." "Louder, for the camera, honey." "Yes." "Yes?" "Yes, Daddy." His head fell back as his teeth sank into his plump bottom lip. Lips that I couldn't remember kissing even as I observed myself doing so on the computer screen. I was startled by the ringing of my phone again. It was his ringtone. A song I had picked especially for him. It was a tune that he loved to dance to and that's why I had chosen it. But when I looked at the screen and saw the picture of us with the name Husband<3 displayed across the screen I felt my heart stop beating and the resulting lack of blood made it feel like I was being choked by an invisible hand. In the video he was thrusting into me hard, telling me how close he was to coming and that he wanted me to help him by squeezing my pussy around his cock as best as I could. He loved that. He had always loved that. His vocality during sex made for some memorable nights and had opened me up to try new things with him if it meant I got to hear more of his sweet, filthy words. When I answered the phone he didn't say anything right away. He only sighed as we both sat in silence listening to each other's breathing. "You going to apologize to me? Because you know I can't sleep when there's a rift between us." Tears started bubbling up behind my eyes. Where had my Alex gone? How was it possible that I was watching somebody else pulling his cock out of me followed by a thick trail of white cum? He bit down on my left ass cheek hard and I squealed in the video. I got up and went to the full-length mirror in our closet, still on the phone with him as I pulled down my pants to see if there were any remnants of bruises left where he had maliciously bitten me. Nothing but more confusion poured over me when I saw the purple splotch that had lightened since that night but still remained in the exact spot he had sunk his sharp teeth into. "What's your full name?" I asked. He scorned the question with an impatient scoff. "Valter... Skarsgård. You want to say it back to me?" "Valter Skarsgård." "Need any other verification?" "Can we FaceTime?" I asked. "Yeah, one sec." I accepted the call and the face that appeared on my phone screen definitely belonged to the man in the video who was repositioning me so the camera could watch him fucking me from behind. It was not Alex even though my phone so prominently said my almost-husband was calling me from the number I had saved as his long ago. As I watched the face on my phone's screen, I felt a heatwave of shyness dry up my tongue. I didn't know what to say to the stranger on the other side of the call. And it wasn't as though he was ugly or even slightly unpleasant to look at. In fact, he was quite beautiful, with light green eyes and a cataclysmic pout the likes of which I had never seen. His hair was much shorter than Alex's but still long enough to fall over his face in blonde pieces. "Are you okay? You're really starting to freak me out," he mumbled. "I don't know if I am. I don't know." "Well just... I don't know either. Forget about the video. I'll just watch it when I get home next week." "Okay." "Are we good?" He asked. "Uh... Yeah. Yeah, we're good," I lied. "All right well... Guess I'm going to sleep now. I'll text you in the morning." "'Kay," I whispered. "I love you." "I love you too." When the call ended I ransacked the closet to find the shoebox full of photos I had kept with the intention of making a scrapbook but had subsequently given up on. Sifting through dozens of glossy pictures, I found all of our photos from the times we had traveled together and on nights out with our friends. Polaroids of me sitting on his lap or kissing him. Even my favourite picture of us sticking our tongues out at each other was devoid of all things Alex. I logged into my social media and saw in a relationship with Valter Skarsgård as a descriptive line in my profile. When I clicked on his page, his profile picture was of us together. In the closet, his clothes were all the same but in different sizes. His shoes were bigger, his pants were longer, his sweaters smelled different. Not unpleasant, but different. Why my brain decided to give up and go crazy on me then was a mystery that had me calling in sick for work and contemplating checking myself into a hospital. By the time he came home from shooting, I had fully accepted that I had gone batshit insane. He walked through the door and smiled at me. He was at least a full five inches taller and his face matched the one I had watched in our home video. "Hey, crazy. Did you miss me?" I cracked an uneasy smile. The last thing I wanted to do was alert him to just how violent the storm of perplexity had gotten within me. "Of course." "You're not still convinced that I'm not me?" "No... I can see that you're most definitely you." I didn't know what else to say to him and when he opened his arms for me to walk into I did just that and was scooped up lovingly like we had known each other for years. He kissed my cheek first and then my lips and I kissed him back even though it felt wrong. What I wanted to do was ask him what the fuck he had done with Alex and how he had managed to paste himself into every little detail of our domestic life together. Where was my blue-eyed, brown-haired Viking? Who was this tall, Swedish giant in his place? His taste was different, his mannerisms were different, his moods were different. Everything was just... Different. Surely I had somehow lost my mind along the path of severe mental anguish that had been carved out by the dread of being alone. Maybe it was my punishment for thinking about breaking up with him. No, surely something so mundane as the parting of two humans wasn't enough to cause such a splice in my matrix. There was something going on and I had a feeling it would reveal itself to me when it wanted to. Settling into my new life was surprisingly easy and one day I woke up and had already accepted that this was life and if nothing else fell into disarray then I might as well go about my days as normally as possible. Voices didn't come to me and I didn't relent into depression or even find it hard to get out of bed each morning. It was as though this new life had invigorated me. Valter was sweet to me but he wasn't without his bitterness. I found him to be playful but impatient, enthusiastic but sarcastic. His humor was a little darker but everything about him was physically brighter from his head of shining gold hair to his perfect nose and his broad shoulders to his long, thick legs that boosted him up much higher than my reach. He came home and promised to stay home for at least two months over the Winter. Filming had concluded and he was putting all other endeavors on the back burner so that we could spend time together. I was in love, renewed. There was a morning before we were scheduled to fly back home from our vacation in Cuba. I thought I had eaten something I shouldn't have but the feeling only lasted for a little while and then came back the next day on the plane. I managed to get up to vomit in the bathroom and sweat it out away from curious eyes. I had never experienced air sickness before. "You okay, babe?" Valter asked when I got back to my seat, big round eyes shining up at me from the aisle seat. "I think so. I don't know. I think I'm going to try to nap." "Yeah, you do that." He held my hand the entire flight home and then eased me through the airport after we landed. We drove home while I burped and started to feel aches in my muscles. After a week of feeling crummy and vomiting every day, Valter made a suggestion that smashed a whole bunch of sense into my head all at once. "Babe what if you're like... Pregnant? I don't know anything about that but your symptoms sort of match up." Blinking in sudden realization, I rose up sitting in the bed as Valter whirled around to face me in the computer chair, legs spread far apart, a look of curiosity on his face. "Oh... Oh shit. You might be right. Valter... What if I'm?- Oh, God." Piling into the car, we set off quickly to the drugstore to buy a couple of pregnancy tests. Valter was concerned and I could see it on his face but there was also a mix of something else. I sensed adventure and anxiety. They were playing Uptown Girl by Billy Joel over the speakers in the pharmacy and Valter didn't even crack a smirk at it or start to gently bop along to the music. Valter wasn't Alex. Our impatience led us to a coffee shop busy enough for the clerks to not notice us rush into the washroom together but not so populated that anybody came to disturb us by knocking. "Turn around. Turn around!" I exclaimed after he had locked the door behind us. "Okay!" He threw his hands up and pivoted on the heel of his sneaker. "Read the instructions first!" "I know how to use one of these, Valter." He turned back around glaring. "Oh, do you, now? I wasn't aware that you had ever been possibly pregnant before!" "I helped my friend take one in high school! Now, turn the fuck around so I can piss on this stick!" A gentle hint of a smile twisted the corners of his lips as he turned to face the wall again, hands behind his back as he rocked forth onto the balls of his feet. In the process of taking the pregnancy test, I peed on my own hand a little and whined when he made fun of me. I set the test down on top of the toilet paper dispenser and washed up while we waited with clenched lungs for the results to appear in the form of two lines or one. After I had dried off my hands and discarded the paper towel, Valter turned to me with a look of gentle unease. He grabbed the lapels of my coat and dragged me into a tight hug. "What if you're pregnant?" "I don't know." "Oh my God... What if I put a baby inside of you?" Laughing heartily, I nuzzled into the black wool of his coat and replied, "I don't know! I guess... We'll have to figure that out together." We both walked out of the coffee shop washroom hand-in-hand with the looks of a couple that had just realized their lives were about to change forever. I didn't know then that being pregnant would become the least of my concerns.

~*~

Valter came to as many appointments as he could during the weeks he was home. He was scheduled to fly out to LA to start filming after Christmas which was swiftly approaching. We didn't tell anybody about the pregnancy because we didn't want to jinx it. I even requested that he stay behind in the waiting room the first few times I went in to see the doctor. He didn't mind and held my hand until my name was called. Before I got up, he pulled me gently to kiss me. It was surprisingly caressing and deep and when he pulled back he was smiling. "I love you," he told me. "I love you too, booger." The doctor examined me and claimed that everything seemed to be progressing nicely and if I had no concerns to tell her about then I did not have to come back for at least a month. I contemplated telling her about the strange mental break down I had had months prior but it seemed pointless to bring it up then after I had already accepted it and moved forward. Valter wasn't in the waiting room when I left the office but there was a different man sitting in the seat he had been sitting in. He was the same height and looked up at me with these wildly striking eyes that made me recoil. They just bore into me and a happy smile stretched over his lips. "So? Everything okay?" I looked behind me to see if the man was talking to somebody else but it was just me and the receptionist out of view behind her desk. "Excuse me?" I asked him. I turned the corner to see if Valter had moved seats or perhaps had left to find a washroom. "Babe... What are you doing?" He asked. "What the fuck... I don't know you." He laughed, stood up and approached me. I backed up a little bit and bumped into a chair. My reaction confused him and he paused for a moment to give me an odd look. "You want to get going?" "I'm waiting for my boyfriend. Who are you?" He cocked his hip and jeered. The receptionist looked up from her desk and didn't attribute any concern to my exchange with this guy. "Well, I guess you're going to be waiting a while then because I'm leaving," the man with brown hair and wicked eyes shrugged. My gaze followed him as he left and it wasn't until I watched him cutting through the parking lot towards our car that I decided to start following him. "Um! Um! Excuse me! What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled after him as he unlocked our car and got into the front seat. He rolled down the window and threw up his hand. "What the fuck kind of bit is this? What are you doing?" "What are you doing? Get out of my car!" "Babe... This is my car." "No! My boyfriend bought it!" "You want me to show you the registration there, officer?" He jabbed. Reaching to pull open the glovebox, he pulled out the papers and handed them to me. I scanned the document and felt this horrible lump of bile rise up my throat. The car was a 2017 Chevy Impala registered to Bill Skarsgård. "Skarsgård?" I asked aloud. "Uh, yeah! You know... The last name our child is going to have? The last name you might get if your crazy fucking ass decides to marry me one day. Now, please... Get in the fuckin' car, babe. I'm starving. Let's go get falafel or something." The car ride was painfully silent and when we got our food we ate quietly. This Bill guy kept looking at me like I had two heads, which was fine because I'm certain that's how I was looking at him. The strange part was; he reminded me of Valter at certain angles and in different lights. I scrambled up the stairs to our room when we got home and threw open the closet door to start rummaging around my shoebox full of pictures again. If I could put into words the level of mystification, I would, but as I saw all of the shots of me with Bill, there was no way I could describe the feeling of panic in my gut. Why was this happening again? Where was Alex? Where was Valter? Why was I the only thing that was constant? Bill found me on the floor in the closet and shook his head. "Man... Pregnancy hormones are the real deal, huh?" Tears squeezed out from the corners of my eyes and I stared up at him. "Why is this happening to me?" "Why is what happening?" "This? Why are you different again?" "I'm not different. What are you talking about? You're really starting to freak me out! Did that doctor drug you or something because you're acting so weird!" "If you knew what I was going through right now you would understand." "Well, if I could be pregnant for you then I would!" "It's not that!" "Then what is it?" He bellowed. "I don't know! I can't explain it without sounding like a crazy person!" He knelt down beside me and wrapped me up in his arms. His scent was different. He smelled like high-end cologne. His shirt felt like expensive material. He was definitely not Valter yet somehow he knew me and knew that I loved to have the back of my neck rubbed and pinched. "I know things are changing really fast and all the time but it's going to be okay," he whispered. There was no trace of Valter in his murky green eyes. There was even less Alex. If there wasn't a mirror showing the reflections of me sitting on the floor and him kneeling beside me I would have said there was no trace of me left either. Yet I was there and so was Bill which was as much a comfort as it was an abstruseness that boggled my mind and shook me up even harder than last time. Exactly which part of Hell I had wandered off into escaped me. All I knew was that the devils there were beautiful enough for me to succumb to the gaslight. I slumped into his arms and let my tears absorb into his shirt as I accepted my new fate again. "I love you." "I love you, Bill."

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Misery Loves Company part 1

Chapter Twenty-Four [part two]

The One Where Mr. Poe Finally Sees the Truth

“Sir, do you think it’s possible if we can take one snake with us? The Incredibly Deadly Viper? My sister is very close friends with him. You’d be making an orphaned infant very happy.” Klaus asked as sweetly as he could. 

“First off, no. That guy Poe said all the snakes belong to us, now. Secondly, if you think I’m going to let small children near the Incredibly Deadly Viper, think again.” Bruce replied rather rudely.

“But Ink is harmless. His name is a misnomer.” Klaus said.

“A what?” 

“It means a very wrong name. Our Uncle Monty discovered it, so he got to name it.” Klaus explained.

“But the guy was supposed to be brilliant. Giving a snake the wrong name doesn’t sound brilliant to me. It sounds idiotic. But what can you expect from a man whose name is Montgomery Montgomery?”

“It’s not nice to lampoon someone’s name like that,” Klaus said annoyed as Sunny looked like she was about to cry. 

“I don’t have time to ask you what ‘lampoon’ means, but if the baby here wants to wave bye-bye to the Incredibly Deadly Viper, she’d better do it soon. It’s already outside.” Bruce said.

Sunny squirmed frantically until her brother put her on the ground, and she crawled as fast as she could. But Klaus wasn’t through talking to Bruce. “Our Uncle Monty was brilliant! He was also kind and caring, and we will always remember him as such.” Klaus said firmly.

“Brilliant!” Sunny shouted, in mid-crawl, Klaus smiled down at her, surprised she had uttered such a large word. 

“It’s nice you feel that way, kid,” Bruce said as he lit a cigarette. “Good luck wherever they place you.” 

Klaus followed his sister and he wasn’t surprised to see what she was doing. She was frantically using her teeth to lockpick the lock that was attached to Ink’s cage. “Kaerbliaj,” Sunny whispered to her brother, which meant, “I’m breaking Ink out. We might not be able to keep him, but he deserves to be free.” Klaus sighed and smiled at Sunny. 

Klaus kept watch for Sunny and ushered her to hurry. In a matter of a minute, the lock broke and she looked at Ink. “Libertas!” she said to Ink, which meant, “Freedom!” Ink looked at her and then at Klaus, he softly hissed. The Baudelaires didn’t know any better but it looked like he was sad but grateful. He slithered around Sunny one last time and hugged her as tightly as he could without suffocating her. He licked her cheek and hissed softly. Sunny gently bit Ink back and hugged him as tight as she could. Klaus looked like he was about to cry. Ink then wrapped himself around the elder Baudelaire child and hugged him, licking his cheek and giving Klaus a soft hiss. Klaus wiped a tear from his eye. “We’ll miss you. Thank you.” Klaus said to the snake as he lifted his sister in his arms. 

“Bye-bye,” Sunny whispered as the snake began to slither away. Ink knew he had to go before Bruce discovered what the Baudelaires would have done. As he slithered away, he looked back at both Baudelaires. He saw Klaus trying his best to hold back tears as Sunny cried. Both children waved to the snake and Sunny blew kisses. Eventually, the snake disappeared into the maze.

Sunny began to bawl loudly as Klaus began to walk back to the front of Monty’s house. “Shhh, Sunny. You did a good thing,” Klaus said, “And who knows...maybe we’ll see him again.”

“Cogitas?” Sunny asked hopefully which meant, “You think?”

Klaus nodded. “Maybe our luck will change…” he said.

“Let’s go Baudelaires. Grab your things. I’ve called a taxi and we’re going to your next guardian.” Mr. Poe said.

“NO!” both Baudelaires yelled. 

“We know where we’re going,” Klaus said angrily.

“I know where you’re going, too. And I’m the adult so I get to decide. You’re going to your Aunt Josephine.”

“Really?” Klaus asked.

“She’s next on the list.” Mr. Poe said as he ushered the kids into the house.

_________________________________________________________

Violet Snicket had been utterly confused since she stepped foot out of that movie. She had more questions than she started with and that’s not even counting the new questions all her snooping through her father’s desk drawer gave her. She did not know much of what her father was currently investigating. All she did know was she needed to get that weird cylinder object and see everything it does. She had a feeling that would be hard. Since her father had left so abruptly, again. She had been snooping the whole apartment desperately looking for the damn thing. Since she hadn’t found it yet, she concluded that he must have it on him. Which irritated her. She thought about looking it over while he was sleeping. If she wanted answers to her questions she may have to do that. 

Violet stared at her father’s investigation board in utter confusion. It looked so disorganized and so cluttered. But she didn’t dare more anything, she knew he’d notice, he noticed the picture that she had taken down, she also knew how important this was to him but she just couldn’t help but wonder why her father was investigating the lives of two children. She knew her father was a lonely man and he was in desperate need of some hobbies, or even a friend, but this just did not make any sense to her whatsoever.

Was her father investigating a fire? If he was, why? She understood that he had odd jobs to keep himself busy...but who would want her father to help investigate a recent fire?

She froze as she thought she heard the door. She and her father were close, that’s why she knew he was hiding something. That trip to the beach wasn’t just so he can see her newest invention. She knew this because he had a random picture of Briny Beach on his investigation board. Which confused her even more. But if he wasn’t going to tell her, she would figure it out herself. That’s what she had decided. That’s why she followed him into the movie theaters. She was going to snoop until she found every answer to every question. She was a little anxious about getting caught. She didn’t usually lie to her father, so trying to figure out clever stories to tell him, was difficult. Sooner or later, her ‘pretending to be working on an invention’ ruse isn’t going to work. She may be Lemony Snicket’s daughter but she definitely didn’t have his way with words, she was an articulate and intelligent young woman but she didn’t have a vocabulary quite like her father’s. She wasn’t able to twist and bend words to make elaborate and exciting stories like he could. She was more of an inventor, she can easily take things apart and put them back together again but differently to create something new. She frowned. Her father knew how to lie to her. It seemed to be so easy for him. If it was so easy, how many lies has he told her throughout her entire life? How much of his life was he hiding? Part of her didn’t want to know. She feared the truth would ruin their bond. Which would devastate her, since he’s all she has.

Violet cautiously watched the doorknob, she felt like it wasn’t a good time to test her luck, so she ran to the living room where she plopped on the floor beside a pile of tools and whatnot. She may not be a good liar, but she knew how to create an alibi, even if it was the same alibi each time. 

Lemony casually walked inside the house with what seemed to look like a beekeepers hat in his hands. She just looked curiously at him.

“Hey Violet, how has your day been?” He asked.

“You know...so-so,” she replied, “You know I’ve missed you. What’s stolen all your attention and time from your only daughter?”

Lemony frowned. He wanted to explain everything to her. He did, but he didn’t know how...he didn’t know if it was a good thing right now. Maybe he could tell her some things here and there.

Violet taking his silence as an answer all on its own, simply stood up. “Did you bring dinner? I’m starved.”

Lemony smiled. “Yes, I brought home your favorite.”

Violet’s face lit up. “Potstickers?”

“Well, I believe they are still your favorite but I could be wrong,”

She rolled her eyes. “From the Chinese place down the road,”

He simply nodded handing her the bag of Chinese food.

“Why don’t you set the table, I’m going to change.”

She laughed. “Thank God, I wasn’t going to say anything but you smell like...black pepper...no, ginger,”

He rolled his eyes smiling. “It’s horseradish,”

“Why do you smell like horseradish?”

“That’s top-secret business. You know when I’m working as a private investigator I can’t give any details about any cases. It’s highly confidential.”

Violet just nodded turning away biting her lip. She slightly shook her head and blinked the tears from her eyes. He was lying to her. About what? She didn’t know. But he was definitely hiding something from her. Every time he lies to her, he only makes her more determined to figure it out, no matter what.

[superiordragonlorde]

Surprise!

April 1: Prank | Camellia | You Are The Sunshine of My Life by Stevie Wonders (this is the song I listened to while writing this)

Alright, here’s to starting off KiriDeku week for @kiridekuweek2k19 . Hope you all enjoy!

     Eijirou would swear, to anyone that would listen to him, that the entire situation had started out as an innocent accident, nothing more.

     During Hanta’s birthday party, Denki had suggested to him that they give their celebrated friend a “special birthday surprise”. It had been a simple, clean prank; no harm, no foul. Eijirou had taken one of the disposable cups and cut small slits around the top. If things went according to plan, while Hanta was drinking his beverage, some of it would spill out onto his chest, and everyone would have a good laugh.

     That had been the plan, and Eijirou had headed towards the common room, hands ladened with drinks, while trying to smother his gleeful grin. Denki had trailed behind him, biting his lip to keep from laughing and giving themselves away. Eijirou had handed off all of the drinks, leaving Hanta’s for last. He’d taken a step back, awaiting the spluttering and shocked noises that would spew out of his friend.

     Hanta had taken a sip from his drink and a choaking squeak of surprise had sounded behind Eijirou. The redhead had whipped around to find Izuku coughing and staring at his cup as though it had betrayed him. His chest had been saturated in soda.

     “Dude!” Denki had cried, cackling. “You gave Midoriya the wrong drink!”

     Eijirou’s face had fallen as he scrambled to help Izuku. “Oh shit, bro, I-I’m so sorry about that! I— Damn, that was, uh, that was supposed to be for Sero. I, uh—”

     “Wait!” Hanta had squawked. “That was supposed to be for me?”

     Eijirou had ignored him, patting Izuku’s shirt with wads of napkins. The green-haired teen’s chest was shaking and Eijirou hadn’t been able to tell if it was from coughing or laughter. He’d really hoped that it was the latter.

     “It’s fine, Kirishima,” Izuku had tried to console, giving one last, final cough. “You definitely got me.” He had released a small chuckle and Eijirou’s tight chest had loosened with a relieved sigh.

     The next morning, Eijirou had found Izuku in the kitchen with Ochako, making breakfast for the half of their classmates that had happened to be up at the time. When the two friends had finished preparing the food, they had called everyone in and began to fill their dishes. Izuku had handed off Eijirou’s with a large smile and the redhead had felt an uneasy weight on his chest lift at the silent forgiveness.

     He’d sat at the dining table, digging into his breakfast with excited vigor. Suddenly, the room had been filled with his hacks and gasps as his eyes had watered. It had felt like his mouth had been set aflame with Endeavor’s Hellflame. Izuku had appeared by his side a few moments later with a glass of milk and a victorious smirk.

     The war had begun.

     For the next month, Eijirou and Izuku had battled with one another through pranks. Eijirou had countered Izuku’s spicy food with styrofoam peanuts falling on him when he opened his dorm room's door. Izuku had come back with hiding his alarm clock and leading him on a scavenger hunt at five in the morning to stop its insistent beeping. Then Eijirou had covered Izuku’s entire room in post-it notes, including every piece of All Might memorabilia. It had taken hours, but the look of complete dread and smothered amusement on the freckled teen’s face had been well worth it.

      That had, however, led to Eijirou walking through the common room about a week later from the showers in damp clothes and his hair lying limply over his head with water dripping off of it. He’d pinned Izuku with a languished expression, his lips twisting as he’d tried not to smile. “Seriously, bro? Mayo in my shampoo and conditioner?”

     Izuku’s light peals of laughter had echoed through the room as he’d handed him two bottles of the correct soaps. Eijirou had felt his face catch on fire, but he’d decided it had been from his other friend’s lighthearted teases and jabs that had followed him out of the room.

     So now, Eijirou was prepared to get even.

     He’d managed to convince Ochako to ask Izuku for a spare key to his room and was now hanging a string of realistic spiders above the boy’s door, complete with fake cobwebs. If things went according to plan, the spiders and cobwebs would fall on Izuku after he opened his door, leading to maybe a startled yelp and then laughter that left the two of them breathless.

     The entire scene couldn’t have been set up better. As soon as he’d finished and closed the door, the elevator had chimed. Eijirou quickly locked Izuku’s door and shoved the key into his pocket just as the elevator’s doors opened and the victim in question stepped out.

     Eijirou beamed in giddy glee as he waved at the teen. “Hey, Midoriya!”

     Izuku flashed him a warm smile. Eijirou’s chest clenched. “Hi, Kirishima! What are you doing here?” His brows furrowed as his steps slowed. He cast Eijirou a suspicious look. “... in front of my room?”

     “Oh!” Eijirou faked surprise. “I was just wondering if you could help me with Present Mic’s lesson. I only understood, like, half of what he said. Do you think you could help me?”

     Izuku’s face lifted and the smile returned with dazzling brightness. “Oh, sure! Yeah, hang on, let me just...” He dug into his pocket, pulling out his keys. Eijirou watched in jittery anticipation, trying to keep his shoulders loose and face innocent. Izuku unlocked his door and swung it open. The spiders dropped right on top of his head.

     Izuku screamed and lept back, the cobwebs tangling onto his hair and arms. He stumbled straight into Eijirou’s chest and the two boys fell back against the opposite wall.

     “Bro!” Eijirou yelped, struggling to grab a panicking Izuku. “It’s ok! Calm down! They’re fake! I promise, they’re fake!”

     Izuku’s frantic movements suddenly halted. He tilted his head up, looking back at Eijirou with wide eyes. “W-what?”

     Eijirou swallowed, feeling the cold sludge of guilt sit heavily in his stomach. “They’re not real,” he clarified. He picked a string of the fake cobwebs from Izuku’s hair, holding it in front of the boy’s face. “See?”

     Izuku stared at the wisps of cotton and murmured a small, “Oh.” He pursed his lips and his shoulders trembled.

     Eijirou hurriedly tossed the cobweb away. “Bro, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—” A snort interrupted his apology as Izuku clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking harder. Eijirou watched with cautious confusion as a giggle passed between Izuku’s fingers that quickly morphed into raucous laughter. He leaned back into Eijirou’s chest, red seeping into his face as he chuckled harder. A corner of Eijirou’s mouth twitched, begging to join in with Izuku’s contagious laughs.

     “Midoriya?” he inquired, giggles bubbling in his chest. “Are you— Bro, are you ok?”

     Izuku nodded, his curls tickling Eijirou’s cheek. “Yeah,” he wheezed between chuckles. “Yeah, I’m ok. I just— Oh man, I must have looked ridiculous.”

     “Nah, dude,” Eijirou quickly reassured. “It’s ok to be scared of stuff like that.”

     “I know,” Izuku chirped, wiping his eyes. He huffed a laugh. “But screaming, falling backward... it must have looked pretty funny at least—” He broke off, face falling as his eyes widened. “Oh shi— Kirishima!” He spun around, looking up at Eijirou. The redhead’s chest seized at the worry shimmering in green eyes. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you? How’s your head? Did you hit it against the wall?” He reached out, tilting his head to get a better look.

     Eijirou quickly dipped his head out of the way, cheeks flaming. “I’m good. Don’t worry about it, bro. Besides, I’ve got my hardening quirk.” He flashed Izuku a grin, sharpened teeth on full display.

     Izuku hesitated, his hand hovering in the air before slowly dropping. “I-if you’re sure...” he wavered. His eyes still pinned Eijirou to the wall, flicking over his burning face with lingering concern.

     Eijirou’s heart started to ram against his ribcage. “Yeah,” he choaked, coughing into his fist. “I’m good, bro. Totally good. Nothing wrong here. Nope. Nothing.” A strained laugh erupted out of his mouth. He inwardly cringed.

      Oh, that was so not manly...

     Izuku blinked and his brow furrowed. “Um, ok.” He shifted back, as though putting a little more distance between them would provide him the answers he was looking for.

     Eijirou didn’t give him the time to finish his search.

     “So,” he squeaked out, face growing hotter at the sound of his own voice. “Uh, sorry about the, uh, the... y’know—” He gestured at the cotton still stringed in Izuku’s hair.

     Izuku sat straighter, snapped out of whatever musings his brain had concocted. “Oh, no, that’s— it’s— I mean, it’s ok.” He assured, gathering his feet under him. Eijirou scrambled to follow suit. “You really got me this time,” Izuku chuckled, readjusting his uniform.

     Eijirou felt a sudden itch in his fingers, begging for him to reach out and pluck the rest of the cobwebs out of Izuku’s soft, curled hair. He retaliated by stuffing his hands into his pockets and digging his nails into his palms. “I guess so,” he replied, smile feeling stretched and too wide for his face.

     “Oh!” Izuku perked up and turned back to Eijiriou. “Did you really need help with Present Mic’s class or was that just a ‘logical ruse’?” He arched an eyebrow and gave Eijirou a small smirk.

     Eijirou’s heart proceeded to execute a backflip.

     “Ah, yeah.” He forced out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “You got me. It was all a part of my ‘master plan’ to get you to open your door.”

     Izuku laughed and shook his head. Eijirou’s heart raced faster, chasing the delicate sound. Suddenly, standing in front of Izuku, alone, in front of his room, was too much for Eijirou’s already short-circuiting brain.

     “I better get going.” The words rushed out of his mouth, tripping over his tongue. “I gotta get the, uh, homework and there’s, y’know, other... teacher... stuff...” He cleared his throat and started to walk backward towards the elevator. Izuku watched him, eyes wide and blinking in mild confusion.

     “Oh, yeah, sure.” He nodded. “I’ll see you later then, Kirishima.”

     “Yes!” Eijirou replied with a bit too much enthusiasm. “Yeah, definitely. See you tomorrow, bro.” He bumped into the elevator doors, muttering a small “whoops”. He pressed the elevator’s button with more force than was even remotely necessary. “I will totally be seeing you later, dude. Yup, probably tomorrow. Unless I see you in the bathroom, then that would be tonight. But it’ll definitely be later, so—” The elevator chirped out a sharp ding and the doors opened. Eijirou slipped in, smashing the button for his floor.  “Yeah. Anyway, see you!” He waved at Izuku with a monstrous smile. The green-haired teen stared at him with his brows slightly furrowed and his mouth open as though he was trying to figure out what to say. The doors shut before he could make a decision.

     Eijirou leaned against the elevator’s railing, grasping his chest with one hand while the other ran through his hair. He shakily inhaled and released the air in a whooshing exhale. His mind felt like it was stuck, running in circles about Izuku’s laugh, his flittering concern, deep, bright green eyes, and soft, curly hair. Eijiriou clutched his uniform tighter, the fabric twisting and stretching beneath his fingers.

     “Oh, fuck,” he muttered into the quiet elevator. It dinged happily in response.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Chapter: 3/18 Word count: 1669 Summary: When Tobirama is exiled from the Senju clan without warning, without even the chance to plead his case, it feels like his life is over. What does he have to live for now without his older brother to believe in him? Captured by the Uchiha in his moment of weakness, Tobirama slowly learns to live again with the last people on earth he would have ever expected to care for - or to fall in love with.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Chapter 3

They came and went irregularly. Sometimes they brought food and sometimes they even forced his body to sit up and consume it. Other times there were words but he couldn’t focus on them. All that existed was the static in his head, the worst moment of his pitiful existence on repeat again and again and again. Until a couple of weeks ago he had thought no day in his life could be worse than when he had lowered a second brother in to a too-small grave, displaced the dirt with another too-small body, but he’d been wrong. He hadn’t known then the pain of Hashirama turning him away as though all the years between them had meant absolutely nothing.

If it was Izuna who came to him again and again he wouldn’t have known. If it was one person or more he could not have cared. Not until the day someone opened the bars of his cage and propped him against the wall, fingers under his chin to lift his face towards the light of a candle. Tobirama flinched away from the unexpected brightness purely on instinct, too used to the dark after so long in captivity, but the fingers holding him were unyielding and he too weak after so long inactive.

“What did you do?” were the first words that registered on him since he woke up to find himself in Uchiha custody. Tobirama’s mind churned sluggishly and he squinted passed the light to find Madara, the clan head himself, looking back with guarded curiosity.

“…do?”

“Yes. What crime could you possibly have committed that the Senju would dispose of their second strongest soldier? And not even have the foresight to kill you off?”

His heart was already shriveled but he felt the crumbled remains tremble as he murmured, “I only wanted to see them again.”

Madara had a dozen questions and more but it was no use. Tobirama shuddered and reverted inside himself once more. It took another week before his stupor was broken by a bucket of water dumped over his head. He wondered idly if he had been bathed before now and how any of them could stand to be near him if he hadn’t. The stench must have been quite unbearable.

When he rolled his head to the side with apathetic disinterest he found Madara glaring down, fire in his eyes and hair a wild cloud around his head.

“You will answer my questions,” the man snarled. For the first time, Tobirama hesitated.

“Will you let me die?”

“You – what?”

“If I answer your questions will you just let me die already? I’m…tired.” And he was. He hadn’t moved more than what it took to relieve himself in weeks and still he was bone-deep exhausted.

Madara looked taken aback, though he recovered quickly enough to hide his thoughts on that question. “If we don’t have any further use for you then I don’t see what the point of keeping you alive would be.”

Privately, Tobirama thought that he didn’t see the point of keeping him alive this long anyway but he kept that to himself. It wasn’t as though he had any hope of being set free even if they did believe him but on the crazy off chance they did…then what? He could eke out an existence somewhere else – there were dozens of places he could go – but the very thought of it turned his stomach. To never see Hashirama smile at him again, to never sit with Touka and laugh over something stupid one of her neighbors had done, to never roll his eyes at all the enthusiastic young pupils so eager for another lesson, it seemed an empty existence and he wanted no part of it. Better to end himself now than delay the inevitable when he went completely mad later.

His captor hadn’t used the clearest language, Tobirama knew that, but he still intended to give the man what he wanted. Madara’s roundabout hint was his first sign of hope for the end he wanted so badly; he would have done almost anything for such a promise, even a vague chance.

It felt like he talked for hours. After so long in silence his throat was scratched raw by the time he had the equivalent of one paragraph out. Each word was pain, both mental and physical. When his tale was finally done he felt as though he could drink an entire lake and his voice still might not return to normal after all that rasping.

It was quite the tale to tell, though. At its conception the Edo Tensei jutsu had been designed as a weapon, an attack to turn the tides against their enemies in a way that could not be countered or outrun. Every battlefield had dozens of dead cluttering the ground, broken and discarded, forgotten and trod on until the fighting was over and their bodies were returned to the earth for surviving loved ones to swear vengeance over. Most people wouldn’t think to desecrate the fallen and reanimate them to fight again – but Tobirama was not most people. He thought first of how to win and only after did he think of how to live with his own victories.

Somewhere along the line it had occurred to him that his enemies weren’t the only dead that might rise again. If he was going to breathe life in to people beyond the grave then why should he not have the chance to see his loved ones again? That was all he had wanted, to hug his little brothers one more time, to hold them close and apologize for failing them so poorly, to say the goodbyes he had been denied. But that wasn’t what the elders saw when they discovered what he was trying to do.

What they saw was the disturbed earth in too-small graves and dirt underneath his fingernails. They saw the aftermath and never questioned the intentions, never stopped for a moment to listen to his explanations. They brought their evidence straight to Hashirama and all he saw was the bones of his lost brothers desecrated after so long and the one brother left to him damned by his own mind, his own actions. That Hashirama at last had no more forgiveness for him was the thing that hurt the most.

Madara listened to his story without interrupting beyond for a few questions, only prompted him to go on whenever he fell silent. After he was finally allowed to stop talking Madara got up and left without a word. Tobirama assumed he had what he wanted but he came back a few minutes later with a pitcher of water and left it on the floor within reach.

For a while he merely stood there, everything about his stance projecting uncertainty, and silently watched his prisoner. Tobirama’s only interest was in the water that cooled his throat. It was difficult to resist the animal desire to guzzle the sweet liquid all at once but he forced himself to go slow, to sip at it bit by bit so as not to disturb his roiling stomach. Adding nausea on top of all his other problems when he could easily prevent it was just stupid. He wanted to die, not to suffer more.

Tobirama lifted his head, uncaring for how pathetic he must look.

“You promised,” he said, tired voice grating in the quiet room. “Will you let me die now?” He waited as Madara met his gaze with something unreadable in his eyes.

“I never promised you anything. And how do I know you’re telling the truth? We still have no confirmation that any of this is true. For all I know Hashirama is looking for you as we speak and all of this has been a ruse to prevent me from gaining any sort of advantage of your clan.”

The sound of the metal pitcher striking the bars was ringing throughout the room before Tobirama even realized he had thrown it.

“I have no clan!” he screamed. Hot fury rushed through him, lightning fast and unexpected, bringing with it a rush of energy that sent him surging to his feet. “What part of this isn’t getting through your skull? I. Have. No. CLAN! I am not one of them! I never will be again! I gave my fucking life to them and they turned me away like a begging orphan caught stealing! This isn’t for you to believe, Uchiha, its life! Life is cruel!”

“So you say,” Madara told him coldly, backing away before he could reach out with his withered arms. Tobirama bared his teeth at the man.

“There isn’t any more to say. I am nothing. No one. Your bargaining chip is useless!”

“We shall see.”

His captor slammed the cell door closed and spun around to leave, hair swaying around him like a dark waterfall. Tobirama kicked the bars as hard as he could, unprepared for the recoil that sent him stumbling backwards, having momentarily forgotten how weak he’d let himself become. When he regained his balance he balled his fists and bent himself double to scream as long as he could.

“You promised, you faithless dog! Lying Uchiha! Worthless waste of fucking space! You promised! Get back here! Just let me die!” Mindlessly he threw himself at the bars and rattled them with both hands, running on adrenaline and only half aware of what he was shouting. “Where is your honor!? I gave you everything and you promised! Just let me die already, I’m no fucking use to you! UCHIHA!”

Only when he had screamed himself hoarse again shouting the same words over and over did he realize there were tears streaming down his face. His grip loosened on the bars and Tobirama slid down to his knees, bowing his head as the tears dripped from his chin unchecked.

“I gave you everything,” he moaned softly, unsure who it was he was speaking to. “Just let me die…”