#I’ve already written 10k

[inosukebakugo]

Ok so I can’t stop with the Todobaku and just:

Class 1-a takes a trip to a ryokan and everyone be sharing but the hotel forgets the extra bed in Todoroki/Bakugou’s room and they begrudgingly share. Explosion murder god wakes up being used as a pillow.

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

So I’m finally writing about Finnick’s Games!

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[magpiesbones]

okay so the thing is you see that this fic (the Agott/coco continuation of German College) HAS to be written out of chronological order for Reasons. And I have about 2.2k solid which is a respectable length for a chapter but it is also almost ENTIRELY introspection.

the other thing is that I’ve decided where chapter one ends and it’s Not here because I want to hit a VERY specific character beat first.

[forever--rain]

.

[pit-and-the-pen]

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 1

A/ N:I’m horrible at exposition so bare with me through this one. It feels a little clunky to me but this sets up a lot for the rest of the series. This is also the longest thing I’ve written outside of my senior thesis so… I have this series fully planned out and now that I’m back from vacation I should be able to work on it a lot more. 

Anyways, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for it! 

Warnings: Spring court slander (implied trauma), nightmares. Drinking. I think that’s all but feel free to let me know if I should add anything! 

Wc- ~10k

Previous part: here

Next chapter: Here

We’re coming home. 

I ran up to my brother. Desperately pulling on Rhys’ arm and I felt him stumble back into me. He remained frozen, eyes locked on the female in front of him. Her and Rhys were clearly in the middle of a very intense conversation. But I wanted to go home. When I shouted Rhys’ name, his head flickered to me before looking back at Feyre. I saw his body tense, eyes going wide and it was instinct that had me grabbing his arm and winnowing us to Velaris.

The smell instantly calms me in a way I haven't felt in fifty years. Once my vision had fully focused, 

“She’s my mate”, nothing above a whisper. My head snapped over to him. Mate. That explained his reaction. I felt the guilt in my stomach at pulling him away from Feyre. My arms are already reaching to pull Rhys towards me into a hug. As my arms wrapped around him, he sobbed into my shoulder.

This wasn’t the Rhys I had come to know under the mountain. Sob after sob left his mouth and his precious wings dropped to the ground. I knew this was more than the reaction of a male who had his mate taken from him. This was my brother who had to watch his mate be in love with someone else after years of suffering. The cauldron had finally granted him a mate only to have her ripped away from him.

“I’m sorry” was all I could think to say. So many reasons for being sorry. Sorry for all he went through. Sorry for not being strong enough to stop it. Sorry that the female the mother had chosen for him was in love with the High Lord of Spring, and had willingly died for him. Sorry that I stole away what little time he had spent with her. 

Rhys let out another sob against my shoulder and it shook me to my core. I have heard him cry over Amarantha many times but seeing him break over Feyre was enough for me to want to march to spring and drag her to Velaris. But she wouldn’t want that. I know Rhys would have my head on a spike if I even offered. 

We both turned around at the sound of the door opening. Mor stood in silence, eyes scanning over us. Noticing our embrace. She stepped up to us and a soft smile crossed her face. 

“Tell me about your mate, Rhys.”

That was all it took for the flood gates to open. We did more than recall the details about the last few months. Rhys and I cherry picking only the most vital and important details. We kept a few things close to our chests. Those would stay our nightmares alone, Mor didn’t need to be haunted with our ghosts as well. 

Mor sat patiently before she finally interrupted. “She’s really dead?” Rhy freezed at the mention of Amarantha. I lightly placed a hand on his shoulder and answered for him. “Yes. But I don’t think this is over.” Mor just nodded sharply, looking at I both before she launched herself at both of I, arms coming up to wrap around my brother and myself. 

“If either of you ever do something that stupid again, I’ll kill you myself.” Her voice didn’t hold any malice, instead it shook with tears. My heart jumped as I left the weight of her emotions wash over me. The pain in my chest tightened as I realized how much our absence has truly shaken our family. I knew, of course, but seeing it was entirely different. 

The three of us began to settle and I finally had time to get my bearings in the house. As I let the glow of the house wrap around I. A familiar scent caught my attention, and my whole body sang. My head whipped around, looking for the source of that pine and night air, looking for Azriel.  Cas too of course but Azriel was on the front of my mind.  

Mor’s smile tilted slightly. “They should be back soon.” She sighed “They just went to the camps to check on all of them” She paused, stumbling over words  “ when we got that message from you, someone thought the most important thing was letting the camp leaders know that they had a high lord to answer to again.” This didn’t surprise me at all. Of course they would want, need, to fill in the Illyrian warriors that were now back under Rhys command with his return, Cassian having to take over that helm by nature of his position. It would be a fight, but one for a different day. 

         I wanted nothing more than to see the rest of my family and responsibilities be damned. I wanted to see them now. It had already been almost 50 years and in theory another day wouldn’t hurt but the house felt empty without the loudness of Cassian’s voice booming. It felt cold without Azriel’s shadows stirring around. 

As if Mor could sense my unease, she lightly grabbed my wrist and started pulling me deeper into the house. “I have so many books I need to show you.” That was all it took for me to laugh. Mind reeling as I tried to remember the last time I had truly laughed. 

The library was just as I had remembered it. The smell of old parchment and leather filled the space. Fires kept the room warm and light and I wanted that feeling to sink down into my bones. 

Mor gave me the space to just absorb my favorite room in the house. Rhys had given me full reign over how it was decorated. Comfy chairs that could accommodate wings and backless chairs tufted with fabric that looked like they were made of stardust were spread over the large room. The heavy wooden desk I had put in was covered in stacks of books. 

“I put all the ones I knew you would like over there.” Mor spoke up when she saw my eyes lock on the countless books. I felt my throat tighten up with tears at the thought she must have put behind the seemingly small action. It wasn’t uncommon for Mor and I to swap books as we finished them. Mostly so we could sit and talk about them for hours together. Mor and I spent many nights on the couches I had put in, falling asleep with our respective books still clutched in our hands. 

Looking at the stacks, a rough count told me there had to be over a hundred books, easily. 

“Looks like I have some serious reading to do.” I laughed. She beamed a smile at me. 

“Those are just the ones I knew you would like,” She walked over to one of the bookcases in front of the desk. “These are all the others that I need you to read so I can scream about them.”

Three whole shelves in total. It would take me gods know how long to get through them. I voiced that much. Mor waved me off. 

“You have all the time in the world to read them. It doesn’t have to happen all at once, but I’m not letting anything happen to you again. You’ll have time to read them all.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. I turned to look at her and I saw the pink speckling her cheeks and right above her lips, the tell-tale signs that she was trying not to cry. I placed the book I had just picked up and threw my arms around her, squeezing her as tight as I possibly could. She nuzzled her head against my shoulder and all I could do was try to hold her tighter. 

By the time we pulled away from the hug, we were both a crying, giggling mess. I forgot how much I loved spending time with Mor. Regardless of how much I cared for my brothers, Mor and I were two sides of the same coin. Plus the boys wouldn’t sit and discuss the pure filth that tended to grace the pages of the books I devoured. 

“So, what one should I start with?” 

She all but squealed as she started flipping through the piles with me. We organized as we went. Placing them in piles of order that I should read them in. A few of the series I had been following had new installments that would most likely require a reread so those got placed on the back burner for the, now older, favorites she was dying to talk about. From there we were able to pick out one of her more recent favorites that had me itching to crack open immediately. She picked out one from her own pile across the room and the both of us settled into silence, the only sound was the fireplace cracking and pages turning. 

I don’t know how late it was when Rhys softly opened the door to sneak into the room. My eyes were starting to get dry from how little I was blinking, desperate to get through one more chapter before I called it a night. Something I had voiced to Mor about ten chapters ago. Mor who now was asleep on her own couch, her hair pooling over the edge almost touching the floor from the uncomfortable angel her head had fallen into. 

“The books will still be here after you’ve gotten some sleep,” Rhys said in a gentle mocking tone. Mor stirred slightly at his voice but remained sleeping. “Come on, I’d be an awful High Lord, and an even worse brother, if I let you fall asleep in the library on your first night home.” I nodded at his words. Truthfully, I couldn’t care less where I slept but for some reason, I could tell it mattered to Rhys. It would honestly be more normal for me to fall asleep anywhere but my room. Whether it be in the library or the large sectional in the living room or the comfy chairs on the rooftop, I rarely ever slept in my own bed. Rhys had ensured that every surface of the house was as comfortable as possible to account for this but I didn’t push or argue with him as I untucked my legs from underneath me and stood up. I debated leaving Mor to sleep but didn’t want her to wake up all alone. Reaching out a hand, I placed it on her shoulder and gave her a small shake. She groaned but opened her eyes anyway. 

“We’re being banished to our rooms.” I joked and pointed over the Rhys. She let out an even louder groan. 

“Overprotective bat.” Even Rhys laughed at her words. 

“Come on, before he carries us himself.” I held out a hand and I could see Mor contemplating just rolling back over and going back to sleep but she grabbed my hand. Pulling slightly, I helped her to her feet and she rolled her neck slowly. No doubt trying to work out whatever kink was starting to develop due to half of her head hanging off the thin couch. The three of us walked down the hallway to our rooms. Sleepily stumbling to doors. We reached Mor’s first and before she slipped in, she gave me another tiny hug and another to Rhys. 

“I love you guys,” Sleep was evident in the way she almost drunkenly stumbled over her words. I returned the sentiment and she was slipping into her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her. 

Rhys and I stood outside her bedroom for a little longer, until we saw the light from under the door flicker out. Eventually, we continued walking until we got to my door. There was a slight pause as I turned the handle. Rhys and I would normally be curled up in my bed under the mountain by now. I vaguely thought about asking him to stay the night. Not that I think either of us were truly going to be able to sleep. As tired as I felt, I was afraid that if I closed my eyes for too long I was going to wake up and this was all going  to be a cruel dream.    

Rhys seemed to pick up on my hesitancy. “I can walk in with you. If you’re…”:

“Please.” I interrupted him. He gave me a soft smile and gestured for me to open the door. 

Nothing was out of place. The room smelt like my favorite perfume and when I looked around, there was no dust to be found. Someone had spent the time still cleaning the room while I was gone. I don’t know why that touched me as much as it did but as I looked around I felt all the unshed tears finally starting to take its toll. A sob ripped its way from my chest and Rhys’ arms were around me in an instant. 

He shushed me softly, rocking me slightly. “We made it. We’re free. We’re back home.” He repeated over and over until I had cried myself out. I pulled out of his embrace and wiped away the stray tears. Shaking my head at my outburst I muttered a thank you to my brother. 

“Try to get some sleep. I’ll be just across the hall if you need anything,” He says, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nodded and he gave me a sad smile as he walked out of the room. 

I wandered over to my dresser, fished around until I pulled out the first pair of pajamas I came across. I hastily pulled my clothes off and as I went to pull the nightgown over my head, I realized the layer of grim that was clinging to my skin. A bath was definitely needed before I climbed into my warm bed.        

The tub was already full and scalding hot by the time I had finished pouring in an obscene amount of oils and bath salts. Sinking in, I sighed out in relief as the heat enveloped me. Muscles in my neck and back released as I leaned my head against the edge of the tub. I picked up the sponge on the edge and started to wash myself off. After countless minutes of scrubbing, despite my raw skin I still didn’t feel clean. Huffing, I threw the sponge across the bathroom and pulled my knees up to my chest. I just sat curled up around myself until the water started to cool down. And it was still another handful of minutes before I could manage to pull myself upright and step out of the bath. I shivered at the temperature difference. Hugging my towel closer to my body, I quickly ran bacon into my room and threw the nightgown over my head. I burrowed underneath my comforter and tried to close my eyes. 

I tossed and turned until I started pleading with the mother, the cauldron, anyone that would listen to let me go to sleep. I was bone tired but everytime I closed my eyes something made me snap them open a few moments later. Every creek of the house had my ears prickling. Has the house always been this loud? I wondered how I never noticed it before. How I ever slept with all the noise. It was then I remembered that, if my room truly haven't been messed with since I had left, that I still had a sleeping tonic from when I had cracked a few ribs. Fae healing or not, ribs always were a pain to heal. Majda had given me a tonic to make me sleep so I could actually heal without Cassian making me laugh them out of place. I flung myself out of bed and padded over to my vanity. The small bottle of purple liquid still sat , half drank/ Uncorking it, I prayed that sleeping potions didn’t go bad and took a tentative sip. Fighting back a gag at the foul taste, I put the cork back on the top and walked back to my bed. The medicine had its desired effect. Not a minute later I felt my eyelids flutter close and  this time they stayed closed until I could sense the sun high in the air signaling the next day had come. 

Knocking on my door made me finally crawl out of bed. Goraning at having to leave the warmth, I flung open the door and was staring a slightly startled Rhys in the face. He held a small tray in front of him, stacked high with various foods. 

“I didn’t want to wake you up. You slept through breakfast and lunch and I  didn’t know what you would want so I brought a little of everything.” He spoke the words so fast that in my half awake state I struggled to keep up with them. I gestured for him to come in so he could place the tray on my bed. 

“Have you eaten?” I raised an eyebrow at him as I picked up a large strawberry.. His look told me that he had, in fact, not eaten. I pointed to my bed. “Sit and eat.” I barked, mouth full of strawberries. He laughed at some silent joke and picked up a piece of toast covered in some fruit jam. We were quiet as we ate, picking apart the platter he had brought in. Truly too much for one person to eat. Once we were both full, I wiped off my hands on my comforter and finished swallowing my last bite before I asked Rhys. “What do you have on the agenda for today?” He stilled and picked at a piece of lint on his sweater. 

“Not a lot. I’m trying to organize a meeting with the High Lords of the other courts to just debrief after everything.” He shrugged like that wasn’t going to be the hardest meeting to organize. “There are some young high lords and with all the aftermath of this…We just need to all talk this out.” I nodded along with him. The courts would need some time to bounce back after this but from the way things had seemed under the mountain, we didn’t have that time. As much as I prayed to be wrong about this, war was on the horizon and we would need to have the courts functioning as much as possible if we were going to stand a chance against Hyberns forces. Amarantha was just a taste of the power that he had, an experiment of sorts. 

Mor knocked on the open door before she walked in and plopped down next to Rhys. She took note of our stern faces but didn’t say anything. Instead, she swiped one of the sandwiches off of the tray and shoved half of it in her mouth in one bite. “You, me, library.” Was all she said before she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. 

“Well I know what you’re doing for the rest of the day.” Rhys laughed as I started to scramble to get dressed. I was about to start changing when I noticed he hadn't moved from his perch on my bed. “Get out!” I scratched at him and all but pushed him out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. His laugh echoed off the empty halls outside my door. 

In record time, I was running down the halls to the library. Mor was already sitting, her book curled against her chest. She didn’t look up from  her book as she pointed to the one I had abandoned last night. “Butt in chair, book in hand.” She said and I laughed at her tone. I walked over to my couch and picked up the book,  the spine slightly cracked from laying face down most of the day. 

I must have finally gotten to the juicy part of the book because I felt Mor Peering over the edge of her own book. My poker face was completely gone as I sunk in every word. “No. Absolutely not!” I screamed, rereading the last few pages to make sure I was seeing it correctly. 

“Did you finally get to..” I held up my hand to shush her. She laughed and threw one of the throw pillows at my head. I only put my book down long enough to catch the pillow, using it to now prop up my arms. Once I had confirmed I had not actually gone crazy, Mor and I started discussing the plot twist that had been the source of my outburst. She accidentally let a detail slip that had me scrambling back for the book, desperate to catch up to the point she had been talking about. This went on for hours until I saw her perk up. She turned to face me.

.

“They’re back.” Was all Mor said, still flipping through the book perched on her knees. I didn’t say anything else before I put my own book to the side and all but ran from the room. Her laugh bouncing off the walls behind me. 

I could smell him before I saw him. That deep cedar and cold rain smell that I could wrap myself in. Rhys tried to say something to him but stopped when he realized he no longer held his audience's full attention. Azriel’s shadows ripping across the room and curling around my feet like a small cat. I could have purred at the feeling, tears started to peek along the corners of my eyes at the familiar feeling. 

When I felt movement next to me, I felt momentary disappointment at the fact that Azriel was not standing in front of me. Strong arms wrapped around my middle and started to swing me in a circle, I felt joy so strong it almost hurt. Cassian sat me back down on my feet and when he went to speak, I wrapped my arms around him in return. We stood embracing each other, slowly rocking from foot to foot. 

“Missed you, Princess.” He muttered into my head. I just nodded, my cheek too squished against his chest to say anything. “I think Mor was going to kill us if she had to be the only girl living in the house. Amren can only handle so much damage control and the coward spent most nights at her apartment.” He nudged my shoulder as he spoke, pulling a laugh from me. It felt good to laugh again. My cheeks hurt in the perfect way at the smile that stretched over my face. 

A throat being cleared from across the room pulled my attention from Cassian. I could have melted into a puddle right then and there. Azriel stood in front of me, a true smile gracing his face. I squealed and rushed over into his arms. He didn’t swing me around like Cassian did, but he held me just as tight. It would have felt so right to crash my lips against his and he released me from his arms, but that wasn’t my relationship with Azriel. Those thoughts were nothing more than what I needed to make it through the events of the last fifty years. Azriel looked at me like I was a sister, nothing more. Rhys’ little sister on top of that. His high lord's little sister. He was the one who had coined my nickname centuries ago. When the trio first formed their own little band of brothers. I had gotten pulled in by proximity, Azriel said it one day and it had stuck ever since. “Hi Princess.” He said, tone polite but I could hear the joy behind them. I tried not to blush as I heard his voice. Shaking the things I had imagined that voice saying to me out of my head out, I mustered up a pathetic, “Hi, Az.” 

It had never felt this awkward around him. Cursing myself mentally for thinking of all the things I would say to him when I finally saw him again. None of those words made their way out of me as the two of us stared at each other. “I’m glad you’re home.” Was all he said his words short but I felt the sincerity leaking from them. Biting down the flutter in my heart,  I gave a short nod and wrapped my arms around myself. His eyes tracked the movement but didn’t say anything. 

Cass clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, breaking the tension that I felt take over the room. “We’ll see you at training tomorrow,” I raised an eyebrow to him. “Don’t give me that look, I’m guessing you didn’t have time to… while you were gone. I can’t have my sister not able to defend herself. We would be the laughing stock of Pyrthian.” He smiled as I made a big show of rolling my eyes . 

So I joined them for training the next morning. And the next. Cassian slowly ran through the basics until I was nothing more than a mile of sore bones and sweat by the end of our sessions. I would shower and hang out with Mor. Rhys was suddenly very busy as he tried to catch up on all the events he missed in his court over the last fifty years. He made more and more trips to Hewn City, leaving Mor free to run around with me. Before I knew it a month had passed and all of us were sitting around the table for one of our family dinners. 

Jokes were flung around the table and no one noticed  the way Rhys and I sat back, sinking it all in. More than once I caught his eyes from across the table and all we could do was smile at each other. Is it bad to say that I missed this? I spoke into his head as Mor and Cassian had started raising their voices at each other, getting into a slight argument over some random events of the day. I did too. Even when we both flinched at the volume Cassian’s voice had risen too. Even Azriel had started to chime in before Mor shot him down with a withering look. I laughed despite myself at his expression. I shut up when that look was turned to me. 

The conversation fell into a natural lull and everyone was happily eating. Rhys hissed at something, shaking his arm that bore the bargain mark. Something must have prickled down the weird connection. 

“I still can’t believe you let her go with Tamlin.” Cassian said, stabbing something on his plate with a little more force than necessary. Rhys bared his teeth at his brother. 

“I didn't have much of a choice, now did I?” He slumped back into his chair, still rubbing his hand. “She already hated me because of this stupid bargain but if I had stolen away from the male she was willing to die for…”

“But Rhys. It’s Tamlin. No one would have slighted you, not after…” Cassian’s gaze flickered to me. As hard as I was trying to tune out the conversation, I still felt my chest tighten at their words. Rhys would have never taken Feyre without her permission, well at least outside of the bargain but we both knew that was simply a means to an end. Regardless of how much it must hurt to have another person he cared about over in spring, Rhys wouldn’t take that choice away from her, no matter how concerned he might be for  her safety. 

“How  was it seeing the brute again?” Amren asked and the table silenced. I froze and kept my gaze locked down at my plate. Suddenly losing my appetite completely.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I itched at my wrist, tugging at the fabric that felt too tight around my wrist. Azriel placed a comforting hand over mine. I flashed him a thankful smile.

“You haven’t wanted to talk about it for over a century.” She prodded. 

“And she shouldn’t have to if she doesn’t want to,” She took a breath like she was about to press the issue. “Why does it matter to you anyways?” Azriel hissed at her. Amren had the decency to take a hint and held up her hands in surrender, a smirk plastered on her face. 

We all sat in silence for the rest of dinner. Even Cassian knew better than to make any comments due to the tension in the air. Everytime he would go to say something, Rhys would shoot daggers at him. Eventually I got sick of it and threw my napkin down. 

“Fine. You want to know what it felt like?” I shouted at Amren. Everyone flinched. “I am terrified for that girl. Because I know what loving Tamlin does to someone. Seeing him felt just like you whenever someone mentions the prison.” She paled at my words and I didn’t spare her another look as I pushed away from the table, storming out. I know I would regret my words later but sometimes Amren needed a taste of her own medicine. She just loved to push everyone buttons because we were all too scared to really piss her off. 

I flung myself into my bed, still fully dressed. I groaned into my pillow. Apologies could wait until tomorrow. A knock from the door had me fighting back swears. Stomping over to the door, I ripped it open and a very startled Rhys was standing in the hallway, hand raised like he was about to knock again. 

“I wanted to check on you.” The high lord said.

“I’m fine” I gritted out and he raised an eyebrow at me. I let out a heavy sigh. 

“I know I shouldn’t have taken the bait but I don’t want to talk about him, right now or ever, if I can avoid it.” Rhys’ eyes held sympathy and he just contuined standing in the hallway, letting me rant. “I mean it’s been so long. I didn’t want to talk about it then. No one’s asking how you feel about Tamlin.” I paused and Rhys just shrugged. 

“If she’s happy with him, then it’s not my place to try to save her. If she wants to come here, then I’ll happily let her do that too.” 

I stared at him like he had gone crazy. “What about the bargain?” He shrugged again

“It was necessary at the time. I don’t actually plan on cashing in on it. She’d only hate me. More.” I could feel his despair. The self loathing held behind those words. 

“Rhys.” He shook his head.

“I’ll never take away her choice in this. Just because she’s my mate doesn’t mean I have a claim to her. Regardless of every nerve in my body screaming otherwise. It’s her life. She’s given more than enough to deserve whatever, whoever, makes her happy.” I went to hug him and he stepped out of my reach. “As much as I appreciate it, I don’t need your sympathy for making the right decision.” He tried to play it off as a joke but I knew he truly meant it. 

“Well if you ever want to talk about it…”

“Like how you want to talk about Tamlin.” He cut me off. My mouth set into a thin line and I took that as a dismissal of the conversation. Fine. I just wanted to crawl into bed anyway. 

“Well now that we’ve established that. Anything else you want to say, oh mighty High Lord.” 

“No.” 

“Good. Good night.” I said and swiftly shut the door in his face. I love my brother but he really knows how to get under my skin sometimes. I know deep down I’m mad because he called me out. I can’t expect him to pour his heart out to me when I won’t do the same thing. 

I threw the covered back and crawled in, still fully dressed. Mind reeling. I wouldn’t even know where to start with talking to anyone about Tamlin. And what good would it do? All of that was in the past and talking about it would only piss everyone off all over again. We had just barely avoided attacking the spring court when I came home. I don’t want to drag Feyre into this now that she’s there. 

I managed to finally fall asleep, tossing and turning. Dreams filled with deep swirling greens and the sound of growls. 

When I woke up in the morning I could tell it was later than normal. The sun is slightly higher in the air. Snapping out of my sleepy haze I cursed as I jumped out of bed. I was late for training and Cassian wasn’t going to let me forget that. 

Throwing on my clothes, mentally screaming at all the buckles on my training leathers. I knew not eating was going to come back to bite me in the ass but I simply didn’t have time as I sprinted through the house. In my haste, I passed a grinning Rhys. The events from last night seemingly forgiven as he taunted me. 

“Maybe he’ll consider this your warm up today.” I held up a crude gesture and he only laughed harder.  

I made it to the training rink in record time. My hands were on my knees as I panted. The stitch in my side was already screaming at me but I forced myself to stand up straight as Cassian sauntered over to me. The split in his lip told me Him and Azriel had gotten started without me. 

“You’re late, princess.” I flinched at his tone. He surveyed me. “I think double drills should be enough to make sure that doesn’t happen again. I cursed, I couldn’t get through the routine once without limping back to the house. Two would kill me and he knew it. 

“What are you waiting for? An invitation?” He held out his hand “Consider this it.” He stepped away from me, going back over to Azriel. I know Cassian wasn’t actually mad at me. He also knew that if he went easy on me, I wouldn’t take training seriously. I appreciated the routine of it all and I really did need it. So sighing I got started. 

I was halfway through my second set when Cas called me over. 

“Lesson learned?” He simply asked. I nodded. Still trying to take in breath. My muscles are screaming at me for still being vertical. 

“Good because Cas and I decided it’s finally time to step this up a notch. You’re almost the same as you were before. Now it’s time to get your powers involved. Relearn how to fight with those.” Azriel spoke. My stomach sank. This was something I hadn't considered. It was a stupid oversight on my part and I didn’t know how to get myself out of this so I responded with the truth. 

“I don’t have my powers.” 

“Okay, nice joke” Cassian cut in.

“I’m not joking. I can’t use them anymore.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” 

“I can’t use my powers” I grumble. “They’re still in there but it’s like I’m fighting against a wall.” Azriel raised an eyebrow at that revelation. 

“How do you know?” 

“I don’t know but all I know is I tried to use them… you know… And they wouldn’t come. Everyone had theirs back so I know it wasn’t the curse. So for whatever reason I couldn’t make them work.” It was embarrassing to admit. My powers had been the only truly useful thing I could rely on in the training ring. 

“Have you tried since then?” I nodded. Not so much of a glimmer of them since I came home. I told Cassian that much and he swore under his breath. 

“We could always take you to see Helion.” I shook my head at his words. 

“I don’t want to burden him with more problems. He has enough to do in his own court. I’ll figure it out, but for now I’ll just have to fight the old fashioned way.” 

Neither of the males in front of me seemed to be happy with my response but Cassian jumped right back in.

“Fine. But that means that you have a lot more training to do. If you had your powers you would be fine. But in just plain hand to hand combat, you’d get your ass kicked by anyone with any skill.” 

I glared at him but I knew he was telling the truth. Grabbing his arm, I pulled him into the center of the ring and tossed him one of the training swords. Heavy but they wouldn’t do nearly as much damage when he hit me. 

“Do your worst then.” Was all I said before he charged at me. 

“You’re sloppy.” Cassian barked as he knocked the sword out of hand again, again. I held my wrist as it twisted at a weird angel. My cheeks heated with anger and I went to wipe the sweat that had formed on my brow with my other, only to find it just as damp. I recoiled in disgust and Cassian laughed again. 

“You try getting your shit kicked in for fifty years and see how you bounce back.” I spoke and I saw his face pale. Shit. “Joking Cas, it’s okay.” 

I shook my head. “I am sloppy. And that’s why I’m still training with your annoying ass. You’ll have me back in tip top shape.” He relaxed slightly, but his shoulders still wouldn’t lower. 

I sighed and did the only thing I could think of as he turned away from me. I jumped onto his back, being mindful of his wings and pulled him down to the ground. The air left his lungs in a whoosh as I took us both onto our sides, I quickly bounded to my feet, ignoring the sting in my side from the impact. 

“Come on you big Illyrian baby.” I raised my arms slightly in front of me and a flicker of something crossed Cassian's face and I saw him make the decision to play along. To pretend that this was just a normal day of training. He leapt to his feet with a surprising amount of grace. 

“If you want a fight, you got it princess” He said with a smirk. We both stood in the middle of the training ring, circling each other, waiting  for the other to make the first move. Swords forgotten off to the side. I saw the slight twitch of his left side and I made the choice to ignore the fake out, and went to block my right side. It was the right choice, the blow aimed toward my right side bounded off my forearm, it still stung but at least it didn’t put me on my ass like it would have had it made contact. I grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm back, pulling him closer towards me and pushing on his back. He only stumbled for a second before he regained his footing. That kick had put me off balance more than I anticipated and it was easy for Cassian to grab the leg that lowered too slowly, grabbing my ankle and yanking me to my stomach. I yelped at the contact. He laughed loudly as I held my hand up in surrender. I rolled over onto my back with a groan. 

“Give me a few days back in training and I’ll have you on your ass, General.” He laughed even harder.

“In case you forgot, princess, you could barely do that even on your best days. Give yourself more time.” 

“A week.” I responded with my own laugh. Whatever I had done, it worked. Cassian’s shoulders had fully relaxed and I noticed the smile gracing his face finally reached his eyes. I noticed Azriel starting a few feet away. I sat back on my elbows, propping myself up. “Want a round, Az?” I teased and was rewarded by him rolling those big hazel eyes. 

“I think you’ve hurt yourself enough for today.” Was all he said before he turned to stalk away  from the ring. I laid back down in the dirt of the ring at his retreating figure, sighing heavily. Cas comes to stand over me, offering me a hand up. I grab it, pulling myself up. 

“Give him some more time to come around. This was harder for him than the rest of us.” He was suddenly serious. “He’ll get there, but you know him. Broody as they come.” He nudged me with his wing and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the gesture. I nodded in understanding and the pair of us walked back up to the house. 

This was harder for him than the rest of us. The words bounced around my head for the rest of the day. It makes sense. Azriel would have seen this as him failing. Not only failing me but his High Lord. Regardless of how hard everyone must have tried to comfort him, he would always blame himself, and only himself, for Rhys and I going under the mountain.  

It also explained why Azriel seemed to be avoiding me. Besides that first awkward meeting, he always managed to find an excuse to not be in the same room as me if he could avoid it. I’ve been home for almost a month now and I had hardly seen him. The few times I ran into him in the hall, he would quickly and politely brush me. Not saying anymore than a few words in greeting or response to a question I might have asked him. Be patient. I could do that. But it was hard to ignore the sting in my chest every time he brushed me off. We were practically joined at the hip before I left. I fit seamlessly into the fold of the trio but now Azriel felt like a stranger again. 

My mind was too full of thoughts to begin to try to settle down, so after I bathed the dirt and sweat off, I changed into a loose nightgown that almost went to the ground and padded off for the library. When I got to the door, it was slightly cracked, light from the fireplace filling even the hallway with its warmth. It was like the room itself was calling to me and as I stepped in. Above the crackle of the fire, I made out the sound of pages turning, of fabric rustling as someone shifted on one of the couches in the room. I searched for the source of the sound and found none other than Azriel lounging with a book propped open on his lap. He didn’t seem to notice me until one of his shadows snuck off his lap and slithered over to my feet, wrapping around them like they always did. 

He closed his book and glanced over to where I stood in the doorway. Something flashed across his eyes that I couldn’t decipher before it faded away. He cleared his throat and said a generic greeting. My heart sank as I saw him mark the page he was on in his book, and place it on the end table to his right. I tried not to pout as I said. “Don’t leave on my account.” I said, keeping my tone light to hide the oily feeling pooling in my stomach. The shadow at my feet seemed to curl in tighter to me as Azriel went to stand. 

“I was just finishing up anyways.” He couldn’t seem to meet my eyes. “The rooms all yours.” 

“Azriel…” I don’t know what I was going to stay. Maybe beg him to stay with me, maybe start shouting at him but I know none of that would help, would only make both of us feel worse. Be patient with him. So I bit back all the words I wanted to say to him and simply said. “Good night.” He called to me as he headed out of the room, his shoulder just barely brushing mine as he passed by me. The room suddenly felt too cold so I willed the house to put the fire out and walked out, heading back to my own room suddenly feeling very tired. 

I crawled under my covers and tried to push the thought of Azriel’s eyes out of my mind as I drifted off into a fitful sleep. 

 I sensed it. I was back under the mountain. Nonono. This can’t be happening but I saw it all out in front of me. Rhys was in front of me, standing on the dais with Amarantha standing next to him. I almost broke down, knees buckling, when I saw that all-too-familiar mask of indifference grace my brother's face. I tried to call out but my voice wouldn’t come out, feet locked in place as I stood and helplessly watched as the red haired female reached a finger under Rhys chin. Bile raised in my throat as I saw her whisper something to him, something I couldn’t make out. When I tried to reach out for his mind, I was met with nothing more than those iron thick walls he built up. Amarantha’s eyes locked on mine and it was like she set me on fire. My skin burned, the string of her breaking my bones, of the attors smacking me down everytime I said something out of place. Finally I seemed to find my voice, but only a scream ripped from my throat at the phantom pain. Her red lips curled into a cold smile. “Welcome back pet.” another scream made its way from my throat. 

I flung myself into a sitting position, jolting awake from the nightmare. My lungs ached as I gulped down air. My skin still burned and I threw off my blanket, pulling my knees to my chest. I almost screamed again as I realized the presence of something, someone, in my room. 

Azriel’s soft voice said my name. “I heard you scream, I thought…” My eyes finally adjusted and I could make out his frame. “I’m sorry. I'll go.” 

“No.” I rasped, throat raw. I must have actually been screaming. That explains his presence in my room, kind of. My hand went up to my neck attempting to rub away the pain in my chest. The pain didn't stop the request that bubbled over my lips. “Please. Stay.” I saw him go still, turning back around to me. Even in the dark, I was able to find his eyes, wide open as they locked on mine. Tears welled up in my eyes and I tried not to sniffle. 

He whispered my name again. “Just go back to sleep.” He was starting to turn around again. My body reacted faster than my mind, I reached over the large bed, reached for his arm. “Please.” It was all I could get out. Please stay. Please talk to me. Please can we pretend that all of this didn’t happen and please be my best friend again. So many things tied into that one word. It’s almost like he sensed it and he sighed, relaxing into my touch. 

“Only until you fall back asleep.” He sounded exhausted and his tone made me feel heavy all over again. He still shuffled in behind me. I tried not to think about the fact that when I went to tuck myself into his chest that I was met with bare skin. Resisted the urge to trail my hand down along those perfect abs, to the deep vee that I knew laid beneath them. I just buried myself deeper into his side and I felt his wings wrap around me, shielding me from the world around us as I drifted back to sleep. The smell of cedar lulling me into a dreamless sleep. 

I woke up feeling more rested than I had since I’ve been back home. I knew he wouldn’t still be here but my hand still reached out to the side of the bed he’d been in, still warm. He had stayed. That explains why I slept so well. His scent lingered in the room and not caring how desperate it might have seemed, I buried my face into the pillow he had been laying on. I let his scent surround me and calm me down. A knock on the door had me groaning but sitting up anyways. 

‘You didn’t come to breakfast so I wanted to check on you…” More said as she opened the door, she looked around as she spoke and her face fell slightly before continuing. “I had Nuala make you a tray in case you were hungry when you woke up.” She held a small wooden tray in her hand and I beamed at her, touched by the small gesture from my cousin. 

“Thank you.” Was all I could get out, tears threatening to fall at the kindness in her action. 

“I heard you last night.” She spoke quietly as she walked to the edge of my bed, sitting down at my feet. “I know I wasn’t there, but if you ever need to talk, or just someone to listen to. I’ll always be here.”

“You don’t need that stuff in your head too. It’s bad enough it's mine.” 

She said my name in a concerned tone and I waved her off. “Don’t we have some books you need me to finish?” I said, deflect. She sighed sensing she wouldn’t win this one.

“Maybe we should take a break from the library today.” My face dropped as I thought of what I could possibly do with my day if it wasn’t reading with Mor. “I need to go shopping for some stuff, start looking around for Solstice presents and I haven't had a proper shopping buddy…” She trailed off, giving me a full megawatt smile. 

“Alright let's go, before you start batting your eyelashes at me.” I playfully rutted her in the ribs and she threw her arm over my shoulder.

I haven't gone out to the shops in Velaris since I’d been back home. A part of me had forgotten how beautiful my home truly was. I tried not to stare in awe at the new vendors, the smell of food lingering in the air. People walked to and fro, running errands for the day. Mor and I had found one of my favorite dress shops and all but pulled me into the shop. 

The designer was known for her slightly scandalous fashion. Floor length gowns with cut outs that left little to the imagination but were still heartbreakingly gorgeous. By the time Mor and I left, our arms were full of bags and I still had a few more dresses to pick up that needed to be altered. 

We flitted in and out of more stores until the sun was starting to sink behind the horizon. When I noticed where we were I almost suggested we stopped by Rita’s but my shoulders were starting to hurt from the weight of the bags and Mor wouldn’t be able to winnow us into the house if we did have a few drinks nor did I even want to think of carrying them back. 

So when we finally checked out from the last store, Mor having purchased a honestly hideous printed shirt for Cassian, we joined arms and started the walk back to the townhouse. 

After dropping off all of my new things in my room, I knew I had to go apologize to Rhys. Armen could wait, if I ever bothered to say sorry to her. She wouldn’t hold it against me either way. Our relationship was more antagonist than anything else anyways. So I put the clothes into my closet and padded off to find Rhys.

Eventually I found him in his study. He didn’t look up as I closed the door behind me. I called his name. Still nothing. So I walked over to his desk. I noticed he was clutching a letter in his hand, holding it so tightly that it was starting to crinkle. I went beside him and soothed the letter out of his hand. My face paled as I read carefully over the words.

Feyre was marrying Tamlin. 

The letter wasn’t an invitation. Just a simple announcement that would be extended to all high lords when one of them married. I dropped the piece of paper like it had burned me. I grasped for the right words to say to my brother, but when he looked up at me they all faded away. Agony I had never quite seen in them before knocked the breath from my lungs. 

“I know I have no reason to be upset. I should just be happy that she’s  happy. But I can’t find it in me.” He stared at the tattoo on his hand. “I’ll never see her again. Not after she marries him. I might get glimpses at balls but I’ll never really be able to see her.” Never be able to see her because we both know how Tamlin treats the people he loves. The gilded cage Feyre will be locked in the moment she says “I do”. I gave myself a moment to mourn for the girl. But I know there was nothing either of us could do in this situation. So I did the only thing I could think of. I strolled over to the bar cart in the corner of the room and poured both of us a few fingers of whiskey. He eyed it carefully as I passed him the glass. He took it out of my hands and knocked it back in one fluid motion. I did the same with mine. Holding out the glass for more, I poured him another. We just sat drinking until the familiar flush started to creep onto my face. Rhys hasn't said much, neither of us have. Content with drinking away the pit in both of our stomachs. 

“I love her.” He said after he finished his third glass. He didn’t sound. In fact this was  the most sober I think I had ever heard him

“I think I’ve loved her since I first saw her in the spring court. But I know I loved her when she offered herself in place of Tamlin. This brave human offering to save our entire world, who before that moment would have let her tear her to shreds.” He grimaced, as if the very thought disgusted him. 

“So tell her.” I said with a shrug. He glared at me. 

“You know it’s not that easy.” I did know. But I wanted him to be happy. I didn’t want him to have to sit here and drown out his sorrow while Tamlin got to play hero. Tamlin, who sat around while my brother risked his neck time and time again to save Feyre. He slumped down into his chair and laughed at the ceiling. 

“The mother can be a real bitch sometimes. I don’t know what I did to deserve all this good fortune.” His voice was bitter and truly didn’t know how to respond. I went to pour him another glass but he put a hand over his glass. 

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing. I think I need to go to sleep before I march into the Spring Court and drag her out. Regardless of if she’ll hate me or not.”  His eyes soften as he looks at me. “You should head to bed soon too. I don’t need to look into your mind to know you’re going a million miles a minute right now.” 

He wasn’t wrong. My thoughts had been roaring around in my head since I read that letter. It wasn’t hard to put myself back into Feyre’s shoes. My heart panged for this selfless girl. How long until the cracks in the foundation started show and she would be pulled into the storm that is Tamlin. I nodded in acknowledgement of his words. Putting the cork back onto the glass bottle. I rose from my chair, rolling my stiff shoulders. Rhys and I both returned to our respective rooms. 

Hard as I tried, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned but couldn’t get comfortable. I had run out of the sleeping tonic a few nights before so I just accepted that sleep wasn’t going to come. I made no move to get out of bed though. I just curled my covers tighter over me. When the sun peeked through my curtain. I didn’t get up. I didn’t go to training. I didn’t even get up from my bed until mid afternoon, just going far enough to use the bathroom. Immediately crawling back into the warmth of my bed. 

Someone had knocked on the door and I pretended to be asleep when I heard the door click open. I ignored the smell of cedar until I felt a shadow sweep across my bed, settling by my face. If it knew I was asleep, it didn’t respond to its master. But it also didn’t leave when my door softly shut. I just turned to face away from the ripple of blackness. Not wanting to deal with the comfort the small action granted me. 

When I finally left my bedroom the next day, I learned Rhys had behaved similarly yesterday. The two of us floating around the house. We were bad enough that the others cleared out of whatever room we were in. I couldn’t find it in myself to really care enough to knock it off. 

This continued for the remainder of the week leading up to the date of the wedding. I expected the same behavior as I woke up the morning of the big day. But when I walked into the kitchen, Rhys was sitting around the table with Cassian and Azriel, head thrown back in laughter. He turned his head to me as I walked in and smiled at me.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” I grunted at him. Walking to the fridge I pulled out a bowl of fruit and swiped a couple pieces of sliced strawberry. He hummed in response and Cassian spoke up.

“We’re going to the cabin later, if you want to come with us. We’ll need someone to help us finish all this booze.” He gestured to three large boxes that were occupying the floor of the kitchen. I raised an eyebrow to Rhys and he shook his head. Drop it. He spoke in my head. I shoved him out and when I looked back at him, he looked hurt. 

“Boys, can I speak to my brother alone?” The two looked confused but stood up from the table regardless. 

“You don’t approve?” Rhy asked plainly. I scoffed.

“They might not know what today is, but I do,” I snatched the unopened bottle from his hand. “If you want to drink yourself stupid, I won’t stop you but that doesn’t prevent all of this from happening.” He made a lunge for the bottle and I was somehow able to keep it out of his grasp. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. 

“What do you want me to say? That I would rather her marry anyone else than him? That I wish I was the one that she was happy to see. That I wished she would change her mind…” He trailed off. Eyes seemingly far away.  Horror washed over his face. 

“Rhys?” I spoke softly, wondering if I pushed him too hard. 

“I have to go.” Was all he said and before I could catch him, he had winnowed away. 

I had been on edge since Rhys disappeared with no sign of where he was going to. It hasn't been more than an hour but I was about to wear a hole through the rugs in the hallway with my pacing. Suddenly, I heard Rhys in my head. Grab Mor and meet me at the big house. I didn’t respond. Just went to find Mor, she must have received a similar message because when I got to her room she was already waiting for me. She didn;t ask any questions, merely grabbing my arm and winnowing us to the house we rarely ever used. When we arrived to the house I nearly gasped as I saw why Rhys had disappeared so suddenly. I just had time to make out a satin slipper as it was chucked with deadly precision right at Rhys’ head. She had barely launched the other one at him before she stormed off up the stairs. Rhys was all but growling as he stalked over to us. “That went well.” Mor snorted at him and this time Rhys actually growled at her before stalking over to his own room. 

We didn't see or hear from Feyre for the rest of the night, the three of us eating in silence. I felt the tension rolling off of Rhys when Nuala and Cerridwen informed us that Feyre hadn't eaten the dinner they had left for her. My stomach sank and I avoided the stare from my brother. He had asked me to go check on her. Saying that I could offer her some company. I didn’t have it in me to talk to her yet. Didn’t want to make this day, this decision, about me. And I know going into that room I would see a younger version of myself I wasn’t ready to face. 

The next day, Rhys had insisted on her joining us for breakfast. She came stomping down the stairs. “I’m not a dog.” She sneered at him before taking a tentative seat at the table. 

She looked around and her eyes locked onto mine, recognition sparkling in them,

“I remember you. You were under the mountain. What are you doing here?” Her tone was surprisingly pleasant, a stark contrast from every word she had said to my brother. 

I introduced myself. “I’m his sister.” She laughed at that. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was hard to bite back my comment while I looked at her. It was like looking into an old memory, the dark circle around her eyes, the way the light had completely vanished behind them. She didn’t even look like this under the mountain. Tamlin had broken her completely. I’m sorry for you. I didn’t say that though, instead just responding with a simple. 

“You get used to it.” 

“I doubt that.” She snorted and started picking at the food in front of her.

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter one: the briefing

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of murder, dead parents, scars, trauma, implied slutshaming, mentions of guns and shooting and bombs, mentions of wanting to die, dark content, reader is implied to be bisexual (I cannot fathom not being attracted to women SORRY NOT SORRY), reader is implicitly stated to be NOT A MAN

word count: 3.4k

A/N: omg it's here! had so much fun writing this, hope you all enjoy it too! im still working out a schedule for this, as ive currently written 3 chapters and am already at about 10k words! and im currently very inspired for my own, non-fanfic WIP, so im split! hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know if you liked it! comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

Human attraction can be sorted into three little boxes: Sexual, romantic, platonic. It is somewhat of a threeway Venn diagram, and people find themselves travelling in between the perfectly drawn circles all the time. It is a marvel to some, to be able to gauge the section in which one stands with a simple glance. It’s a gift, you’ve found, having the knack to discern between the three attractions. Which means you’ve cracked the code on people, and know exactly how to assess and engage accordingly. 

It’s how you find yourself in such a predicament as the following, quite often:

“You’re Butterscotch, aren’t you?” The voice is meek, quiet, and comes from directly behind you. You’ve just put down the weights at the gym, and have paused to take a drink from your water bottle, when you turn to assess the situation. 

Long brown hair, blue eyes. Gorgeously shy smile as she tucks a strand behind her ear. Your whole body moves, reacting to the incarnation of Aphrodite herself in front of you. You suppose you’ve always seen women that way, to be wholly more beautiful on average compared to men. It’s how you often find yourself in bed with a woman not unlike the one before you. 

She stands, slyly pushing her breasts together and leaning into you, whether it be subconscious or not, batting her long eyelashes.  Sexual attraction, then. You smile, deciding to play it cool, taking another long sip of water, silently reveling in the way her eyes stick on your wet lips. 

“Yeah, that’s me. And you, you’re Hazel, aren’t you?” You tip your head to one side in faux innocence, honing you eyes in on her in a way you know sends shivers down her spine, completely hypnotised by the way you silently call to her. She nods, surprised that you’ve remembered her from her initiation training 6 months ago. She was one of the older recruits, only two or three years younger than you, but valuable just the same.

“I’ve been following your career for a while now, and I must say I really look up to you.” Her lips twist into a grin, showing off her perfect teeth. Your own face darkens as you inject lust into it, and you watch as she tries to discreetly squeeze her thighs together. She’ll be eating right out of your hand in no time.

If she’d come to you 13 years ago, when you were just starting out, you would’ve wanted to tell her that all you are interested in is a promise of casualty. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less, but the absence of such a discussion did land you in hot water all that time ago. Now, your reputation precedes you, and you doubt there is a single soul in this building who doesn’t know your one-and-done policy. Of course, some of the agents surprise you and you have them on a staggered rotation, a new criteria you’ve introduced into your sex life once the gap between you and fresh faces widened to an immoral degree.

You open your mouth to give her a reply that will make her leave here with sticky thighs, when the most agitating, grating voice you’ve been almost tortured with for the past eight years echoes across the gym, calling to you.

“Let’s go Butterface, Fury had a brief for us twenty minutes ago. You can fuck around later.” You roll your eyes at the words of none other than James Buchanan Barnes, huffing out a breath. He’s done this to embarrass you, for sure, because you know for a fact that Fury’s briefing for the next mission is actually in ten minutes from right now. But you know if you showed up on time, he gets the upper hand for coming in earlier.

That’s the other reason you’re so famous around the building — your long-term feud with Bucky. Whenever the two of you end up in a meeting room, there are more insults hurled around than facts. You two love to spar together, finding any excuse to leave bruises on the other’s body. But the most damning thing? There is no better team than the both of you out on the field, your missions always resulting in the lowest casualties and highest success rates SHIELD has ever seen. It’s an eternal mystery, but to the two of you, it is clear enough. You are enemies, holding the dagger of sharp-edged insults to each other’s throats, but on a mission? It must all be put aside for the greater good, for the safety of others. The remarks are snarky but non-distracting, and you’ve jumped in front of a bullet for him more times than you would like to admit. But it doesn’t matter, because he has endured several injuries for you in turn as well. 

You redirect your attention back to your self-sacrificial prey for tonight. “Well, if you need me, I’ll be available at my room on floor 13 at around ten.” You lean in to whisper into her ear, and drag a less-than-innocent finger down the side of her neck. “I can give you a few more ways to look up to me, if you’d like.” The lower octave does something to her, and you watch her eyes flutter shut as she realises you’ve gladly accepted the silent offer she was handing you on a silver platter. 

You chuckle, at how easy it all is. And then spin on your heel, marching back to begrudgingly follow behind the tall brunette who seems to have a permanent scowl on his face whenever he’s in the same room as you. 

He leans back against the cool metal of the elevator that will send the both of you to the top, arms crossed across his broad chest. If you didn’t hate his guts, you’d absolutely suck him dry, right here right now. It’s no surprise that he is the most beautiful man in the building, but his attitude and mannerisms have long turned you off from him.

You poke the bear.

“What happened, Barnes? You mad nobody’ll fuck you?” He turns to you then, blue eyes blazing. And it only makes your shit-eating grin widen.

“Why would I ever be mad at that? I’m mad because we have to go on a mission, and when I come to get you, you’re busy planning on how to… spend your night. Again. At this point, if they’ve got a pulse they probably meet your standards, don’t they?” He smiles cruelly, and you don’t miss the implications. But you don’t care. If you were a man, they’d be singing your praises in the streets. So why is it different now?

“If they have a pulse? Well, if that were the case, then you…” You let your eyes wander up and down, and you notice his hard shell cracking when you meet his eyes again. You smile widens and you feign a blush, and he begins to smile, thinking he’s got you. And then you throw a grenade into whatever fantasy he’s spinning in his head. “Would be dead.” Your voice has never been more cold, observing the way his shoulders slouch in something akin to disappointment.

This is his kryptonite that you love exploiting, so much. The man is wickedly attracted to you, and is equally as horrid at hiding it. You have no idea what kind, though. Which box he fits into. You’re certain it’s not platonic given the way he talks to you. The longing glances and delicate touches after missions where you end up injured had turned you towards romantic, but you know there is no denying the way his eyes drift to your cleavage when you spar, or the way his hands immediately find your hips when you best him in the ring and end up straddling him. There is no box you can put him in, and it drives you up the damn wall.

You briefly wonder what the two of you would be doing in this elevator right now if you were as attracted to him and either of you had made it known. 

The elevator pings and the both of you break the burning, seething eye contact as you file into Meeting Room 17B.

“Right, before Barnes’ dick explodes at the thought of me fucking a woman, what’s the mission chief.” Barnes has the nerve to blush, sitting in the chair opposite yours, both facing the head of the table with a monitor where Fury and Stark both stand.

“Did your mother never teach you the difference between professional and casual?” He fires back, and you grin sadistically, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back.

“She’s dead, Barnes. Have some decorum, and maybe a modicum of respect?” His face falls, knowing he’s crossed a line, but if God Himself came down and told Bucky to apologise, he’d shake hands with the Devil. “What about your father then?” He is frantically searching you for any sign of hurt or discomfort that he can exploit, you can tell by the way his eyes stick to your every feature.

“Hard to when you’re in prison for murdering your wife and attempting to murder your child.” You turn to Stark, knowing you’ve rendered him absolutely speechless. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his mouth close and open like a fish, gasping for some air. Pathetic, really, but well-deserved. In all these years, you’re surprised it took him this long to blame your upbringing, often opting to attack you as a person directly. But you finally got to play the cards you’ve kept close to your chest, a sick and twisted punishment. That means that you win, today.

“Thats 236 for Butterscotch, and Barnes is still on 220,” Tony mutters, and you can’t hide your competitive side that comes out.

You turn to him, tutting. “Keep up, Barnes. I thought you were better competition than this. Pathetic.” You’re shaking your head in mock disappointment. A blood-tinged vignette passes around in the back of your mind, but you try your best to not let it show.

The arguments between you and Bucky as so well-known to get out of hand, the Avengers started keeping score, refreshing each year, of who won the argument. This is strictly judged based on how the final retort leaves the other unable to think of a comeback. You’ve bested him 236 times already, and it’s only February.

“You didn’t tell me about your parents,” he grumbles, cheeks pink in humiliation. Why is he backing down so easily today?

“I don’t owe you shit, Barnes. Especially not about my life before I got here. Sorry, Fury, should we start the briefing?” You divert the attention back to the matter at hand, feeling like maybe you went a tiny bit too far by calling him pathetic to his face. 

Since when have you ever nurtured a soft spot for him? Well, you are certainly not going to be starting today.

With both of your mouths shut and eyes attentive, Fury begins to speak.

“We need the two of you to go undercover. We have intel that Senator Parker may be dealing with copious amounts of methamphetamines, involving using his house as a lab and distribution centre. He often targets teens of ethnic backgrounds to carry the drugs and deal them in exchange for cuts — he chooses them this way so they would almost immediately go to prison, and nobody would be let off scot-free to rat him out.” Tony flashes up several holograms of the Senator, the teens caught pressing white packets into palms, and even those who ended up behind bars, and have continued to distribute the drugs from within.

“So…why do we need to go undercover?” You ask, leaning forward in your seat so you could see the graphics better.

“Well…here is Parker’s dating history…” Why does Tony sound so reluctant as he pulls up the dating history? Why is that relevant? These are just some of the questions that swirl around your mind, and are evident in your scrunched up face.

Bucky is watching you, quietly. Observing your features, observing you. He can’t help it — the grace with which you walk, the crudeness with which you speak…it’s entrancing. And you know it. He hates it. 

Then, slowly, the pictures begin to appear — there are 17 women. Every single one of them looks like you — the same colour hair, the same colour eyes. Similar face shapes and similar body types. It’s like there’s 18 of you in the room.

“I’m a honeytrap?”

Fury is quick to speak, to protest the misunderstanding that the mission is an objectification of you. “No….well yes. We have carefully constructed a plan that essentially is built on the fact that you happen to be—“

“Exactly his type?” Bucky asks, feeling shame crawl up his spine at the realisation that he has something in common with a drug lord. You look at him as he speaks, and feel more and more confused by the second.

“Yes.” Tony continues. “We’ve planned to plant you in the same cul-de-sac that Parker’s house resides on, and Butterscotch can use the fact that she’s his type to sway him, win his trust. You’ll have to play the long game with him, he’s known to barely let anyone in his house unless he wants to fuck them.”

You feel a sickness coat your stomach. “Will I have to fuck him? Because I’d rather shoot Barnes and then myself and blow up this building.” You chew your lip nervously, all the confidence can your body momentarily evaporating. The old man might just be one of the worst people you’ve ever heard of when it comes to drug trafficking. Not to mention any sexual gratification is just you stepping into a stereotype of what he wants, that you are just another woman with the similar face that he wants to put his dick in. It makes your skin crawl, and you run your fingernails harshly along your forearm.

“No.” To your surprise, it’s Bucky who speaks up. He meets your eyes for a brief moment, before turning to Fury and Tony. “No, right? She clearly doesn’t want to, don’t tell me you’re gonna make her.” He sounds oddly protective over you here, which he has no right to be. But you can’t fight him, not over this.

“No, no, of course not. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to. At most you’ll have to flirt with him, make him think he’s going to….y’know, with you. And use that advantage to sneak into his house. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Butterscotch. You know we’d never do that to you, that it’s against our ethics and values.” You nod, relaxing in your seat while Bucky stares at the red, raw skin of your forearm. He wants to soothe it, he wants to soothe you—

“And if I’m going, obviously you’re gonna send the Sergeant with me, aren’t you?” They nod in unison. You take a deep breath, knowing you have to take it. There will be no mission more satisfying. And Bucky is much more bearable when the both of you have a common goal.

“So what exactly is our cover?” Bucky perks up. The both of you wear the suit of civility so quickly when you have to do your jobs. 

Fury scratches his neck, exchanging a nervous glance with Tony. You anticipate the answer, knowing it will not be to your liking.

“We’ve planned to plant you in the Acorn suburb in Claremont, just across the street from Parker’s residence, for around six months. It’s a nice, quaint little city, I think the both of you would like it. It’s a lot more green, and less noisy and polluted than New York—.”

“Tony,” you warn, glaring at him. He is omitting the information. Why?

“Fine! The suburbs are conservative as shit, so you’re going as husband and wife!” Your eyes widen, and you swear you lose hearing for a second as the world goes in and out of focus. You have to pretend to be married. Pretending to be in love, you could do — in fact, you could probably pass off most intel exchanges with him as lovers’ private conversations if you smile and laugh on the right cues.

But marriage? The sanctity of which has been so thoroughly, irrevocably spoiled for you? The very reason you have only ever wanted casual in your entire life, as opposed to commitment? You can’t breathe.

You try to hide your shaky hands as you reach for the glass of water, downing it and gasping for breath. All that runs through your mind is the only instance of a married man you’ve ever known, and how it ended. How you ended, body mutilated in enough scars to rival Bucky’s left shoulder, crying out for a bloodied corpse in the back of an ambulance while the paramedics did their best to save you. How you wish they would’ve failed sometimes. 

It’s too much.

“I need time to think.” You all but run out of the door, and you think the chair falls with the force of your escape, but your heart is beating too fast for you to be certain. Sweat that had dried reappears at your hairline, beading and dripping down your face. You sit on the floor, clutching at your chest as you’re bombarded by the most horrifying images that not even the strongest of sleeping pills can shake. Your eyes squeeze shut and someone is calling your name. Not Butterscotch, but the name that heinous monster chose for you when you were still in your mother’s womb.

But even that turns out to be a hallucination, your head in your hands as you hear a familiar voice call to you.

“Butterface…is the idea of being married to me that bad?” You freeze. Bucky is here, why is Bucky here? You look up to be met with him crouching by your side, Tony on the other with a hand on your shoulder, and Fury standing tall. There is not a single hint of disappointment on his face, and you’re glad.

You turn to Tony. “You know…you know what…I can’t. You know why….Tony…” His face morphs into one of intense melancholia, pulling you into him. Ever since you started working more closely together with Bucky, he’s become something of a big brother to you — overly protective and affectionately annoying.

“I know, kid. You know what? Screw this, I’ll find some other agent who looks close to you to take over with Barnes.” His voice finally calms you down, and you take in deep breaths.

You can’t win them all. You’ll have to make some sacrifices. You pull away from Tony’s arms, not even daring to glance at Bucky. He doesn’t need to see what you look like when you’re vulnerable, because you know he will do everything in his power to bring you to such a state once again, just to hurt you.

You take several deep breaths.

“No. You and Fury have said it yourself, so many times. Nobody works better with James than I do, at least not in the field. My burning hatred for him is completely personal. I— I can do it. It’s just…I probably would’ve been fine but it got brought up and it was all I could really think about and then…it just sent me over the edge. But if Barnes promises to not be as big of an asshole as he usually is, I can make it work.” You don’t even risk a glance at him.

“I won’t be. I’ll behave. Plus, you are a lot more tolerable out on the field, so it shouldn’t be so hard. Promise, it’ll all be okay.” His tone sounds so…sincere? What on earth is up with him today? You spare him a glance, and his eyes shine brilliantly blue. And you believe him.

Bucky Barnes may be an asshole, but he would never lie to you. Especially when it concerns a mission, where miscommunications and secrets have consequences for people outside the both of you. He has at least this sense of loyalty about him.

“Alright. Guess I better get packing for Claremont, then.” 

NEXT PART

[pamgkrthwrites]

Captive Consort Chapter 1 - Blood of War and Rings

Warning, the following content is for an 18+ audience. If you are under the age of 18 do not read the content below. Warning, the following content has disturbing/triggering themes such as; Yandere, Arrange(Political) Marriage, Religious/Cultural Differences, Imperial Harems, Self Harm for Religious Practices. I do not support or encourage these themes or actions, they are merely written fictional events for entertainment. The character(s) depicted within this post are over the age of 19. (This list may get updated with each new Chapter Update)

DNI IF YOU ARE AN AGELESS, MINOR OR BLANK BLOG

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Taglist: @yazminetrahan @emmab3mma @dreamcastgirl99 @optimisticprime3

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Bakugou x Female Reader

Additional Pairings: Iida x Ochako, Kirishima x Mina, Mitsuki x Masaru, Mitsuki x Inko

Themes: Fantasy AU, Arrange Marriage, Political Marriage, Cultural/Religious Differences, Yandere, Greek Inspired Reader, Imperialism

Summary: Your country has been at war with the Barbarians for almost a year, and the Barbarian Prince, Katsuki Bakugou, has requested a peace treaty. Problem is, he is demanding either a large sum of money that your country can not provide, or you as his bride. You're from a culture inspired from Ancient Greece, while Bakugou is from a culture inspired by Imperial Japan, Imperial Russia, and Vikings, so there are are going to be a more than a few issues that arise from this and how people treat you differently.

A/N: I literally have an assignment due to tomorrow but no I spent MY ENTIRE WEEK writing this. I might be mentally unwell......... ANYWAY Hello hello. This is probably the LONGEST thing I have ever written for one chapter. Be prepared for Melissa Slander.

Word count: 10k+

"Father, you can’t seriously be considering marrying me off to that barbarian prince?!” You stood before your father in disbelief.

He couldn’t actually be considering this proposal, right?

Your father sat at his desk, the treaty paper in his hands. “He says he’ll stop the war if our nation gives him money that we do not have, or marry off one of The Nine Shachou Member’s daughters of marrying age. Unfortunately, you’re the only one who is of marrying age and has yet to be married.”

“But father-!”

Your father slammed his hand on the table as he stood up before shouting at you. “You will do as I say, child! We cannot afford to continue this war with the barbarians! Let alone with the rest of their savage continent! At least this way, we have a way of controlling them!”

You bit your lower lip, trying not to cry. You should’ve known this wouldn’t have worked.

You are merely an object to be traded for these monsters.

“You’ll be shipped over on one of our boats. I’ve been told it’ll take thirty days for you to reach their continent if everything goes smoothly.” Your father said as he sat back down. “You’re just going to have to deal with this, child.”

You gripped the side of your dress. “When do I leave?”

“We will be sending our response to those barbarians at first light tomorrow. It is already written up.”

That wasn’t an answer to your question. “Am I taking anyone with me?”

“That depends on the prince’s response. He may not allow you to go with any maids or guards.”

You were silent as you looked down at the floor. 

“I recommend you pray to the gods while you still can, child.” Your father told you. “Also bring miniature statues of them as well. That continent of savages worship different gods to us. I will pray to Soteria to protect you.”

You clutched the beads around your neck, each of them symbolising one of your many gods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a week had passed, you were instead shipped by carriage with your father to meet with the prince and his men at their camp.

Your mouth smeared up when you noticed the wet mud before your feet.

“Fourth Shachou,” You heard a gruff voice with a thick accent say. “We hope your journey was safe.”

You turned to see a green haired man with freckles on his cheeks. He stood at one hundred and eighty-three centimetres tall and had green eyes. He didn’t wear typical clothing you saw of the barbarians, but you could still see it was from their continent, but with the skin that was showing you saw a large amount of scars. All differing in lengths and widths.

Your father gruffed as he left the carriage and walked over to the young man. “I see you know our tongue.”

The green-haired man kept a smile on his face. “We speak the same language, Fourth Shachou.”

You got down from the carriage, holding the skirt of your dress up to avoid it being dirtied from the mud. The green-haired boy looked towards you and scanned your face. 

“This is my daughter.” Your father put his hand on your back as he said your name, pushing you forward.

“I am Midoriya Izuku.” The green-haired man introduced himself. “I am childhood friends of the Barbarian Dragon Tribe Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Dragon Tribe?” Your father repeated. “I thought there was only one group of those barbarians.”

“Be careful of your tone, Fourth Shachou.” Midoriya warned before answering your father’s question. “Back in times of old, there were many Barbarian tribes. With the rise of the Demon Lord a hundred years ago, the tribes were either wiped out or forced to merge together to be stronger in numbers. The Dragon Tribe is a result of Humans Barbarians and Dragon Shifters Barbarians merging into one Tribe. They are currently considered to be the largest Barbarian Tribe throughout all of known history of Nihon. They continue to use the name of The Barbarian Dragon Tribe to remember their fallen brothers and sisters.”

Yourself and your father watched as Midoriya went on a ramble of Barbarian history. Once Midoriya was done, he looked at you two and noticed how you had both reacted to him. He blushed lightly.

“Sorry- Didn’t mean to ramble.” He quickly pushed out of his mouth. 

“And what is your relationship with the Tribe, boy?” Your father asked. “To our understanding, they don’t let outsiders into their tribes easily.”

Midoriya seemed taken aback by your father’s statement. “They don’t typically like those from outside of Nihon to join the tribe. You might be mistaking the actions of the tribe to Kacchan. Kacchan is very standoffish to even meeting those outside of the tribe.”

“And who is this Kacchan?”

“Oh- Sorry, I mean Prince Bakugou.” Midoriya said offhandedly. “Kacchan was the nickname I gave him when we were children.”

Your father scoffed.

Midoriya looked at you. “If you are ready, I can take you to go meet him-”

“Women of Girisha are not permitted to speak to men without permission of their father or husbands, let alone walk off somewhere private with a man who is a stranger to her or her family.” Your father glared at Midoriya. 

Midoriya paused, looking up at your father with a look in his eye. His lips were in a line and his eyebrows were knitted.

A smile quickly painted his face, but it was no longer the smile from before. “Yes, my apologies. I had forgotten that was a custom for your people. I simply wanted to ask if she was ready to meet with the Prince.”

Your father replied. “I will be needing to discuss the travel arrangements with him.” As if that was an answer to the question.

You saw the strain on Midoriya’s face. “Of course. Follow me then.”

Midoriya turned and started to lead you two to a large tent, the tarp fabric being a red copper colour. On the ‘door’ to the tent had a symbol on it. The centre of it had a symbol of the first number. To the sides of the character were simplified wings, which met at a base before the numbered character. The symbol was painted on the tarp with a black ink.

Midoriya raised a hand as he got to the door. “Please wait here for a moment.” He said to the two of you before heading instead to the tent himself.

Leaving your father and you standing in the mud.

Your father sneered. “This place is a pigsty. It’s muddy, it smells, and none of the people here smell as if they have bathed.”

You looked down at your shoes, grimacing how they were dirty now. You wondered if your own nation’s army camps looked like this too. It’s not like you would ever know, women weren’t allowed near the army camps.

The tarp opened, seeing Midoriya’s smile. “You can come in now, Fourth Shachou.”

You followed in after your father. You bowed your head as you curtsied while your father merely bowed his head.

“Greetings, Prince Bakugou Katsuki. I am the Fourth of Nine Shachou Member,” Your father introduced himself, stating his name and family name. “As we agreed to in the peace treaty agreement, my daughter.”

You stood back up straight, introducing yourself by name to a man with wheat ash blonde hair and crimson red eyes. He was slouching in a chair, but if he stood up he would easily be one hundred and ninety-six centimetres tall. He had broad shoulders, with a tattoo that matched the symbol on the tent door. He wore a teal crop top that was laced up at the front, an orange sleeve with black patterning starting at his wrist to his mid upper arm, navy denim pants, a red coat with fur coating the neck line, high-low fur skirt that was held up by a dark brown belt, knee high grey boots, and leather armour on his knees and shoulders.

The man was staring at you, his eyes glued to your face and refusing to look away from your face. His finger tapped on his face, as if calculating something.

“I wanted to discuss-” 

“When did I allow you to speak?!” The blonde’s voice was loud, his attention now brought to your father. His glare would throw knives if they could. When your father wasn’t responsive, the prince let out a grunt, pushing his hand down his face. “Make it short.”

Your father hesitated before he spoke. “We have yet to discuss how my daughter will be transported and when the wedding will happen.”

“It’s happening tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?”

A cough came from a man who stood at one hundred and ninety centimetres tall with red hair and ruby red eyes. “His Majesty means the two will be flying there by dragon’s back today, which will allow the wedding to happen tomorrow evening. Traditionally, Barbarian weddings happen at sunset.”

Your father let out a nervous chuckle. “I see you are eager to end this war.”

“I’m eager for my old hag of a mother, the Empress, to stop sending me letters about her almost twenty-one year old son not coming back home.” The blonde corrected.

Your father suppressed a smile by gripping his own hand tightly that his nails dug into his palms. 

The beast of the East is easily controlled by the dominant woman in his life.

“Unless you want to transfer ownership of your daughter now and we get flying this second and have a late evening wedding?” The prince asked with a smug smirk.

Your father paused. “Ownership?”

“That’s how your people treat their women, right? They need permission to speak, which implies ownership over them.”

“I… Guess that is one way of interpreting our customs.” Your father grimenced. “I will permit her to travel to your continent for tomorrow's services. I expect that she will be housed within a separate room.”

“Of course.” The princes said with a smug expression. “I will get one of our axe-maidens to look after her.”

“I’m sorry, an axe-maiden?” Your father questioned. 

“Yes, a woman trained in wielding a battle axe.” The red head explained with a smile. “They start training when they are virgins sure, but they don’t have to stay forever to be an axe maiden.”

The prince looked over his shoulder, giving the red head a look. The red head looked away quickly.

Your father scoffed. “Of course. That will be permitted. Where should we place my daughter’s luggage?”

The prince paused for a moment before making a hand movement to Midoriya. “Tell them to put the luggage with Raccoon eyes’ luggage. We’ll fly separately.”

“Of course, Kacchan.” Midoriya smiled at the prince before walking out of the tent.

Once Midoriya had left the tent, the prince looked back at your father. “Better, Forth Shachou?”

“Will my daughter be permitted to send and receive letters?” Your father asked.

The prince’s lower eyelid twitches. “Yes, she will be able to send and receive. How long it will take will depend on the ocean.”

Silence grew between the two men as they glared at each other. You turned to look at your father’s face, seeing a frustrated expression.

You wanted to ask what it meant, but the expression on your father’s face gave you the answer already.

No.

“Kirishima,” The blonde looked at the red head. “Get your wife, and tell her she’ll be taking care of my betrothed.”

The red head nodded before walking past to leave the tent.

“We use the word intended.” Your father told the prince.

“Fortunately for me then that your daughter will be married to me. Therefore, she will be married in my culture and its beliefs.”

“Does that include your nation’s gods?”

The prince was silent. “I will not be forcing a belief system onto your daughter. She will be free to believe and practise her own beliefs as she wishes. At most, she will be asked to watch one of our rituals.”

“Very well.” Your father looked down at you then the prince. “Should I leave you two betrotheds alone?”

The prince lifted his head off his hand by about 2 inches. He stared at your father, searching to see for any ill intent before his eyes landed back on you. His eyes almost dug holes deep into your skin.

The prince breathed in through his nose. “...That is acceptable.”

Your father smirked to himself.

Weak men can easily be controlled by a woman’s influence.

Your father bowed his head before turning his back to the prince. He leaned close to you and spoke. “Behave.” Your father walked past you, leaning you alone with the prince.

The prince kept his eyes on you as he stood up. His steps towards you were slow, stopping when he was thirty centimetres between you two. His eyes were glued to you, soaking in your inner being. He took a breath in through his nose.

Was he smelling you?

“On Nihon, we address each other by our family names or titles unless we are close.” He told you. “Because we soon will be having the same last name, would it be alright if I called you by your given name?”

You slowly nodded your head, hesitating to speak. “That’s fine.”

“Would it also be alright if you called me Katsuki?”

“I can do that.”

He nodded, non-verbally communicating to you that he understood.

His eyes fell from your face and to the bead around your neck. He slowly pulled his hand to the beads and gently held onto them, tilted them to get a better look.

“What are these for?”

“Each bead represents one of our gods.” You told him as your hands went to one the beads. “This one is for our Goddess Soteria, a Spirit Goddess of Safety, Salvation, and Protection from harm.”

Katsuki was quiet as he let go of the beads. “Do you pray to her often?”

“Yes, she is my family's patron god.” You let go of the bead, your eyes landing on his necklaces around his neck. “Do yours also represent your gods?”

Katsuki looked down at his beads. “No, nothing religious. These are traditional cultural practices my family does. Each loop represents an event in our lives. The orange ones represent my birth, the red ones represent when I first used my magic, and the claw looking one represents my warrior spirit at the first religious hunt that we do.”

You gently held onto the necklace that was longer than the rest but had very little beads. “And what does this one represent?”

He watched you carefully, looking down at the three beads on that chain. 

“... An event that happened during the summer after my sixteenth birthday.”

He’s being vague for a reason. Best to drop the subject.

You dropped the beads and the subject.

“Bakugou I heard you wanted to-!” A feminine voice boomed into the tent.

Katsuki’s head lifted from looking at you, now glaring at whoever walked into the tent. You saw how his mouth went into a scroll and how his cheek twitched.

You turned your head, seeing a woman with light pink skin, messy pink hair, yellow horns, black sclera, yellow iris and stood at one hundred and seventy-five centimetres tall. Her mouth was shut and small as she sweat bullets upon seeing Katsuki’s face.

“Sorry, was this a bad time?” She asked.

Katsuki snarls his upper canines at the woman. He shuts his eyes and takes in a deep breath through his nose. Katsuki addresses you by your first name. “This is Kirishima Mina. She’ll be escorting and protecting you and who you will be travelling with to Nihon.”

Mina looked up at the prince, having a silent conversation before turning to you. She suddenly rushed towards you and held your hands in her own. “It’s nice to finally meet you! I’m Kirishima Mina! You can just call me Mina so you don’t get me confused with my husband.”

You were a bit startled by her forwardedness, trying to take a step back. Your back bumped into the prince’s chest, making you step forward towards Mina.

Mina leaned to the side and looked up at the Prince. “What’s first on the agenda today, boss?”

“You’re flying her to meet the Empress.” The prince replied. “The old hag will take care of everything until the wedding tomorrow.”

“Sorry- The wedding is tomorrow?!” Mina stared at the prince before looking at you. “Oh goodness! We don’t have the time!” She looked back at the Prince. “Wait until your mother hears about this!”

“Yeah yeah.” The prince gruffed. “Just make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible.”

“Right on it!” Mina smiled as she held onto your arm and started to guide you out of the tent. You noticed a few of the barbarians’ eyes on you once you left the tent, noticing your father’s eyes were not one of them.

The girl that was all pink guided you to an area that had bags of luggage, some of yours was mixed into that. There you saw Midoriya and the red haired man who you were pretty sure was called Kirishima.

Kirishima saw Mina, a side smile quickly forming on his face. “Mina! You came back quickly!”

“You could’ve told me the wedding was tomorrow!” Mina whined to her husband. 

Midoriya chuckled. “I’ve never seen Kacchan this eager to hurry something up.”

“He often complains that a rushed job isn’t a good one.” Kirishima sighed. “Yet all he has wanted to do regarding this is get it rushed.”

Mina turned to you with a smile. “I’m going to shift and these two are going to load our luggage onto me. This might take some time so try to find a comfortable place to sit.”

You were a bit confused in what Mina meant by that until smoke started to emit from her skin. A sudden cloud of smoke was around her body up to four times of her normal height. Once the smoke cleared, a pink Wyvern Dragon that had a yellow shine to its scales stood at  four times her normal height. She now stood at over seven metres tall, and that's when you didn’t count her yellow horns.

Kirishima sniffled, having a large smile on his face. “My wife's dragon form is so pretty, doesn’t she?” He asked you.

Kirishima stared at you, his smile going slightly flat when he noticed you weren’t responding.

“Oh, right.” Midoriya tapped Kirishima’s shoulder. “The custom for Girisha Women are that they have to have permission from their father or husband to speak to other men.”

Kirishima seemed shocked by this news. “But, didn’t-?”

A whine came from the big dragon, making Kirishima bring his attention back to her. He chuckled and started to move. 

“Sorry my love.” He told her. “I’ll start loading stuff on.”

You watched as the Dragon form Mina laid on her stomach as Kirishima put on a harness on her. It allowed one to sit in the centre of a circle but also allowed luggage to be strapped to the sides.

Midoirya tapped your shoulder, giving you a smile. “I know you can’t respond, but I do need to warn you that the flight from here to the capital will be over seventeen hours long. Mina should be able to push herself to fly the enter time, but you should sleep when night falls. Kacchan will be a couple of hours behind you.”

You simply nodded your head before turning back to watch Mina and Kirishima communicate somehow as they loaded everything up. You could only understand Kirishima’s end of the conversation, and it just sounded like banter.

You heard your name being called, and when you turned you saw your father. “Come here child, I wish to speak with you.”

As you walked away from Mina, Midoriya and Kirishima, Midoriya watched as you obeyed your father. They exchanged a look between each other. Mina’s dragon form let out a found, and in response Kirishima rubbed his hand along her body.

Once you were close to your father, he spoke to you in a hushed voice. “What did the prince talk to you about?”

“He asked if we could call each other by our given names, and then about our necklaces.” You answered your father, your hand going to the beads around your neck and starting to fiddle with them.

Your father had a smug expression on his face. “Really? Seems like the barbarian prince is weak to the woman around him.”

You pressed your lips together, thinking about how Katsuki reacted to Mina rushing into the tent. Though it was always possible he was just angry that the conversation was interrupted. 

Best to remember to not accidentally cut him off or interrupt him in the future.

“What do they plan to do with you now?” Your father’s voice cut through your line of thought.

“The Prince wants to send me over to Nihon as soon as possible. I’ll be leaving as soon as they finish packing my belongings onto the dragon shifter.”

Your father raised an eyebrow at you before looking at the pink dragon behind you. “I can’t believe they refused to ship you via boat because of possible sea monsters, and yet will happily throw you into the sky.”

You really doubted they made that decision because of safety concerns. They probably made that call because the war would only be considered postponed until the wedding happened. 

Maybe they were worried you would withdraw your consent to get married to The Prince?

Maybe that explained why he seemed kind with you alone in the tent.

Once the wedding happens though, I doubt he’ll keep up that act for long.

“Try to become close with The Prince.” Your father told you with a hushed voice. “Make him loyal to you and only you.”

You hesitated before nodding your head to your father. “I’ll write to you once I’ve settled in.”

Your father nodded his head. “Do try to be safe, child. We don’t have much information on their way of life, so we have no idea of the world you're about to be thrusted into.”

“Fourth Shachou,” A voice spoke. “I do hope you aren’t being rude about the people who will be taking care of your daughter.”

You both turned to see Katsuki there, his eyebrows knitted as he glared at your father. You noticed how he was slightly slouching. His eyes only darted to you for a moment though quickly went back onto your father to glare at him.

“Of course not, Prince Bakugou Katsuki.” Your father told him. “I am merely telling my daughter to be safe is all.”

“Oh really?” Katsuki raised an eyebrow at your father. “And how would you recommend your daughter to stay safe in a foreign land, Fourth Shachou? By staying in her room all day?” Katsuki turned his head slightly to Midoriya. “Is that not what we saw happening in some of the estates? They had locked their daughters and wives in a room?”

As Midoriya stuttered out of agreement, you remembered a lesson you were taught while growing up.

If a city is under siege, it is best to lock women in a hidden room for their protection.

You bit the inside of your mouth, one of your hands gripping your arm. If you did end up having to be locked in a room, wouldn’t that just mean you weren’t safe? 

“I simply don’t want my daughter to be victimised while under your care.”

“She won’t be.” Katsuki glared at your father. “No one who has ever been under my care has gotten hurt, and considering your daughter is to become my wife, I’ll be putting extra effort into it.”

“We’ll have to see how successful that is.” Your father snarked back.

Your father and Katsuki glared at each other. Midoirya came from the side, soft smiling at you. “It’s time to leave now, miss. I’ll help you-”

“No you won’t, Deku.” Katsuki turned, glaring at Midoriya. 

Katsuki stomped over to where Mina was. You tried to follow closely. Whatever this atmosphere was, you did not want to find out.

Once Katsuki got close to Mina, he gently grabbed hold of your waist and lifted you up. He let you lean on him as you climbed up onto Mina’s back and into the saddle. You heard your father start to complain to Katsuki about how to handle you properly. You elected to ignore it for now, trying to sit comfortable on the cushions that seemed to be strapped down to the saddle.

“How about you say your goodbyes to your daughter instead of correcting me!” You heard Katsuki’s voice boom aggressively as he addressed your father. “Considering this may be the last time you see her, I suggest you make it a kind goodbye.”

Last time?

Was Katsuki planning to get rid of you as soon as he could?

You looked over the edge of the saddle, seeing your father carefully approach.

You also noticed the glaring looks Katsuki, Midoriya, and Kirishima were giving you.

Of course, it all makes sense now. They are waiting for you to be alone and kill you. Of course they don’t like you and your father. Why did you think they would like you?

Your father called your name. “Just try to stay safe. Write to me about your progress there.”

You nodded your head, waving down at your father.

Mina stretched out her wings and jumped into the air, her wings starting to flap to keep her in the air. She started to ascend higher into the air before starting to fly through the sky, away from the war camp. She moved much faster than any boat or carriage you had been on.

You secured yourself as you felt your legs shake and shut your eyes.

Breathe, everything is going to be alright.

Just breathe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were woken up by a sudden landing, jolting you awake..

You were no longer in the air.

You sat up and rubbed your head, hearing people yell around you. You looked off the side of the saddle, seeing a woman who looked just like Katsuki yet shorter and wearing a crown on her head yell at staff around her. To her side was a man with brown hair and glasses, speaking very softly.

The woman looked up at you before smiling. “Good morning, young one. Would you like assistance getting down?”

You weakly nodded your head, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

She gave a laugh before yelling at someone to help you. Suddenly, a woman who appeared to be a witch of some kind floated up.

She had brown auburn hair that stopped at her shoulders except two side tufts that were a bit longer, brown hazel eyes, and hair skin that made her cheeks a soft pink colour. She was wearing a dark pink witches hat that had fake beige dragon horns, a vertically striped dress that ended at her mid thighs, black stockings, pink boots, and a green cape that was warmly wrapped around her neck and flowed down past her knees.

She smiled softly at you as she extended a hand out to you. “Grabbed hold of my hand and I’ll help you down.”

You looked down at the floor, wondering how the hell did Katsuki helped you up in the first place. You gently took her hand, and soon you felt your body become lighter. She was tugged down by someone in silver metal armour with a green cape coming from their armour. Once your feet touched the floor, she said ‘release’, which was followed by that light feeling going away.

The blonde woman walked towards you. You guessed this was Katsuki mother - and therefore The Empress - you bowed your head and curtsied before introducing yourself.

“Oh no need to do that, young one.” She chuckled, helping you up. “We will be family by day’s end. I am The Barbarian Empress of The Dragon Tribe, Bakugou Mitsuki, and this is my husband. Consort of The Barbarian Empress of The Dragon Tribe, Bakugou Masaru.”

As you bowed your head to Masaru, you noticed the witch float up again and started to float down the luggage. “It is nice to meet you, Empress’ Consort Masaru.”

He smiled. “It’s nice to meet you too, young lady. If I may ask, how old are you?”

“Nineteen, sir.”

“Hmm… And when is your birthday?”

You answered his question.

“So you were eighteen when the war started I see. Regardless, it seems like we will have to change the wine out for some grape juice.”

You blinked out of confusion. “Sorry?”

The Empress spoke. “At Barbarian Weddings, we have a cup the couple drinks out of. The couple must cut their hands and spill some blood into the cup before they drink from it. We see this as a form of physically connecting the two bodies together. The wine we use simply covers up the taste of the blood.”

“Why does the wine need to be switched to grape juice though?” You asked.

“The drinking age is twenty.” The Empress answered.

“I understand. Back home, our drinking age is eighteen for women, sixteen for men..”

“... Really? That’s interesting.” The Empress had forced a smile when she replied to you.

Masaru quickly spoke to try and heal any offence his wife might’ve offered you. “What do your people traditionally do during their weddings?”

“We drink wine to connect with the gods before cutting our hands and spill blood on the Goddess of Marriage, Hera’s statue so she can tie our fates together.” You informed them. “If a divorce were to happen, the statue would be broken.”

The two were silent, their mouths closed as they looked at you.

“It’s alright,” You told them. “I won’t expect The Prince to participate in my religious’ practices. I am marrying into his culture, not the other way round.”

The two seemed shocked by either your wording or what you had said, but before they could say anything, the witch had said the words ‘release’ once more.

You turned and saw all the luggage had been neatly placed on the ground. The witch started to float up again and take off the saddle that was around Mina. 

The Empress turned her attention back to you before speaking. “We don’t believe in divorce. The only way to separate from one’s spouse for us is through death.”

The knight - that had been standing off to the side for a short while - took off his helmet as you saw a man with dark blue hair and rose red petal eyes.

“Sorry to interrupt,  Barbarian Empress of The Dragon Tribe Bakugou Mitsuki.” He bowed his head to The Empress. “Shall I start to transport the Barbarian Prince Bakugou Katsuki’s betrothed’s luggage to her room?”

Does that mean you and Katsuki won’t be sharing a room?

“That would be lovely, thank you, Iida.” She smiled at him. “If you run into Miss Yaoyorozu or Miss Jiro, could you ask them to come see me please?”

“Of course,  Barbarian Empress of The Dragon Tribe Bakugou Mitsuki!” He bowed his head before picking up a few bags of your luggage before running off so far there was a strong gust of wind and a dust trail behind him.”

You watched as the dust trail faded away.

Did he really just address her by her full title? Twice? Were you expected to do that?

You heard a thump sound, and upon turning your head you saw the saddle had come clean off of Mina’s back. Smoke appeared around the Dragon form of Mina, and soon the more human looking form of her appeared.

Mina stretched her back, followed by some popping or cracking sounds coming from her back. She let out a sigh as she relaxed her shoulders, yawning.

The witch softly laughed. “Long night, Mina?”

“I want to have a nap so bad, girl.” She whined.

The Empressed called you by your name before gesturing to the witch. “This is Iida’s wife, Ochaco. She’ll be looking after you while you get ready for today and while Mina is resting.”

“No it’s fine, I can deal with it.” Mina yawned.

“Mina, you should rest.” Ochaco rubbed Mina’s back. “Once Eijiro gets here, I’ll send him your way.”

Iida returned back, grabbing more bags then running off again.

He was gone for maybe twenty-five seconds and he came back for more bags already? How fast is he?

And why was no one else reacting to what was happening?

There were rumours of the Island of Nihon having a high percentage of magical powers, but you weren’t expecting to see two - three if you counted Mina - people using their magical powers so openly.

Mina yawned, nodding her head and bowing her head to the Empress. “I hope everything goes well before The Prince gets here, Your Majesty.”

The Empress smiled. “Thank you for your kind words, Mina. Now go rest. I’m sure Katsuki would be thrilled to see you at the wedding.”

Mina sighed before picking up her bags, putting two on her bag and carrying two under her arms. She smiled at you kindly, her gaze upon you being soft. “Try not to stress out before the wedding, okay?” She told you as she started to walk away.

“Now, let's get you inside.” The Empress smiled at you. She turned and started to walk towards the large palace. The columns on the building were a light grey, almost matching the mountains behind the palace. The outside wall itself was a soft green with painted gold on. “This is the Winter Palace, and those mountains behind it are what we call the Dragon Range. It’s believed to be the original birthplace of our Dragon God. The Dragon Range takes up roughly sixty percent of our land. There is a massive tunnel system within the mountains where our dragon shifter brothers and sisters keep their hoards.”

Iida returned, stopping before the Empress. He bowed his head. “Barbarian Empress of The Dragon Tribe Bakugou Mitsuki, I have put the Barbarian Prince Bakugou Katsuki’s betrothed belongings in their room. I have also found Miss Yaoyorozu and have informed her of your request to meet you. She said she will be meeting you along the way in escorting the Barbarian Prince Bakugou Katsuki’s betrothed.”

“Thank you, Iida.” She smiled at him. “Make sure the Todoroki Family is playing nice today, please?”

“Of course, Barbarian Empress of The Dragon Tribe Bakugou Mitsuki.” Iida bowed before running off again, this time in a different direction.

Once the dust settled, the Empress turned to you. “He may be the most responsible and reliable out of the original group that went to go fight the Demon lord a few years ago, but he is too formal at times I fear there is a stick up his arse.” She softly laughed before turning to Ochaco. “No offence, Mrs Iida.”

Ochaco smiled at the Empress. “It’s alright, your Majesty. Tenya has his own charm on how to do things.”

Once you four had climbed up the steps, the Empress and her consort looked out to the view. You turned, and saw a beautiful view of the land below the mountains being a wide open green land before meeting the ocean. You saw in the distance on both sides, land curving inward on itself, revealing the landmass continent of Nihon was an earthy atoll. In the distance, you saw the headlands of the atoll - which were often referred to as the Heaven’s Gates within the rare texts your nation had on Nihon.

“Those green pastures down there are the rest of our Empire.” The Empress told you. “It’s where all the human barbarians used to live before the rise of the Demon Lord. And the water mass from our coast to the headlands is known as the Ocean's Heart. We believe the landmass that houses the god’s came from that section of Nihon.”

“It’s rather beautiful.” You said softly. 

“Yes, it is.” The Empress hummed. She suddenly slapped her hands together, startling you. “We must start getting you ready. We have a big day ahead of us!”

The Empress started to walk inside, expecting the rest of you to follow.

“There are five sections of the palace. Front, Back, Courtyard, Left Wing and Right Wing. This is the Front of the Palace, the entryway. Everything staff related is located to the Left Wing and therefore, the corner connecting the Front and Left Wing is the ball room. Everything the Imperial Family does is on the Right Wing, therefore the corner connecting the Front and Right Wing is the Library. The Back is where all the apartments are. The Back Right Wing Corner is the Emperor or Empress’ apartment and the Back Left Wing Corner is the Heir’s apartment. The rest of the apartments are often used as Guest rooms if the Imperial Couple does only have one child.  The courtyard is at the centre of the enter Palace. Following?”

You nodded your head. You were a little lost but you understood enough to somewhat follow along.

The Empress’ Consort seemed to read what was on your face before gently patting your shoulder and smiling. “We’ll offer you a map so you don’t get lost.”

The Empress continued. “There is a guest garden which is accessible on the Left Wing and a private garden which is accessible on the Back. Overall, there are over one thousand and five hundred rooms.” The Empress continued as the group entered into the courtyard. “There are three levels. Ground level is the only level guests have access to, even if they are in a guest room it’s on the ground floor. Servants and Guards have access to all floors, but their main walkways are on the top floor. The middle floor is where the Imperial Family operates.”

… You were so lost.

“The Prince will help you if you need any help.” Ochaco smiled at you. 

“One can only pray.” The Empress groaned, rubbing between her eyebrows. She then switched to muttering in a language you were not familiar with. It was harsh on the throat.

Masaru responded in the same language, but how the pronunciation sounded was different. His words sounded softer, still rich consonants but his vowels were softer.

She groaned. She turned to you. “If my son gives you any trouble, please do let me know. I don’t want him to be a burden on his first wife.”

First wife?

Ochaco then spoke to you to answer your unspoken question. “Barbarian Law states those of the direct line of the imperial family are allowed to have up to nine spouses. First spouse is Consort, second to ninth spouses are concubines. This is to make sure the Imperial Line can continue via blood.”

“Though filling all eight concubines spots hasn’t been done in four generations, and even then that Emperor used his eight concubines as secret guards.” The Empress spoke. “And on top of that, the Imperial crown can be passed down by mentorship or by battle. I was passed the Crown via winning a battle to the death against the previous Emperor who got the crown via mentorship. We believe only the strongest can rule the Barbarians.”

So your safety isn’t secure, is it?

“I doubt the Prince would take in a second spouse.” Ochaco tried to reassure you. “I don’t think he’s the type to deal with the politics that come with having multiple spouses.”

You looked at the plant life you were walking past, getting closer to the other end of the palace. You hesitated before speaking. “If I may ask, Empress, how did you meet your consort?”

“He was my dress maker.” The Empress answered truthfully.

Oh.

“How many concubines do you have?” You asked carefully.

The Empress continued to smile. “Only one.”

The rest of the walk was rather silent, The Empress and Consort leading you to the apartment section of the Palace. Surprising to you though, they guided you into your apartment section through the ground floor.

Once inside the apartment, you noticed how there were stairs leading up to the middle floor. The ground floor seemed more of a hosting room more than anything. There was a study that looked dusty, a weapons room with many weapons missing, a dining room, and two more additional hosting rooms. One that looked like it was already claimed by the Prince, and a second that had nothing in it for now.

It looked rather dusty, uncared for.

“I’ll make sure Katsuki takes you to the storage room tomorrow so you can pick out some furniture you’d like to decorate this space with.” Masaru said to you. “If you don’t like anything there, we can get it custom made for you. You can make yourself feel right at home here.”

“Shall I guide you upstairs?” Ochaco asked you.

“That is where our influence of this day ends for now.” The Empress spoke. “I’ll let the Priestess know you have arrived. The wedding will be starting at six in the afternoon when the sun sets. After your bath I suggest you have a nap. It’s going to be a long day.”

You watched as the Empress and her husband left before being led up the stairs. There were two bedrooms, a bathroom, and two dressing rooms. All of your belongings were put into the empty dressing room.

“We can unpack your things after we serve you breakfast.” Ochaco told you. “The Prince should be arriving around the time breakfast starts to be served. I’ll quickly summon a maid to give you a bath, though I’m not sure if there would be hot water active right now. Most barbarian families have baths after dark.”

“It’s alright, I can bathe myself.” You told her. “How my people bathe is by having bath houses, or we simply were ourselves in a stream or a lake close by. I preferred bathing myself in the stream by my family home, so cold water isn’t an issue for me.”

Ochaco was taken back by what you said, looking at you with a concerned and shocked expression. “Weren’t you worried someone would see you bathing?”

“Our Goddess of the Wild Hunt wouldn’t allow such a thing.” You told her. “And even if a fool were too, the punishment would be death.”

She stared at you, a shocked smile was on her lips. She turned away for a moment and mumbled something under her breath. You raised an eyebrow at her before dropping it. You really shouldn’t be surprised if the people here looked or talked about you because of the customs you were used to compared to their own.

“I need to get my soaps from my belongings, so we may as well start to unpack.” You told her as you moved to the empty dressing room and knelt down to pull out your belongings.

One of your bags had no clothes in it whatsoever, mostly carrying all of your religious items such as your miniature statues of the gods. For now, you put those items on a shelf and put your bathroom supplies off to the side.

Pulling out your clothing from your other bags took some effort. Half of your clothing was for warmer weather, which meant the fabrics were thin and breathable, sometimes even see through. While your window clothing was a thick cotton and would cover up your entire body. Only when you pulled out what was planned to be your wedding dress did Ochaco make any sort of noise about your clothing.

“That’s so beautiful.” She smiled at it widely and brightly. The dress was a maxi dress, having ve neck, bishop sleeves, an empire waist, and a handkerchief hem. The fabric was an almost white cream colour, being a lightweight fabric. “Did you pick that out yourself?”

“No,” You told her truthfully. “One of the other Shachou’s daughters who is married gave it to me.”

“Shachou?” She tilted her head. “What's a Shachou?”

You thought for a moment, thinking about how to describe it. “Back home, we have nine elected politicians. Those nine are called The Shachous, and they are ranked with the length they have held their power for. They govern Girisha, debating and voting amongst themselves policies and laws. They are voted in by the voting base, which are men who own land and pay taxes, and men can only pay taxes once they earn a certain amount of wealth.”

“Oh, so similar to the Shiketsu Kingdom?”

You stared at her. “Sorry, I am not familiar with that.”

“They are one of the Kingdoms of Nihon, located on the western headlands. They have a Royal Family, but they vote in a President every ten years. The President works closely with the King and Queen while the Vice-President works closely with the heir to the throne. Though only people who own a home in their capital can pay taxes and are able to be voted into office.”

“... That's similar I guess.” You answered her. “Though, we don’t have a royal family. We overthrew them almost two hundred years ago.”

“So does that mean the people of your home nation disapprove of this marriage?” 

“... I think they would only be angry about it if The Prince imposed himself as our next ruler.”

“But do they disapprove?”

“... They approve on the principle that the war is over. That is all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t see the Prince, even after you had finished unpacking, bathed, had breakfast, had a nap on his bed, and had lunch. The only evidence you saw that he had returned was that his belongings had been making their return to the apartment the entire day.

The maids had practically locked you up in your dressing room, and they had given you bowls of strawberries and watermelon to snack on. They did your hair and did your makeup all while looking at some notes on a piece of paper.

You were disassociating for most of it, only being brought back to reality with a soft knock at the door. A feminine voice spoke from the other side of the door, saying your name with care. “I’m Yaoyorozu Momo, the Empress asked me to see how things were going. May I enter?”

You looked at how the maids reacted before answering. They continued to work around you, not giving the voice any mind.

So far no biases showing.

“You may enter.” 

Then in came a half naked lady, making your cheeks warm up.

She stood at one hundred and ninety-three centimetres tall, had black hair and eyes, while was wearing a metal armoured bra of some kind and metal armour on her hips that held up what would be mistaken for underwear, a fabric flowed from the bra and wrapped from behind her, a armour neck brace which held up a green cape, thigh-high stockings, oranges elbow gloves, and armours boots that reached her knees.

You were shocked by her attire, though no one else in the room seemed to be.

She smiled warmly and sweetly at you that you felt guilty for questioning her attire.

“I hope everything is going well.” Her smile beamed. “I made sure the maids had all my notes on what your culture’s hair and makeup typically looks like for weddings. I was so honoured that the Empress even knew of my love for your culture’s aesthetics. 

You were silent for a moment before turning to a maid. “Could I see myself in a mirror please?”

“Yes ma’am.” Said one of them before giving you a mirror. You were surprised to see your hair was done perfectly in the style your people did during weddings and they did it in such a way it suited you. The make up as well made you feel beautiful.

“I’m glad you seem to enjoy it!” She beamed before blushing from nervousness. “I should reintroduce myself- I’m Yaoyorozu Momo, I’m a Mage Commander for the Barbarian troops. My magic allows me to create things from my body, though it uses the fat on my body. It’s why I dress in such a way.”

“I see.” You looked down at her cape. This is now the fourth person you’ve seen wearing a green cape. 

“Usually for Barbarian Weddings,” Yaoyorozu broke you from staring at her cape. “Both the bride and groom wear matching earrings. Prince Bakugou will be wearing his on his left ear for the wedding and we were just wondering if it would be alright if we asked you to wear some on your right ear?”

“I don’t have my ears pierced.” You told her, you were about to explain why but she began talking.

“I am aware your people only allow oracles to wear earrings, but these ones wouldn’t need you to piercing your ears.” She walked over to you and a section of her skin started to glow. She cupped the area that was glowing right before the light stopped, crocheting down before you. She presented to you what was in her hand, which were four gold earrings that had a clip maniche for the back of the earring. “These are clip-on earrings. They won’t require any form of piercing onto your ear. They might be a little painful considering the size of the earrings, but I think they could still work.”

You gently picked it up from her hand and took a closer look. The earring itself was two centimetres in length less than a centimetre in width. Where the gold would be connecting to your ear was a very tiny bulge on both sides.

“... This is acceptable.” You told her. Her face lit up and you heard a maid somewhere sigh in relief. 

“May I put them on you?” She asked. Once you gave a nod, she carefully reached to your right ear and started to put them on your ear. Surprisingly to you they were painful, though they were slightly heavier than what you expected. She pull away and gave you the mirror so you could look at them.

“They look very well on you, ma’am.” One of the maids told you.

“Do you like them?” Yaoyorozu  asked.

“... They will go well with my dress.” You told her, not wanting to admit you liked them there.

Yaoyorozu  stayed crouching before you. “I need to tell you something before the wedding begins.”

Your heart sank, fearing the worst. 

Were they going to sacrifice you or kill you right after the wedding?

“I know for your traditional weddings, the night after the wedding is usually the couple’s first time.” Yaoyorozu spoke gently. “For us, we wait until the woman’s first period after the wedding just so we know the first child is of the married couple. Though the Empress and the Prince have been informed of your culture and traditions regarding the first night, it is unclear what the Prince wants. Which is very unlike him.”

You tilted your head at her comment at the end. 

Unlike him? 

“So I just want to warn you that if you two don’t do it for the first time tonight, then please don’t take it personally. He probably doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Or on the other hand if he does ask if you two could do it tonight, don’t feel pressured to say yes. I know Prince Bakugou seems rough around the edges but he is sometimes surprisingly respectful.”

Why was she doing this? Why is she trying to warn you about this?

It didn’t matter what happened tonight. You were now property of the Prince because of the Peace Treaty. It didn’t matter if you were or weren’t in Girisha, you were still a man’s property. 

“Can I ask you something?”

She gently gripped your hands with hers. “Anything.”

“Why do you, the Iidas and Midoriya wear the same matching green cape?”

The maids froze, looking over their shoulders to watch the interaction. Yaoyorozu was taken aback by your question, not expecting the question to be about a cape.

“Well, the cape shows which Prince I am loyal to.”

“I thought there was only one Prince of the Barbarians.”

“... Officially. Honorary Prince Midoriya Izuku by the status of his mother being the second spouse and first concubine of the Empress. Midoriya was born three years before the two had met and was fourteen when the Empress killed his biological father. It’s the only way to legally transfer spouses for us barbarians, to beat them in a battle to the death.”

You remembered what the Empress told you earlier, that the imperial crown could be passed down via a fight to the death. 

Does that mean if someone challenged Katsuki to one of these battles while being emperor and he lost, you would be handed over to the next Emperor or Empress?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the sun started to set, you were brought out of your dressing room wearing your wedding dress by a woman who had blonde hair, aqua eyes, and stood at one hundred and seventy-one centimetres tall. She wore oval framed glasses, a white with pink accents priestess dress, and a small green cape.

Seems like Midoriya has many who support him.

She smiled politely and bowed her head to you, calling you by your name. “It’s an honour to meet you. I am Priestess Shield Melissa. Since you have no father figure with you here today, I will be walking you down the aisle before you exchange vows.”

You bowed your head slightly. “Thank you, Priestess.”

She paused. “Why are you bowing your head?”

“Back in Girisha, we see Priestesses as higher status since they have a higher connection to our gods than most of us do.” You informed her.

She made a face. “Well we don’t do that here.”

“I understand, it’s simply my customs-”

“Then I recommend you keep your Girisha customs to yourself.” She butted in. “Our Prince has already decided to go against our traditions by marrying you before he is supposed to. He is supposed to only marry after his twenty-first birthday, which is in forty-one days anyway but he was adamant this ‘wedding’ should be done right away.”

You stared at her, though not surprised someone was rude to you, simply shocked it was a priestess and so openly.

You were expecting someone to be rude to eventshully.

“I recommend you start learning our ways sooner rather than later. Prince Bakugou is not known for being nice to outsiders.” She glared at you before turning her back to you. “Let’s get going now. I don’t want to be blamed for you being late to your own wedding.”

She turned on her heel and started to walk out, expecting you to follow. Gripping onto the beads around your neck, you put your hands together and brought them to your face as you started to pray to your gods.

“Goddess Soteria, please gift me with your protection and safety.” You mumbled under your breath. “Goddess Hera, please bless me with a good husband who will not hurt me.”

Melissa rolled her eyes as you continued to walk. You were so consumed with praying, you didn’t realise you had reached your destination until you bumped into the back of Melissa.

She looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry-”

“Members of the Imperial Family do not apologise. Now, place your hand on my forearm so we walk down the aisle.”

You turned your head to look, seeing a long wedding aisle that was over one hundred metres in length. 

The longest aisle back in Girisha was barely forty metres long and you were expected to walk down one that was more than double?

“Are you ready?” Melissa asked with an annoyed tone.

You gently put your hand on top of her forearm then started to walk with her for almost two minutes. You tried to ignore the stares you knew you were receiving, keeping your eyes on the red carpet before you.

When Melissa moved her arm away, it was because you had reached the end of the aisle. You saw Katsuki’s grey boots before tilting your head up to look at him. It appeared that the left side of his hair was gelled back, showing his piercing on said ear to the crowd. 

His red crimson eyes were glued to you. He looked at you up and down, looking at the dress you were wearing.

He didn’t give anything that showed he approved or disapproved of the dress, though his eyes seemed to focus on where the beads around your neck were sitting.

Melissa forced a cough to force Katsuki to look at her. 

“Today we are gathered here at sunset to bare witness a man and woman be forever tied together in matrimony, taught to us via the gods.” Melissa started. You heard soft mumblings in the audience but decided to give it no mind for now. “Barbarian Prince of the Dragon Tribe, Bakugou Katsuki, do you take this woman as your wife, to live together, to hunt for her, to love her, to honour her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for long as you both live?”

Katsuki looked back down at you, his eyes unreadable. “I do.”

Melissa turned to you and said your name. “Do you take this man as your husband, to live together, to bear children for him, to love him, to honour him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both live?”

To hunt for her and bear children for him? 

You didn’t know where those lines came from or why it was in the wedding, maybe it was just a barbarian thing?

“I do.”

Two children walked up to you. A fourteen year old girl and a twelve year old boy. Both had hair that was either blonde or a very light brown, brown eyes, and freckles on their noses. Both held red pillows, the girl’s sat a short blade and a miniature statue of your Goddess Hera - how she had it you had no idea - on it and the boy’s having two rings.

Katsuki picked up a ring that housed a crimson ruby. He gently grabbed your hand and slid the ring on your ring finger as he spoke. “I, Prince of the Dragon Tribe, Bakugou Katsuki, take this woman as my wife from this day forward, for better or for worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

You picked up the golden ring and grabbed Katsuki's hand. Sliding on his ring on his ring finger, you stated your name. “-take this man as my husband from this day forward, for better and for worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death do us part.”

As you spoke, Katsuki picked up the blade and cut into his left hand. Once you had finished the ring exchange he picked up the statues, smearing his blood on it. You cut into your left hand, tracing the scar from previous religious rituals. He passed the statue to you so you could smear your blood on it.

Melissa passed Katsuki a chalice filled with grape juice. He squeezed his hand so his blood would pour into the cup before passing it to you and taking the statue from you. As you did the same to pour your blood into the chalice, you noticed how rough Katsuki passed the statue to Melissa.

Katsuki took the cup from you, keeping eye contact as you took a sip from it. He passed it back to you, putting his hand securely under the cup as you took a sip. Melissa took the cup, raising it into the air.

“By virtue of the authority vested in me by the Gods, I pronounced these two husband and wife!” Melissa announced to the audience. “You now may kiss the bride.”

Suddenly, Katsuki grabbed your face and pulled you close. His lips met yours with passion, leaving you confused. You closed your eyes as the crowds started to cheer and clapped.

As the crowd continued to cheer and clap, Katsuki pulled away with a smirk.“You're mine now, and you won’t be going anywhere.”

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

I read your post about not letting kudos and hits upset us. I try to think this way but I'm curious about something else. I've written many fanfics for my fandom and they're all "flop". I don't mind that honestly. But then some writers have written only one fic about the ship I do and and it gets hundreds of kudos. How do some writers achieve that when I'm doing the same and it doesn't get the same response. What else can I do?

I’m afraid I can’t give you a definite answer about what you should do or why this person’s work is more popular, but what I can give you are some advice and, from my experience, some reasons that might explain why other’s works receive more hits and kudos.

start with why other writers’ works are more popular when it’s the same characters, same ship, same fandom. there are various factors at play that might be it;

maybe the person already has large audience base prior to their posting about the fandom you’re in, I know a few authors who already have these sorts of loyal readers that would read any work the authors posted even if they (the readers) were not in that fandom.

maybe someone, anyone, decided share the link to this person’s work on Tumblr or Twitter (X) or any social media platform, and it kind of became viral, thus it drew in lots and lots of readers. it could take just one person, didn’t necessarily have to be the author themself, to share the link among the fandom as a recommendation, or maybe a screenshot of one sentence from the fic that they liked, what happened next is that the replies were filled with people asking for the link.

tags and summary are important factors when people are looking for a fic to read. so maybe this person’s work is tagged with the content people were looking for? maybe their summary grabbed people’s attention or curiosity?

these are just what I can think of over the top of my head.

as for what you can do to gain more readers, I’ve never seen your work so the advice I can give will be a general one; I believe the trick lies in summary, tags as well as the format of one’s work.

when it comes to AO3 (I assume it’s your platform?), tags and summary are the main things people use to determine whether or not they want to click on the fic.

tag your content properly, what characters or pairings it’s about, as well as what the readers will find upon reading your work (you don’t have to spoil it, only the general tags that will give your readers an idea of what they’re in for).

summaries are just as important. there are no “rules” obviously, and I’m not telling you or any writers what to do. though a little advice that I personally take is that you use this little summary section AO3 gives you to do anything to make sure it stands out and that people will see it and want to click on it. that means leave “author’s note” out of the summary section. folks, AO3 summary is the first glimpse into the fic itself that people will see prior to clicking on it, most of the time, people look at the summary to see the author’s writing style and if what’s written, plotwise, grabs their interest. personally, when I see an author use “summary” as a place to write “author’s note”, chances are, I will scroll past that fic as I am interested in what the fic is about, not what the author has to say about their opinion on said fic or their personal life or anything (there’s an author’s note section for that) and if I can’t get a glimpse of what the plot is about or what the author’s writing style is from the summary section, then I won’t click on it, and will look for other fic that can get me interested instead.

moving on to fic format, again, I am not telling anyone what to do here. this is only a suggestion, an advice I’ve learned and want to share: when you write your fic, make sure to use line and paragraph spacing. if your 10k word long fic is one long block of text with no paragraph break, chances are, people will back away from it entirely. also, if it’s two different characters talking with dialogues, don’t put all of their dialogues in one paragraph. for instance, a paragraph for character A’s dialogue, then another separate paragraph for character B’s dialogue and so on.

and I think that’s it for my advice? however, I’ll say this again that the secret to truly enjoying your role as a fanfic writer is that you only focus on yourself. write whatever you want for yourself. it doesn’t matter if this person’s work is more popular, because fanfics and fandoms aren’t a competition. you are your main audience. just have fun creating the stories you want to create for you.

[leosficlist]

POST S-4 Getting Together

These fics are about their relationship Post Season 4, which could include apologies and fix-its, or simply fics which acknowledged the events of S4!

Bridges by sussexbound 🔒6.6k words

The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

Nocturne by Atiki 6.6k words

All the most important conversations happen at night.

holding steady by darcylindbergh 12.7k words

“Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing.”

John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

notes: post-everything, no eurus mention, getting away for the weekend

Finally Home by LondonSpirit 🔒 3.5k words

“After the final problem is solved, after everything's resolved, and Sherlock and John have returned to a more or less ordinary life, there's only one ting left to do.

But can they eventually admit what everyone else already knew for a long time, or are they still too blind to see?”

Sehnsucht by unicornpoe 14.7k

Sehnsucht: longing, pining, yearning, craving, intensely missing. An individual’s search for happiness while coping with the reality of unattainable wishes.

John is here now, yes, yes he is. He and Rosie are back home in 221B with Sherlock, safe where they belong... but why is there still a hole deep inside Sherlock, wide and gaping and consuming? Does John feel it too? And what will it take to fill it?

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss 🔒10k words

It was so nice to see they'd finally got things sorted. After all they'd been through, they deserved to be happy. (Or: Five times people imagined what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to.)

Six Dates by AvaWtsn 7.4k

A rather accidental 5+1 written for the prompt "is this a date?" Hint: it is.

notes: the first 6 fridays after John moves back in

Whisper To Me by Chrysanthemumsies 20.7k words

Sherlock picks up playing the guitar. John falls more and more in love with every passing day.

notes: John struggling with his feelings, slowly creeping together

Questions and Answers by Pipmer 3.1k

It was useless. What was the point? No amount of talking was ever going to change that John wasn’t interested, and never would be. The only way he would be tempted to pull up house again would be if the practical advantages were enormous, and they just weren’t. Why else would he even consider it?

notes: Sherlock wants John & Rosie to move back in

Once Upon A Time by darcylindbergh 6.5k

It starts with a wish.

In the beginning, John comes home.

notes: fluffy soft warm

Getting On With It by StarlightandFireflies

“What is it?” Sherlock finally asked, staring into his tea. “Nothing,” John said quickly. After all, he could hardly just come out and say the truth: It’s just hit me again, all this. I’ve realized I’m here, and you’re here, and for some reason you don’t hate me, and yet I’ve got no bloody idea where to go from here.  I want to do right by you but it’s hitting me as if for the first time that I’ve no clue how to do that, even though it’s what you deserve. Rated M for chapter 2

Negative Space by Standbygo 8.8k words

John takes a drawing class, but drawing Sherlock has unexpected results.

notes: John’s in therapy, Sherlock goes to John’s art show

Home by liriodendron 2.9k words

Sherlock opens his mouth to ask how he can make the pain go away, but he realizes halfway through that he doesn't know how one asks such a thing, so the only word that escapes his lips is, "John..."

There is a sharp intake of breath at his name, and then John says in a voice like a broken radio, "Take me home, Sherlock."

notes: sex for comfort post-mary's death

Out Of The Woods by SilentAuror

Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

notes: pining Sherlock, miscommunications, then oodles of fluff

[taelonsamada]

@plaqying is doing so much work for us to make:

The Redacted Tumblr Awards!

One of the requirements for nomination aside from requesting it is proof! Which is only fair 🤣

I nominated myself for three categories, the fanfiction category, the Sam fan category and the Adam fan category. In regards to the fanfiction, since we can only offer one as qualification, I feel like there’s only one fic I can use 😁

I’ve become borderline infamous for this fic, not only for how long it has become (with plenty more on the way!) but also with how bad I am about posting chapters that are anywhere between 7 to 10k 😅

As for providing proof as to why I am the #1 Sam fan? I have written 36 fanfics, and only 11 of them do not have Sam in them 🤣 I also have almost a dozen more fics on the way which feature him prominently and sometimes (read as ‘often’) carnally 😉 I adore my old man cowboy (and as my fanart has proven, I do indeed depict the Southern Vamp as an older man 😁 He was turned at 29 and is currently 45, he an old man with crow’s feet he got from taking care of those danged progeny of his!)

Now, in regard to being the Adam fan? 👀 I can think of a few names that are most definitely intense competition for that, but as someone who falls asleep to Adam’s first kidnapping audio, I feel like I gotta fight for my spot at the table 🤣 I have lauded my love for the Danger Bois™️ several times on this account, and that toxic little fuck sits happily at the top of the list lol it breaks my heart that he’s gone already, I feel like he could have been a wonderful foil against Vincent and potential for some very fun drama (bonus audio for Adam when, Erik? 👀) my toes still curl when I hear his smarmy voice purr out “Dream of me, bloodbag” 😅

😁

That’s all from me! Good luck everyone!

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Convallaria Majalis [Alex Keller x Fem!Reader]

Summary: Trusting people is hard, especially when they’ve let you down so horribly before. But you trust Kate, and Kate trusts Alex. And trusting Alex? Well that might just change your entire life.

Author’s Notes: I put a lot of thought and time into the title of this one, and finally settled on Convallaria Majalis- Lily of the Valley. In the language of flowers, they mean “the return of happiness”. The plants themselves have extensive underground root systems that spread quickly, unnoticed, and can easily overtake a large area and other plants with little to no indication it’s happening until it’s happened. That also happened with this story. What I’d planned on being a ~10K fic has become a whopping 19.2 words… I can’t say I’m sorry. I hope that theme carries through what I’ve written, and I hope all of you who read it enjoy the reading as much as I enjoyed the writing. Lastly, a big shout to  @chaoskrakenuwu for proofreading this for me, and the whole Uselss discord for your anticipation and encouragement. Love you all. ❤️

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content, drug usage, attempted date-rape (NOTHING graphic or explicit, implied more than stated)

It was a beautiful, sunny, colorful Virginia afternoon, just like every other you’d had so far this week. The weather was just warm enough to heat your skin in the sun, just cool enough to feel chilly in the shade. You’d brought a smart-looking blazer along that morning, just in case, but it was slung across your messenger bag, unneeded in the balmy weather. You’d stopped by your favorite coffee stand on your lunch break, let yourself be flirted with by the teenaged barista, and now walked briskly into Langley, swirling your iced espresso as you went. Your heels clicked on the tiled floor, echoing through the near-sterile hallway. You smiled and nodded at your colleagues as you went, stopping just short of the elevators when you heard your name.

You turned to see Kate Laswell half jogging down the hall to catch you up. “What are you working on right now?”

All traces of your smile dropped at her serious tone. “Coding. Why do you ask?”

“Hand it off, you’re coming with me. I need you on the ground.” She flashed you an apologetic look. “I need someone I can trust.”

Your spine straightened, field training falling over you like a sheet. “Yes ma’am.”

Kate had already hustled past you, but threw a smirk over her shoulder. “None of that ‘ma’am’ shit, Trip. You know my name.” She waved a hand over her head, calling back “Twenty minutes to brief!”

You didn’t bother answering her, punching the button for the fifteenth floor. You rolled your shoulders back, taking in a deep breath. You’d been off the field for nearly a year, after almost losing an arm in a firefight. Physical therapy had lasted for months, and trauma therapy for months after that. You’d been working out of the main Langley offices, mostly programming, while you healed. You couldn’t deny that you were itching to be back on the ground. But you hadn’t been expecting to be pulled by Kate Laswell of all people. 

The elevator couldn’t move fast enough, your tapping foot the only evidence of your growing impatience. When you reached your floor, your director met you at the elevator. 

“Kate find you yet?” You nodded. He grunted irritably. “Why on Earth she felt she needed you specifically is beyond me, but I wish she could’ve found someone else.” Harsh as he sounded, you took his words for what they were- disappointment at losing one of his best assets.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back before you know it.” A look passed over his face that you couldn’t quite name. Wariness? Resignation?

After a moment, he shook his head. “I hope so,” he muttered. Then he turned his back to you, stalking down the hall to his office. Something about this whole thing seemed off, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. You watched him go for a moment before shrugging the whole odd encounter off and making a beeline for your desk.

There, you logged into your desktop to forward the files you’d been working on and to set an automatic response on your emails before pulling your locker out from its place beneath your desk. The tiny key felt both foreign and familiar as you turned it for the first time since your injury.

You took a deep breath, then swung open the locker. In it were all of the pieces of your old life, your real life; your tactical vest and black fatigues, a black bodysuit, wigs, changes of clothes, a duffle, and, nestled into the side pouch, your beloved Sig Sauer P228.

You yanked the duffel out and open, shoving most of the clothes into it along with your tac vest. Then you pulled out the black leather shoulder holster you’d worn every day for four years, stroking the pliable material fondly. You donned it, tightened the straps, and pulled your blazer over it before holstering your gun. You hefted your duffel and took one last look around the office, wondering absentmindedly when, if, you’d be back. Then you marched for the elevator, scanning your badge to access the basement level where Kate set up shop when she worked out of Langley. 

Ten minutes ago, when you’d spoken with her, you didn’t have access. Now you did. She worked fast, you’d give her that.

The doors slid open, silent as ever, and you clicked into Kate’s lair. 

The room was dark, cold, and quiet. Servers and bookshelves lined the walkway, directing you to a large table scattered with documents and folders. A single laptop cast a soft glow on the corkboard behind it. Just as you reached the table, a low voice startled you out of your focus. 

“Who are you?” You whipped around, coming nose to… well, chin, with someone. You tilted your head, looking up to meet a pair of cold, grey-blue eyes. The man glaring down at you had a handsome, chiseled face, visible even under his overgrown goatee and beard. In the low light, you couldn’t quite tell what color his tousled hair was- blond, maybe? Or a light brown?

He shifted, leaning back on his heels and crossing his heavily tattooed arms across his broad chest as he towered over you. He tilted his head, sizing you up, just as you were him. He’d sure be pretty, if not for that scowl. 

Before you could answer him, Kate’s voice cut in. “She’s your new partner, Alex. Introduce yourself, and play nice.”

Alex’s brows shot up, stance relaxing immediately. He looked back to you, curiosity replacing the mistrust in his eyes. You reached toward him and offered your name. When his hand clasped yours, it dwarfed you- his fingers nearly touched his palm.

“Alex Keller,” he replied. You could tell he was deliberately keeping a looser grip than he would normally use, and you squeezed hard once. That made him grin, and he tightened his grip incrementally before releasing you to turn toward Kate. “Now Kate, what’s all this about? You know I was this close to finding those guns.” He held his thumb and forefinger together in front of him, making Kate roll her eyes. 

“Yes, well, Trip was busy too. But I have a delicate assignment and I need people I can trust.” She leveled you both with a look. “This is highly sensitive, top secret, all that bullshit. Do you both understand?”

You nodded, standing up straighter, and saw Alex do the same in your peripheral vision.

“Station Chief Harding has come under recent suspicion for drug trafficking.” You and Alex shared a startled glance. A CIA station chief? “We believe he’s using a club in Amsterdam as his cover. As I’m sure you both know, if Dutch officials were to find him in possession, it could jeopardize our operations there.”

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to question orders,” said Alex. He paused, only continuing when Kate nodded to him. “Shouldn’t the teams in Amsterdam be the ones looking into this?”

“No. I need people that Harding won’t recognize. I hand picked both of you for this one. I trust in your abilities to work without supervision, and to be discreet.” Kate held Alex’s gaze, nodding toward you. “And I’m trusting you to protect her.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Alex bend in your direction. He was still facing Kate, but he seemed to lean involuntarily toward you. Your own posture shifted, your hands coming up to rest on your elbows as you shuffled your feet.

“Protect me?”

When Kate looked toward you, she didn’t look happy. “You’re going in as one of the… workers at the club.” She paused, letting her words sink in. Your heartbeat slowed before kicking back into gear at twice the pace. Alex was watching you carefully, brow furrowed. He hadn’t put it together yet. But Kate had read the look on your face before you had even realized it was there. She reached out, laying one hand on your forearm and one on Alex’s bicep. “I wouldn’t send you in if I didn’t think you could do it. And Alex is the best man for this job. He will not let anything happen to you, okay?”

“Kate?” Alex’s open face had closed off somewhat, suspicion lacing his lips and his words. “What am I protecting her from? What’s going on?”

“I’m going in as a waitress in a strip club.” Kate shook her head, looking ready to protest. “Dance club. Whatever.” Alex’s head snapped in your direction, mouth falling open in silent protest. You spoke again before he could interject. “And you’re going to make sure Harding and his men don’t kill me if he finds out.”

There was an awful beat of silence before Alex wrenched his arm out from under from Kate’s touch, sputtering in indignance. “Now hold on-” he began. But you couldn’t hear him. A cacophonous tunnel of white noise had enveloped you while he argued with Kate; all you could hear were the voices of the last pair of agents who had been assigned guard duty for a mission like this, back when it had been a strip club. 

“We could do better without her,”, “It’s not like she’s in any real danger,”, “You really expect us to babysit a girl in a strip club when we could be accomplishing something real?” You’d heard it all before, the night you’d returned to base with your arm limp and nearly detached at your side. Those two had blown into the back room, overconfident and uncaring. The target had pulled out a knife that “miraculously” made it past the club’s security and nearly cut your arm off before your partners killed him.

It hadn’t been Kate’s mission. When she’d found out, she’d summarily fired both of the agents and the special agent in charge. That knowledge did little to ease your anxiety. You trust her you told yourself.

You vaguely heard her, calmly explaining that Harding was well known for surrounding himself with scantily clad young women, both on and off duty. “It’s the easiest thing to exploit!” Everything sounded muffled, as though you were underwater.

“You can’t put her in a direct line of fire just because it’s easy! We have to figure something else out!” Alex’s roaring yanked you back to reality. You turned to look at him, then- to really look at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, eyes glinting and jaw set. One hand reached protectively out and back toward you. Somehow in the midst of the conversation, he’d angled himself between you and Kate. You wondered if he’d even noticed. And in that moment, that singular subconscious gesture, and his vehement opposition to the plan, you saw why Kate had chosen you both, why she felt confident enough to ask you to walk back into the fire. A seed burrowed under your skin, into your chest, latching onto the side of your heart.

Gently, you laid a hand on his shoulder. He seemed to unwind beneath your fingertips, tension sapping out of his muscles. He turned his head, pursing his lips as though about to speak. “I’ll do it,” you said. He froze, eyes scanning your features. Whatever he was looking for, he found. He nodded once, sharply, and lowered his hand as he turned away from you both.

“Fine.” There was a resignation in his voice that made your heart clench. Kate let out a silent sigh of relief, meeting your gaze. You nodded at her. She turned to the table behind her, picking up two case files and extending one to each of you.

“Your flight leaves in two hours.” With two quick “yes ma’am”s, you and Alex moved for the door. He darted forward, holding it open for you and not quite meeting your eyes. You murmured a quiet thanks and scurried through, turning to hold the elevator door open for him when you stepped in. He ducked his head in thanks, pressing the button for the ground floor and retreating to the far side of the elevator.

Neither of you spoke a word, not even looking at each other until the door opened and he waved a hand for you to go first. You did, exchanging small smiles, and then went your separate ways. You turned as you reached the front doors, catching just a glimpse of his puzzled face as he examined you from the garage before disappearing into it.

-

There was a certain disappointment in leaving behind your duffel. You laid it reverently on the shelf in your closet, stroking the side of it and tucking your handgun back inside. You felt vulnerable, leaving it all at home. But there was no place for anything in it on this mission.

In the two hours you’d been given, you managed to walk home and pack a different suitcase with a wide variety of clothes, get a cab, and make it through airport security. You arrived at the gate just as they announced early boarding, catching a glimpse of a tall head of ashy hair stepping through the bridge. You walked to the counter, scanned your ticket, and smiled at the girl who thanked you for your service. You kept your eyes down as you walked, shuffling through the narrow space. You only raised them when someone stood from their seat, dark boots blocking your way. 

You’d changed into sneakers and without your heels, your eyes barely came to Alex’s shoulders. He smiled lopsidedly, offering you a hand. “Take your bag?” he asked. His voice was low and smooth, just a hint of gravel in it. You unslung your backpack, handing it to him with a grateful smile. He reached up to stow it in the overhead compartment and your eyes fixed on the rippling muscles of his arms. Pretty, indeed. “You can take the window seat if you want,” he said. 

You slid between his lithe body and the seat, not giving him any opportunity to rescind his offer. He chuckled as he lowered himself into the aisle seat, giving you an amused look.

You shrugged. “You offered.”

“I did.” His eyes sparkled as he quickly looked you up and down. You allowed yourself a glance over him, as well. In the brightly lit airplane, you could see him much more clearly. His hair was an ashy brown, just as mussed as when you’d first seen him, with a wavy pair of cuts in the side you weren’t sure were intentional. His skin was tan, even under the line work covering his arms from the wrists up, and his face was lightly freckled. And his eyes, locked on you, were the stormy, slate grey of the roiling ocean, just a hint of blue in their depths.

You’d also looked him up, in your brief trip home.

His entire file had been redacted. So, you dug deeper as quickly as you could to find his file from before. Most of that file had been redacted, too. There had been single visible words scattered throughout the pages you skimmed. Efficient. Intentional. Empathetic. Cautious. And beneath his file photo, taken with the same ridiculous houndstooth scarf he’d worn both when you met him and now, a lone, lonely squad designation. Delta.

You blinked back to the present, zeroing in on his raised eyebrows. You blushed, having been caught staring, and turned to face the window. “So how long have you been doing this?” you asked. Alex took so long to answer that you looked up, only to find him turning his head away. Almost as though he’d been staring, too.

He cleared his throat. “‘Bout ten years now. What about you?”

“Depends.” He cocked his head, studying you. “I worked in the field for four years before they made me a desk jockey. And I was in the Navy for a couple of years before that.”

A look of pride crossed Alex’s face. “No kidding. Army. Six years.”

You smiled wide, turning to better face him in the narrow seat. “I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.

-

A quiet dinging noise roused you from your dozing. You shuffled a bit, turning into your pillow, until it moved. 

Your eyes flew open, head snapping up.

Your cheeks burned when you realized you must have fallen asleep on Alex’s shoulder. You’d both talked about your time with the military, being snatched up by the CIA, and what you did now- all in hushed tones, of course. You’d leaned together, foreheads nearly touching, and whispered stories to each other for several hours until you’d convinced him to try to sleep. He’d spent the last 24 hours flying to DC from the Middle East, and now he was back on a plane to Europe.

You registered mild surprise that you’d fallen asleep, yourself. You’d been tired, but sleeping on planes had never come easy to you. Not to mention your trust issues. You seldom so much as rested your eyes around new people.

He was still sleeping now, head angled toward you and arms crossed over his chest. The dark circles you’d noticed under his eyes hadn’t lightened yet, but you knew they would take time to fade. His chest rose and fell slowly, lips twitching slightly under the curled ends of his comically large mustache. You heaved a sigh, looking up to see what had woken you. As you did, the pilot announced your descent into Amsterdam. The glowing seatbelt sign accounted for the sound you’d heard. You fastened your seatbelt, then glanced at Alex’s lap, hoping his would be on, too.

It wasn’t.

Gingerly, you reached around him, lifting the fallen belt from the side of his seat. Just as you clicked the two pieces into place, Alex’s hands shot out and gripped your wrists like vices. You froze, looking up at him as he stared through you in a haze. His eyes darted across your face before he seemed to recognize his surroundings, recognize you, and his hold loosened.

His eyes flicked down to his hands on you and he recoiled, horror sweeping over his handsome face. “‘M sorry,” he breathed. He sat up straight, wriggling away from you, hands suspended halfway between you both where they seemed to reach for you, but clasped nothing. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. Panic laced his voice in equal parts with the rasp of sleep, and his eyes flew over your arms as though he didn’t believe you. Cautiously, you reached for him, laying a hand on his forearm. You lowered your head, barely succeeding in catching his frantic gaze. “You didn’t hurt me.” He swallowed hard, nodded, and scrubbed his hands down his face slowly.

“We’re landing?” he asked.

“Mhmm.” You turned your back, leaning toward the window to give Alex a moment to collect himself. It didn’t take long for him to lean forward in an attempt to see around you. You glanced at him, offering a smile that he returned tiredly. “I always love looking at the lights. They’re so pretty.”

He said nothing, but you could feel his stare heavy on your face. You said nothing else to each other as the plane landed. Alex stood as soon as the seatbelt light flashed off, reaching up to pull down his duffel and your backpack. Rather than hand it to you, though, he slung it over his own shoulder, holding a hand out to gesture you forward.

“After you,” he said.

You arched an eyebrow as you passed. “Such a gentleman.” The only response you got to that was a low chuckle.

You were able to get your bags, a cab, and to the safehouse within the next hour, punching in the door code and flipping on the lights. The house was narrow, but far deeper than you’d expected. The kitchen was stocked with various MREs and canned goods, a large office tucked behind it. When you both trudged up the stairs, you found a library and a fully stocked weapons room.

You squealed about the Dutch classics you found, while Alex lamented his general illiteracy of the language. When you offered to read to him, he gave you the softest look you thought you might have ever seen. You moved to the weapons room, taking your time admiring the stash, murmuring to each other about your favorite guns and attachments, before moving up to the third story in search of bedrooms. There were two, side by side with a bathroom and tiny loft on the other side of the long hall.

“I’ll take this one,” said Alex, moving to the first door. He shrugged at your curious look. “Closer to the stairs.”

You gawked, moved by his thoughtfulness. That seed burst, spreading roots in your veins and the cavity between your ribs. Alex shifted uncomfortably under your stare, mumbling that you could have that room if you really wanted it. You shook your head.

“I see why Laswell likes you,” you said. A brief shock flashed in his eyes before he carefully schooled his face, shrugging again.

“I like to think I’m alright,” he quipped.

Acting on a rush of boldness you’d later explain away as getting into character, you deliberately looked him up and down, basking in the blush you could see rising on his cheeks. “More than alright.”

You sauntered into your room, withholding a giggle at the choked noise Alex made as you went.

“You go ahead and shower. I’ll get started on our case file,” you called. If Alex answered, you didn’t hear. But when you finished unpacking and walked into the hall, the shower was running and the bathroom door was shut. 

You walked downstairs, pausing in the kitchen and debating on dinner. You weren’t really hungry, but was Alex? You’d find out when he came down. You stepped into the office, planting yourself in the desk chair and booting up the computer. Once you had it open, you considered trying to dig a little deeper into your teammate. You strained your ears; you could still hear the water running. You had at least a couple of minutes, more time than you’d need. 

But something stopped you. You weren’t sure if it was a sense of owing him, or general guilt for snooping. Or maybe the hope that he’d tell you himself, someday. Either way, you opted to open the encrypted files Kate had sent instead. You were scanning everything she had on Harding when you heard Alex come down the stairs. For such a large man, he walked remarkably quietly. However, the floorboards’ soft squeaking gave him away as he stepped into the doorway.

“Looks like the club manager is one of Kate’s contacts,” you mumbled. Your chin rested in your hand, muffling your speech. “Though how, I’m not-” You turned then and promptly lost your train of thought.

Alex stood in the doorway in a grey t-shirt and a dark pair of sweats, barefoot and still damp. His hair shone, sticking up at odd angles, and the t-shirt stuck to his sculpted chest in all the most delicious places. If he noticed that you hadn’t finished your sentence, he gave no indication. He was squinting at the computer screen, leaned slightly forward.

“Hmm, seems like your run of the mill manager at least.” You were grateful that he didn’t seem to notice your fixation on his muscles, his own eyes fixed on the screen. He’d taken the few steps into the office in order to lean over your shoulder, one hand resting on the desk. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest to your back, and you took a shaky breath. You watched him scan the file out of the corner of your eye, then a grimace crossed his face. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and you felt suddenly freezing from the loss.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

You turned the chair, pulling your feet up and wrapping your arms around your knees. Alex was studying you, scowling as he did. He seemed to zero in on the scars beneath the sleeve of your t-shirt. You pulled on it reflexively, regardless of the fact that the sleeve wouldn’t cover anything, and watched as a guilty look crossed his face.

“I’m okay with it.”

“What happened to your arm?”

“The last guys who ran an op like this with me didn’t take it as seriously as you seem to.” Alex flinched, arms falling to his sides. His expressive eyebrows shot up, then lowered again. That adorable little furrow between them surfaced while his lips worked silently, seeming not to find the words he wanted. “I got caught because they didn’t stick to the plan. They thought they knew better. I nearly had my arm cut off.” You lifted it, showing him the straight, vertical incision scar that ran from elbow to bicep from the surgery to repair the breaks in the bone. A patch of raised, much more ragged scarring ran horizontally on the outside where the knife had torn through your flesh. 

Alex’s expression was pained as he examined it, eyes finally lifting to yours. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” His voice was low and determined. He was still frowning, but there was a softness to it. “Okay?”

You nodded, lowering your arm to wrap around your legs again. “Okay.” You watched each other for a long time, tilting heads one way and the other as you took each other in. Finally, Alex cocked his head over his shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get something to eat.”

-

You were woken the next morning by a gentle rapping on your door. When you opened it, bleary-eyed and somewhat unsteady, you found an equally groggy Alex on the other side.

“‘M gonna take a run, wanna come with?”

You nodded, yawning. “Give me five?”

He nodded, shuffling to the loft and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

You brushed your teeth and picked up a light sweater, pulling a baseball cap over your hair, and slouched into the hall. There was a murmured agreement to find coffee as you locked the safehouse, and then you were off. 

The run was mostly quiet, silence broken only by the sounds of your breaths in the crisp morning air and birds twittering from the tree lines. It was comfortable. By the time you found a nice coffeehouse, taking cups out to sit at a little table on the sidewalk, you both seemed to have woken up.

“I was thinking,” began Alex.

“Sounds dangerous,” you quipped. His answering playful glare made your heart skip a beat.

“How early do you have to get to the club?” he asked. 

“Eight o’clock.” When you’d opened the wardrobe in your room the night before, you’d found several “uniforms”, complete with weaponized jewelry and heels, and a slip of paper with a time and door codes. You’d glared at the outfits, hummed appreciatively at the cleverly hidden blades and USB drive, and memorized the door codes before tearing up the paper and flushing it down the toilet.

Alex hesitated. He watched his coffee as he swirled it slowly.

“You need to show up separately from me,” you said. He breathed out, nodding. “I’ll be fine.”

He looked up, unconvinced. “I have done this before, you know,” you teased. His gaze flicked quickly to and from your arm as he forced a smile.

“I know. I just don’t like the idea of letting you out of my sight.”

Your heart warmed at that, and you reached out to lay your hand on his. “It’ll be okay.”

There was some more quiet discussion about how you’d both get in and what exactly you had planned once you infiltrated Harding’s space, and then it was back to the safehouse. You both poured over all of the files Kate had sent, studying the blueprints and quizzing each other on them, and then walked to the market for lunch.

You’d found familiar foods- potatoes, hearty vegetables, and a roast small enough for two- and made your way back to the safehouse to cook. Alex had cut the vegetables while you’d seasoned the roast, finally putting it all together in a large pyrex pan to bake. As you straightened up from closing the oven, Alex asked “So how’d you get your name? ‘Trip’?”

And as though the fates had written it, you’d turned to answer him only to slip on the water you’d dripped just before when you’d washed your hands. Your arms windmilled out as you tilted backward. Before you could fall, Alex’s strong hands gripped you, one wrapping around your waist and one sliding up your spine to rest on the back of your head. He’d leapt forward, feet planted firmly on either side of you as he pulled you forward. When your chest bumped his, you looked up at him breathlessly. He hadn’t let go of you yet.

“Pretty much just like that.”

He barked a laugh, releasing his hold on you almost reluctantly. “Just like that?” “Well, no. I fell the first time.” He laughed again while you regaled him with tales of your legendary clumsiness, embellishing anything you could to make the stories even funnier than they already were.

You retreated to the library, making good on your promise to read the Dutch classics aloud as Alex listened with rapt attention. After several chapters, you paused and turned to him. He’d stretched out along the coach by the window, head pillowed on his arm. The midday sun filtered through the warped panes, casting him in a soft glow that turned his hair to honey and his eyes to the clear blue of a still lake. His eyes were fixed on you. They had been since you’d started reading and, even as the sunlight and his exhausted body tried to pull him away to sleep, they kept him tethered to wakefulness.

“Do you understand any of what I’m reading?”

“Not a word.” Your giggle made him smile.

“Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you when the food’s done.” When he looked like he might protest, you tilted your head at him. “Can you honestly tell me jet lag isn’t kicking your ass right now?”

“No,” he grumbled, relenting and turning onto his back. He raised his free arm, draping it across his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m not tired. I’m going to read.” He lowered his arm, just a bit, giving you a sidelong glance. “I haven’t flown halfway around the world and back this week,” you singsonged. Alex grunted before lowering his arm across his eyes again.

“Just… don’t let me sleep too long,” he murmured. You hummed in acknowledgement, turning your attention back to your book. You read for some time before standing, stretching, and padding up the stairs to the bathroom. You had just enough time to do your makeup before the timer in the kitchen pinged. When you peeked into the library, Alex had turned in his sleep to face the doorway. The arm that had lay across his eyes now draped across his body, nearly hanging over the side of the couch. 

You called his name softly. He stirred, but didn’t open his eyes. You called him again, and he turned his face.

“Alex.” The third time you called him, his eyes snapped open. He turned his head, eyebrows raising as he took in your heavy makeup. You’d lined your eyes with black kohl, brushed on a smoky eye and three layers of mascara, and filled in your brows. You were sure you looked like a different person altogether.

He sat up, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You look great,” he rasped.

“Thanks. Dinner’s ready, you coming down?” He nodded, stretching and yawning.

“Be right there.”

You walked downstairs and were halfway through plating the food when Alex shuffled into the kitchen. You handed him a plate and gestured toward the small table in the corner. The calm quiet of the afternoon had turned foreboding and you both ate in silence. Alex offered to clean up when you were done, so you went back upstairs to get dressed. You felt tense as you did, apprehension tightening your muscles and lungs.

The “uniform” was a black fishnet body suit, skin-tight black minidress, and a pair of pumps with a two-inch platform and a six-inch heel. The only part you didn’t mind was the jewelry- a glittering silver spiked necklace and matching bracelet that you could pull pins out of as weapons if you needed to. The finishing touch was a silver ring housing a miniscule USB drive that you’d programmed yourself; once plugged in, it would copy an entire hard drive in less than five minutes. You were proud of that one. 

You pulled it all on, glared at your reflection in the mirror, and applied a coat of cherry red lipstick before stalking out of your room and down the stairs. Alex stood in the entryway, fastening cufflinks in a smart black button down. 

It would seem that the man’s back side was just as attractive as his front.

As he heard you come down, he looked up, body going completely still as he looked you slowly head to toe. You felt suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. The dress sported a plunging neckline, putting your cleavage on full display, and barely covered your ass. You were grateful that the fishnet bodysuit was solid black around your hips, offering you some tiny slip of modesty. 

Alex looked incredibly handsome, himself. He wore a fitted black shirt, complete with a matching tie and vest. It all strained across the hard muscles of his upper body, matching the black slacks that hugged his thighs and a rounded, firm-looking ass. The jacket hung on a peg by the door, ready for him at a moment’s notice. His unruly hair looked as though he might have tried to style it, but it had sprung back to its tousled state of being. His mustache, however, had been waxed into perfect curls at the ends.

He swallowed, hard, and let out a low whistle. His pupils had blown wide, nearly eclipsing the darkened blue of his irises. “You look…” He gestured up and down, clearly coming up empty on compliments.

“Like a cheap whore?”

“No,” he snapped. His lip twitched, mustache trembling with the movement. He reached a hand forward, which you took gratefully as you descended the final few steps. The outrageous heels brought you nearly eye to eye with him, though still not quite. He looked directly at you. “You look stunning. Harding’s a madman if he doesn’t want you as soon as he lays eyes on you.” 

The statement sent a shiver through you. It simultaneously ignited a fire low in your belly and a chill at the base of your spine. Alex felt it, and squeezed your hand. “But he can’t have you,” he said lowly. “I won’t let him touch you.” You offered him a shaky smile, trying to control your breathing. You considered asking whether that meant he was a madman, or that he wanted you. But there was no need for that. The heat from that particular question would keep you warm all night.

“So,” you started instead. “I look like an overpriced whore, then?”

Alex groaned, rolling his eyes and shaking you gently. “No, you do not look like a… a…” The blush that flamed up over his cheeks was so endearing that you couldn’t help reaching out to touch his cheek as you chuckled. “You just look gorgeous,” he said softly. The roots between your ribs spread out, twining more tightly into your bones and reaching toward the flesh of your chest.

You smiled. “Thank you.” Your smile faltered as you reached forward, straightening his perfectly straight collar nervously. “You sure you’re going to be able to do this?”

Alex blinked in surprise. “Me? Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

You shook your head, still looking down. “No, you. I know you don’t like the plan, but… it’s a good plan. Are you going to be able to go along with it?” Alex made a confused sound. You looked up at him. “Are you going to be able to you fit in with the men there? Act like you own me, if I need you to get me out?”

Anger churned in his eyes at that. “If it’s going to keep you safe, then… yes.”

“It will,” you whispered.

As you dropped your hands, Alex’s surged up to clasp them. “Just… so long as you know that… that’s not me.”

“I know,” you said, and you were startled by how much you meant it. A sharp honk let you know that your taxi had arrived. You squeezed his hands. “I’ll see you soon?”

“One more thing.” Alex turned to the side table in the entryway, sliding open the drawer and pulling out what looked like a glittering, silver spiked ear cuff. He turned it so that you could see a cleverly concealed earpiece on the back side. He reached up, hesitating with his hands near your ear as though asking permission. You didn’t move and, ever so gently, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from your ear. He fiddled with the cuff until the earpiece sat just behind your earlobe. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Your throat felt suddenly dry, voice coming out in a whisper. He was close enough to touch, close enough to kiss if you wanted to. And you wanted to. But you pulled back, smiling a fake-bright smile, and backed toward the door. “I’ll see you soon!”

Alex leapt forward, opening the door for you. “See you soon,” he echoed. You made your way down the stairs, only turning to look back at the door when you lowered yourself into the cab and murmured the club’s address to the cabbie. Alex stood in the doorway, silhouetted in the light of the hall, until the house’s facade was no longer visible. You let out a long breath, wondering what might happen if circumstances were different.

But there was no time for that. The club was only a few minutes away from the safehouse. You made some final adjustments to your dress, trying in vain to pull it down, before resigning yourself to the lamentable length. Or lack thereof. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as the cab pulled to the curb. You thanked the cabbie, tipped him, and lifted yourself out of the back seat.

You knew there was a door set into the side of the building that led into the bar storeroom and prep kitchen. Laswell had gotten pictures of you and Alex to your contact, Luca; he knew to expect you, and what you were doing. Much to everyone’s chagrin, though, he had stressed to Kate that he would not and could not afford to acknowledge either of you. Whatever you did, it had to fly under his security’s radar. If you were to be caught, he’d have no link to you, or the CIA. 

Typical.

You punched in the door code you’d memorized, holding your breath for the second it took to beep and open. When it did, you slid into the building, the clicking of your heels buried under the pounding bass as you made your way through the prep kitchen. You could hear a young man jabbering away in Dutch as you approached, critiquing the presentation of charcuterie boards and drink trays. He looked up as you approached, eyes roving over you.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived! Good, good. Mr. Harding and his guests will be here any minute. Let me show you to his preferred room.”

“Bedankt,” you said, and Luca beamed.

“Ah, you know some of our fine language!” he crowed gleefully. He began chattering again, speaking intermittently in Dutch and English as he led you through the private rooms to one at the end of the hall. He opened the door, ushered you in, and then glanced quickly around the room.

“All of Meneer Harding’s business, he conducts from his personal laptop. He will set it there.” He pointed to a narrow shelf that jutted from the wall to cross the wraparound seating built into the sides of the room. “He demands no surveillance in this room and pays handsomely for it. He is very strict.” Luca turned to face you with a deadly serious expression. 

“I strongly recommend that you do not try to plant any equipment now. He has a man who will sweep the room prior to his arrival. He is quite thorough.”

“Bedankt, Luca. We appreciate your help.”

He nodded sharply, opening the door and ushering you out with another conspicuous look at your figure as you passed him. “You will bring champagne, charcuterie, and anything else Meneer Harding requests. And if they request nothing, you dance,” he muttered. “Good luck, and Godzijdank.”

While you made your way to the bar, Luca broke off to go to his office. He must have told the bartender to expect you, because he gave you a wary look when you leaned on the bar before handing over what looked like a wristwatch. When you turned it over in your hands, you realized it was a pager. You looked up as you fastened it and the bartender pointed to a tray filled with drinks.

“Booth twelve,” he shouted. You nodded, picking up the tray and turning toward the club. Colorful lights flashed and swept across the floor in time with the throbbing bass pumping through the speakers. Bodies swayed and bounced along, packed together tightly between you and the booths across the dance floor. You straightened your shoulders, lifted the tray above your head, and set off through the throng.

You’d just broken through the bulk of dancers when the door swung wide to reveal Alex, feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart. Your breath stuttered in your lungs. He looked like he belonged here; since you’d left the safehouse, he’d managed to tame his hair. Mostly, at least. It was swept back, but not slicked to his scalp, and several carefully chosen pieces still stood upright. He’d forgone the jacket, and his all-black ensemble helped to blend his broad frame with the surrounding party-goers. His piercing gaze swept the room, landing on you for only a split second before he stalked into the room, heading for the bar.

You managed to keep your feet moving, arriving at the booth and leaning too-far forward with your chest out as you lowered the tray and passed out drinks. The men at the booth whooped, eyeing you appreciatively, but thankfully keeping their hands to themselves as you turned to go back to the bar. Alex stood at the end when you arrived, facing the dance floor. You could feel his gaze heavy on you, but each time you glanced over, he appeared for all the world to be observing the room, bobbing his head lightly along to the music.

Your pager buzzed, the number “06” flashing across the screen, and you picked up another tray of drinks. You delivered them to a table of squealing young girls who shouted that you looked good enough to eat, batted your eyelashes, and sauntered away. You didn’t see any trays when you got back to the bar, and when you looked up at the bartender, he motioned to the floor. “Dance,” he mouthed.

Before you could turn, you felt a warm body press itself to your back. “May I have this dance?” rumbled Alex. His lips brushed your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine as he laid his hands on your hips. You smiled, a wide and savage smile, turning to take hold of his tie and walk backward toward the dancers, pulling him along as you went. He came willingly, swaying along with you until you were pressed together by the people around you.

You raised your hands to the back of his neck, stroking gently as his hands pulled your hips toward him. He leaned forward, pressing his lips just behind your ear. Any onlooker would think he was whispering sweet nothings or dirty secrets. Instead, he was asking “Any word on Harding?”

You turned your own head, pulling him down just enough that you could say “no” into his ear. His hands tightened involuntarily as you did, and you wondered at the goosebumps you could feel under your fingertips. Had those been there before?

After a too-brief time of dancing, your pager buzzed, flashing a bright “03”, and you grudgingly pulled free of Alex’s hold. He reached out a hand after you, and you let your fingers trail down his arm as you backed away. He watched you go, half amused and half like a lost puppy. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted to keep you there.

You picked up a tray of drinks, made your way to the booth, delivered while your pager buzzed again, and cycled back. Half an hour of this later, with momentary excursions into the crowd to dance, and your pager flared up again. This time, the screen only flashed light at you. You looked to the door, and there was Harding. He was flanked by two burly men nearly Alex’s height, and easily just as broad. The three of them pushed through the crowds toward the private rooms, and you rushed to the bar. The bartender had already placed a bottle of champagne on a tray, complete with two crystal flutes, and bustled you off the moment you arrived. 

You picked up the tray and hurried down the short hall, pausing with your hand on the doorknob before opening it and walking in. Harding looked up, eyes widening almost imperceptibly as you let your hips sway for the three steps it took to get to the low table. You smiled up through your lashes, crouching to set the tray down on the table.

“May I serve your champagne?” you asked in a low, sultry voice.

Harding leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of his seat. “You may.” He watched your every movement as you opened the bottle, giggling as the foam gushed up and over your fingers. You expertly poured a flute, extending it to him as you leaned across the table. As you did, you rested your free hand next to his laptop in an imitation of maintaining balance. You thumbed your ring, working the USB drive free and sliding it into a port on Harding’s laptop surreptitiously. 

“May I bring you anything else?” You pulled your shoulders back, exposing more cleavage in a bid to hold his attention long enough that he would miss the popup on his screen. His eyes never left you, traveling slowly down your body before raising themselves back up to your face. You could barely suppress a shudder of disgust. He cocked his head slightly, leaning further back and taking his time to contemplate.

“No,” he finally said. “Not now.”

You nodded, fluttering your eyelashes, and let your hips sway provocatively as you stepped out. When you turned back to the main club, you saw Alex leaning against the bar nearest the door. The moment he saw you, he ran his tongue along his teeth and grinned wolfishly at you. You wondered what he would taste like if it was your tongue instead. You quickly shook the thought free, striding toward him. You murmured out of the corner of your mouth, hoping you could be heard by your earpiece without being seen. “Putting on a show now, are you?”

He unabashedly let his eyes roam down your frame, and you couldn’t stop the shudder you felt now. But there was no disgust in it. You barely caught his tiny nod, but you scanned the room until your attention caught on a man watching you from a booth nearby. He was young, traditionally handsome with tan skin and sun-kissed blonde hair, and well-dressed. His suit probably cost more than your entire wardrobe, and you didn’t even want to know the brand of the gold watch on his wrist. He watched you as you walked, predatory as he sipped some dark liquor from a cut glass tumbler.

Alex reached out as you passed him, standing and pulling you to his chest in one fluid motion. “I’ll put on any show I need to, I don’t like the way that guy’s looking at you.” You let him pull you into the throng, giggling loudly for effect as you pasted a smile on your face.

“My hero,” you whispered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man drain his glass and stalk toward the private rooms. Into your earpiece, you murmured “Can you see which room he’s going to?”

Alex took your hand, pulling back to blatantly admire you in what was probably meant to be a salacious observation on full display for anyone watching the two of you. He lifted your hand, spinning you and then pulling your back to his chest, deftly wrapping a hand around to rest on your abdomen while turning to face the doorway. You just caught sight of the door to Harding’s room swinging shut behind someone. Likely your admirer. You leaned back against Alex’s chest, lacing your fingers behind his neck and tilting your head back to look up at him. He was already looking down at you, the leaden blue of his irises eclipsed by his pupils. Desire. You were seeing your own desire reflected on his face.

You swallowed hard, and then your pager buzzed. Show time. 

You peeled yourself from Alex’s body, tracing his reaching arm with a light fingertip and smiling coyly at him through your lashes. You picked up a tray of bottles of expensive, dark liquors- some in crystal decanters to match the cut glass tumblers- and sauntered to the private rooms. 

Harding and your admirer were deep in heated conversation when you stepped through the door. Your heart sank when you realized that they weren’t speaking Dutch, but Russian. Your Russian was mediocre at best, and you just hoped Alex’s was a little less rusty. You caught stray words as you sat on your heels to pour drinks, but nothing cohesive passed your ears. All the same, your skin crawled. What little you could make out seemed heavy with slurs and threats, and neither man had become any less angry than they were when you’d arrived. You stood, reaching out to offer a glass to each of them with a wide smile pinned over your rising discomfort.

“Gentlemen,” you purred. “May I bring you anything else?”

The younger man’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist lightning fast and dragging you down into his lap. The shriek you let out was real, too real, as your heart stopped. You forced out a slightly manic giggle, trying to play off your anxiety. After all, regardless of circumstance, the action warranted some level of surprise. You just hoped he took it as nothing more than that.

He gripped your chin and turned your head, studying you. You could see him undressing you with his eyes. You were going to be sick.

“I think I have everything I want,” he drawled. You felt a sharp pinch in your arm, looking down in horror to see a needle withdrawing from the crook of your elbow. “Let’s just test this out first. See if it works like you say.” He turned back to Harding as you wrenched your arm, but he only tightened his grip. “Give me the girl for the night and you have a deal.”

“Hey,” you began, and hated how your voice shook. “What the hell was that?”

Your heart leapt into your throat before sinking to your knees. You felt a cold sweat break as white noise overtook every other sound in the room. You snapped back to yourself just as quickly, realizing that you could hear Alex whispering. “I’ve got you. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

Harding was studying the man who’d dragged you down, cocking his head back and forth. Both men ignored you as you looked between them frantically. “You know that this isn’t a strip club, Sasha. The girls here aren’t under my… jurisdiction.” His face betrayed nothing, as though he hadn’t just watched a man drug some girl in some club. You were definitely going to be sick. “You’d have to talk to the owner.”

Sasha’s lip was curling up in a sneer when a loud crash echoed through the room. You looked up to see Alex lurch in, careening with his hands held out to the sides. You could smell alcohol on him, from all the way across the room. Your heart sank and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. You’d let yourself trust him. You thought he’d be different. You hadn’t pictured him getting drunk at all, let alone like this. All your hope oozed out as he swung in a haphazard circle, briefly resting his hand near the laptop before looking blearily around the small room. When his eyes landed on you, a slow grin stretched across his mouth as he raised his hands lazily.

“There she is!” he slurred, stumbling in your direction and wrapping large, warm hands gently around your wrists. He unceremoniously dragged you up, forcing Sasha to let go, and pulled you straight to his chest.

And then he kissed you. Soundly.

Whatever you’d expected, it wasn’t this.

But he didn’t taste like alcohol. Through the haze of confusion and terror and shock, you felt an overwhelming sweep of relief. Your hands involuntarily shot up to cradle his jaw as he attacked your mouth, like a parched man who’d just found water. His hands clutched at your waist, pulling your body to his tightly as he leaned toward you. The kiss was sloppy, far overdone for your audience, a tangle of tongues and teeth, but still it took your breath away. You ran a hand down the side of his neck as you tilted your head, pressing yourself further forward into the safety of his arms. His tie and the collar of his shirt were soaked under your hand. He must have poured a drink on himself to seem more drunk. You gasped, and Alex swallowed it, offering up the tiniest moan in return. The roots shot through the surface of your skin. 

You felt tears burn the back of your eyes, hope swell in your lungs. You didn’t know which of you had slowed down first, but the kiss had become tender. With every brush of his lips, you could feel as much as you could hear “I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve got you”. The flower buds tickled at your chest, begging to push through the soil of your skin into the sunlight that was this man. The inexplicable draw you’d felt to him since that first meeting at Langley, the safety, the trust, it all came flooding up. It wasn’t enough to drown the abject fear you felt in the moment, but it met it head on, keeping it from suffocating you. Holding it at bay. 

You heard Harding clear his throat impatiently, and pulled back, giggling. Alex chased you, placing two more feather light kisses at the corner of your mouth. Suddenly, whatever you’d been injected with hit you like a train. The room seemed blurry, and kept spinning even once you knew your head had stopped moving. And your head. It felt so, so heavy. You couldn’t focus, could barely keep your feet under you. You clutched at Alex’s shirt front, willing your body to cooperate. It took you too long to realize that he was speaking, and you knew it more from the rumble under your palm than the sound of his voice. He sounded underwater. Other people were speaking, too. And they sounded underwater. 

Then you were moving, half walking and half being carried out of the room and down a hall. It was bright. Too bright. And so loud. You looked at Alex, who was now watching you with a wildness that took you a moment to place. Raw, helpless panic. “Sweetheart?” he was saying, but the word sounded funny. Sweet as molasses and just as thick in the distorted realm you walked. 

“Drugged,” you managed, a strangled croak pushing through your throat. “He drugged… me.” You thought you heard cursing, and then your feet weren’t holding you up any more. Your body floated into a place not so loud, not so hot- quite chilly, actually- and when you turned your head, you weren’t floating. Your cheek rested over Alex’s thundering heart as he ran. You reached up a limp hand, barely managing to stroke it down his temple. “Y’re so… pretty.”

You closed your eyes and slipped into blackness.

-

You came back slowly, wading through a haze of voices and beeping and clattering. When you managed to peel open your eyes, you saw a dark room and a man half sitting, half laying across your bed. There was a moment of near-violent alarm before you recognized Alex’s unruly head of hair. He was sleeping, face turned away from you on the edge of the bed, and one arm lay draped over your waist. The other was tucked to his chest, and you noticed with a jolt that he was holding your hand, his thumb resting lightly over your pulse.

You took a moment to inventory your feelings. Your blood still sang with a vicious flight response, but you’d managed to compartmentalize for the mission. You had no idea how Alex had gotten you both out of there, but you didn’t care. You were grateful. The kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to memorize all the best parts of how that kiss had felt. In the moment, it had grounded you. Surprised you enough that you could tamp down your feelings. 

Alex’s file flashed across your minds’ eye. Intentional. Disappointment bubbled up in your throat before being swept over with thankfulness. He’d kissed you as a distraction, to both you and the room. To get you out of a bad situation. Nothing more. 

You didn’t even know why you were wishing it was more. You’d known this man for only days. Yet something in you reached out for him. You wanted to know him more. You’d built more trust in him in these days than in anyone else in the years since that fateful mission. Well, more than anyone except Kate. Maybe. You smiled to yourself as it dawned on you that Kate knew exactly what she was doing, putting the two of you together. She knew you needed him. Unbidden, Alex’s file leapt back into your mind. Delta.

What happened to you, sweet boy? Could you need me, too?

Unconsciously, you reached across your body to thread your fingers through Alex’s hair. The moment you made contact, his body went rigid. That split second stretched into a lifetime as you remembered the way he’d snapped awake in the plane, and again from the safehouse couch. You froze, but there was no fear. When time came back to itself, within the same second you’d touched him, he relaxed. His grip on your wrist tightened, just a bit, thumb pressing down on your pulse. He sucked in a breath and slowly, carefully, turned his head to look at you. 

His eyes scanned over your face, and you weren’t sure if you imagined that they lingered just a bit longer on your lips before meeting your gaze. You quirked up one corner of your mouth in a tiny smile and it was like a dam broke.

The breath Alex had taken in came shuddering out as he raised his hand from your waist to your cheek. He half stood, hovering and squeezing the hand he still held. His thumb trembled as it skimmed across your skin and you recognized that he was shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. He leaned further forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. You squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay,” you started, but he’d pulled back and was shaking his head. He sank to his knees at the side of the bed, clasping your hand in both of his and drawing it to his lips.

“I failed you,” he said simply. You couldn’t picture the look on your face in that moment. You just knew you must look like something out of a cartoon with the way you felt your mouth and eyebrows twist in disbelief. 

“And how do you suppose…?”

Alex’s eyes flashed. “You were hurt because of me. I should have pushed back about this whole plan, I should have figured something else out. It should have been me.”

Your heart clenched. With a pang, you recognized something for which you had no proof but the undeniable comprehension that filled you. Survivor’s guilt. 

“Almost,” you whispered. Alex’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up to smooth your thumb over the skin. It disappeared the moment your fingertips brushed against it, and Alex leaned into your touch. “I almost got hurt. You stopped that from happening.”

He didn’t look convinced. You both watched each other for several long minutes. His eyes kept skimming your lips, and you were sure yours did the same. “I had no right to kiss you,” he finally murmured, and you blinked in surprise. He’d dropped his gaze, looking away as his cheeks burned with shame. You raised a hand, turning his face back toward you. He looked up reluctantly when you held him there.

“That kiss saved me from… from…” You gulped, suddenly trembling all over again. Alex made gentle hushing sounds, raising himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached for both of your shoulders, rubbing them lightly. You debated with yourself for only a moment before launching up to hug him. He let out a grunt at the force of your contact, but his arms came up around you, cradling you to his chest as sobs wracked your body.

You’d managed to put it from your mind, mostly. Now terror and revulsion and dread and fear and fear and fear crashed down, rattling through your lungs and threading through your veins like ice. You sobbed, and Alex rocked you, humming and hushing and holding as you broke down, kept together only by his firm grip on you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, clutching him as though for dear life, but when you opened your eyes again, the sun was blazing on the horizon. 

You squeezed his broad shoulders, and he squeezed your waist. You took a moment, finally calm, to run your hands over the planes of his back. Hard muscle clenched under your touch before your hands settled on his shoulders, still wrapped under his arms. You weren’t ready to let go quite yet.

“How’d you do it, anyway?”

You felt, more than heard, his answering hum. You turned your head, tucking your nose under his jaw. He inhaled sharply and you traced a line to the back of his ear, speaking with your lips at the place the two met. “How’d you get me out?”

“I,” he said, and his voice came out somewhat strangled. His arms pulled you the tiniest bit closer as he cleared his throat. “I may have, um. Told them that, uh, that I’d already paid for you for the night.”

You pulled back, blinking at him. His hold on you loosened, but his hands still rested between your shoulder blades. He seemed nervous. You smiled at him, hoping to ease his nerves. “And they accepted that?”

He scoffed. “Almost didn’t. Harding didn’t seem to care, but the asshole who had his filthy hands on you,” his own hands tightened here “said he’d buy me out.”

You raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Alex’s eyes softened considerably, and he raised one hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told him I’d made up my mind about you and no amount of money could change it.” You smiled at each other then, and your eyes dropped to his lips. When you looked back up, he was watching you intently. “He wasn’t too pleased with that, but… Harding, actually told him to cool it. No weapons in the club, don’t jeopardize the operation over…” here he stopped, looking away in obvious disgust. “I knew something was wrong when I tried to take you out, but I didn’t know what.”

You took in a deep breath, looking down. “What was it?” Your voice sounded small to your own ears. Alex didn’t answer right away. When you looked up, he seemed fixed on a point on the wall.

“Ketamine,” he said softly. Your body convulsed then, a fresh wave of icy terror sweeping over you. Alex hauled you forward until you were practically in his lap, rocking you again and stroking your hair. I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve got you.

“Tell me you got the USB,” you said through clenched teeth.

“I got it,” he answered. “Harding, that scumbag, the whole operation- it was all on that file. The Amsterdam team already locked up the asshole who had you. Harding’s next. You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

You cried again, crawling as far into him as you could. You tried to silence your mind. Nothing happened, you reminded yourself. Nothing happened.

You cried until a nurse came to release you, then managed to pull yourself together enough to get dressed with Alex watching the door, close enough to touch through the thin material of the curtain that separated you. The hospital had given you a plain grey sweatsuit, which you’d gratefully donned without bothering to put on your underwear. You’d put the jewelry in a bag to go back to Langley, but the mini dress and fishnet body suit and everything underneath had been bundled up and handed to Alex to be thrown away. He’d done it for you gladly.

You gripped his hand the whole taxi ride back, and he’d wrapped an arm around your shoulders protectively. He’d carried the jewelry bag, stuffing it into the entry table drawer in passing. Halfway up the stairs, when you stumbled from a wave of nausea you’d half been expecting, he swept you up as though it was a perfectly natural occurrence and carried you to the bathroom. When you’d collected sleep clothes and makeup remover, he turned to leave. When your hand shot out to grab his, he nodded and perched himself on the toilet to watch you take off your makeup.

You didn’t have to say a word.

When your hand shook so badly that you had to stop, leaning against the sink, he stood, silently taking the makeup wipe from your hands. With the softest touch you’d ever felt, he tiled your chin up and wiped at your eyes, intermittently stopping to re-fold the wipe in search of a patch not streaked with black.

“Where do you want me?” he asked when he was done. 

You glanced around the small room, grasping your elbow. “You can go, I’ll be okay.” He watched you, giving you time to change your mind, and then nodded, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind him. You stood for several moments before turning on the shower, anxious all over again. The steaming water did little to calm your nerves, and you scrubbed yourself raw in an effort to wash away the dread that had woven into your skin.

When you’d finally stepped out, opening the door to let steam pour into the hall, there was Alex. He sat against the opposite wall, head in his hands, and looked up when you stepped out. He offered a weak smile in your direction. “Feel any better?” You shrugged, but nodded. He looked down at where you still held your elbows and pushed himself to his feet. You abruptly felt horribly selfish. The circles under his eyes had darkened again and he looked pale. His tie was loose, askew, and he still wore the vest, although the buttons were all undone. His shirt had come partially untucked and you were certain the dress pants and shoes were less than comfortable. How long had he stayed up with you? You’d been hospitalized overnight, sleeping off the effects of the drug. Had he eaten anything since your dinner together the day before?

“Are you hungry?” you blurted out. His mustache twitched, betraying the amusement he felt.

“Not really. Are you?”

You shook your head. You noticed the clean clothes in his hands for the first time, and that wave of selfishness passed over you again. “You should shower.”

“You can come, if you want.”  Your head snapped up, but there was nothing teasing in his tone or gaze. He seemed to think you weren’t pleased by this, because he rushed to say “I just mean if you don’t want to be alone.”

You looked down. “I don’t,” you said quietly.

Alex reached a hand toward you. “Then c’mere.” He pulled you into the bathroom, leaving the hall door open, and lifted you by your waist onto the countertop. He opened your toiletry bag, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He turned on the tap, running your toothbrush under the stream of water, and then squeezed out a perfect stripe of toothpaste. Your eyes filled with tears when he presented it to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took it. He smiled, squeezed your shoulder, and turned to undress. You looked out into the hall, allowing yourself just one glance as he pulled the dress shirt off and dropped it to the sides. The muscles in his arms rippled under the dark lines of his tattoos, and you found yourself surprised that he didn’t have more covering his torso. His shoulders were a wide, blank canvas marked only by faded white scars. 

You turned quickly away, cheeks heating with guilt. He’d let you in here to calm yourself, not to ogle him. He showered much more quickly than you had, turning off the faucet as you spat your toothpaste into the sink. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arm as he reached for his towel, pulling it back behind the curtain. 

“I’ll let you get dressed,” you said, stepping into the hall. You left the door cracked, pressing your back against the wall beside it and tilting your head back as you waited. You counted the seconds to keep your mind calm, and Alex emerged at 104. Like that first night in the safehouse, his hair was wild and his t-shirt clung to his damp skin. White this time, revealing a single tattoo on his chest above his heart. You couldn’t see clearly what it was, but you thought you saw something vaguely triangular. He smiled when his eyes rested on you and you offered a shaky smile back. “You look tired.”

He stretched his neck, reaching up to run a hand down his face. “Yeah.” He said simply. “Are you?” You nodded. He tilted his head toward your rooms, stepping forward. “C’mon, then.”

Your hand shot out before you could stop it, fingers wrapping around his bicep. Alex looked down sharply, concern etching his features.

You found that you didn’t know what to say. His face softened as he watched you, patiently waiting for you to find the words you wanted. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

He visibly melted, nodding. “Of course.” Blooms burst from the stems that rose from your skin, turning toward him like sunflowers to the sun. When you didn’t move, he offered you his hand. You took it, reveling in the warmth of his palm as he led you to his bed. You crawled across the narrow space, pressing yourself as close to the wall as you could.

Nerves sprung up as Alex deposited his clothes on the floor before sitting. He was a large man, and this bed was only meant for one person. He was already so tired, you couldn’t possibly keep him from sleeping well again, you had to tell him you’d be okay on your own, you had to-

“Stop thinking so loud.” Alex had stretched out, turning to you and waiting for you to lift your head so that he could rest his arm there. You did, and he scooted closer once you rested your cheek on his bicep. You didn’t move for a moment, too ashamed for taking even more than what he’d already given you. He reached around you, tugging you forward until your body was flush with his and your legs tangled together. You were so close that your nose rested on top of his, and one hand lay against his chest while the other toyed with the hem of his shirt.

“Thank you,” you whispered. In the darkness, you could only see a slight shine where his eyes were.

“Of course,” he murmured. His lips brushed yours as they formed the vowels. Your heart skipped a beat. He closed his eyes, and after a time, his breathing evened out and you thought he’d fallen asleep. Then he whispered, so softly that you almost thought you’d imagined it, “I want you here.”

You opened your eyes to see a pale sliver of moonlight illuminating a strip of his face. His eyes were on your lips, but they flicked up when yours opened.

You hardly even had to tilt your head, more leaning than actual movement. You pressed your lips to his, and the instant they touched he whimpered softly. Slowly, carefully, you slid your lips against his. You let your fingertips slide under the hem of his t-shirt, smiling against his mouth at the goosebumps that broke out across his skin. You traced the taut muscles of his abdomen as your tongue slid into his mouth, tracing patterns against his in a slow dance. 

Alex was perfectly still, save for kissing you back. His hands hadn’t moved, one flat against the small of your back and one on the pillow somewhere behind your head, and suddenly you worried that you had overstepped. You flinched back, Alex involuntarily following you forward as his eyes snapped open.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed.

He was panting lightly, clearly trying to hide it. He licked his lips. “For what?”

“Kissing you, I don’t… I don’t want you to feel used.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. Finally, the hand on your waist lifted to cup your cheek. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me. For anything.” His expression turned serious and he cleared his throat. “Besides, I’ve… I’ve been used for much worse. This is… this is a nice change.”

Delta flashed through your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. His thumb skimmed your lips, your nose, and the apple of your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his soft lips. He sighed into it, hand sliding down your side to your waist once more. He tugged you ever so slightly closer as you tucked your nose under his, lips still a hairs’ breadth apart. You slept soundly that night.

Two years later

You stood at the airport terminal, tapping your foot in excitement and anticipation.

Alex was coming home.

Amsterdam had been the start of a new routine for you both. He’d had to fly straight back to his post in Bahrain, but he hadn’t left without your number. You’d scribbled it in a tiny space of blank skin on his wrist, just below a line of barbed wire. You’d nearly added a heart, but worried at the last moment that it would be too intimate and instead settled on a poorly drawn shoelace, haphazardly tied around the barbed wire. 

Alex had come back from that assignment with an addition to his sleeve that no one else was likely to notice. But you noticed.

You had picked him up from the airport then, too, and you’d stayed up all night, talking about everything from Alex‘s assignment that he was able to share and everything you had done in the time since. It hadn’t been much. Despite therapy, a strict gym routine, and a full plate at work (your director was thrilled to have you back), you’d been having nightmares. And early the next morning when you’d woken up on the couch where you'd fallen asleep, gasping for air and desperately trying to blink away the image of Sasha your subconscious had dredged up, Alex had pulled you into his lap and hushed you, stroking your hair and rocking gently.

“He’ll never hurt anyone again, angel. None of them are ever getting out, and it’s all because of you. You were so brave.”

You’d made each other house keys later that day. You’d joked weeks later that he should give up his apartment, seeing as he spent most nights at your townhouse anyway. He didn’t, and the change of scenery when you both stayed there was nice. You were particularly grateful when he was gone- staying there, surrounded by him, helped ease his absence- but you still felt just a bit of disappointment. You’d been joking, but you would have let him move in without a moment’s hesitation if he’d said yes.

Since the first time you’d picked him up, there hadn’t been a day that Alex was stateside that you hadn’t seen each other. This assignment had been the longest, and with the least contact. He’d been gone for nearly three months and you’d only heard from him twice- once to tell you he’d landed and once to tell you his flight information to come home.

You’d arrived at the airport half an hour before the time he’d given you, too impatient to spend the time flitting uselessly around your townhouse. Dinner was in the oven, the pantry was overfilled with snacks, and you’d made gallons of the sweet tea Alex was so fond of. Your spare room was ready with clean sheets and a lavender oil diffuser, and you’d laid out his favorite plaid pajama pants on the bathroom counter. You’d smiled to yourself as you fingered the soft material. Sometime in the early weeks of staying together, Alex had emerged from his room wearing them with one of the tank tops he usually wore to the gym.

“Oh, so we’re working out now?” you’d teased. You were curled up on the couch, flipping through channels in search of a good movie. Alex hadn’t answered right away, and you looked up to see him rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“I, uh. I don’t really have too many t-shirts,” he’d mumbled. He shrugged at your incredulous look. “I’ve been on my own for a long time. Never really worn a shirt around here.”

You’d felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you cocked an eyebrow at him. “So then take it off.” Flustering Alex never ceased to amuse you, and didn’t fail now as his cheeks flushed red.

“You’re… you’d be okay with that?” You leveled a stare at him as if to ask “seriously?” and he shifted his weight, debating. After a few seconds, he reached for the back of the shirt and tugged it off. You stared openly at him. You’d assumed he’d be gorgeous, had imagined it, but your fantasies couldn’t compare to reality. Your eyes had gone first to the solitary tattoo on his chest- a dagger through the center of an open triangle with a lightning bolt on one end. Then they’d followed the trail of hair that led down and fastened on the lines of muscles along his hips. Your mouth watered. You wanted to touch them, run your tongue along them. They clenched as Alex shifted again, clearing his throat, and you looked up to see him looking, of all things, self-conscious. You let out a low, long wolf-whistle and he huffed lightly. “Hush up with all that,” he grumbled good-naturedly, dropping onto the couch and pulling you into his side. “Although I suppose I should expect it. You did call me pretty once, after all.” Your cheeks had flamed, but the outcome had been more than worth the momentary embarrassment. He’d slowly stopped wearing shirts to bed, in either of your homes, and you’d done your level best to keep your ogling to a minimum.

The tram slid into the station and you held your breath, as you’d been doing every time it arrived.

Your eyes landed on a tall head of messy brown hair, just over the top of the crowd. Your grin widened until you were sure it would split your face. You watched Alex step onto the escalator, searching the crowd for you.

You held up the houndstooth scarf he’d given you before he left for his first new assignment after Amsterdam. “Something to remember me by,” he’d said, fingers catching on the tassels even as he pressed it into your hands. As if you could ever forget him.

You caught sight of the matching scarf he wore, the one you’d given him at the airport when he’d come back from that assignment. Then his eyes met yours and he lifted his hand, offering a weak attempt to meet your smile. Your heart sank. He looked haunted, and exhausted. The circles under his eyes were far, far worse than any you’d seen before. He looked thinner, and there was a vacancy in his eyes that hurt your soul to see.

You pushed through the crowd when you saw him tap the shoulder of the man in front of him, making his way down as fast as he could. You broke through the last line of people just as his boots hit the floor and you sprinted the two steps between you to launch yourself into his arms. He wrapped you up like you weighed nothing, lifting you off your feet in a bone-crushing hug. You lifted one hand to run through the hair at the back of his head as he held you.

As if they were miles away, you heard passers-by coo. You paid them no mind but the common courtesy to not wrap your legs around Alex’s waist in such a public place, instead dangling from his hold by your arms around his neck. You asked nothing, and he offered nothing. When he put you down, he smiled. It wasn’t his usual mirthful, bright, Alex smile. But it was better. 

“Can I stay with you for a couple of days?” he murmured. 

“Silly man. Of course you can.” You trailed one hand to his cheek. He leaned in, then turned his head to kiss your palm. Goosebumps broke out over your skin. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

He was quiet for the drive, only clasping your free hand in both of his lightly. At home, you ushered him off to shower while you finished dinner. When he stepped into the kitchen, still damp the way you hated to be, you dropped the spoon in your hand.

“Alex,” you choked out. He had lost a notable amount of weight, but that wasn’t what held your focus. Angry marks ran down his torso, ranging in severity from scrapes and bruises of varying colors to a deep gash across his lower abdomen that wrapped around his side. You stumbled toward him, nearly losing your footing in your rush, and he sprang forward to catch you. Your fingertips ran gently over the gash across in his side and he hissed quietly, muscles tensing. “Sorry,” you whispered, still surveying the damage. He’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt when you picked him up, but now you could see more cuts and bruises on his arms, even beneath the heavy line work of his tattoos. 

Tears filled your eyes as your hands hovered just over his skin, afraid to touch him lest he break.

“I’m okay,” he said. He didn’t reach for you, allowing you to inventory his wounds. “It’ll heal.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Come on,” you said softly. You led him to the bathroom, sat him down on the toilet, and collected your first aid kit. You perched on his knee, trying to keep the majority of your weight off of him. He chuckled as you wavered, struggling to keep your balance.

“You won’t break me.” He rested a hand on your hip as you relaxed your stance. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, only occasionally flinching as you applied salve and bandages to the worst of the cuts.

After dinner, you turned on reruns of an old sitcom with the volume low and dozed on the couch. At some point, you roused when you felt Alex lift you up.

“You shouldn’t be carrying me,” you said sleepily. Alex made a dismissive noise, nudging open your bedroom door and crawling into your bed with you still in his arms. You fell asleep that night laying on his chest with his heartbeat in your ear.

It was weeks later that you jumped awake when you heard Alex yelling, flying up and down the hall to his room. You could see him thrashing in the moonlight that shone through the window. You called his name, but to no avail- he couldn’t hear you through whatever he heard in his nightmare. You turned on the light and then knelt on the bed to grab his wrist. Instantly, he flew forward. He had you pinned to the foot of the bed before you could blink, one arm holding down your midsection while the other hand wrapped around your throat.

You froze, banishing the fear that pricked the back of your mind. You took a deep breath as the wildess in his eyes faded, making way for horror. He scrambled backward until his back forcibly hit the headboard, eyes fixed on you as he whispered your name.

“Did I hurt you? Oh, God, if I hurt you…” His voice and body shook violently, and he scrabbled at the sheets in a full-blown panic. You’d sprung up as soon as he’d let you go, crawling toward him and reaching out.

“You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay, Alex. You’re okay. Come here.”

“No!” he shouted. He seemed to shrink even further back against the headboard, shaking his head frantically. You paused. “No,” he whispered. “I- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-”

You crawled the rest of the way to him, still with one hand outstretched. You laid it on his cheek as you crept toward him until your knees straddled his hips. You pressed as close as you could, wrapping your arms around him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, desperate to reach up. To take the comfort you offered. To touch you. But he wouldn’t. 

“You didn’t hurt me,” you repeated. You took one of his shaking hands in yours, raising it to your throat where it had been a moment before.  Alex shuddered violently. “Look.” Gently, you pried open his fingers until they lay flat against your skin, and you dragged them down to rest over your heart. “I’m right here, and I’m okay. Okay? You didn’t hurt me. It’s my own fault, I know better. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

He was shaking his head, nearly incoherent in anguish. “No, no, it’s not your fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault.”

You grasped his head firmly. “Stop,” you whispered. “It’s no one’s fault, then. Okay? Everything is okay.”

Alex sobbed, finally leaning up to tug you closer, tucking his face into your neck. “You would never hurt me,” you repeated. You lifted your hands to his head and scratched lightly at his scalp. “My sweet Alex, you could never hurt me.”

For all the post-assignment nights you’d both had, you’d never seen Alex cry. It was a strange experience, and it broke your heart. He made practically no sound, but the force with which his body shook made the whole bed vibrate. You tightened your grip on him, tilting his head up to yours. He wouldn’t meet your gaze; his eyes were half-lidded, red-rimmed, and fixed on your mouth. You leaned down and he sucked in a breath. Just before your lips touched his, he whispered in a strangled voice. “Don’t.” You froze. “You can’t kiss me.” The roots beneath your skin splintered, breaking apart from each other.

There hadn’t been any more kisses, or discussions of kisses past, since Amsterdam. You’d tried to bury the attraction you felt, the longing to be near him, but you’d come to hope that it was returned. You knew, at least, that your presence was equally wanted. But in this moment, Alex was uncommonly still, eyes closed. Your heart had stopped beating. You leaned back, watching his face for any hint as to what he was feeling. Anything that might lessen the shock. You saw only pain there.

You had horribly misjudged his feelings, horribly misjudged the situation. You wanted to bring him comfort, of course, but you also wanted to show him your heart. To know his heart for you. You’d been selfish. Bile raced up the back of your throat, threatening to come out as you began to raise yourself up on your knees. The moment your hands left his head, though, Alex’s eyes snapped open. 

“Wait,” he breathed. He lurched forward, clumsily grabbing at the backs of your thighs. 

You could feel tears stinging your eyes. Shame and rejection and despair pumped themselves through your veins with every hard thump of your heart. “I’m sorry-” you began.

Alex had drawn in a deep breath. Now, he cut you off. “You can’t kiss me because I want to kiss you,” he blurted out. That stopped you dead in your tracks. He had looked back to your mouth now. One thumb stroked along your bottom lip as he swallowed, hard. “I want to kiss you so badly it hurts.”

Intentional flashed through your mind in a whole new light, this time. 

A breathless laugh escaped you at that. “Well I want to kiss you, too. So why can’t I?” 

Alex tore his eyes up with a visible effort. He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you every day since Amsterdam,” he said solemnly. You felt your heart soar up, up, and away from you. “I didn’t want to stop kissing you in Amsterdam.”

You lowered yourself back to his lap, stroking his hair and the cuts in it. On a balmy night that you’d slept on your balcony, when his head had been in your lap and you’d traced the scars, he’d told you he’d gotten them when he nearly died. “Explosion launched a piece of metal straight at me. Cut right down to the skull. They didn’t think I was going to wake up.” You shook the memory away.

“Then why did you?” you whispered.

Alex was watching your mouth again. “I didn’t want you to think I wanted you just because of the outfit, or that… that I’d kissed you in the club just to kiss you, just because I could.” His voice dropped as his eyes fluttered closed. “But God, did I want to. I didn’t want to stop.” Chills broke out over your skin. His eyes snapped open, blazing with resolve. “I wanted you to want to kiss me. I need you to want me.”

You lowered yourself further, stroking your thumbs up from the tips of his mustache to the tops of his cheekbones. “You didn’t think I wanted to kiss you when I kissed you that night? Didn’t think I’ve wanted you all this time since?”

“I… I thought you just wanted comfort. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me.” The hurt must have flashed across your face, because Alex leaned forward, cupping your cheek and pulling you closer to him by your waist. “I didn’t care. If all you ever wanted from me was comfort, I’d give it gladly without expecting anything in return. And… I had hoped. Since then.” A blush had risen in his cheeks then. “That what I was feeling wasn’t one-sided. I thought maybe, but…”

“I do want to kiss you,” you murmured. “And what you’re feeling is definitely not one-sided.”

He made a pained sound, leaning up seemingly against his own will until his lips barely brushed yours. “Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“I’m not.”

There was a beat of stillness before he closed the distance, sealing your mouths together. His tongue seared a trail along the seam of your lips until you parted them for him, and it was like a switch flipped. His body came alive; hands roamed along your back as he alternately gripped your sides and pulled you closer; his chest heaved under your touch. He finally settled on squeezing the tops of your thighs while you tugged at his hair and moved against him, eliciting soft gasps and moans from both of you. The marks across his body had healed, leaving new scars in their places. You danced your fingertips along his bare collarbones, across the Delta team tattoo over his heart, over the scars and down his sculpted pecs and toned abs, drawing out a groan from him when you met the waistband of his pajamas.

“Wait,” he rasped. You waited, stroking the soft trail of hair beneath his belly button. He shuddered under your touch, cursed, and reached down to still your hand as he exerted visible self-control to look up at you. You blinked innocently at him. “You make it so hard to concentrate,” he said mildly, though his pupils were blown wide as his eyes roamed over your face. You giggled at that, which drew out a smile. He met your gaze briefly before looking away and clearing his throat again.

“I love you.” Every root in your body, every space along the stems along your skin and wrapped around your bones, burst forth in uncontrollable buds. You held your breath. “And I don’t expect… nothing has to change. If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ll still give you whatever you want-”

Your heart constricted painfully. You laid a gentle finger against his lips, drawing his attention from the floor. “I would never use you like that,” you said softly. You took in a deep breath. “I’ve loved you for a long time. Since Amsterdam, at least.” Breath had rushed out of him. His face glowed as he looked up at you in adoration. 

“At least?” he breathed, teasing even in his disbelief. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. It might have been since you stepped between Kate and I.”

His eyes shone at that. A darkness descended, though, clouding his gaze. “And you’re not… I don’t…” You understood what he couldn’t say. You lifted his chin.

“You do not scare me,” you said firmly. He swallowed, looking away, and you wiggled his chin to get him to look back at you. “You would never, never hurt me, Alex. I’ve never felt as safe as I feel with you.” He nodded slowly. You leaned forward, pressing him back against the headboard to kiss him hard. You took control, and he let you. You poured all of your longing, love, desire, and reassurance into the kiss, leaning heavily against him as your mouths moved. Your hands were all over him, tracing scars and tattoos and patterns only you could see.

His hands crept under your shirt, skimming your sides until they rested between your shoulder blades. He squeezed lightly, leaning forward to deepen the kiss. He tilted his head and you let your hands brush down his ribs to trace the beginnings of the v-cut you’d always wanted to touch. You dipped your fingertips beneath the band of his pajamas and he lurched forward, breath leaving in a rush as though he’d been punched. 

“Wait,” he gasped again, hands flying to your hips. 

You huffed out an amused sound. “You know, if you keep stopping me like this, I’m going to worry that you don’t actually want me.”

Alex tugged your hips against his, wiping the smirk from your face as he leaned forward. His face had flushed cherry red, and the uncertainty with which he spoke was preciously endearing. “I think that you can feel perfectly well that that’s not true,” he murmured. And oh, goodness, could you. 

You hummed in agreement, grinding your hips down on the proof of his desire. Alex groaned, grip tightening and face reddening even further. “I’ll never say no to you,” he ground out. That piqued your interest. You relented, sitting back to look at him curiously. “But I just… I didn’t want our first time to be… I’d never imagined…” His voice softened as he trailed off, eyes flitting to the foot of the bed. He didn’t want it to happen in the wake of his remorse, weighed by his inner turmoil.

You felt your heart melt. You’ve imagined this?

Your hand flew to your mouth when Alex’s darkening gaze told you you’d spoken aloud. His voice was gravel when he spoke. “Yes.” One hand stroked the scars on your arm, the other the side of your throat. “There’s a reason I usually get up before you.” 

“Oh,” you said. And you realized, with a start, that he usually did. Ohhh. He was looking down now, shame coloring his cheeks. Anticipation lit beneath your skin, tempered only by the exhaustion evident on his face. You tilted his chin up. “I’ve imagined it, too.” He twitched beneath you, face a display of utter shock. You traced the shadows beneath his eyes tenderly.

“Take me to bed,” you whispered. “We’ll sleep tonight. Our first time can be any time you want, however you’ve imagined it.” A slow smile spread over Alex’s face. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said. Then he abruptly stood with you still in his lap, wrapped your legs around him, and carried you shrieking down the hall to your bed.

-

The first time was the next morning, slow and soft as the sun breaking on the horizon. It was just as gentle, adoring, and attentive as you’d come to expect from Alex. Lush, languid, loving. 

“Just like you’ve imagined?”

“Mhmm. And so much better.”

The next time was at Alex’s apartment as you packed his things the morning after that, half on the couch and eventually on the floor. Giggling, silly, and so natural. Just like you’d imagined.

Then there were the gym showers after he’d benched nearly his body weight. You’d teased him for too long, straddling him and giggling as you leaned down to whisper filthy things in his ear. He’d given up halfway through his set after nearly dropping the bar on his face, hauling you furtively to the locker rooms. Neither of you had quite imagined that.

The week Alex let his apartment go, you literally ran into Kate in the Langley halls, nearly spilling both of your coffees and successfully scattering the files she’d been holding. 

“Trip,” she greeted warmly. “Living up to your name, I see.” She waved off your profuse apologies, walking with you and asking about how you’d been since you last spoke some weeks ago. “I see Alex changed his mailing address,” she said with a sly smile. 

You raised your eyebrows, faux innocence dripping from your voice. “Oh? Was it unexpected?”

“No. In fact, it was quite expected.” She was beyond pleased, barely containing her smile before walking into her briefing. She took your hand just before you turned toward the elevators. “You’re so good for each other.” You’d smiled for the rest of the day, thrilled to have been right about her intentions. You couldn’t wait to tell Alex. 

When you got home that afternoon, he wasn’t there, but there was a note on the island. “Gonna be late, dinner at 7?” There was an address for a fancy restaurant just a few blocks away that you’d mentioned wanting to try. You smiled, walked into your bedroom, and smiled even wider when you saw the dress and heels he’d set out for you. The dress was a rich, sapphire blue satin you’d bought some months back for a wedding that was unexpectedly canceled. You’d whined to Alex that you’d have to return it without ever having worn it and he’d insisted you keep it. “I promise you I can find some occasion for you to wear it,” he’d said. 

You showered, re-did your makeup, and then slid the dress on. The sleeves fit tightly to your elbows, covering your scars, before flaring into bells that draped past your knees. The back was open all the way down, and a provocative slit up the side showed off most of your thigh. Alex hadn’t seen it on you yet, and you were eager to see his reaction. You’d learned since that first morning that he loved your thighs, something that was particularly delightful to you. You pulled on the silver pumps, considered a wrap, and decided against it. The weather report showed a warm evening with only a slight breeze.

You thought about taking your car, but decided not to when you saw that Alex’s was gone. It wasn’t so warm that you’d be sweaty by the time you got there, and it wasn’t so far that your feet would hurt, even in your heels. You fixed your hair, took one last look in the mirror, and set off. 

The streets of D.C. were as lively as ever; people bustled up and down the sidewalk, taxis honked at each other, birds chirped, and you could hear children laughing from the park across the street. You smiled to yourself, grateful that you loved your city. When you reached the restaurant, you paused to admire the plate glass windows and gothic architecture before walking in.

Your eyebrows shot up when a doorman swung the door open, bowing slightly as you walked past. You murmured your thanks before approaching the maître d', an elderly gentleman in a tux who greeted you with a stiff bow and a warm smile.

“Good evening, my dear. Do you have a reservation?”

“I believe so,” you said, sure that Alex had thought this far ahead. “Seven o’clock for Alex Keller?” The maître d's face lit up and he extended his arm to you.

“Ah, yes! Mr. Keller. He asked me to seat you upon arrival and extend his deepest apologies for his tardiness; he shall arrive presently.”

You pursed your lips, trying to hide your smile. “Thank you so much.”

“But of course! May I interest you in anything to drink while you wait? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

“Um,” you began, and it was the maître d's turn to hide a smile at your ineloquence. “Could I just have a glass of water, please?”

You’d reached a table at the far side of the restaurant, just against a wall filled with expensive-looking, tasteful art. The maître d’ pulled out your chair, lowering you into it and nodding emphatically. “One glass of water, in just one moment.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. You took the opportunity to peer around the restaurant, noting the chandeliers and formally dressed staff. You wondered, vaguely, whether Alex had something up his sleeve or whether he’d just picked the place because you’d been interested. Or whether he’d picked it for an excuse to get you into, and later out of, that dress.

A waiter brought your water. You thanked him and, just as you picked it up, you heard Alex.

“She didn’t go falling on you, now did she?”

“No, sir, not at all!” replied the maître d’. You turned, gaping at your- boyfriend? Partner? There didn’t seem to be a good term for you two, and you hadn’t discussed any labels. You settled on person in your mind. And your person was beaming, eyes sparkling in mirth as he walked to the table. He held out a hand to you as he arrived.

“You expect me to kiss you after that?”

The maître d’ laughed sharply, quickly covering his mouth and excusing himself with a bow. 

“I do,” said Alex smoothly. You grudgingly rose to your feet for a chaste kiss, eyeing him appreciatively as you did. He’d picked a black suit and tie with a silk shirt that matched your sapphire dress. His hair was, as always, out of place and wild. It just added to his charm. He looked devastatingly handsome. He seemed to think the same as you, holding you out in front of him and whistling low. He spun you around and was shaking his head when you faced him again. His eyes had darkened nearly to match his shirt.

“You look ravishing,” he said solemnly.

You felt a flash of shyness before the lust in his gaze caught up with your own, and then you felt just as ravishing as you were sure he thought you were.

“Business go well?” you asked as you slid back into the chair Alex had pulled out for you.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat. “Extremely.” There was a twinkle in his eye that made you squint at him, but he waved a hand. “Later. Have you looked at the menu yet? Pick something and tell me about your day.”

So you did. Your department had just begun using a new program and the legwork associated with updating all of your files was extensive. You’d been tasked with sorting and fixing error codes, and the list was thousands of lines long. It was tedious work. You paused to order when a waiter arrived, then regaled Alex with overly dramatic tales of your boredom, making him laugh loudly enough to look around the otherwise quiet room sheepishly. 

“I think this place is juuust a little too fancy for us.” He’d lifted his fingers, holding them close together as he smiled, and suddenly you were back in the basement where you’d met. Your waiter delivered two plates of delectable looking food, then. You both thanked him, studied your plates, and dug in. Your food tasted even better than it smelled, and you assumed Alex felt the same as he chewed slowly with a blissful glaze over his eyes. 

“Did you ever get those guns?” He blinked at you, snapping out of whatever higher plane he’d been transported to, utterly lost. “Right before Amsterdam. You said you were this close to getting those guns.” You mimed his pinched fingers, covering your mouth with your other hand. Alex reached up to cover his mouth, too. His shoulders were shaking and he shook his head, swallowing the food he’d been chewing. 

“Where did that come from?” he chuckled. You made a face at him and reached across the table to pinch his nose, which only earned you an undignified snort. 

“This!” You tapped your fingers together in a hyperbolic imitation of the gesture. Alex was full-blown laughing now, covering his mouth with a linen napkin and trying to quiet himself. He nodded, snickering into his wrist as he lowered his hand 

“Yes, angel, I got the guns.”

You grinned at him. “See? How hard was that? Now your turn, tell me about your day.”

He shook his head, still smiling, and held up a finger for you to wait while he finished the last of his meal. You took advantage of the pause in conversation to finish your own food, leaning slightly back in your chair as you pushed your plate away. 

“Good?” He asked. You nodded, patting your belly. 

“So good.”

“Dessert?”

“Gosh, no,” you chuckled. “I don’t think I could even split something with you right now.”

“Good, neither could I.” He made a little cutting gesture across his throat to someone over your shoulder, and you turned to see the maître d’ nod in your direction. “Business was good,” Alex began. He’d taken the day off in order to sort through the last of the details of moving in with you. “Got all my paperwork done with my leasing office, got my address changed for all of my bills, canceled the internet, hit the DMV, all of that.” Alex stood as your waiter approached, pulling his wallet and an envelope out of his pocket. 

He set the envelope on the table while he fished out his card for the waiter, exchanging it for a bottle of champagne with two flutes. 

Your heartbeat sped. 

“Are we celebrating something?” you asked, barely concealing the quaver in your voice.

Alex flashed a grin at you as he opened the bottle, pouring you a flute. “Gosh, I hope so,” he mumbled. Before you could question it, he handed you a flute and the envelope. “Open it,” he said softly. 

Your heartbeat had slowed considerably. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what you’d expected from that opening. You squashed the pang of disappointment you felt. It’s too early for that you told yourself. You didn’t believe it. 

Regardless, this had to be something huge. Alex didn’t make a big deal out of nothing. Whatever was inside, he’d already seen. The envelope had been opened. You pulled out a bundle of papers, unfolded them, and promptly dropped them to cover your mouth with both hands. 

“Alex?” you whispered. Tears were already filling your eyes. He nodded. 

“Laswell approved it. It’s conditional upon my acceptance, though. I told her I’d have to talk to you first. Comes with a bit of a paycut.”

You were shaking your head violently, already moving toward him with arms outstretched. “Oh, Alex,” you sobbed. “Alex, my Alex, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, you’re going to be home. Oh, Alex.” You were weeping now, waves of relief and gratitude coursing through your veins. 

He chuckled low, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re saying my name so much it’s almost like we’re in bed,” he whispered. You hit his shoulder, face flushing as you sputtered. He laughed deep in his chest, squeezing you a little tighter. 

You hadn’t even known Alex had filed for a departmental transfer. You hadn’t even looked yet at what it was. You let go of him with one hand to scrabble for the paper, lifting it to eye-level. 

Language officer, operating out of Langley in Washington D.C. 

Alex breathed a laugh as you held onto him for dear life. “You know, I was hoping you’d be a little happier,” he teased. You smacked his shoulder lightly again, laughing a watery laugh and fumbling for a napkin to wipe your face. He let you go and picked one up, turning back to you and suddenly looking quite nervous. 

“But,” he said shakily. He wiped his hands down the front of his slacks. “It does make me feel a little more confident doing this.” He reached into his jacket. 

And he dropped to one knee, withdrawing a black velvet box.

Your heart stopped. 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

Alex had squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. He opened his eyes and breathed out your name. 

“I never imagined myself falling in love. I thought I was going to be on my own for my whole life, and I was okay with that. Until I met you.” He opened the box and you let out a sob, covering your mouth again. The ring was two slim, twined bands- a black gold string of barbed wire and a white gold shoelace- with a sparkling diamond nestled between them. Alex looked down at it. His voice was low, solemn. “You wrapped me around you so fast it made my head spin. Now, I can’t imagine life without you.” He leveled you with an intense look. “I don’t want to imagine life without you. 

You were nodding vigorously, and he chuckled softly, eyes shining. “What are you saying yes for? You have no idea what I’m about to ask, I could want you to join a cult. Just calm down.”

You laughed, all progress toward putting yourself together hopelessly lost. You were a blubbering mess; shaky, tear streaked, the whole nine yards.

Alex’s face softened as he looked up at you with such adoration that it might break your heart. The roots beneath your skin had overgrown your whole skeleton, every organ. There were nothing but blooms in your body, now- bright, white, sweet flowers. 

“There’s nothing I could ever do to earn your love. But if you let me, I will dedicate my life to just that. Will you make me the absolute happiest, luckiest man in the world and be my wife?” You hadn’t stopped nodding, and you whispered “yesyesyesyesyes” as you launched yourself forward. True to form, you stumbled along the way. Alex, being Alex, was ready for you, anticipating your clumsiness. He laughed, the best laugh you’d ever heard from him and suddenly you realized that the whole restaurant was cheering and clapping and calling out encouragement as he lifted you off the floor and spun you around. 

You kissed him, and felt him smile against your lips. He set you down just long enough to pull the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger with ease. 

“How did you know...?”

“I… may have taken the USB ring from Amsterdam.”

You looked at him incredulously. He gave a rueful smile. 

“Call me a dreamer,” he murmured. Just a trace of nerves tinging his voice. You took his hand in yours, raising it to your lips. 

“I’ll call you anything you want, so long as I can call you mine.”

The grin that split his face was instant and wide. “That was so, so cheesy.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up toward him. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he whispered. He pulled you close, kissing you breathless, people be damned. 

The lilies that had grown to cover your skin all reached up for him as he did. 

[alexrod-dbd]

Alright guys, give me prompts idea please 😫

I wanna get back at writing fanfics but I need a structure to begin with, otherwise I’m gonna have trouble getting into Edwin and Charles’ characters, I just know it.

Writing my own characters or characters based off real people is one thing, writing characters that already exist and are entirely created by someone else is another.

Also, all the other fics I’ve written before were quite long ones, so writing 2-10k is relatively new to me, and this is another reason why I need this structure.

Oh and I’ve never written directly in English before, so, don’t know how I’m gonna do this but here we are

Anyway so please give me some scenes/situations you’d like to read or whatever 🙏🏼

[seneitut]

‘‘Redemption’‘

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Yoru/F!Reader][Slight Gekko/Reader(?)]

Words: 10K

Tags: Fluff, break-up, jealousy, introspection, technicality of the game (Wanted to play with the AFK idea oopsie), NSFW +18, handjob, oral sex, teasing, dom/sub undertones, vaginal sex, more fluff, aftercare.

[Sorry for the wait, I had matters to take care of before posting this and, as you can see, is literally the longest fanfic I’ve written so far so I had to make a lot of revisions before posting it.]

-----------------------------

A few weeks later, Gekko breaks up with you.

Sudden and quick, from what he's been told.

Is surprising how fast the news travels within the few agents who are interested in something so mundane as gossiping inside the protocol. And Yoru is certain he wouldn't indulge in it if it weren't for Jett's loud mouth and perfect timing to witness the event unfolding in front of her very eyes.

The part where she decides Yoru should be the first to get the news was out of his control. Jett made sure the gossip was spread around like wildfire, starting with him and consequently Phoenix, to later on be told to Raze and Killjoy, and like dominoes, it all went downhill.

You didn't deserve something this personal to be vented out like it was nothing, and while he reprimanded Jett for being so careless and stupid for breaking your trust, her apologies wouldn't quell what has already been burnt.

What were the reasons? He asks himself that night. Why did this happen?

There is a faint clink between the tools he switches from hand to hand, discarding the one he doesn't need at the moment, before he goes back to fixing his bike. 

The loose screws and the heavy puffs of breath he exhales are the only sounds accompanying him in the empty room, too deep in thought and simply mulling over what developed in the conversation that culminated in your relationship with Gekko.

Is unhealthy of him to think about your love life when he has nothing to do with it; but Yoru is nothing but a curious human, and as flawed as he might be, the need to know nags him unceasingly. 

Yoru wonders if you ever told Gekko what transpired between you two that night. And if so, wouldn’t he understand that he was the one to take advantage of you? Yoru initiated the approach. He kissed you without asking for your permission—and while it is true that he acted upon impulses and you miraculously reciprocated, he is still to blame and be taken accountability for complicating things.

But if that wasn't the case, if you decided to keep the secret of your little moment of weakness and passion to yourself, has Gekko been planning this beforehand and simply decided to toy with your feelings for this long? Because that wouldn't make any sense.

Gekko has always acted like you were his everything; his light, his moon, his whole world. Gekko always made sure to let everyone know how much he was in love with you, much to Yoru's chagrin, and has been your personal cheerleader at everything since day one.

And now, he decides he's tired of it and breaks up with you without any explanation?

How fucking dare him.

The man is stupid for letting go who could possibly be the strongest and kindest person he's known; just what the fuck was he thinking to break your heart like this? Wasn’t he boasting about your amazing relationship a couple of weeks ago? What changed? Why was he backing off like a coward?

The shock about the separation turns into confusion, which soon boils into pure anger sizzling from the inside of his heart.

Anger is a very known feeling to him, an acquaintance to his impulses when he was younger. When he used to fall under his emotions with no regards to whoever received them, it got him into trouble more often than not, sometimes to the point he would wake up in a hospital bed after a bad beating against Tokyo’s gangs or whoever dared to mess with him.

Was it worth falling under those impulses again, when he has come far and grown from those times?

It is not his place, in truth, to be this angry. You are nothing to him, a friend at most after all. Should he be reeling in anger just because someone hurted you?

No, but he does it anyway.

Inside the rift, everything has its place. Time, space and matter all have their purpose set straight unlike him, who doesn’t really belong in this dimension and he bends them to his liking. When he goes through it, his body feels like it sinks underwater, although his movements are not deterred despite the feeling, it gets overwhelming if Yoru stays for too long. 

Omen has once mentioned how it feels to leave a part of himself everytime he goes through the rift, does it hurt? Can he feel himself tearing apart? He doesn’t, he doesn’t feel any sort of pain, and Yoru wonders if that should concern him or shall not be too worried.

But no matter, that is of no importance right now.

It doesn’t take long for him to find Gekko while running through the base, the tip of his fingers tingling with the want to release some steam and chest heaving with anger seeping off of him. 

Gekko is lounging at the range with Reyna by his side. His whole posture is slouched, head between his hands and avoiding Reyna’s gentle but confused expression.

Both are lucky he doesn’t carry a weapon or else a crime would have taken place at the base. He's bluffing, of course, because he wouldn't dare to harm others severely. 

Yoru wishes he could, though.

For the time being, he will remain inside the rift and watch in silence. If he's going to punch Gekko until he becomes a pulp, he rather do it alone without witnesses. That and he doesn’t want to deal with Reyna’s wrath if she were to be present when he beats the shit out of this scum.

They seem to be talking about something, but it doesn't seem to be escalated enough to label it as an argument but it wasn’t a normal conversation either. 

When he decides to take a closer look, he finds Gekko with a devastated expression on his face and eyes misty with a thin layer of tears. Is shocking, to say the least, being the witness to such an abnormal expression on the usual happy man.

Reyna is frowning, a tight line set on her lips and hand hovering over his shoulder, hesitant whether to touch him or not.

Through the rift, the sounds come garbled and sometimes impossible to discern with the huge gap between the time passing by and him floating in nothingness. Yoru approaches further, cautious, for maybe Reyna might be able to distinguish his soul in between the subtle breaking in the rift.

“Why did you have to break it off, though?” She mutters, a confused expression painting her features. “Las cosas iban bien entre ustedes, ¿no es así?”

Gekko shrugs, not wanting to voice his thoughts.

“She likes you, Teo,” Yoru doesn’t know what’s going on. “She likes you a lot, mijo.”

Gekko’s eyes look downcast, a sad smile tugging his lips.

“She might like me.” he whispers brokenly. “But she doesn’t love me.”

Yoru might be a killing machine on the field and a cold-hearted person towards others if he so desires; he’s been told so many times before. But at this moment, he understands that his anger should be quelled and tone it down a little bit, for he is not the only one who is hurt and he might have misinterpreted the whole situation.

What could be worse, than finding out the person you love doesn't share the same sentiment to the same degree as you do? 

He's gone through the path once, way before meeting you, but never considered himself hurt because he was experimenting with said emotion. Because love is weird, a state in oneself where you are the weakest and he hated feeling like that. 

It was thanks to you he decided to transform this weakness into a strength, despite knowing it could bite his ass one day. Yoru gave in to his desires with you, and he admits you acknowledging his intentions and reciprocating them gave him the sort of euphoria he doesn’t find often in fights.

Gekko is as upset as you might be, more hurt than one might think.

What should he do now?

Staring off into the distance, Yoru thinks emotions are bullshit and way too difficult to deal with.

Gekko and yourself have been a clear example to how far he can go because of some petty feeling like jealousy or lust, and how pathetic it made him act without thinking of the consequences—not like he's cared about that before.

But because of this, Jett has been his shoulder to cry on, and Phoenix his ear to lend when he feels like he cannot handle the mixed emotions into a devastating concoction of overwhelmingness. 

Both have been the key to fix himself up and rebuild after learning of your relationship, despite reassuring with anger that he was fine when it was not true.

His friends are good and he doesn't deserve them, in truth, with how shitty he has been in the past. But for so long he has been denying himself the pleasure to get things that are meant to be his, and this is one of them. 

Yoru will learn to heal and move on, sooner or later, and he hopes he can face you without feeling troubled or confused as to what he wants in life.

Things never get easier from afar.

“Launch site, be there in ten.” Brimstone calls out to him one day. 

To say he scared the shit out of him would be an understatement, choking on his beverage before glaring at the commander with the dirtiest look he could muster. 

He did not hear him coming, even when his loud stomping could be heard from down the hallway, but that is mostly his fault because of his lack of attention and disoriented mind. It should be obvious with the dark bags under his eyes and tired expression that he hasn't been getting enough sleep and was most likely out of it because Brimstone regards him with solemnity.

“It’s Ice box, Yoru.” he mentions. The name of the place alone makes him perk up in attention. “Anomalies have taken place recently, coming from the lab holding onto the samurai's armor.”

What?

“We’ve tracked down a wave of radianite that was ignited on icebox, but we weren’t sure from where exactly.” Brimstone takes out his device, approaching him on the kitchen table and laying it out for him to see. “Cypher was able to narrow it down to A site only, and by the looks of it, we aren’t the only ones who are after it.”

“The omega?” he asks, uncertain. 

“They are approaching rapidly. We need to leave soon.”

That wakes him up, “I’ll be there in ten.”

Brimstone nods and takes his leave.

There is not much time before parting nor question who else was coming to Ice box with them. Not like it matters, but he rather have teammates that will work well alongside him for something as important as this.

Taking his jacket from his room and his butterfly knife, he wonders if the sudden anomaly on Ice box had anything to do with his restless nights for the past weeks.

An incognita were the nightmares that Yoru has had lately. It was never anything clear for him to guess or simply have a vague idea as to what it wanted, but with what Brimstone has told him, a lot of things cleared up. 

Not the whole picture, but it was something to start from.

At the launch site, he encounters Sage and Reyna talking in hushed voices. Both of them regard him with a silent nod and go back to the conversation, but Reyna's eyes never leave his form while he keeps on walking—and if looks could kill, he would be underground in an instant. Yoru does his best to ignore it until he can no longer feel her threatening aura sticking to the back of his neck, and once to a safe distance, he sighs in relief.

Brimstone is at the entrance of the jet carrying an operator, securely strapped to his back, and a few other weapons on the carriage. He seems to be talking to someone inside the vehicle already, handing out the guns and the operator, but can't figure out who.

“Step in, Yoru, we are getting ready.” The commander calls. “I'll coordinate with Sage and Reyna, and we take off.”

Nodding, he enters, but his whole serious façade is gone the moment his eyes land on yours.

Perhaps it had to do with time, or the light working in your favor, but the moment you lock eyes, you literally take his breath away with surprise painting his features. It almost seems like you were expecting him with the way you perk up in excitement as soon as you see him.

Smiling softly, you pat the seat next to yours, beckoning him to approach you. 

“I didn't know you were coming.” He comments, clearing up his throat. “Should've said something.”

“It was a last minute call.” Shrugging, he notices the strap of the operator in arm, but says nothing. “Brimstone was unsure whether to call you in or leave you out of this. But with how things were going, I decided it was for the best if you came and asked him to look for you.”

“Hah, missed me that much?” 

Yoru really never learns, huh. 

Is natural for him to want to tease you, so used to it that now, even after so long without speaking nor crossing words, he has the urge to interact with you this way.

“I did, Yoru.” You answer with honesty. The look in your eyes has him paralyzed, feeling his face flush with the short distance between you two. It reminisces the moment where you first kissed in the kitchen, and that only fuels his embarrassment because it could be so easy to lean in and kiss you again. “I-um, I missed you a lot.”

Brimstone stomps in the jet, raising a brow when he sees Yoru jump on his seat, startling him once again, and fixes his composure before the two of you look at him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, we’re just catching up.” Your hand covers his own hand laying on his lap, squeezing it with gentleness until your fingers intertwine. “Been a while.”

Brimstone nods, going to the cockpit without any further questions. Sage and Reyna follow up next, both of them regarding you two with a respective nod and taking a seat in front of you.

Cowardice isn't a term known by Yoru, scratching it up and dunking it on the trash since he is by no means a coward. But with how heavy Reyna's stare is, burning holes into your gentle but loving clasping hands, he is starting to get why some people are afraid. 

You distract him enough, though, speaking in a soft tone about what has been going on lately and the missions you haven't shared since Lotus—there is no mention of the situation you had when you first kissed, but he is soon to push it to the back of his mind to save you the trouble.

Surprisingly, he is able to maintain eye contact for longer than he expects without embarrassment clouding his senses, following up your peppy conversation with a few grunts and short replies.

Throughout the whole flight, your hand never leaves his.

x    x    x    x

Ice box is just as he remembers. 

Empty, freezing, but with a whole new wave of unknown power radiating from the old labs. 

Yoru gets why Brimstone was so unsure to bring him along. 

The pulsating beckoning of energy was nauseating and tiring; a migraine approaching fastly and making him lose his footing as soon as he steps off the jet.

Sage is there in an instant, clear worry across her features and helping him to stabilize himself. 

“Are you okay?” She asks. Her hands are glowing a soft blue, her healing abilities ready for him if need be. 

Yoru is close to dismissing her help, annoyed to be treated so delicately, but before he could muster a word, a spike of pain strikes his head, groaning in discomfort and his side hits the entrance of the landing. 

Leaving the operator on the floor, you run to where Yoru has fallen to the floor, and grasp him tightly by the shoulders to help him sit comfortably. 

Holding his head between his hands, he grunts, eyes tightly shut and breathing heavily through his nose. His head is pounding horribly, sounds he doesn't know where they were coming from was deafening him heavily that all your voices were melting together in the background. 

He sees the moment the sounds stop completely, mouths moving and actions on going but nothing else. Instead, a gruffing and heavy voice is what resonates inside his brain, like an echo, and a womanly voice accompanies it when they call to him.

‘Come’, they whisper, ‘Come to us.’

Your hand goes straight to his back, caressing him with soothing motions and whispers of gentle words. Respectfully, nothing you are doing helps with his pain nor confusion drowning him. It is kind of annoying, too, but Yoru likes you too much to say something of the sort and lets you do whatever you want.

‘Find him.’

And then it ceases completely. The sounds from his environment come back with a sudden burst he feels his ears sensible with the many voices trying to talk one above the other. Is overwhelming.

“We cannot continue with Yoru in this state.” Brimstone walks up to where Yoru is sitting, patting his back with a strong push. The japanese man holds back an insult at his action. “You’re staying. There is no time to go back and bring someone else to replace you, so stay here.”

“I can still fight-”

“No. And that’s an order.” He nods to Reyna and Sage to go on ahead. “Survey A site, I’ll take mid and we will strike as soon as I give the order.”

Sage glances at him from the corner of her eyes, worried, but complies with Brimstone's request. Reyna follows after her without regarding him at all but with a scoff, vandal at hand and the most graceful walking she could muster.

If Yoru wasn’t in so much pain, he would have laughed to mock her. He can have all the respect for Reyna and her tactical abilities, but to be this childish over whatever she was feeling was ridiculous in his eyes.

Brimstone calls you out, startling you, “Survey B site but don’t push. You’re gonna be alone so we can’t gamble losing a team member this easily, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Brimstone gives a brief glance at him before leaving you two alone.

Grunting, his fist hits the side of the floor, frustrated. The only time where he needs to be in the best shape is ruined by god knows what, that he doesn’t know who to blame it on.

“Yoru, is it okay if I speak this softly? Does it hurt you?” Your hand hovers over his fist, thumb running up and down his spiked knuckles. 

He breathes out harshly, nodding. 

“The enemy team has brought Yoru, too, and the chances of him suffering what you're going through are high.” Hand under his chin, he lets you raise his head gently to lock gazes. The pain subsides for a little bit, enough to have clarity and melt under the beautiful color of your eyes looking at him with so much emotion. “Don't worry about not coming, their Yoru might have to back off from this just like you, so there is no need to worry.”

Kissing the top of his head, you stand up and take your gun back. Reloading the ammo, you strap on the operator and send him a small smile before walking away.

“We'll figure out what happens after we're done, for now take a rest.”

The normality of your actions only furthers his want to go after you, seeing you walk away with a steady step. Nevermind the pain clouding his senses, he cannot help but worry for whatever might happen if you were to stay alone.

And it doesn’t have to do with him doubting your skills, but the inability to do something to help because of some dumb bullshit about the radianite and the armor still under vigilance in the labs.

The voices from before might have something to do with the anomalies, but he isn’t sure whether to trust his guts or just wait for some miracle to happen to figure it out. The headache won’t be going away anytime soon nor the pain racking his whole body, and he isn’t going to stay at the landside where there won’t be any action unfolding.

Standing up slowly, Yoru grunts in discomfort, losing his footing the first try but finding support on the wall the second time. 

He taps on the private line immediately, breathing a sigh of relief when you answer quickly to his call.

“Yoru, what’s wrong?” Your voice comes in rushed, a subtle undertone of worry honeying your words. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come back?”

“I-I’m okay. I need-”

Everything turns black for a second. The single second where all matters and nothing does at the same time.

The numbness on his limbs, the rush of memories, the excruciating pain destroying him from the inside; this all feels familiar and nostalgic, reviving the moment where his life changed and there was no turning back from the powers gifted to him.

‘Look for us', they plead. ‘Find him.'

The moment he blinks the sky greets him with a bright shine, blinding him for a moment and taking his time adjusting to it. Your face comes into view after a few seconds, a frown between your eyebrows and mouth set in a tight line. 

The light from above gives you a crown of light, glowing softly against your skin Yoru might have commented on it if it weren’t for his lucidity and catching his tongue on time.

When he breathes, he doesn’t feel any sort of pain. 

It almost feels like it never was there to begin with, which is surprising given the circumstances.

“Yoru?” Your voice quivers with anxiousness. 

“Hm.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair in a weak attempt to appear cool. “M'fine, just…dizzy.”

“Here, sit.”

You manage to make Yoru sit without any trouble, looking for any signs of injury or distress from his pain early on, but find nothing to worry about. He seems fine, better than before, for sure.

The japanese man pushes you to the side gently, creating enough space for him to stand up and pat down his clothes to clear it from debris or snow sticking to the fabric. You are still watching him like a hawk in case he starts losing his footing, but Yoru scoffs, offended, and walks past where you're kneeling.

“Aren't you coming? We've got a mission to fulfill.” 

Flabbergasted, you blink up at him, mouth opening and closing without any words making it out. 

“Yoru,” you start gently, standing up. “Brimstone was very clear with his instructions. You have to stay here if you are unable to perform.”

“I look fine, don’t I? Let’s go.”

“Wh- Yoru, you couldn’t even stand minutes ago and now you’re acting all tough?” You point at the jet, “Go back. This whole act isn’t cool.”

The wind blows by strongly, ruffling his well kept hair, but no words of daring come from his mouth. Instead, he leans into the side, cocking his head and smirking at your attempt to be bossy.

“Who’s going to make me stay, you?” Giving a dry laugh, he crosses his arms. “Go on, try it, little minx.”

“Don’t make me start, Yoru, or else-”

“Or else what?”

You breathe in heavily, counting to ten inside your head to not snap at him nor disrespect him.

 “You have to follow what Brimstone has told you.” You retort, muttering through clenched teeths. “You stay here because I say so, too.”

“Oh yeah? And when has that stopped me?” 

Spluttering, your anger rises with the tone in your voice, “I have no fucking idea, so stop acting like a fucking brat and stay!”

Not wanting to give him a chance to reply, you turn around and stomp your way to B site just like Brimstone delegated. You hear Yoru walk right behind you, oblivious to your demand, and you cannot help the little vein protruding on your forehead with the anger consuming you.

“Fucking bitch.” You mutter under your breath. Walking backwards, you shout at him. “Is it that hard to listen to instructions?! What is your deal?”

“I can’t leave you alone.” is his reply, which infuriates you more. “I’m good. I will go with you.”

“Do you really not trust my own abilities? Weren’t you the one who said that you all should be more trusting of my skills when we went to Lotus?” Scoffing, you turn your back to him, climbing up the stairs to the kitchen. “Unbelievable, you are truly unbelievable and a hypocrite.”

“It has nothing to do with your ability or not. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Hah! Sure, as if that were all.”

“Would you even stop for a second if I were to say anything else?” Rolling his eyes, he continues. “You cannot even trust me when I tell you I’m fine and now you want me to follow your rules?”

Not even looking at him, you reply, “Yeah! That would be nice!”

“Stop for a second damnit! Listen to me!”

You don’t. You cross the threshold of the kitchen and he runs up to you like a little kid about to throw a tantrum. Taking your hand into his, he tries to make you stop and look at him, but you snatch it away immediately.

“I love you.” he blurts out.

That is enough to stop you dead in your tracks, not giving him a glance nor reply to his words. Yoru feels his face burn with embarrassment but is determined to let his feelings be known after so long. Whether you reciprocate or not, is all up to you. Whether this is the correct place to be outing his feelings, he is not sure.

The contrast of the cold brushing his warm cheeks in gentle breezes sends a shiver down his spine, blaming the weather for the wavering puffs of air coming out of his mouth and not because of the sudden nervousness eating him from the inside. 

After a long minute, that almost feels like many years in his opinion, you resume your walking with him tailing behind you. Yoru wonders if you’ve heard him correctly or perhaps you misunderstood his words. 

“I said I love y-”

“I know.” you interrupt, gaze set straight in front of you. “Gekko told me so but I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t until we kissed that night that I realized I was pretty dumb for not noticing your feelings.”

Yoru would think this was some sort of rejection, not really understanding if you were reprimanding him for kissing you or telling you he loves you when you already know. But looking closely, he sees the tip of your ears redden with each step, refusing to meet him in the eye.

“You should go back to the jet. Brimstone is going to be mad at us.”

“I don't care.”

“Well, you should! I ain't taking responsibility if something happens to you.” 

“I don't need protection nor for you to take responsibility. I'm here right now because you need to know that I love you and I won’t be leaving you alone.”

“Okay! I get it!”

Smirking slightly, he jogs to your side and bumps shoulders with you. You shot him a dirty look, pouting when he finally sees the red on your cheeks is not because of the cold but from his words.

“What about you?” he dares ask.

“What about me?” you echo, annoyed.

Yeah, what about you? Was he expecting to hear the same words of professing love from you? He just wanted to get rid of these thoughts cluttering his brain and distracting him, to be free, in some sort of way. Yoru hopes he didn’t make you uncomfortable with his sudden confession.

Humming, you give him a side glance and a grin, “You sure are very confident for someone who doesn't know what the other feels.” Bumping his shoulder back, you walk ahead of him. “I love you too.”

Oh.

Oh.

You love him.

Having you say those words sparks some sort of hope he buried deep within his heart, digging them back to surface. His face is lit in flames within seconds, and he tries to hide it behind a raised hand and looks the other way to avoid you seeing it.

Is clear he does a poor job trying to conceal his embarrassment and excitement because as soon as you get a glimpse of his face, you laugh brightly, poning his side to mock him. That only worsens his state, face hot and red as a pepper.

Once you two are deep in the kitchen, you take a bold decision.

Pushing Yoru against the halls, your hand tangles behind his head, pulling on his roots and clashing your mouths together on a bruising kiss. Is obvious he wasn’t expecting this kind of action from you because he groans loudly, leaning into the hand pulling at his hair harshly and melting under your liplock with a sigh.

He doesn’t take long to hold onto your waist and turn the tables, caging you against the wall this time and giving you the same treatment of roughness by holding you behind your neck and his left hand grabbing you by the waist, slotting your hips together. 

Is a little uncomfortable being in this position because the operator is still strapped to your back, but Yoru makes it work with bending you to his body and making you forget about the gun when he takes your chin between his fingers and makes some distance. 

Whining, you close the gap once again, not giving him time to take a breath and sticking your tongue inside his mouth to maintain contact. 

He consumes your fire from within like a starved man, sucking on your lower lip and biting it as gently as his hands paws over your whole form, basking in the feeling of your mouths clasped together and the tight hold you have on his hair every time his hands travel to to your backside.

You pull on his hair harshly when his left hand grabs a fistful of your ass and he groans, trying to make distance to breathe in some air, but you gasp loudly when his lips attach to your neck immediately, nibbling on the skin and sucking desperately to mark your skin.

“We need to survey B site, Yoru, let go.” You moan at one particular bite, sighing when his hands try to go under your clothes. You smack his hands away, flustered and a little bit angry. “God dammit, Ryo, not now.”

“Says the one who started this, little minx.” he teases, licking up a strip of saliva from your collarbone to your neck.

Huffing, you push him off of you, resuming your walking with the little dignity you still hold and cleaning the spit in the corner of your mouth. Yoru prides himself in seeing you this disheveled over him, imagining what else could he do if you let him be.

Gotta calm down, now. He doesn’t want to deal with the bad guys with a hard-on now, does he?

“So?” he asks. You blink up at him. “What’s going to happen now?”

“Feelings are difficult, I guess.” Shrugging, you strap off your operator. “I understand why the fraternization rule was made, it only gets in the way of our job. That’s why Gekko and I never worked.”

“Does it, now?”

Brimstone is saying something through the comms, but neither of you pay him any mind. Yoru nudges your side with his arm, and you cannot escape the small smile tugging at your lips.

“We can talk about ourselves later.” is all you say before setting off. “We have all the time in the world, Ryo.”

Smiling, he straps off his Sheriff. 

He likes the way you say his name.

“Whatever, you idiot.”

x    x    x    x

Yoru doesn't want to admit that he was weak throughout the fight. 

Not because of his abilities nor aim—he would fight whoever thinks he whiffs his shots— but because he let the enemies run away in one piece when he had the chance of eliminating them for good.

The excuse of running out of bullets was believable, having only a sheriff and a few reloads while defending the site, and you backing up his report helped a lot. Besides, Brimstone was more focused on his disobedience in a clear order than letting go of the omega agents, so he supposes that was enough of a distraction.

The intel was right, omega Yoru was here, alongside your omega version. It seems like they were set off to lurk while the rest of the team attacked A site and they were to wrap around your base to corner you all. 

It backfired immediately.

Your aim was impeccable, as always. He didn't know you were proficient with the operator but it was no joke when you had the gun in hand and targets to shoot. 

But, in truth, he is tempted to think you let them go, too, because they were injured enough but not dead by the bullets that were fired. 

Your omega version stood in front of omega Yoru, protecting him from the bullets that weren’t coming through anymore. Both of them were bleeding and with wounds that could probably kill them if it were not to be treated correctly and on time.

“Please,” your omega version begs. They have a shorty, only, discarding it to the side to mean no harm. “Take me if you want, but don't touch him.”

Yoru's eyes travels from you to omega Yoru, who is panting harshly behind the other you. The omega snarls, furious, to be witnessed by his mirror to this weak state.

He knows himself, knows the other must feel pathetic and frustrated for not doing more and failing so miserably on this mission. The pride is high and wild, so who better than himself to understand the situation at hand.

Yoru loads his last bullet to the sheriff, and you shrivel up in panic. Your stance hasn't changed, your tattered body still shielding omega Yoru despite the pain and that is something he respects. 

“Should I shoot?” your voice comes from the comms. He knows you're still aiming and watching in silence whatever is unfolding on site, but you don't interfere further than to ask that question. 

“I have it under control.” Is all he answers.

A bullet is shot, and your omega version gasps in unison with omega Yoru when they see the bullet go a few centimeters off the side, not even gracing them.

“What-?”

“Leave.” Yoru straps on his sherriff, taking out his butterfly knife instead to play with it while he waits in silence. When neither of you react, he raises a brow. “Want me to carry you to your own base or what? Leave now before Brimstone comes, he won't be merciful.”

That was their cue to start moving.

You try to carry omega Yoru as best as you could, having his arm around your shoulders and your hand holding onto his jeans for leverage. Giving him a brief glance, you thank him quietly before starting to walk away with urgency.

“Wait.” Omega Yoru tries to turn around, glaring at his alpha version. “It's because of her, isn't it? Is it the same for you?”

You nudge him, eyes pleading for him to keep walking,“Yoru, stop.”

“No. I want to know why.” His mirror grunts in pain, almost colliding against the wall if it weren't for your hold. “I know me. And I know I would have shot if it weren't because of her. So I need to know if it's the same for you.”

Yoru decides to not answer, since everything is already laid out for them. He knows you are listening through the comms, so whatever his answer is, you should've known by now.

“So it is.” he mutters, giving a dry laugh. “This is going to be the death of us one day.”

“Love, let’s go.” Your mirror mutters. He nods, and they take off.

“Ice box is fucking cursed, Yoru.” The other says. “The voices are torturing, trying to be helpful, but this place is cursed for us.”

You never said anything, watching the duo walk away as best as they could with the sun setting in the background. 

The trail of blood they leave behind is the only clue that a battle has unfolded and they were once again victorious, although it felt nothing like a victory to him.

The words from omega Yoru would stay with him, storing the information for future investigation, and haunting him until his next confrontation takes place. 

“I think you did good.” Eating a slice of the apple, you glance briefly at him, interrupting his thoughts. “Letting them go, I mean. I think it was good.”

He scoffs, “I was weak. A mistake I won’t be making again if we encounter them in the future.” 

Shaking your head, you lean your head to the side, “You had mercy on them. I think this is a step that was necessary to take to change the dynamic we’re living in.”

Blinking down at you, he raises a brow, “What do you mean by that?”

Your fingers tap the table in a rhythmic motion, mulling over his question for a moment before replying, “I don’t think it is necessary to be killing them, despite having done so already many times before.” Shrugging, you take another slice. “Call me naive or just a hopeless romantic, but what they had is something I respect a lot. They are humans, too, not just some kind of experimentation we can look over. They…they might have an explanation for the radianite and their need.”

Yoru rolls his eyes with skepticism, crossing his arms with disappointment in his eyes. 

“This is my way of thinking.” You defend. “You can have yours, but we both know that nothing might change unless we are the one’s meddling in the battlefield.”

“You’re willing to risk it all to prove that an amicable relationship can be doable?”

Humming, you nod, “I do.”

“You’re dumb, then.”

“Maybe, but only time will tell if I’m right.”

“Suit yourself.”

Both of you fall in silence, eating from the plate the few slices of apple that are left. Only the buzzing from the refrigerator makes a background noise to cover up the long and suffocating topic that none of you want to touch now. 

Yoru is nervous, you are nervous, but you are too cowardly to take the first step.

Mission aside, what happened at ice box when you kissed again was supposed to be the bridge to start a conversation about what would entail knowing each other’s feelings. One would believe that something might have happened by now, but here you are.

In silence.

“I think I’ll take my leave.” He coughs awkwardly, standing from the chair. “Goodnight.”

It was almost like a mirror situation many weeks ago. Where he leaves and you are left confused, wanting, and you cannot bear the thought of dealing this by yourself again.

When he bids you goodbye, you unconsciously reach for his hand, immediately stopping him from going further and he looks back at you. 

When none of you say anything, you brave yourself through your nervousness to break the distance and take his face with your free hand, caressing his cheek with tenderness. 

Yoru lets you do whatever you want, anxiousness seeping out of him when you tiptoe to reach him and, in an act to fulfill your impulses, you kiss the corner of his mouth with a gentle touch.

The japanese man stifles at the contact, gasping when your lips travel from a mere graze, to groaning when your mouth captures him in a passionate kiss, lips melting together sweetly like honeycomb.

You hold him like you desire to be devoured completely; reaching, grabbing and tugging everywhere until his body engulfs yours against the counter of the kitchen and you hold onto his shoulders for leverage. His hands rise goosebumps under your clothes, big palms caressing the skin on your back, racking down his nails until he feels your shudder. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this was wrong of you to do. If Gekko would mind you chasing after what you really want despite having failed him miserably while together. 

Gekko is none the wiser, your brain supplies, and you hope it stays that way. 

You tug playfully at his lower lip with your teeth before diving to get more of him, mouths slotting together on a more profound kiss and tongues fighting to claim dominance. It is then that any rational thought goes out of the window.

His hand finds purchase on your hips, yours tugs at his hair, earning a groan from him which you immediately swallow with greed. Yoru has half the mind to think about what he's doing when his hand brushes your thighs and pulls you up until you're seated on the counter. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless. 

Yoru's mouth kisses every inch of skin to his availability, sucking on your neck with want until you have your head thrown back, enticing him to mark every part of you. 

“We should stop.” He begs, but his actions betray his words when he rolls his hips against your core, cock twitching inside his pants. You whisper his name, returning the favor and caging him between your legs. 

You can feel his erection even through all the clothing between your bodies, lust clouding your mind with nothing but the good sensations despite feeling guilt gnaw at the pit of your stomach.

That does not deter you from purchasing the euphoria coursing through your body when you rock your hips again, his clothed cock rubbing deliciously against you till the point your words get slurred.

This is not the right place for this kind of situation to be unfolding. You both are too exposed for anyone to walk into, and the least he wants is to show the other agents the boner he is sporting right now. Besides, he is sure to go feral with anger if anyone dares to see you this disheveled and flustered. 

This sight is for him alone.

Claiming his mouth, your hand let go of his hair to reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly. Yoru freezes when your hand goes into his trousers to grab at his dick shamelessly, thumb running over the head of his cock. Gasping, he hides his blushing face in the crook of your neck, hips thrusting in tandem to your slow pumps to rile him up. 

“You feel so hot.” you whisper in his ear. He bites your neck and sucks on the skin to have his mouth occupied. “You are so hard, love.”

He gasps when you twist your wrist and your thumb runs over the head of his cock again, spreading the pre-cum and messily using it as a lube to pump your hand faster on his shaft. You feel him twitch in your hand when you accelerate the pace and tremble when his warm breath hits your cheek in gasps. 

“Faster…” he mutters, groaning. The timbre of his voice lowers a few octaves, and it's of immediate urgency to keep listening to more. “Shit, go faster.”

You indulge in his request, hand moving to a faster pace, and feeling the veins protruding on his cock between your fingers. Your mouth glues to his neck, nibbling it softly and biting down, hard, until a mark is visible against his pale skin. 

The schlik-schlik sounds in the background are filthy to the ears, Yoru feels his face flush up with embarrassment to have been reduced to a puddle of lust and trembling legs from the overwhelming sensations.

Pushing him away, Yoru groans in frustration because he was close to being ripped to the seams with the upcoming orgasm. The momentum is gone, and he is not sure whether to be angry at you or beg you to please keep going.

But by the time he decides what to do, you’re already on your knees, pulling down his pants until his member is freed from its confines and your mouth sucks on his cock with an invigorated enthusiasm that has him grasping the counter for leverage.

His right hand goes to the roots of your hair, pulling and pushing your head in tandem with the thrusting of his hips. Yoru abuses your mouth to his liking, chasing after the little fire burning him on his lower abdomen and to let loose. 

Groaning, his eyes roll to the back of his head when your tongue comes into play, licking the underside of his dick with each stroke of your mouth. Yoru leaves your head to hold his weight with both of his hands onto the counter, knees weak and breath taken away.

You use your hand to keep the stimulation going, giving you time to catch some air and glare at him from down there. Despite having his face flushed, sweat rolling down his temple and trembling under your touch, he dares smirk at you, as if he has gotten away with something he’s been wanting to do for a long time.

“You fucking brat.” you whisper, mouth latching onto the side of his cock and your free hand toying with his balls.

Yoru whimpers, he fucking whimpers, the moment your mouth sucks on the head of his dick and your hands wrap around the rest of his member with fast strokes, bobbing your head up and down, and timing it with his weak thrusts, you hum, vibrations running up his cock deliciously.

You try to close your legs while kneeling, trying to get some friction to alleviate the pressure on your lower belly and the need to touch yourself; but you are prioritizing Yoru’s pleasure above else right now, enjoying his salty taste in your mouth and gulping down the pre-cum gathering with your spit.

“Fuck!” he curses. His hips stutter wildly, head thrown back and eyes closed when the sudden rush of euphoria courses through his body. 

Yoru cums inside your mouth moaning your name and gasping for air.

He holds your head with a tight grip, spurting his seed inside your mouth in big spurts until you have no other option but to swallow it, choking on his cock when the tip hits the back of your throat. 

Yoru rides his orgasm as if his life depended on it, breathless and hitting a high point where his noises couldn’t be contained. 

Backing off, Yoru slides down next to you, breathing heavily and slumping against your form in defeat and burrowing his head on your neck, nuzzling it affectionately. Is funny how he seeks physical contact like a little cat, voiceless and going for it.

You’re coughing up harshly, part of his cum still drooling to the side of your lips.

“You owe me one.” You say, knocking your heads together. 

He only hums, satisfaction oozing out of him, and cleans the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“You can cash in right now, baby girl.”

Trembling, you look to the side, bashful, “Don’t get all flirty with me now.” Giving him a brief glance, you blush when you see his dick still out of his pants and butt naked against the floor. “You fucking idiot, put on your pants!”

Yoru laughs softly, nuzzling your neck and kissing the pulse with gentleness. You can’t help but sigh at his change in demeanor.

“I’ll do so if you promise to come to my room with me.” his lips caress the shell of your ear, kissing it. You give a surprised giggle at that. “Hm, what do you say?”

x    x    x    x

The moment your back hits the bed, Yoru is taking your pants away, pulling them with carefulness but urgency in his actions until you are bare from the waist down. He messily takes your shoes, too, and you save half the work by unbuttoning your shirt and unclasping your brassier so you can be bare for him.

Yoru is grunting, snarling almost like an animal, when he pounces on you and his lip attaches to your neck with ferociousness, biting and sucking harshly on the skin till it reddens. He makes room between your legs, your glistering folds rubbing against his jeans while he cages you against the bed and devours you with hunger.

Your hand tugs at his hair, finding out that he seems to like the rough treatment as much as you do, and your legs closes around his waist, grinding against him in search of some friction to alleviate yourself.

His right hand palms over your breast, fingertips running over your nipples while his mouth makes way to your other breast, sucking in with the same fervor he did with your marked neck. Biting softly on your nipple, his tongue flattens against your skin, licking it up and sucking until you curve your back, shrieking from the sudden action.

“Again-!” You plead, hips stuttering, and hands holding onto the sheets by your head. “Again, Ryo, please.”

He does as you say. Mouth sucking on your breast while his hand toys with your nipple. The left hand that was holding onto your waist goes straight to your core, fingers pressing against the outer lips but not entering, teasing you with gentle strokes, pads running softly over your clit but is not enough.

You need more.

“Ryo, I swear to fucking god if you don’t put that mouth to work I’m going to kill you.” Grabbing him by his hair, you pull, hard, and the motherfucker has the nerve to give you a cheeky grin, licking his lips. 

“You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Yoru moves out of the way until he is sitting on the floor right next to the bed, and with a strong pull, he takes your legs to rest above his shoulder and hands hold you by the waist tightly.

Before you could utter a word, nervous, he dives into your pussy, licking up a stripe with harshness that has you trembling under his touch. You moan his name shamelessly, gasping for air when he sucks on your little nub of nerves and his fingers prod on your entrance.

Coated in your juices, two of his fingers slide in easily, pumping them in and out slowly, and dragging his pads against your walls and timing it with his sucks. Being pressed between your legs and eating you out has to be one of the best things in the world, and he cannot begin to describe how aroused and hard you’re making him with your taste and moans coming from your mouth.

Your hands tangle in his hair, swapping between pulling at his roots or pushing his head to drown in your folds. Your hips are moving against his mouth erratically, riding in the feeling of his fingers and tongue on your pussy, wearing you down with each stroke of his appendage.

“Ryo, Ryo- Ah!” Head thrown back, you gasp when his fingers leave your hole to replace it with his mouth, tongue abusing your entrance rapidly and fingers going to your clitoris to rub them in tandem.

Stars were starting to cloud your vision, feeling the tight knot on your belly so close to snapping you can feel the orgasm tethering on the brim. Your hands travel to your chest, touching yourself with eagerness while being watched by your lover. You can almost feel his smile against your pussy, enjoying the show, which only riles you up.

But before you could combust and cum all over his face, Ryo makes distance, pushing you away but not before giving a last lick to your outer lips, legs trembling on each side of his face, that he smirks up at you.

“We haven’t finished yet, little minx.”

Furious for being denied of your climax, you punch him in the chest, “Fucking shit, Ryo! I was so fucking close-”

“Shhh,” he silences you, kissing your mouth with your taste on his tongue. He looks disheveled, raw, it makes you drip with want. His hands hovers over your perky nipples, flicking them with a devious smile playing on his lips. “It only gets better now.”

He strips down easily, throwing his jacket to the side of the bed while taking his shoes off. Pulling down his pants, you see his cock fully erect and bouncing slightly against his abs, flushed red with the tip smeared with his pre-cum. 

He pumps his cock a few times, pushing you against the mattress and devouring the sight as if you were a meal.

His chest is pressed against yours, leaning down to gently lay his lips to yours, and holding his weight with both of his arms on either side of your head. Yoru doesn't notice your tiny hand making its way to his cock, too concentrated on your lips and the hand pulling on his hair.

Guiding his dripping cock to your entrance, you open your legs to accommodate him easily and, with the help of your legs, you push him inside.

The head of his member breaches your entrance, a shiver runs down your spine when he bullies his way inside you slowly, walls clamping down on him and pulsating with lust running down your veins. 

Yoru groans in unison with you when he's fully in, your legs holding him in place to make the feeling of being connected this deeply last longer.

Touching your face, Yoru rests his forehead against yours, breaths intermingling in soft pants. Cupping his face, your thumbs run down his cheekbones, looking deeply into his eyes before kissing his lips in a soft peck.

“I love you,” You whisper, eyes clouded with love and affection. Smiling, he kisses your cheek.

Yoru slowly distances himself, pulling his hips away until the tip of his member is the only thing still in contact with your vagina, before thrusting hard into you. The sound of skin against skin is deafening, dirty and exciting for both who are enjoying this act of love, jolting with waves of .

His hips continue to move in a slow but steady rhythm, causing your begs and moans to rush out of your mouth hurriedly. Yoru is nothing but giving, accelerating the pace to your liking and watching in amusement the change in expression on your face.

Shouting his name, Yoru can't take it anymore. The speed increases, pelvis against pelvis, sweat rolling down your chest and seeing your breasts bounce with each thrust into your cunt only makes him lose control.

Nevermind the soft and calm Yoru from before, the moment your moans got to him is when he finally lets loose his mouth.

“You like that, huh? You fucking slut.” Grunting, he raises your legs to rest on his shoulders and bends you over in half. You can’t help but whine in embarrassment because of this position and the words uttered by him. “I bet Gekko didn't fuck you like this, right? I bet he doesn't even know how to please a woman.” 

Your walls clench painfully around his cock at his words. Yoru's eyes roll to the back of his head when your entrance gets tighter, sucking him in. With one of his hands, he starts masturbating you with fast flicks of his wrist, timing it with his thrusts rapidly. 

“Does he even know how good you taste? Or how filthy you are, sucking cock like a desperate whore?” Licking up your neck, he whispers in your ear, “Imagine if he were to see you like this, being fucked by me and cumming around my cock.”

“Ryo, I'm so close, please, so close!” You gasp, feeling your climax approach rapidly with how good Ryo is drilling into you.

“I'm going to fill that pussy of yours with my cum so everyone will know you belong to me.” he warns, a wicked smile tugging on his lips. “I'm going to mark every inch of your body as mine, understood? You’re going to be a good girl and take it all.”

Nodding, your hands hold onto his back, nails running down his back in an attempt to ground yourself, “Your good girl, yes-”

Yoru grunts heavily, loading his cum inside of you and fucking his seed deep inside with weak thrusts, riding his orgasm with closed eyes and mouthing your neck with lovebites. You follow soon after, the stimulation of his cock pushing in his cum and his fingers pressing against your clit is enough to send you over the edge and finally break, moaning his name and hips stuttering with the waves of the climax.

Slumping on top of you, he breathes heavily, trying to get in some air and enjoying the post-orgasmic experience with your hands brushing the hair out of his face gently.

You kiss the top of his head, smooching your way down until all you can reach is his forehead. He hums, raising his eyes and locking gazes silently.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Sticking your tongue out, you pinch on the bare skin of his shoulder, making him jolt in surprise and glare at you with a pout. 

Yoru hovers over your body, resting his body weight on his arms and gives you a peck on the lips before standing up and going to the adjacent bathroom to bring a wet towel. Rolling to your stomach, you cross your arms under your head and watch him walk around freely and naked, admiring the view immensely.

His muscles ripple when he bends over to reach for the towel, watching his back with the mark of your nail alongside scars from past battles. You’ve never noticed, but Yoru with his hair down was a whole nother person to see, giving his sharp features a softer look with his hair framing his eyes and a boyish look that has you melting on the inside.

When he sees you ogling him shamelessly, he can’t help the flush on his cheeks and shyness for being this vulnerable in front of you. He throws the towel to your head to distract himself; that body of yours is enticing in every way possible, and he doesn’t want to look too eager to keep going.

“You’re a degenerate, clean yourself up.”

Laughing, you take the towel and lay down between his pillows to clean between your legs carefully. “Says the pervert who called me, what was it? A whore for your cock? A slut? Your words were colorful there, Ryo.”

Yoru grunts, sitting next to you on bed and stealing the towel from your hands. He makes you scoot closer and starts scooping out the cum oozing from your vagina with gentleness and avoiding it touching his sheets. 

The pressure he applies is enough to spark a new wave of heat on your lower abdomen, biting your lower lip to refrain from sighing out loud when the fabric stimulates you.

His fingers clean the remaining of both of your cum with a gentle brush, fingers caressing around your clit softly and watching your flustered expression focus on what his hands are doing.

Wanting to tease you, he applies pressure on the little nub, making circular motions to heighten the tension and sees you throw your head back. You whine, hips raising to seek the touch desperately. Moving your hand on top of his, you guide his movements from up and down, making his thumb tease your hole and your hips roll against both of your hands.

“Someone wants more of this pervert.” He mutters.

“Ryo…”

Kissing your legs, he licks his lips, discarding the towel to the side and making his way to your core slowly.

“Here comes round two, love.”

[ms-moonlight-inn]

“Shame-proof” DVD Commentary

Thank you to @shamelessdvdcommentary & to the anon to requested us (whoever you are, we love you!). My bestie @notherenewjersey & I are here to answer all of your burning questions (do you have the syph? why's it burning? it's not supposed to burn.)

Anyway, here's our stuff... hopefully it'll help with that itchy burny.

Which fanfic is your DVD commentary about?

“Shame-proof” is about two childhood actors who lose contact with each other after their series wraps. Quickly, we find out that Ian had been harboring a deep crush on Mickey, who had basically been bullying Ian the whole time. Confessions & apologies ensue.

Also, a friend called it an undercover RPF... and if that’s how you choose to look at it, well we’re not gonna stop you.

NJ–  it COULD be RPF but that’s not how it was written. We weren’t imagining Cam or Noel’s childhoods here, aside from what we stole of Mickey’s back canon that Ian watches as he pines.

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

The outline started on 4/16/24. 22887 words posted. Posted for the Summer Camp project on 8/3 but we were done before that.  Moonlight was convinced it would be 10k but I knew it was bigger. And this was without us going down every rabbit hole we saw. It’s 8 chapters, most of the chapters start with a flashback to the past and then jump to the “present.”

Moonlight– seriously, NJ dragged me away from some other HC I had kicking around, & we dove into this one instead.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

I read Jeanette McCurdy’s book, and as with any time I read anything, my brain said “What if this was Gallavich?” I know Moonlight is an L.A. girl, so I knew I wanted her input. I think I had a rough outline already when I looped her in, but she immediately took what I had and expanded and deepened it, as she always does.

Moonlight– God it’s so much fun to talk trash about all the things you grew up with & around. Los Angeles is filled with opportunities for trash talking. LOL 

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

This didn’t start out as either of us deciding to stay in Ian’s POV, but in order to keep Mickey’s motivations a little more opaque, we landed there. Until the latter chapters, at least. For the drama.

Moonlight– No further comment.

What was your favourite scene to write?

All of them? I like Sue so much, and I love writing Frank’s bullshit. RuPaul is fun, too. 

Moonlight– I’ve got two favorite scenes. The first is the scene where they’re kids doing the campground episode. I adored the moments of discovery Ian had there –figuring out that trees existed in southern California, figuring out that he had a serious crush on Mickey, and then the boy he meets on set as he’s running away from his problems. (BTW, 10 punk rock points to anyone who knew the song before I remembered to add a link).

The other scene I loved writing was the rimming scene. In the outline NJ said, “they get together in the sexiest and most romantic way.” And I wanted to throw my laptop at her face. SERIOUSLY, what the actual fuck?! So I got them all the way up to the part where Ian’s naked and stalled out for, like, two weeks. I was on a call with @mybrainismelted saying, “I’m stuck on this scene. I’ve managed to get one dick out, but I haven’t quite figured out how the other one’s gonna get naked AND STILL KEEP THIS BULLSHIT SEXY AND ROMANTIC.” Needless to say, I figured it out. 😁

NJ– Yup! That was, I think, the entire outline for that chapter, originally. One line. I knew that’s what happened at that point in the story, why bother with details? LOL

How did you come up with the title?

Oh geez. Trying to come up with both an AU of Shameless AND a reboot name, both of which would sound semi-natural was tough! But Shame-proof is more than just the title of a fake TV show. It also speaks to how Ian and Mickey were able to finally live wholly as themselves. No more hiding, nothing left unsaid. Without shame, shameless in the very best ways.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I always throw things in. We both do. But hopefully, readers who haven’t read either our individual or joint back canon can still enjoy the story.

Moonlight– See easter egg question.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

No.

NJ– if one of us is stuck, the other usually isn’t or can jostle the other into being unstuck. We’re good like that.

Favorite line in the story?

NJ– @gallavichgeek pointed out two of my favorite lines, but I will repeat them here because … yeah. 

“Hey, come back,” Mickey says softly.

“I’m still here,” Ian answers, a little confused.

“Yeah, but all of you. M’ not ready to let any of you go a moment sooner than I hafta.”

***

“I’d say,” he hesitates, then goes on, “that someday you’re gonna get everything you ever wanted. That all the bad shit, the bullshit, and the pain, it’ll all be worth it.” 

***

If I crash, I’m coming back to haunt you, Ian had answered.

If you crash, I’m diving in after you.

***

Moonlight– “What the fuck? How ‘bout double-dutch no with a cherry on top.” Mickey steadily refuses. (Anytime Mickey is being creative with his cursing & curses is a good time. Bad language & mockery are his love languages.)

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) 

All of it? It’s a great story. 

Moonlight– I’m also proud of the structure we used. It was NJ’s choice to do what basically amounted to two mini chapters in one –past & present colliding, if you will. And it worked so well for this storyline. 

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story?

Not deleted, so much as we had ideas that didn’t make it to fully fleshed for the final draft.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a character’s head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

NJ– It’s important for people to know that Mickey in the past was protecting Ian so much more than he was protecting himself, with his bullying behavior. 

Moonlight– God, yes. 

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

NJ– I want more of Ray, more of Sue, more of the Random Studio Infant now grown up. More of Sheila and of Kermit. I want the world to be fuller. And maybe it will, eventually.

Moonlight– Def’ more Ray, he’s funny & I’m sure he & Ian had so many stupid adventures. I think I’d like to see a few of the conversations between Ian & Mickey, but I struggle with that ‘cause I love when there is that air of mystery to a storyline. I don’t necessarily want to be told everything. But I think at least one of those late night conversations we reference would be nice to see.

NJ– yeah, we did have a time limit so some of the scope got condensed. I agree, those conversations would be incredible to see/hear. 

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

Well…. This story has legs. It has scope beyond what you’ve seen. I have believed, since the outline began, that this was the fic that would make the leap to traditional publishing. Moonlight and I are hoping to expand it and bring it to a publisher. “It’s a crossover between Shameless, I’m Glad My Mom Died, and RWRB.” Who wouldn’t wanna read that? LOL The Gallagher family will shrink a little, Terry will still be his monstrous self. So no, there won’t be a traditional fic sequel. But if we’re all very, very lucky, there will be an expanded version that scratches the same itch.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

The Saint Christopher’s medallion that Ian receives from Mickey? Yeah, the person I wrote that for knows it was for them. 🫶 

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

By far NOT our most popular story. Yet.

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

I HATE waiting to post- posting a fic like this where it’s all done upfront is hard for me, emotionally. So I was beyond excited for people to read it and love it as much as we do!

Moonlight– NJ really hates not posting immediately. Like, really hates it. This fic was written for the @gallavich-fic-club Summer Camp Event & we had to wait our turn. Which she HATED. 🤣 

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

Can we count each other? I’m a genuine writing freak- fast, thoughtless, and I rarely edit beyond typos. (many of which elude me and still end up in the final draft.) Moonlight is the opposite- she’s incredibly deliberate and also deeply and passionately devoted to the editing process. When we edit together, it can look a little argumentative, but we trust each other, so a lot of those conversations end up like, “I don’t see the issue, but I trust your judgment.” We both say it all the time.

Moonlight– D’aw, bb. You’re making me blush. You’re right, I am a meticulous asshole, but your brain is fast & witty. Together, we write good shit. 

NJ-- Also, god the verb tenses in this story gave me fits. I am a grammar nerd, so is Moonlight. But skipping between tenses for the past and present when we wrote straight through- she never had an issue but I regularly was in the wrong tense and had to go back and fix, cursing my own self the whole time. Loudly. Often on the phone with Moonlight. 

Moonlight– 🤣🤣🤣 yeah…

If any one has any comments, words of praise, complaints you’d like to register with our headquarters, please let us know. 

NJ - in the greatest detail, if you’d be so kind.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

Moonlight– Yes, the cheese sledding story is based on semi-true events. The guys at my high school used to carry large blocks of ice to the top hill of the local golf course & ride them down. Years later, a dorm mate I knew in grad school told us about his Vermont cheese tour where he saw “giant wheels of cheese” that he swore he could use as a mode of transportation. And so, the cheese sledding story was born. 

NJ-- And I made sure it was at Trump’s golf course because a few years back, a man in New Jersey did some fun vandalism like that and I find it deeply satisfying.

🧀🛷 

[dojunie]

into you; hrj [sneak peek]

[★]; YOU LIKE HUANG RENJUN MORE THAN YOU’VE PROBABLY LIKED ANYTHING IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. Sure, you've only been more than friends for like, two weeks— a title-less thing that has you hanging out nearly every day but still hovering in the gray space between people who kiss sometimes and something a little more concrete— but it didn’t take you long to realize that he's pretty much everything you've ever wanted. What you’ve got going on with him right now is perfect in its own way, even if you find yourself almost overwhelmed with how much you like him these days… but considering that Renjun seems perfectly fine with the way things are, you’re not really gunning to tell him that.

(Though, after an incident at a party has you blowing up on your ex for a less than savory dig at your relationship— however unofficial it may be— you might not have to tell Renjun anything at all.)

info;

huang renjun x fem!reader

college au but no learning is going on

oneshot

genre/about; friends-who-kiss-sometimes to lovers, semi-established relationship but much pining is to be had, mc is Smitten, the full fic will have nsfw elements

teaser wc; 1k / full fic wc; 8-10k…ish (5k already written, woo, short fic era incoming)

[a/n: here is a very brief peek into a renjun fic that came to me in a fever dream, the one i’ve been working on non stop for like four days straight!!! renchins and others pls leave your thoughts in the replies or send me an ask, i beg]

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YOU'VE SIMMERED DOWN EVEN FURTHER BY THE TIME YOU'VE GOTTEN INSIDE HIS APARTMENT AND TAKEN A LONG, HOT SHOWER; scouring both the party and Jihoon’s touch from your skin, the nearly burning water is a welcome cleanse from the nights earlier events. (Though, if you’re being completely honest, the reason your face is so warm isn’t only because of the heat.)

Upon opening the front door and hustling inside, not a second had passed after toeing off your shoes off before Renjun spun you around kissed you.

And it wasn’t— It wasn’t rare for him to kiss you first. You didn’t want to make it seem like you had to chase him down for a smooch. But Renjun, as you’d guessed from his personality even before you started dancing around each other like this, was much more reserved than you were. He chose his moments for affection purposefully; a hand held here, a kiss on the cheek there, or (on more delicate occasions) a press of his lips against yours, mainly whenever you’d drop you off late at night, a quiet goodbye whispered against your mouth.

So it wasn’t rare but it wasn’t an exact science either, which is precisely why you didn't know what was happening until it was already over. The giant, dopey smile on his face only served to explain that he’d known exactly what he was doing by surprising you like that, and you held back the urge to launch yourself at him.

“That was my thank you,” Renjun started airily, teasing but still looking a little pink around the edges himself, “For trying to fight someone twice your size on my behalf. No one’s ever done that for me before. However, I would be very happy if you never did it again, because if you got hurt I would be very mad. Do you understand?”

You only stared at him. Your lips were tingling. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured. “Do you want to shower first?”

“…Yes,” you said lowly, finaly finding your voice. God. “Yeah. You take forever.”

“Well then I’ll get you something to change into,” he said. Then, terrifyingly, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you again— but right when he was close enough for your eyes to cross, waiting, waiting, unwilling to not be ready this time— “What are you waiting for?" he whispered. "You’re blocking the closet. Go.”

He laughed when you ran, cursing him the whole way. 

Once you were out, sufficiently clean and doused head to toe in Renjun’s clothes (despite the fact that after like, the tenth time you’d been here, you brought a change of clothes to keep in his closet for spontaneous nights exactly like these), you found yourself both alone and introspective for the first time since the Jihoon incident. It was only expected that your mind would wander to how you got yourself to this point in the first place, draped across the couch of a guy you hadn’t even known the name of three months ago—

And it had started as a seating chart.

Seating charts were always a risky game. You could either be stuck next to the too-loud or the too-quiet, the cheaters with wandering eyes or the chatty kids who didn’t understand that class wasn’t only for socializing— or you could be put near an angel, someone would end up changing your life in a way that you never would have expected from that first day of classes. 

Thankfully, in Chinese Literature 201, it was the latter.

Renjun was a Language Study major; the pretty guy with soft brown hair, a pair of big silver glasses perched on his face and a sweet little smile to match— the quiet student who sat across the aisle from you in the lecture hall. Being dismissed by row after collecting your midterm practice grades meant that, out in the lobby, he had a front row seat to catch you pulling your hair out over your less than desirable grade— and seemingly out of nowhere, he tapped you on the shoulder and asked if you wanted a little help. Grateful (and frankly terrified by the idea of failing Chi Lit and having to take it again if you bombed this midterm), you’d taken him up on his offer: three times a week in the Sulim Library from 6 to 8PM.

The rest was pretty much history.

You got to know him outside of just flashcards and extra assigned readings, learned that he liked to sing and did ballet for four years in high school and hated the taste of matcha anything. You learned who his friends were and what he liked to do on campus. Renjun wasn’t like any guy you’d— actually no, scratch that, he wasn’t like any person you’d ever met before. He was quiet, but he wasn’t shy. He was able to shut you up with startling accuracy; an ability your friends even found miraculous when you told them after the first few tutoring sessions, a dumb smile on your face and swinging your feet, that you’d finally found someone who could argue better than you could.

Renjun could bring a smile to your face by saying your name alone. He was nice and he was sweet and he was thoughtful, but he had a temper that matched yours and the most endearing frustrated face you've ever seen on another person.

You often left his side feeling almost ill with awe that one person could be so… perfect. As awfully mushy as that sounds.

Thankfully, after a few weeks of woo-ing him with your roguish charm, when you bit the bullet and told him you liked him, he replied with a smile and a challenge— because Renjun was nothing if not focused on the goal of actually tutoring you— he told you that if you passed the midterm with a grade of B or above, he’d let you take him on a date.

Easy fucking money. There wasn’t a chance you were going to let this opportunity slip away from you. You studied so hard for that test that for nearly six days you only came out of your room to eat and pee. 

(You got a 96%— A big, beautiful red A+ on the midterm and a professors recommendation for your accompanying essay. Renjun only later told you that the alternative to a good grade was him taking you out instead, the prick; and he laughed so hard at the look on your face that you thought he was going to throw up.)

[a/n; crying screaming i'm so excited to post this lol]

[will put full fic link here when posted] [other works]