#air of confidence (is it a façade or not who knows neither do i) and everyone surrounds him bc he’s so magnetic

[gothsuguru]

demure yet alluring suguru… you have Bewitched me

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Bᴀᴅ ɪɴꜰʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ

➜ Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x reader

➜ Synopsis: The spiral of smoke faded into the night sky. You shouldn't be doing this, something that could easily get you and Anakin in such deep trouble, but you just couldn't help it, not when he was looking at you so sweetly.

➜ Warnings: Gn!reader, padwan!Anakin, heights, smoking, weed, mentions of fire, fluff

➜ Word Count: 1.2k

➜ Notes: I have never smoked weed in my life, and it shows lmao

Sᴛᴀʀᴡᴀʀs Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

“Have you ever done this before?” You asked him as you lit the blunt. Your legs swinging over the ledge of the abandoned building the two of you always met on top off. The view of Coruscant was perfect from this spot at night. It made you feel on top of the world, like you could see everything as you looked down at the city lights that twinkled brightly before you.  

Anakin looked at you uncertainly from where he was sitting next to you, his nerves showing through his façade of confidence.  

“No...”

“Well, I’m glad your first times with me then,” you said, your tone playful and light. You looked at him, turning more serious. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want too though.” You didn’t want to push him into something he didn’t truly want to do.  

“No, no its fine. I’d like to try it at least once,” he told you reassuringly  

“You sure?” you checked  

“I can never say no to you Y/N.” His answer made you blush and look away, focusing on the blunt in your hand instead, and clearing your throat awkwardly. He always seemed to know exactly how to get you flustered.  

“Okay well, um, just watch me I guess,” you said as you brought the blunt to your lips and inhaled, then moved it away. You waited for a moment before exhaling it all out, watching as the smoke drifted into the cool night air. You passed him the blunt once you were done, and he took it from you, bringing it to his lips and mimicking what you’d showed him.  

Before he could even exhale the smoke fully, he began coughing, “How was that?” He choked out, and you laughed at him.  

“It was prefect,” you teased  

Just like you, a voice in your head whispered out, and although you couldn’t disagree with it, you pushed the thought away quickly and turned your attention back to Anakin. Who now had a smirk plastered on his face, letting you know, that he had also heard your thoughts.  

“I’m not perfect,” he said, and you shot him a glare, your cheeks turning a light pink as you realized he was in your head again.  

“I don’t think that’s a very appropriate use of the force Skywalker,” you scolded him teasingly, although you were embarrassed that he had heard that thought. Anakin held up his hands in mock surrender, the gesture accompanied with an eye roll at the use of his last name.

“I deeply and sincerely apologize L/N.” He snipped back. This was a routine the two of you often went through, and every time you found yourself wishing that you could use the force and read his mind as well, see if he felt the same way about you that you felt about him.

Sometimes he would flirt with you, although you were never sure if he was doing it as a joke or if he was serious about the things he said. When you really thought about it, it hurt. I mean he was flirting with you as a joke even though he knew how you felt about him? Real asshole move.  

“You really should stop thinking those things about me when you’re around me if you don’t want me to find out, you know.” His eyes were full of amusement as he spoke to you and it was your turn to roll your eyes at him now, taking the blunt from him and taking another hit.  

“Really? Maybe you should stop coming into my head uninvited. It's not very Jedi-like of you after all, is it?” You replied sarcastically.

“Neither is sneaking out to do weed with a friend at eleven at night,” he replied and you smirked.  

“As long as you don’t get caught,” you teased.

A comfortable silence settled between you as you passed the blunt back and forth, smoking more then you probably should have on a Wednesday night.  

“Obi wan thinks you’re a bad influence.” Anakin blurted out suddenly, breaking the silence that had surrounded the two of you.  

Your head snapped towards him, eyes wide in horror as you replied, “Your master knows about me?!”

“Well, he knows of you, and that were friends, and that we hang out sometimes,” seeing that his words didn’t quiet quell your worry he quickly added, “he doesn’t know when I sneak out to see you, or that we do this kind of stuff.”  

You let out a small ‘oh’ before going quiet, your thoughts refocusing on Anakins first point. It soured your mood a bit. If his master thinks I’m a bad influence then what does he think of me? You thought to yourself.  

You didn’t say anything for a moment and it made Anakin anxious as he watched you spin the blunt around in your fingers, obviously thinking about his words.  

“Do you think I’m a bad influence?” you finally spoke and Anakin sighed.

“I don’t think you you’re the best influence on me...” you nodded in understanding, and took another hit of the blunt before snuffing it out on the ground next to you. He could feel the weed beginning to kick in and so could you, “I don’t really care though. You’d never force me into anything, not that you could if you tried,” he slightly smirked at his own words, “I-”  

“Anakin,” you said, catching his attention and cutting him off. As he turned to you, he realized he really liked the way you said his name.  

You took a deep breath before continuing. You definitely shouldn’t be saying this, but you were high. Really fucking high, and you did not have the heart to stop yourself. “I like you a lot, more than I probably should, and in a more then a friend's way. I know that Jedi can't have romantic relations and stuff. I’m pretty sure you already kno-”  

Your confession was cut short as his hands cupped your face, and pulled you towards him, connecting your lips. Your eyes widened in shock, because Anakin Skywalker was kissing you. He was kissing you and kissing you the way you had dreamed he would. With all the passion and love that you had dreamed his kisses would be filled with.

Your eyes slipped closed and you kissed him back. One of Anakin's hands went down, finding its place on your waist and pulling you into him while your hands settled on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt loosely. He leaned over you slightly, deepening the kiss and forcing you to crane your neck further up then what you already had to to kiss him.  

After a final hot kiss Anakin reluctantly pulled away with a pant, pressing his forehead against yours. You didn’t open your eyes though, keeping them closed as if you were afraid that if you were to open them, you’d wake up and this would have ended up to be just a dream.  

“I know,” he whispered to you, his lips slightly swollen and a stupid smile adorning his face as he spoke, "I've known for a while.” You felt a wide smile stretch across your face at his words. You knew it.

“Why didn’t you do anything about it earlier then?” you asked him, your volume matching his.  

“I wanted you to tell me, I wanted you to want me to know.” Your eyes opened to meet his beautiful blue ones, your smile only widening as you spoke (If that was even possible).  

“Maker Anakin,” you breathed out with a gentle shake of your head. You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, and he laughed into it.  

[aajjks]

🤭

mommy issues!JK

you shake your head. “no no, everything is fine. i promise. just tired is all” but jiyeon sees right through your façade. you’re exhausted and weak, she knows that feeling very well. she’s been in the same place you’ve been in. two kids only 1 year apart and having to deal with it on her own—she gets it. she’s been there and after what you’ve been through, it’s probably gotten worse.

“it sounds like you’re going through the phases of postpartum, which is normal but you may have ptsd…..you’ve been thinking about it haven’t you?” says jiyeon who brings herself closer to you before engulfing you in a much needed hug. as jiyeon caresses your hair, you can’t help but to cry in her hold, letting it all out.

you’ve been through so much; bottling everything up, smiling when it’s convenient, and taking care of everyone but yourself while battling demons all on your own.

“it’s all i think about” you cry. “i haven’t slept properly since the wreck and i can’t even sleep because it’s all i see”

“i know, hun. let it out”

“i’m trying to pull myself together and be strong but everyone needs me. seol needs me, moon needs me, and so does jungkook. everyone is depending on me and i-i—,”

“what about yourself? you can’t forget to take care of yourself even if everyone needs you. jungkook may be handicap but he can still help. tag him in from time to time, confide in him, pick up some fun hobbies, join a club, go have fun, do whatever it is YOU want because you’re not only a mom you’re a human too. we all wish we could reverse the clock and prevent the unpredictable but we can’t. it happened but it wasn’t yours or jungkook’s fault. don’t guilt trip yourself into thinking this was your fault when it wasn’t. live a little, laugh a lot, and love everyone—that’s the motto i live by and i want you to do that too. i meant it when i said i’d be here for you and if you need me to take these kids including jungkook, i’ll gladly take over so you can get some fresh air”

jiyeon wipes the tears from your face before giving you one more tight hug reminding you that she will always be here for you. and she feels proud of herself when she feels you relax against her shoulder. these are the moments she wish she had with her son and daughter as they grew up and although she can’t take it back, she will do her best to be there for you and jungkook.

you sniffle “thanks jiyeon. i really needed to hear this”

“of course, sweetie. postpartum is a bitch but guess what? it only makes us stronger. being a mother isn’t easy and neither is being a wife but you’ll get through it. i know you will” jiyeon presses a kiss to your temple before taking your hand and saying “wanna come with me and run some errands?”

“but…what about jungkook?”

“pshh, this isn’t his first rodeo. he’ll be fine. go get dressed. i’ll be outside”

“um, okay! give me a sec”

you rush upstairs to your bedroom, freshening yourself up before finding a cute outfit to wear. “where are you going, mommy?” seol asks. “gonna run some errands with grandma. i’ll be back okay?” you press a kiss to seol’s head then moon’s and kiss jungkook on the lips before telling him “watch the kids. i’ll be back soon. if you need anything text me, okay? i love you”

outfit: https://pin.it/55jU05YH5

hair: https://pin.it/374P9Jdl0

~🫧

He heard of your conversation with his mother and his heart feels really heavy as you confess to his mother, how you’ve been struggling, but he had no idea that you had been having PTSD about what happened that fateful night.

He lets you go by faking his smile, but as soon as you leave, which you deserve to by the way because you’ve been caught up in him and his children.

Yes, he did eavesdrop on your conversation with his mother, but he couldn’t help it because you were just refusing to open up to him because you wanted to act strong for him and his children.

He respects you so much for that, but you are only human.

And his mother is right you need to enjoy your life. You’re not only a mother but a human too.

Thank God, you didn’t catch him. As soon as you leave. Jungkook decides to focus his attention back onto his children, and he feels his heart relaxing a little because whenever he looks at his children, he feels like everything is fine.

“Ohhh Seol looks like our moonie is hungry.”

He’s just really happy about the fact that nothing happened to you when he wasn’t there with you because he knows that depression Makes people do some things unthinkable to themselves…

Oh God, he can’t help but think about what would he do if he ever lost you. He would die.

Seol runs out to the kitchen to pick up a bottle of milk for moon, and Jungkook keeps on eye on him while moon cries in her bassinet.

“Awww my baby… it’s okay my daughter… shh daddy’s here.” Jungkook picks her up. Kissing her chubby cheeks.

•••

After making sure that she’s well fed, and Seol is also eating, Jungkook puts moon back into her bassinet and sighs, he has nothing to do and now he understands now what it feels like to be at home and do nothing all day. He wants nothing more than to go back to work.

“Seol my love, eat well okay? Eat all the veggies.” Jungkook caresses his back, watching him eat.

“Yes daddy.”

Jungkook smiles. Just as he’s talking to Seol, he hears the door bell ring.

“Oh stay here okay? I’m gonna go see who’s at the door. Maybe it’s mommy.” Jungkook gets up from the couch to go see who is it- the cameras have yet to be installed so he has no choice but to answer the door.

It must be you right?

How are you back so early?

[missskzbiased]

The Things We Don’t Tell

Summary: You were sure your life was written and directed to fit a sketchy Rom-Com and nobody could convince you otherwise. First, your boss was too hot to be true, and burning with desire didn’t even begin to explain the tingling sensations he left on you. Second, your coworker (a.k.a. Ex-About-to-be-FWB) insisted in turning your life into a living hell, which wasn’t the exact kind of hotness you were into. And if having these two hot men around you every single day of your life wasn’t enough to prove it, maybe the threat of your slutty secret identity about to be busted would be… But you couldn’t let this happen.

WC: 7,5 K

Genre: Smut, Humor (?)

AUs: Office, Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Bang Chan  

(Not really a love triangle as Hyunjin is the Lead. However, Reader wants to Bang Chan)

Rebloggable Masterlist    //   Main Masterlist   //   Tag List

Warnings: Language, Thigh riding, Public space (Office), Exhibitionism, Possessiveness, Pet Name (Baby girl), Sir Kink  

[If I forgot anything, please let me know! I’m kinda sleepy right now]

Notes: There will be at least one more chapter but I won’t do a tag list post for now, only if someone wants it, cuz I’m too lazy to think about doing it right now. This fic is an attempt to experiment with some writing style things that I’ve been wanting to try. I don’t think it worked, tho SUHAHUSAUHSUHA But that’s life

- I’ll quite possibly change the title in the future-

                                                            ///

  You are a superhero.

    Okay! To be honest, you may be exaggerating a little bit ─ a tiny harmless little bit ─ but that was how you felt every single day of your life, alright? You had this glorious and mysterious side of yours that you hid from everyone else in the world… That mask that you couldn’t let come to the ground and would fight for dear life to protect… That side to your persona that no one was allowed to meet… The fierce, bold, and dark aspects of your soul that—

    “Y/N! I want those papers on my table!”

    “Yes, sir!” You shrieked in an embarrassing (not even slightly bold) way.

    — That you couldn’t show at your work.

    Yeah… So maybe no one actually thought of you as a superhero, but you really believed someone should start to. Was there something that different between your life and those low-budget TV shows people seem to enjoy so much? You didn’t think so.

  To be fair, sometimes you felt like someone wrote a questionable script and poorly directed your life to fit you as the leading lady of a sketchy rom-com. As if they just focused on checking out every point on a bullet list made up with rules for a successful superhero office drama that wasn’t even that good…

    … And speaking of which…

    Rule Number One: The stern (maybe kinda attractive) boss!

    If you had to define Bang Chan with a couple of adjectives, you would choose undeniably beautiful ─ extremely professional of you because the right words to describe him were fucking hot ─ and committed. Fortunately, it wasn’t an “I have someone waiting for me at home and a bunch of kids I must put to sleep” kind of commitment, which would destroy your hopes of having this man one day. Unfortunately, it was an “I’m better than the header and gonna run this company by tomorrow night” kind of commitment, which destroys your hopes of a peaceful day at work.

    Now, it’s not like you don’t want to do your job! It’s just that you didn’t sign up to be Bang Chan’s perfect little toy ─ definitely not the better words to describe it ─ and you didn’t expect to be joined by the hips ─ really? ─ with him or any of your coworkers. The thing is that Bang Chan wants to be on top ─ someone has to stop you ─ and he believes the only way to get there is to work as a team and be as perfect as one can be. In other words, Bang Chan wants absolutely everything and everyone to be neat, tight, and ready to be used ─ again… Not the better way to put your thoughts into words ─, but this just wasn’t who you were.  

    It also wasn’t the point right now.

    The point right now should be the fact that Bang Chan was striding to his office looking like he owned the whole damn place… If this was a movie, the camera would be focusing on his expensive, black leather shoes before scanning all the way up to his waist in slow motion. The scene would zoom in on his fine ass only to go a little bit up and catch the shiny, black belt wrapping around his figure. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but you had a hell of a productive mind… You could think of a few things you shouldn’t really be thinking about right now.

    Bang Chan didn’t seem to understand he was at work either.

    He rolled his sleeve up in a sexy motion that should be illegal. It isn’t. You can tell by the way there are no cops bursting inside the building and arresting this gorgeous son of a bitch.

    The lack of any authorities to stop this atrocious moment had you lowering your gaze to your desk ─ a vain attempt to ignore the way his forearms flexed as he gestured and ordered people around. If you were a little bit less professional, you would have some ideas of how he could do it in bed. With you. But you weren’t some kind of creepy perv who would be fantasizing about riding your own boss from dusk till dawn.

    Not at all.

    “Do you need me, Sir?” His secretary asks politely.

  A question that you would love to ask him too… In a totally and strictly professional way, of course.

    Rule Number Two: The (extremely unnecessary) nemesis!

    The shiver running down your spine could mean only one thing: Hwang Hyunjin ─ your obnoxious coworker ─ was standing right behind you, just like a bloody damn ghost. There was no need to turn around. You knew he had his mocking eyes glued on Bang Chan’s figure, and you could feel the air shifting as he tilted his head in a silent sneer before leaning on your desk.

    You refused to turn around and acknowledge his presence; painfully aware that he would flash a wide grin while looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. You wouldn’t give him the taste of seeing in your face that he was right; that you were staring at your boss as if you were a starving vulture. So you did the only thing you could do in this situation: You started to work. The sheets scattered over your desk wouldn’t walk by themselves to Bang Chan’s room, right?

    And neither would you if it depended on Hyunjin.

    The attempts to swipe the papers in your direction and gather everything you needed ─ to finally get rid of Hyunjin ─ proved to be vain as his hand took root on the desk. You pursed your lips in annoyance while glancing at his prominent knuckles and slender fingers; wondering if he would be so collected if he knew you wanted to crunch them. Probably not. But he gets off so fucking much on upsetting you that he might just want to take the risk anyway.

    “What do you want, asshole?” You hissed; stopping your motions before turning around to stare blankly at him.

    The face of an angel was the most accurate way to describe the sight in front of you. Plump, pink lips molded into a sweet smile and dark brown eyes morphed into cute crescents. None of those features fit his true self, though. Underneath the angelic façade, there was a demon called Hwang Hyunjin ─ who was resting his free hand on your shoulder for no reason besides driving you crazy.

    It would be easier if he was just a pretty face, but Hyunjin had a good body too. The guy looked just like a model ─ slim, tall, and classy ─, and even though only his collarbones peeked out from down his shirt, you knew that there was much more than the eyes could see.

    Well, you never saw it, but you had felt it.

    As far as you could remember, each curve on Hyunjin’s abs was craft by God himself. The way his chest was built for you to caress would be forever craved on your mind. You might never forget how soft his lips were in contrast to his lap… How his thighs flexed just right when you pulled his hair… How reactive he was… How his moans sounded… And how he put everything to waste.

    “Oh, nothing” He shrugged. As usual, his voice was just like sweet, hot honey; still, you could wipe the poison dripping down his chin, “I was just wondering if you had enough time to do your job while fucking your boss inside your head” He clarified sarcastically, cracking you a smile.

    Sometimes you regretted not putting his mouth to good use… He really needed to learn how to shut up for a while and stop being so… Unbearable. The silence he met had him scoffing; body leaning even closer to the point his face was practically hovering over yours ─ smugness plastered all over it. You held his gaze to confront him; breathe mingling with his in a heated mix that matched the anger under your eyes.

    Was he licking his lips as he stared at yours? Oh boy… He definitely wanted to get laid. It was your time to scoff as the frown on your lips turned into a smirk; eyes twinkling mischievously as you looked into his in a silent teasing. As if sensing that he was in trouble, Hyunjin tilted his head to look even more obnoxious than he was; face coming closer to yours to defy your newfound confidence.

     “You know what? If you stared at him any longer, I think his balls might have fallen off…” He whispered in a tone loud enough for just you to hear “Unless he saw the way you were looking at him… Then I guess his dick would go straight up” He assured you with a ‘friendly’ pat on your shoulder as he finally let go of your papers and straightened his back.

    “Are you saying it from experience?” You sneered; grimacing at him.

    “Are you telling me that you want me to fuck you too?” He retorted gibingly; not even thinking twice about it.

    “No” You tilted your head, trying to stay composed, “I’m reminding you that you couldn’t even kiss me without getting a boner… Just like a teenage boy” He arched a brow at your statement; pursing his lips as he hummed in wonder “I’m surprised you never came in your pants like the pathetic thing you are” He laughed; poking his cheek with his tongue before squeezing your shoulder in a silent warning.

    “I must have been quite a sight if you can remember it so vividly” You pretended not to notice the way he sniggered, pushing away the urge to punch his face.

  Nemesis was just a classy way to call him a pain in the ass.

  Rule Number Three: The (plain and uninteresting) secret identity!

  It would be impossible to miss the moment Hyunjin’s devilish smirk morphed into a bright, friendly smile. The snarky comment on the tip of your tongue was swallowed back in a bit; grimace dissolving into a wide grin as if you weren’t about to throw your fists at him. He giggled as his arms spread open before snaking around your body to pull you into a tight hug; holding you close and rocking your body side to side as a soft huff fell from your lips.

    If you didn’t know any better, your knee would be buried between his legs.

  “Way to go, Y/N!” He chirped, loosening his grip to take a better look at your face; eyes smiling as if the both of you were the bestest of friends in the entire world, “You’re awesome! I’m so proud… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you as my teammate” He pursed his lips; dimples showing as he offered you nothing but affection in his gaze.

    You did know better, though, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out who was standing behind your back as you opened your mouth to answer him: “There’s no one I’d rather be with!” You reassured Hyunjin in a sweet, mirthful tone; tilting your head to return the fondness in his look in an act worthy of an Oscar “We’re a team, you know? You can’t get rid of me so easily” He laughed wholeheartedly at that; ruffling your hair before leaning closer to you again, resuming the hug.

    “We’ll see about that” He whispered in your ear, making you scoff.

    “What are you gonna do? Cry to Daddy so you won’t work with me anymore?” You hissed back; breaking away from his hug with a tight grin before turning around to meet Chan’s gaze.

    The surprise plastered over your face was millimetrically calculated; just like the way you pretended to be flustered as you stared into your boss’ eyes to see the pride shining on them. You brought the papers closer to your chest in what was meant to be an innocent, coy way ─ a technique mastered over the months you worked for him ─, and Chan seemed to fall for it as he giggled in delight. The poor guy had no clue all of this was as fake as your camaraderie towards Hyunjin, and he wasn’t about to discover it anytime soon if it depended on you.

    Luckily, it did! You had taken some acting classes; just enough for your next words to be naturally convincing: “I’m so sorry, Sir! We’re just so happy that –” The words were deliberately drawled to give him enough time to interrupt you. Just like you knew he would. And it was a good thing that he did because you had no idea of how you were supposed to finish that sentence anyway.

    You were a good actress, not a professional improviser.

    “Don’t mention it” He cut you off giggly; detaching himself from the doorframe he leaned on as he watched the friendly scene taking place.

    The amount of cuteness this man could deliver in his smile wasn’t fair, and it didn’t match the sensuality a simple gesture of his overflowed with, enchanting you. You gulped down as he gave both of you a silent order to follow him into his room, wondering if the duality he had in the office was remotely similar to what he could do in bed ─ a thought that shouldn’t be having a place in your mind right now.

    Hyunjin seemed to pick up on it pretty quickly too, and as soon as Chan turned around to head to his office, he bumped his shoulder onto yours. The obnoxious action was followed by your elbow diving into his ribs; a retaliation that took you less than a second and, luckily, Chan ─ or any of your coworkers ─ didn’t seem to notice. Neither of you gave away your silent quarrel as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, smiling at you when Chan finally took his seat.

     “It’s good to see that you guys have such chemistry” He confessed, and you had to suppress a scoff when you looked into his eyes. He had no idea… The chemistry between you two was enough to make you want to blow each other, “You know what I always say, right?” He boasted on a sing-song; much more at ease than he seemed to be earlier.

    You weren’t about to put that on the line, though.

    “You can’t have teamwork if you don’t have a team!” You warbled in unison.

    “That’s the spirit!” Chan gurgled, heading to his desk in a visibly good mood.

    What was going on? He wouldn’t be so happy just because you and Hyunjin were being friendly… Were you missing something? He didn’t seem in such a peaceful state of mind when he came in… It had to be something that happened after that. Perhaps he got some good news from his secretary? Or maybe… You narrowed your eyes as you caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s hands fidgeting in front of him; his foot tapping the ground rapidly but quietly before moving slightly to step on your toe.

     Or maybe Hyunjin had something to do with it…

    “As I said in the email, Sir, I happened to hear some stuff around and… KQ managed to get an exclusive with Han Jisung” The sentence sounded just like a normal introduction to a report, but you knew it wasn’t. Hyunjin’s eyes darted to meet yours, glinting with anxiety and despair. He was informing you of what was going on, not Chan, “And as we all know, Jisung is a rising producer star, which is bound to raise their sales and might get in the way of ours…” He continued, swallowing dryly and widening his eyes ever so slightly.

    He was definitely trying to warn you of something.

    “Yes, I read the e-mail, Hyunjin” Chan agreed sternly; smile disappearing as his fingers intertwined to serve as a support for his chin. He looked classy and incredibly sexy, but your mind couldn’t afford to focus on it right now. You had to figure out what the hell Hyunjin suggested to Chan before blowing everything up, “You also said that Y/N might have the solution for this…” Oh, so that was it, you thought when Chan arched his brow; eyes connecting to yours.

    And now what?

    “So?” He encouraged you, detaching his chin from his hands so he could rest them on his desk “I’m waiting” He smiled gently; a closed-mouth smile that was supposed to calm your nerves, even though you could see how tumultuous his gaze was right now.

    It was practically a silent threat.

    In a normal situation, the predatory way he was looking at you ─ resembling a wolf when you were nothing but a sheep under his radar ─ would get you… Thinking.

    Your job wouldn’t be at stake in a normal situation, though.

    The pressure on your toes increased; the subtle way Hyunjin found to snap you out of your mind, despite your silence hanging in there for just a few seconds. It was obvious that he was freaking out just as much as you were, and you couldn’t help but blame him for this. Couldn’t he have told you about it earlier? What the hell was going on inside his mind?! Instead of taunting you about wanting to fuck Bang Chan, he should have warned you about that shit!

    That’s not the time for this, Y/N.

    The muscles on your face tensed as you tried to not give away everything going through your mind; lips twisting in a tight smile as you looked at Hyunjin: “Yeah, he was right” You answered calmly, even though your stomach was settled on becoming an Olympic athlete right now, “As I was telling him before coming here, Sir, I have someone in mind…” The relief washed over Hyunjin’s face; a genuine smile adorning his features as he withheld a sigh, “I happen to know I.N, and I think I can get us an exclusive” You confessed, shifting your gaze from Hyunjin to Chan.

    “The writer?” He blurted out, astonishment plastered all over his face.

    “Yeah… They’re a friend of mine…” You trailed off, embarrassed to say it out loud “They’re in the top trending now since their novel will become a drama and…” You cleared your throat, lowering your head to avoid his gaze. There was just so much of acting you could handle for a day, “I mean- It’s… Adult stuff, right? But they never—”

    “I know! That’s perfect!” He beamed, getting up from his chair to walk your way “They’ve never been seen! Nobody knows anything about them, Y/N” He laughed ─ he genuinely laughed ─ while clasping his hands together “Han Jisung is good, but I.N is better! This is hot news… FrontPage… How come you never told me about that?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your shoulder “Rest assured that when I get my promotion, I’m gonna have you right here in this room” He promised you in such a serious tone that a shiver ran down your spine.

    Rule Number Four: The (kinda horny) true self!

    There was not a single soul in the office as you made your way down the hall; eyes focused on the mesmerizing view outside. The sky was colored in purple shades, so deep that you would have mistaken them for black if it weren’t for the dazzling, sleepless city and its dozens of skyscrapers lighting everything up. Not even the full moon would be able to compete with such a beautiful brilliance, but it wouldn’t be necessary either as your gaze was abruptly torn away from the night.

    The darkness surrounding you didn’t allow your brain to connect the dots immediately, and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened when you bumped into something. The surface was much softer than a wall, yet firm enough to have you wincing for the impact; eyes snapping to meet the unlucky bastard that stayed until so late. The moonlight kissed his skin just enough for you to recognize the sharp features of your boss; clenched jaw revealing popping veins that distracted you for a fraction of a second.

     Your eyes trailed the path from his jaw to his neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it tasted like; if you could savor it like the sins you wanted to commit with him. The closeness didn’t work in your favor, and the hint of his scent intoxicated your senses as you connected your gazes. Something must have given you off ─ maybe your hesitation, maybe the lust glinting in your eyes ─ because the next second, Cristopher had his hand placed on your lower back.

   The warm sensation grew to a burning feeling as his eyes darkened while diving into yours; his stern, cold gaze contrasting to the feeling of his touch and sending a shiver down your spine. Could he have noticed the way your legs trembled as his grip tightened around you? The look on his face was indecipherable, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel too exposed and vulnerable to keep looking for an answer, so you averted your eyes away from him.

    “Weren’t you supposed to come as soon as you got his answer?” The way his voice made its way to your senses had the embarrassment washing over you. The huskiness in his tone made you gulp down ─ throat dry from thirsting over him ─ and the calmness in his sentence alarmed you as it didn’t match the disapproval in his eyes “It’s so late that there is no one else here anymore” He added nonchalantly; mixed signals getting you confused to what he meant by it.

    Was it just a way to scold you or was it an invitation?

    “I’m sorry, Sir” Despite not having anyone around, you whispered the words as if you could be caught at any moment now, “It took me longer than expected, but we—”

    “We?” His eyes were sharp enough to cut you off but the real reason why you couldn’t manage to finish your thoughts was the way he pulled your body impossibly closer to his “Were you with him this whole time?” He hissed right into your ear, letting his hot breath fan over your cold, sensitive skin in a silent threat.

    “Working” You corrected, even though he didn’t say anything.

    “Working” He hummed in agreement; hand going to tuck your hair behind your ear “As in how we work late at night?” He sneered, manhandling you to press your back against the cold surface of the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the place “Or is it as in how he wants to work you on his desk?” He scoffed; soft huff almost as degrading as the way he held your cheeks with one hand and guided your eyes to his.

    “Neither” You guaranteed breathlessly; voice quivering in excitement.

    “Are you going to pretend that you didn’t notice his looks?” He narrowed his eyes at you; his knee making its way to the gap between yours before slowly rising to your thighs, “That you don’t know how much he wants to fuck you?” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “You better not, ‘cause I know you love it” He warned as he kicked your legs apart.

    “He could never fuck me as you do” There was such seriousness in your tone that it had him chuckling, and he nodded in approval before burying his nose in your neck, “I-I’m yours only, Sir… I know my place” You promised quietly, trying not to give away how aroused his jealousy made you feel.

    “Yeah…” His raspy laughter tickled your skin, and you muffled a whine as he grazed his teeth over your neck teasingly “But you like being reminded of it, don’t you?” He taunted, taking in your scent in a way that made you feel too small and helpless. He groaned as soon as you let a whimper fall from your lips, and you couldn’t help but struggle to stay still while knowing what was about to come, “Do I have to spell it for you, baby girl?” He snickered before sucking on the tender spot of your skin that he knew too well at this point.

    “N-No” Somewhere inside your head, you acknowledged that your reaction was insanely humiliating. He just needed a couple of words spoken in a sultry tone and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence. That was the power he had on you. And you loved it. “Only yours” The rushed tone made him smirk against your neck, stopping his path of kisses for a second to look into your eyes “Sir” You panted; returning his gaze with just as much intensity as he had on his.

    “Claim your place” His order was so tantalizing that you didn’t even blink before you finally let your knees give away, losing the support of your legs to earn the support of his thigh, “That’s right… You do remember your place” Somehow, this sounded like the best praise he could ever offer you, even under his amused tone, “But you have been such a bad girl lately…” He pouted as he caressed your cheek; hand stopping to grab your chin gently “And I don’t like bad girls… You know that, right?” He let his thumb reach for your lower lip, fiercely staring at it before grazing his finger on your teeth.

    Your answer was as silent as his request; tongue welcoming his thumb before you sucked on his digit. He hummed in appreciation, pushing it inside your mouth as you looked at him with big doe eyes to show a coyness that wasn’t really there within you. The action was followed by a swirl around the tip of his finger; as if to leave in his mouth the taste of what he was missing and prompt him to give you what you really wanted: Him.

    If he picked up on your plans, he showed it by giving like for like.

   He didn’t say a word as he pressed his thigh against your heat; leaning closer to let his breath fan over your neck once more. He stood like that for what could have been seconds, maybe minutes, but nonetheless time enough for his warmth to creep into your senses. He was like a poison to you; the intoxicating presence clouding your better judgment and destroying any will you had to have him losing control. You didn’t even mind the way he scoffed as you started to grind his leg; brows twisting to shout out a needy plea for release.

    “That’s a good girl” He approved, catching your earlobe between his teeth. The moan that fell from your lips was muffled by his finger and he didn’t seem to appreciate it, “I don’t hear you, baby girl” He complained, moving on to your jaw with a path of open-mouthed kisses that weren’t enough to distract you from his other hand “There’s no one here… Be loud for me” He allured you as his hand found its way under your shirt.

      The temptation was great… Scream his name as he fucked you senseless in the office... No risk of being caught… Just you, and him, and your dirty little secret…

    Your thoughts were all around the place, and you had no hopes of grasping them back as his cold hand brushed your side, contrasting to the warmth under your clothes. The way he touched you made shivers run down your spine; his slow, delicate motion enhancing your senses to every single second of his caresses. You held your breath when his finger finally managed to reach its destination; grazing over your nipple to have you succumbing to his wishes.

    You fought it as you could, but you were never much of a fighter.

    It was too easy for him to have you under his control, and he knew it. You could tell it by the way he chuckled as soon as you gave away how lost you were at this point. The moan that left your lips came all the way up from your chest, sounding crystal clear in the room as you let your mouth fall agape. Sucking on his finger and following his orders were the last concern you would have for this moment. The only thing worthy of your attention right now was the fact that you couldn’t get as much friction as you needed, and you had to do something about it.

    So you grind on his leg for dear life.

    “You’re so needy” The mockery didn’t have much effect on your mind anymore, so you just kept sliding up and down his thigh as if that was the only thing that could keep you going “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” He huffed in disbelief; thumb leaving your mouth so he could cup your face “That’s all you can understand, right?” He taunted, pinching your nipple to get your attention again, “Are you still there, baby girl?” He leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

      “F-Fuck me” Was the only answer he would get.

      “Manners” He warned; licking the sweet spot next to your jaw.

      “Fuck me, Sir” You corrected yourself; wrapping your arms around his shoulders to look for some support as you practically bounced on his leg, “Please, fuck me, Sir” You repeated, forehead resting on the crook of his neck as you clawed his back, trying to bring him as close as possible to you.

      “Louder” He demanded, and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was grinning, “Louder…” He instructed in a tone so low that you could barely hear him over the rustling sounds of fabric against fabric. Your breath hitched as his hand gently caressed your hair; moving some strands away from your face to take a better look at you. However, he didn’t get to see your teary eyes, “Come on, baby… Look at me” He asked in a tantalizing tone, alluring you to try and meet his gaze.

    There wasn’t much you could see through your hooded eyes; vision too blurry for you to grasp what was going on inside his mind. You could tell he enjoyed it, though. He always did. That moment when he could pinpoint you had given up on your control, that you weren’t yourself anymore and would be willing to do whatever he asked… He lived for it, for that rebellious flame of self-control extinguishing from your eyes.

     For who you become when lust overcomes you.        

    The grip on his hair wasn’t unexpected, and Cristopher offered you a small, wicked smile before you connected your lips. The kiss was messy and hurried; tongues exploring every corner they could find while your hands were occupied on getting rid of your clothes. Neither of you cared about anything else but feeling each other’s bodies as you ripped your shirts. The cold breeze hitting your bare skin wasn’t enough to cool down the heat consuming you, but it was enough to have you squirming and whining.

      “Beautiful” Was the only thing he said before pushing your back against the glass and adjusting his grip to take your nipple between his teeth. The groan that escaped your lips was almost animalistic, prompting him to answer with a grunt of his own as he sucked on your skin. The vibrations ran from your flesh to your core, enticing another moan that seemed to fall into deaf ears, “Louder, baby… I want him to hear you…” He pleaded, letting go of your breast just to grope it and give you a kitten lick on the next second “To know who made you like this…” He added before sucking on it again.

    Perhaps it was the fact that he thrust on you, just to tease your senses and make you thirstier. Perhaps it was the fact you had to support yourself on just one leg as he pushed his hips against yours and you tried to seek for your balance by involving his leg with yours. Perhaps it was his hand sliding to meet your clothed core; finger pressing against your clit to add a delicious, needed stimulus for your orgasm.

    Perhaps it was the words that slipped through his lips.

    “W-What did you say?” You panted; hips faltering as you tried to keep riding him, but steading their pace as his finger circled your clit to goad you “M-Mhm… S-Sir” You cried; hand burying in his hair to pull it and translate the utter bliss waving down your body. The string of mewls and urgent pleas spilled from you like a chant, getting him more eager than before, “P-Please” You whined, even though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.

      “Hold it” He ordered; straightening his back to look right into your eyes, but failing as yours rolled back to your head. His hand made its way to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with a soft shake to catch your attention “Look at me” It sounded like a warning; stern enough for you to try your best to focus on him, “You’ll only cum when he walks right through that door… Do you understand?” He searched for any signs of stubbornness in your eyes, but his smile showed he didn’t found any.

    “W-Who?” You managed to ask; body trembling as you tried to hold every single string inside your mind in place, even though each one of them was ready to snap and unravel the crashing pleasure that was building up.

    “Why does it matter?” He scoffed, quickening his pace as the unmistakable ring of the elevator sounded on the room “You love being seen, don’t you?” He chuckled, watching as your body shook violently and your knees started to give away to the sensations running down your body.

      “Y-Yes, Sir” You could bet your voice echoed inside the building, and Christopher seemed to agree with you as he grinned in approval.

    “So look at your guest, baby… And scream my name” He instructed, pushing your face to the side. The doors opened slowly, revealing the lights inside the small cubicle right in front of your eyes “Let him know who you belong to” He whispered in your ear; hand pushing your underwear aside so his finger could come in contact with your core.

    The mysterious figure detached from the corners of the metallic walls to finally reveal himself. You met his eyes for a half of a second; enough time for you to recognize the one who worked with you every single day of your life. For the past few years. Someone who would be your partner for years to come, and who would witness and engrave your face in your most vulnerable moment.

    You came hard; probably the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever had in your life. It was impossible to hold back your voice, and you couldn’t help but howl his name; legs shaking and body collapsing into your boss’ arms. You squirmed and whimpered as you tried to recompose yourself; letting him help you ride you out of your orgasm and occupying yourself by staring into your coworker’s shocked eyes.

    “Thank you, Sir…” You breathed out, gripping his arms for dear life while the shame sank into your soul.

    Rule Number Five: The (grateful and satisfied) fans!

    And… Post.

    Oh, well… You did it. Again. There was something about displaying your deepest fantasies for anyone to see that was kinda thrilling to you. Your heart raced inside your chest just like a drum ─ well, if a goddamn drummer decided to do a solo but was too offbeat, to begin with ─ and you couldn’t help but stare blankly at the page without a clue of what to do now. It was out there… Why didn’t anyone say anything yet? Was it that bad? Should you delete it?

    Well… People have to read it before commenting, you know?

    Yeah, right… You just posted it.

    Chill.

    You licked your lips before biting them; feeling the rush that was posting about your boss online when no one else knew about it. If you were being honest, the best part of this wasn’t having the chance to live your fantasies throughout your writing. No. The best part was knowing that only you knew the true identity of Christopher… Or what you really wanted to do to him while he walked down the hallway. The best part was that no one would ever figure out that you were the author of the bestselling novel of the moment… That this steamy romance between boss and employee was nothing but your rawest desire.

     Who would think that the boring, shy girl from the office would be a smut writer? Who would think that you would have a horny, interesting secret identity? No one else but you.

      And this was priceless.

     Or maybe… It was priceless.

    As far as you knew, every single thing you cherished about being a secretive horny bitch could go down the drain tomorrow. It would be all fine if it was just a… Well, actually everything would suck. How would you look at Chan’s face if he knew you were writing about having sex with your boss while he was your boss? What would you do if they decided to fire you because of it? What would you do with your life from now on?!

     Don’t panic, Y/N.

    You had everything under control… Tomorrow morning you would be going to Jeongin’s house and interview him as if he were you. No one would ever suspect you after that. You would save your ass, Hyunjin’s ass, and Chan’s ass. And that was it. The perfect plan. Nothing to worry about. Just trust Jeongin to follow your script and make sure everything would go as planned.

    Flawless. Totally safe. Perfect.

    That’s right…

    You just need to take a deep breath and rela—

    The sudden sound caught you off guard; eyes focusing on the screen once again so you could understand what was going on. All of your worries vanished away as soon as you saw the notification on the top of it; announcing that you had just got a message from a fan.

     Finally!    

    The weasel icon was so familiar that you chuckled while opening the message; a smile plastering over your face as you let your eyes wander around the words. There was nothing more fulfilling to your writer ass than seeing the way Weasel always had something to say about your story. Sometimes, he’d give you some feedback on your style. Other times, he’d freak out about how much he wanted to “try those things out”, as he usually said. There were also times when he’d just get excited over the characters and their conflicts, which always got you laughing.

    It was fun to talk to Weasel.

    He was just as mysterious as you… There was no name to his face, and also no face to his icon, but both of you were friends anyway. He had been keeping up with your stuff from such an early stage that it felt natural to have him around and getting his feedback. It was so comfortable, that you didn’t even mind when he slid in your DMs, embarrassed to let anyone else know that your smut made him… Feel things. There was no need to elaborate on what he did about those feelings or those things. But it was kinda hot to know he enjoyed himself throughout your fantasies.

      His fantasies.

    Well… For the number of times that you used them to write your stories, it was some sort of shared fantasies by now. As a matter of fact, you never intended to make Christopher a jealous character but Weasel made the idea seem too hot for you to ignore. Sometimes, he’d open up about that girl from his work that he really liked and how jealous he was of the guy she liked and then… Well, it felt… Interesting.

    The thought of being desirable to the point a guy would want to claim you as his like this? Not that Weasel did it. He actually just mentioned that he hoped she was into this as a kink. You couldn’t help but picture the way he would touch her in such a greedy way… The possessiveness blinding him for a second… The grip tightening… The mean words and the humiliation… Oh, the sweet humiliation that would crush you as he whispered how much you would cum for him… How he was the only one who could make you like that… How he would ask you to say his name… To tell him that you were his…

    You could drink holy water and still be shaking just by picturing it.

    “That was such a good chapter… I didn’t expect you to use her friend like that. I thought it was a given that she’d end up with Chris” You read out loud, chuckling when he reached for your DMs to talk to you “Will we get a threesome or something, miss? 😏” He joked on the next line and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this “I’m waiting for it”

    “You’re just a horny bitch, aren’t you?” You typed, smirking as you stared at his messages “No spoilers for you, though, baby boy… You’ll have to wait like everybody else” Teasing him was always funny, and he never failed to amuse you.

      “I’m not the one writing porn online” He pointed out, and before he could write anything else you shot him.

    “Yeah but you’re the one getting off to it” You retorted, getting a whole set of gasping and shocked emotes that had you laughing.

    “I have no words to express how offended I am” You chortled, shaking your head in disbelief.

     “Alright, Drama Llama” Why was it so fun to mock him? You wished you could actually meet him offline and banter like this in real life “To fill your horny ass, I might write a dom!reader next time… I was thinking about torturing the 2nd lead a bit”

    “First of all… I don’t think I want my ass filled, thank you for offering tho” Why was he like this? “And I was just joking” You frowned at that, confused by what he meant “Don’t you think that a threesome doesn’t go along with the characters? Her friend likes her a lot and Christopher is just a kinky son of a bitch… I thought he’d just show him that she was his and be an ass as usual”

    “What do you have against Chris, dude?” You rolled your eyes, although he wouldn’t be able to see it, “He’s way better than her friend! At least, he does something about her”

    “I have the 2nd male lead syndrome! You know that!” You chortled, very aware of this, “And isn’t that the perfect opportunity for him to do something about it?! I mean… I don’t want to be nosey but having a threesome is way out of character for them” He pointed out, and you had to admit he was right.

    “No, you’re not nosey…” You sighed; shoulders dropping for a second “It’s just that I’m upset about something that happened at work today and you know that projecting my problems on those characters is my thing” You pursed your lips, staring at the keyboard for a few seconds before deciding to continue “Besides, I’m about to spend an entire day with a guy that kinda inspired the 2nd lead and… I don’t really want to think about a sex scene with him, you know?” You confessed.

    “But thinking about torturing and having a threesome with him is easy” He mocked you.

      “That’s because that threesome would never happen” You sent it before you could think about what you had just written.

    “Ooohhhh!” Holy shit… The amount of emotes he had just dumped on that chat couldn’t be a good sign, “So having sex with this guy is something you want?! And that could happen?! ” Great, now you would have a Drama Llama-Weasel trying to get some juicy gossip about your inexistent sex life… WORSE! Your sex life with your nemesis! “Why don’t you go for it? I’m sure he’s into you if he’s anything like his character” Poor thing… He had no idea.

    “Shut up, it’s not like that” You brushed it off.

    “If you say so” You could almost hear him snickering, even though you didn’t know how his voice sounded like “I’ll just have you regretting this for the rest of the night” You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. He was unbearable! “I have work early tomorrow but I’m gonna come back with questions, Miss… Wait for me”

    “What I meant is that it’d be easier to happen than having a threesome, not that I want it to happen, moron” You defended yourself but he didn’t even get to read it as he logged off right away.

      Great… He would never let you live it down.

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Rebloggable Masterlist    //   Main Masterlist   //   Tag List

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[mitsukui]

late night experiences | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary:  learning new things is always better when it is done with someone else.

Word Count: 2,7k.

Warnings: smut! Masturbation, mentions of innocence kink.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Your last year at Hogwarts rushed into your life without warning — and so did your sexual hormones. You swore to Merlin you could feel them tingling all over your body whenever you solely looked at George Weasley, your majestic boyfriend. And apparently, he felt the same way towards you. Wondering the reason behind it all, you were quick to blame the fact that the two of you had just turned 18.

You had been together for a little while now: around nine months or so. But nothing had ever happened, and you were not quite sure why. You two had, supposedly, everything needed: steamy make-out sessions, wandering hands, lustful thoughts, privacy, and all that jazz. Yet, there you were: ground zero.

However, things were about to change even though you still were unconscious about it.

“Psst!” Your favorite quill stopped scribbling your Herbology notes. “Oi!” Your eyes gazed at the direction from which came the voice only to realize it was one of your classmates, Angelina Johnson. “I’ve discovered something last night which I thought you might be interested in.” A mischievous smirk painted her lips as you leaned in closer, already feeling eager to listen to whatever she had to say. She was one of those people who made anyone pay attention to them whenever they said something.

Her hushed whispers filled the existing silence between you two in the Study Area once more. “The boys were talking in our common room last night, and rumor has it George can’t keep his hands off of his cock whenever he thinks of you.”

Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet giggled like little girls when she finally finished her speech. You could feel your cheeks getting embraced by a deep and violent warmness. Uh-oh.

Your mind suddenly produced images by itself: George’s chest going up and down quickly as he moaned under his breath. He had his long and slender fingers wrapped around his dick and, sweet Merlin, he was big. Big and thick and veiny. His eyelashes fluttered as his hand pumped up and down a few times, precum leaking from his tip.

Heaven probably looked like that. What a lovely sight. You would give anything to actually see the great George Weasley in such a position. But, again: ground zero.

Still, the possibility of him pleasuring himself at the thought of you seemed to awake something new inside your chest and offer you a novel tingling sensation. You felt a burning flame in your loins, and it was almost as if your entire body were on fire.

You wanted him to jerk off thinking of you. You wanted his hands to get dirty from his own seed because of you.

You gulped. Snapping fingers brought you back to reality. “Girl, it’s high time you gave that poor lad some love, you know.”

The next few days felt slow and eternal. George Weasley and George Weasley’s thick dick were the only things occupying your mind. Of course, you had fantasized about him before; but it had never been that vivid. Things are always better when they are real, after all.

And you wanted to do something about it. Your soul ached for him to share his hidden and erotic reality with you. Your flesh longed to be painfully close to his. Your body and your hands desired to tease him and give him something to be unbearably hard over. You obviously would not feel in peace until you got what you wanted.

That is why the suggestion of a late night meeting in the Prefect’s Bathroom came to life. It was discussed during another of your studying session with Angelina, Alicia and Katie, being first brought on by Angelina, of course. That girl had many wild cards up her sleeve.

“I happen to know the password. Got it from a Slytherin guy, after giving him a few galleons.”

“And a blowjob, too.” Alicia responded with her eyebrows raised and a mischievous grin hanging on her lips.

As the three other girls laughed carelessly, seeming to be extremely relaxed and confident to talk about such a topic, you chewed on your bottom lip. Jittery feelings bubbled up within your veins while concern clouded your mind. You had a severe lack of inexperience when it came down to anything sexual.

Your temporary anxiety was sharply noticed by Katie, who positioned her hand over yours in a comforting act. Her fingers soothed your skin, her next words slipping out of her lips as motherly advice.

“Don’t feel pressured to do anything, honestly. George is one of the most understanding people I have ever met. But I think a little bit of intimacy would work wonders on you, both of you.” Her grip on your hand became a bit tighter, and her warmth was incredibly pacifying. “You know, just suggest going to the Prefect’s Bathroom tomorrow night. He will surely accept, once he is heads over heels for you. Get in the warm, bubbly water. Kiss him, if you feel comfortable enough for that. And just see where it goes.”

Your other two friends nodded, assuring you everything was alright and that you could always count on them for support and advice. The conversation went on for a little longer, they sharing intimacy tips and encouraging you.

Luckily enough, the next morning was one that you had classes with George. You brought on the subject in the end of the lesson, while he gathered his material quietly.

His lips opened up in a bright smile in the moment you appeared in front of him, but his expression was soon destroyed by your visible tensed posture.

“Hey, gorgeous. Are you alright?”

You sighed shortly, trying to relieve some of your internalized insecurities. The suggestion came out of your lips in a mere murmur, but he was smart enough to grasp onto all of your words. His eyes noticed your dodging gaze and your fidgeting fingers, playing with the hem of your tie. You looked absolutely adorable to him.

“See you later tonight, then. Prefect’s Bathroom, 12AM sharp. I won’t be late.”

The rest of the day felt like an eternity. Perhaps, it was the uncertainty of it all, given that there was no way to predict how the scenario would take place later on. But the time for your meeting agonizingly came, and you were forced to leave your dormitory.

The weather was unpleasantly hot, and it was hard for you to tell whether it was due to the time of the year you were going through, or to the fact you were walking towards your own doom.

You had been curious and tempted to get to know his darker and more lustful façade but, at the same time, you were ashamed of how much you craved him despite being your first time feeling anything like that. Those same novel tingles from before returned to your loins as your made your way to the fifth floor.

Underneath your favorite carmine red pleated skirt and a muggle band T-shirt, you wore a set of lingerie that had not received much attention when previously picked out, which was a simple white bra paired with white panties, covered in tiny pink strawberries. When you were about to reach your destination, you came down to the realization of how childish your underwear looked. You inhaled sharply, concluding you had ruined everything.

Eventually, you and George met, and entered the bathroom hand in hand.

Although you had heard of its wonderful interiors, seeing everything with your own eyes for the first time made you gasp. Your gaze traveled through the place, and you wished to engrave every detail in your heart. The white marble grandness awoke a sense of greatness and admiration inside you, and you almost fell to your knees right then and there.

A tad of small talk was exchanged between you and your boyfriend, until he approached you at last. His big hands cupped your delicate face, and he leaned down to kiss you.

His lips were so terribly gentle that they sent butterflies to your stomach. He showed no shyness in the second his hands roamed down your body and found your back, giving your ass a light squeeze. Unable to control yourself, you moaned and pressed your body against his.

A steamy make out moment was held between the two of you until the moment for the truth hovered over your heads. He rested his forehead against yours, and looked at you with loving eyes as his thumb ran over your lips.

“Tell me why we are here, darling.”

“It’s just that…There had been this rumor, you know?” A shy chuckle escaped your lips, and you closed your eyes, trying to block out all the filthy images suddenly appearing in your mind. “People have been saying that you jerk off thinking about me. But I’m not sure if it’s true or not, because we have –“

“It is true.” The coolness in his voice caught you off guard, and you blinked at him in a mixture of shock and self-induced accomplishment: your boyfriend touched himself at the thought of you.

Your eyelashes fluttered until your eyes were shut, and a sigh escaped your lips. Your mind knew no restrains at that moment, and the images you had been blocking out came to life all at once, violently crashing against your insides, almost like agitated waves at a beach.

Silence embraced the two of you again, but neither of you felt bothered by it. You took your time to let the sinful images sink in, and he took his time to study your face. You had been clearly affected by the truth he had just spilled out, and he secretly enjoyed such thing. He could read you like the palm of his hand, and he knew you were thinking about him with his dick out.

As he breathed heavily, fearing air would forever leave his lungs after what he was about to do, he prepared himself for what was about to come. His thumb ran over your slightly swollen lips but, this time, he parted them with a gentle tug on your lower lip. George timidly shoved his thumb into your mouth, and you, with your eyes still closed, took all of it.

Your tongue swirl against his finger, the feeling of your saliva dancing against his skin sending electrical waves down his spine. You continued on sucking him until your cheeks finally hollowed, and he pulled his finger out with a low ‘pop’ noise.

You opened your eyes in a deep frustration, but he could no longer take it. His cock was hard inside his trousers and it battled for its freedom. He breathed unsteadily and with a bit of difficulty, his mind starting to wonder how your lips would feel wrapped around his tip.

The realization that you two had never done anything before hit him hard, and he felt himself twitching while precum started wetting the fabric of his underwear.

Would it be selfish of him to think he would probably be the first one ever to taste your cunt? The first one to penetrate you, the first one to end your innocence for eternity, the first one to feel your walls clenching around him, the first one to make you cum.

George was forced to step back and groan in bitterness. He really wanted to fuck you, but he would never disrespect you or your limits. Plus, on top of that, he really did not know how he could express his urges.

“S-Sorry, darling. I-I-I don’t know what’d gotten into me, I guess I just lo-“

“Can you show me how you touch yourself?”

The question hung on air for one or two moments. You could not believe what you had just said. You were drunk on a new dizzying and exciting sensation, one that left your panties secretly wet and your clit throbbing, and one which made you ask your boyfriend to masturbate right in front of you.

So he did it. Apparently, Katie was right: George Weasley would gladly accept anything you asked him.

After the enormous bathtub had been filled with water and bubbles, he undressed and you lost all of your senses for a bit.

His fair skin carried grand amounts of both freckles and small scars. His entire silhouette was outlined by groups of yet developing muscles, but each one of them caused more wetness to pool in your strawberries ridiculously covered panties. George was so tall, his shoulders were so broad, and his dick was indeed so big.

When all of his being finally became bare in front of you, you rubbed your thighs together, the need for friction creeping inside your body for the first time ever.

You stood still exactly where you were, but he made his way to the tub, sitting on the edge of the white porcelain. He lowered his dark eyes to his throbbing member and his touch caused a relieved sigh to leave his lips. His hand moved up and down a few times until he looked at you again.

There was something different on his face. His eyelids seemed to be a tad heavier, and the sounds slipping out of his slightly parted lips were the most delicious thing you had ever heard.

George Weasley was jerking off right in front of you. He was moaning only for you. And you hoped he would cum just for you, too.

As the minutes slowly went by the two of you, you watched him quietly. However, it was impossible for him to keep quiet. By now, his moans were loud and shameless. He whispered your name every now and then, the thought of you bouncing up and down his dick providing all the fuel he needed to orgasm only for you.

That was entirely new for you. You felt so dirty, so sinful, so misbehaved, but you were living for it. You wanted more of him, and you also wanted to give George more of you. And that was exactly the reason why you said your next sentence out loud.

“Can I touch myself?”

His ears convinced himself that he had heard it incorrectly, but the way your fingers tugged on your T-shirt, and your thighs rubbed together, he knew he was not mistaken. A new rush of pleasure ran through his veins and he pumped his hand faster. Unable to form coherent sentences, he mumbled something along the lines of ‘please’ and nodded vehemently.

In the blink of an eye, both of your bodies were unclothed and both of you played with your intimacies. George’s right hand applied all the pressure that could possibly resemble your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, and your fingers helped the squelching sounds coming from your wetness to echo in the bathroom. You had never thought that so many lustful sensations could occupy your body all at once and, yet, there you were: masturbating at the sight of your boyfriend doing the exact same.

By now, you also had problems breathing and the tight knot inside your body screamed for a break. You pulled your hand away from your dripping cunt, but you remained connect to your womanhood by a very thin and almost invisible string of your juices.

George obviously noticed that tiny detail and it was too much for him. He announced he was close and, soon enough, his skin was stained by the pleasure you had given him. His eyes were closed as he felt his heartbeat increasing and the images of you still haunting his mind.

The way he accepted and let his orgasm work on his body made you move your hand against your clit faster and you followed him in a matter of seconds. Your body trembled and you could not stop whining.

You had never experienced something so astonishingly sensational.

Your pants filled the bathroom for a little while before his body finally slipped into the still warm water. The comfort offered by the setting relaxed his existence and he weakly called and asked you to join him, which you happily agreed with.

He touched your hips and pulled you closer, placing your body against his chest. With his lips pressed against your temple, he whispered a series of ‘thank you’ and ‘you are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen’.

However, his final words changed the mood completely and you hated him for it.

“That’s a nice pair of panties, by the way.”

Tag list! ❤️  @efyra​ @writingsomewrongs​ @kellsslut​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @fiction-is-the-new-reality​ @hufflepuff5972​ @amourtentiaa​ @emmaev​ @asthmax​ @anchoeritic​ @eunoia-kth​

[crackedoutwalnut]

Training Room Tension (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Reader is a cocky new recruit. Black Widow decides to put her in her place.

Warning: the briefest mention of suggestive content near the end.

It was a well known fact amongst your fellow SHIELD recruits that you were undefeated. You bested all of your fellow trainees in everything from combat to reconnaissance practice. Not only did you spend several hours in the training room after everyone had left for the day, you woke up earlier than everyone else as well. Determination and passion filled your every uppercut and kick as you dreamed of the day you would become a SHIELD agent.

Currently, you were in the middle of sparring with Adam Wesley, a sweet young man with a killer punch. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you twisted the mans arm behind his back and kicked him to the mat with your knee. He grunted and rolled onto his bare back, a grin painted on his clean shaven face. You straddled his stomach and pinned his hands to his sides with your feet. Your black sports bra was damp with sweat and locks of hair were sticking to your forehead.

Adam wheezed, "Okay okay I give. Get up please you're going to crush me."

You rolled your eyes with a smug grin, "You're a big guy Adam, crush is a bit much."

The man stood and wiped his face with a sweat towel. He plopped back down on the mat, "It still hurt. I thought you were going to break my wrist," he complained, chucking the towel into the hamper nearby.

"You're such a drama queen," you replied in between gulps of water.

"Says the one who has never been on the receiving end of one of your punches," he replied, sticking out his tongue mockingly.

You returned the gesture and laughed, "And I'm glad for it, I bet I could take out everyone in this gym with a single punch." You tossed your empty water bottle aside and flopped down next to him.

Adam huffed, "Y/N one day that attitude is going to get you killed."

You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and kissed his cheek playfully, "One day maybe, but not today." He made a disgusted face and pushed you away before scrubbing at his cheek.

You opened your mouth to tease the man further when a new voice cut you off, "You could beat anyone in this gym, huh?" You looked up to find the Black Widow herself standing before you, arms crossed. "I wouldn't count on that, princess"

Leaning back on your hands you gave her a lopsided grin, "Oh really? Why shouldn't I count on the truth?" You struggled to maintain your confident façade as you stared up at the older woman. You had been infatuated with Natasha ever since you first saw her at SHIELD headquarters. The skilled assassin was nothing short of gorgeous and you often found yourself staring at her when the two of you were in the same room. However, careful training kept your face from blushing as she crouched so that the two of your were face to face.

"You should the audience for your boasting more carefully. It might get you in trouble one of these days," Natasha purred, her shoulder length hair brushing your cheek.

"Is today one of those days?" You shot back, leaning in closer so that your nose was practically touching hers. Despite all your previously mentioned careful training, your eyes found themselves trailing down to her lips. Your heart missed a few dozen beats as the woman let out a raspy chuckle, clearly aware of just how much of your confidence was faked.

"That all depends on whether you want to make good on your claims, princess," Natasha stood to her full height, her gaze never leaving yours.

Adam cleared his throat nervously and looked between the women before him, "Should I go?" he asked, moving to stand to his feet.

"I think that would best," you replied, hopping up from your own lounging position. The man glanced back at you and mouthed a quick 'good luck' before scampering off to the treadmills.

"So, is that a yes?" Natasha questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely."

--

The two of you circled one another, fists raised defensively. The excited tension in the air crackled between the two of you like Tesla coils as you took in the woman before you. Your heart was about ready to crack from its place in your rib cage. Why had you agreed to do this? Natasha Romanoff was literally nicknamed the Black Widow because of her notoriously lethal fighting style. Still, it was too late to back out now. If you did neither Adam nor the rest of the recruits would let you live it down. You had a reputation to uphold, after all.

Gritting your teeth, you lunged forward with a low aimed punch. Natasha jumped aside faster than you thought humanly possible and kicked your still outstretched arm away. You grunted and stumbled back as your arm flailed awkwardly back to your side. The two of you erupted in a flurry of kicks and jabs and punches. You did your best to stumble out of the way of her efficient blows, suddenly feeling like a defenseless rabbit stuck in a cage with a wolf. Natasha was making quick work of your attacks, deflecting and dodging as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

The assassin aimed a punch for your stomach, however, you leaped back and managed to land a sweeping kick under her feet. Natasha grunted and fell backwards onto the mat. You let your chest fill with pride for a millisecond before lunging on top of the older woman. Your hands gripped her wrists as your knee pressed against her toned stomach.

You grinned and leaned down until your could feel her breath on your face, "See, what did I tell you? The best," you muttered, your eyes locked onto your own piercing gaze.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her body remaining completely lax under your own. "Princess, a word of advice," the assassin hooked one of her legs into the crook of the knee that was pressed against her abdomen. She when kicked out, yanking your leg loose. You stumbled, your grip on her wrists loosening. She surged upward and flipped the two of you so that you were now pinned under her. "never declare a fight is over until it is actually over," she finished.

You stared up at her, your eyes wide and your chest heaving. Her thighs were now straddling your bare stomach and her hair was falling against your flushed face. "Bu-but..." you trailed off, face now beet red.

Natasha poked her lower lip out in fake sympathy, "Awww poor baby. Not used to losing, are you?" she murmured, tracing a light finger down your cheek and along your jawline. "If it's any consolation, you were better than I thought you would be. In a few years you might even be worth my time."

You struggled to reply as her finger trailed from your jaw down to your neck and onto your chest. She traced patterns along your sports bra as she gazed down at you. Your mouth continued to gape open like a suffocating fish. She smiled and kissed your cheek. "If you're always this cute when you lose I might have to kick your ass more often."

You frowned, "Who said I was done fighting?"

Natasha raised a brow and sat up. "Okay then, throw a punch," she replied mockingly.

You narrowed your eyes and glared up at her for a moment before letting out a huff, "Fine, I give up. You win," you grit out.

Her eyes widened in fake surprise as she cupped her ear and leaned in closer, "Oh, I'm sorry, can you speak up? I didn't quite get that."

You grumbled, "You win, okay? I'm sorry."

She grinned and stood from her place on your stomach. Part of you mourned the loss of the intimate contact. She reached out a hand to help you up, which you gratefully accepted.

Natasha leaned closer so that her lips were practically touching the shell of your ear, "You know if you weren't so adorable I might just leave you here to sulk. But, I quite like you and I would really enjoy it if you went with me to the locker room," Natasha muttered, her breath hot against your cheek. You shuddered and leaped forward to get to the locker room. The assassin let out an amused snort before following closer behind.

The moment the two of you entered the empty locker room, you turned to face the redhead. But, before you could even get a word out she was already shoving you up against a locker. You gasped as her lips collided with your own. The kiss was violent and desperate as you quickly leaned in to reciprocate. Natasha smiled and nipped at your lower lip, her hands gripping your wrists above your head. You gasped and allowed her tongue to slip into your mouth. Sometimes losing was worth it.

[aceghosts]

5, 12, 18, 29, 35 Hunter and Wesker

Thank you for these! I need the opportunity to develop this ship more, lol!

[Angsty Relationship Asks]

Hunter Delaney x Albert Wesker

5. how do they hide their pain when they’re upset? do they try to hide their pain?

Hunter and Wesker are both the type to hide their pain, but only Wesker manages to hide his pain. Hunter always pushes people away when they're upset. If they're being extra angsty, Wesker knows that they're upset about something. It’s harder to know when Wesker is upset because he keeps such a cool façade. (Unless, he’s dealing with Chris Redfield, which makes it very easy to know when Wesker is upset.) However, Hunter has learned to read the little signs and usually lets Wesker come to them on his own terms.   

12. who do they confide in when shit hits the fan (besides each other)?

Pre-Death, Hunter would confide in their siblings or Jill Valentine. While Hunter and Jill didn’t go on missions together often, they became close friends at the BSAA. Post-Death, Hunter mainly confides in Ada or Raymond besides Wesker, but they don't tell Raymond or Ada much. They're a lot less trusting of people after their death.

Wesker mainly confided in Will Birkin until his death in Raccoon City. After Will's death, he mainly confides in his sister, Alex. 

18. do either of them have the other’s stuff lying around their house?

At the beginning of their relationship, Hunter moves around so often that they practically live out of a duffel bag, moving from motel to motel. When they start working with Wesker, Hunter starts using some of his safe houses, which means Wesker's stuff is already there. They start leaving a few hoodies or a sketchbook at some of his safe houses. When Hunter does get their own place, Wesker leaves some of his things without asking. It doesn't bother Hunter as they assume Wesker will be over a fair amount.

29. who’s more patient? is it hard to break that patience?

Wesker. Neither are patient people, but Wesker definitely has more patience. (Hunter is always two seconds away from cracking like a glow stick.) Depending on the person, Wesker will have more or less patience for you. He does have more patience for Hunter than he does for anyone else, but certain things can break that patience.

35. do they have any regrets (regarding the other, or just in general)?

Wesker isn’t the type of man to regret things. He probably wishes he got his hands earlier on Hunter, especially since he thinks they have a lot of potential. That said, Wesker wouldn't consider it a regret. 

Hunter’s main regret is joining the BSAA. As weird as it sounds, if they stayed with the Air Force, Hunter would never have been infected and killed by their teammates. Even though they care deeply for Wesker, Hunter mourns the life they had before and what their life would have been like if they weren’t a walking corpse. They also miss their siblings. Ever since their death, Hunter has been avoiding their siblings, afraid they'll bring trouble to their siblings' doorsteps.  

[m19writes4mlb]

Defenceless - Chapter 1

Summary: When things become too much, one can feel trapped. Adrien becomes acquainted with this concept, and decides to break away for a while.

Chapter: 1/?

Word Count: 1611

Rating: T

Adrien is familiar with the feeling of helplessness. He has never had much control over his life. There is almost always someone dictating what his next step should be. Rarely does he get to decide his own fate, so he isn’t surprised by the fact that his first relationship seems to be about to end for circumstances beyond his control.

Kagami is a wonderful girl. She is smart, driven, determined, pretty, and comes from a similar background. Plus, she is more socially inept than him, which is both a blessing and a curse. To an outsider's eyes, Adrien and Kagami were a perfect match. However, no outsider had a clear picture of who he is; thus, subtracting validity to their assessments.

He isn’t just Adrien Agreste, professional model and sweet, picture perfect son of France’s top designer Gabriel Agreste. He is also one half of Paris’s beloved superhero duo: brave, dorky, flirty, and confident Chat Noir. That being said, neither one truly encapsulates Adrien’s full essence on their own. He is something in between, an amalgamation of his personas.

The truth was that no one was privy to his true self. He feared what whoever was the first person to truly see it would think. To Adrien, rejection and ridicule were scarier than anything else. Thus, he developed a fool-proof strategy to never have to deal with them. He never showed the entirety of himself. He hid behind masks, all of them carefully designed with just enough truth to be believable. Adrien Agreste could bend and mold himself into exactly what the person he was with wanted him to be. Even so, this came with a strong draw back. When one focuses on pleasing those around them and spends all their time behind masks, they forget what it is that really lies beneath the façade.

Most of the time, not knowing what his real self was didn’t really bother him; he took it in stride. He viewed it as something that with time would solve itself. Nevertheless, when situations like his current one took place, he realised just how much damage not knowing one’s self could really cause.

Looking back on it, he now realises that even though he cared about Kagami deeply, he did not love her. Sure, he felt a special connection to her. After all, none of his other friends could understand his home life like Kagami could. He admired her deeply. She is a go-getter with a can-do attitude. She fears nothing, and never hesitates. He holds her on high regards, but he can now see that that is where his feelings for her end.

Adrien had hurt Kagami. He gradually and painfully broke her heart and did not realise that was the case until it was too late. He couldn’t see how much he was putting Kagami through, until her trust in him was almost completely gone. After all, if Kagami still trusted him, she would not have set that trap using the lucky charm Marinette gave him. Kagami was perceptive, and she knew Adrien was holding something from her. She gave him a final chance to come clean, but he simply could not explain himself. It was his deception that got Kagami akumatized again. He felt like her akumatization was on him, regardless of how out of his hand that affair was.

Each mask came with responsibilities for Adrien as the wearer, and the Chat Noir mask came with the biggest one. Even if he wished to show his true self to anyone, he couldn’t. Being one of Paris’s protectors required anonymity. He didn’t want to lie to Kagami. Even if in hindsight he could tell that their relationship was a stagnant one, Adrien would have loved to at least clear the air between himself and Kagami. She deserved an explanation, but he just could not provide one, not without putting her in danger and Paris on the line.

Adrien Agreste was tired. He didn’t want to have be perfect all the time. He was exhausted of always being told what to do. Not having any control over anything in his life was slowly wearing him out. He was teetering over the edge, and needed a reprieve. The only moments when he can let go, are when he is clad in a leather cat-suit. Considering the fact that said outfit comes with the duty of keeping Paris safe, it is certainly concerning to say that when he donned it is when he feels the freest.

Adrien was looking out of his bedroom windows when the severity of everything that transpired that day hit him. His hands went to grab onto his hair and a frustrated groan escaped him as he fell to his knees. He wanted to scream, cry, kick, and punch. His skin felt prickly. Air felt as though it was in short supply. He was restless, yet couldn’t move. He kept so much bottled up and hidden. Adrien felt like he was going to explode.

After what felt like hours but could just as easily have been seconds, Adrien stood up. His countenance became stony and unreadable as he let the words out, “Plagg, claws out”.

Chat Noir ran. He ran as fast as he could. He needed to get away, away from a neglecting home, away from endless responsibilities, away from the wounds he caused, away from his castle of lies. The further he moved, the easier breathing became.

Chat had no destination in mind. He just knew he wanted to escape, at least for a small while. He traversed the rooftops of Paris. His run was tense with rigid yet erratic movements. His turns were sharp and his pace gruelling. Chat wanted to burn. He had hurt someone dear to him. He deserved to feel at least a fraction of her pain.

The cool night’s breeze unrepentantly hit Chat Noir’s face, alerting him of the wetness beneath his eyes. His lungs felt as though they were on fire. His legs felt ready to fall off. He didn’t stop. He pushed himself harder.

A leap approached, for he was about to reach the end of the rooftop he currently found himself in. His legs were begging for respite, but he reproached it. He pushed himself off the ground and flew. His body however refused to keep enduring abuse.

Chat’s right leg does not stick the landing. His right shoulder takes the brunt of his fall, making him hiss. His momentum makes him roll around the rooftop. He stops and lies face-up. He lets out an embittered scream. His hands fly to his hair and pull hard in a pitiful attempt to ground himself. He pants heavily and stares at the sky.

Slowly, his breathing evens out. Chat sits up and brings his knees to his chest. He hides his face behind them, and lets sobs wrack his body as his tears run freely. He embraces his despair and agony. He feels horrible about himself, and for once, instead of keeping it all in, he lets it all out.

He stays like that for a while, impossible for him to say how long for with exactitude. He cries until he’s got no more tears left. Once the burden he carries feels at least a little lighter, he looks up.

Twinkling lights on a familiar balcony a few blocks away catch his attention. He stares curiously. It was 22:00 when he left his home. He is certain it has been a good while since he did. He knew Marinette was a night owl, but it seems like an odd time to be outside on her balcony, especially given how cold it was tonight. He studied his friend’s silhouette more closely. She was leaning on her railing, resting her cheek on one of her hands. She appeared deep in thought as she gazed into the horizon. Overall, she appeared quite dejected.

Marinette is one of the most amazing people he knows. She’s a beautiful, kind, gentle soul who is willing to do whatever it takes to help those she cares about out. She’s his Everyday Ladybug.

Lately, she has been having a rough time. Even though Marinette hasn’t said anything about it, Adrien could see how the circles underneath her eyes were growing darker every day. He could see how his bubbly friend who lit up every room she walked into was withering.

He could see Alya was becoming more and more concerned about her best friend. He could see how her boyfriend Luka got more and more restless asking her to let him in. Her friends kept trying to reach out, but Marinette kept pushing away with one excuse or another. Adrien knew something was wrong with her, but he had no clue what to say to her. If neither her best friend nor boyfriend seemed to be able to do anything about it, what could he do?

Adrien only knew one thing. His friend should never feel low. Marinette Dupain-Cheng deserved the world and then some. She was an ever-burning flame whose warmth uplifted everyone around her. That flame was getting extinguished, and a world without her light was not something Adrien wanted to see. Thus, he decided that he was simply not going to allow that to happen.

Feeling slightly better after his cathartic break down, Chat stood up with renewed purpose. He had hurt someone he cared about today, that was a wrong he couldn’t right anytime soon. He’s being given the chance to help someone else who is dear to him, to at least restore some sort of balance in the world. He’d be damned if he didn’t take it.

Chapter 2 →

Author's Note

So as I said in my introductory post, I am posting my works here and on AO3. I chose to do this because I feel like it is easier to interact with readers in here. I am more than happy to answer questions and reply to your comments.

Ko-fi

[nerdybirdy6602]

Prompt H: Home

Now for some Aelwyn redemption for the Dimension 20 Alphabet @dimension20alphabet event! Major spoilers for the end of FH:SY, and maybe a content warning for panic attacks? That all being said, here’s Aelwyn navigating what exactly it means to have a home.

“Welcome home, Aelwyn.”

When Adaine had originally asked her to be her big sister, to come back with the Bad Kids to Mordred Manor, she thought it was a joke. She spent the whole van ride back to Solace waiting for the punchline, but it never came. Adaine only tranced with her head in Aelwyn’s lap, revealing feelings of warmth and affection that she hadn’t acknowledged since they were children, before their parents started grooming her to be the perfect daughter. Aelwyn spent the ride staring ahead with empty, haunted eyes as she recollected every shitty, painful thing she ever did to her little sister just so she could feel better about herself.

So when Adaine whispered those three words in her ear, Aelwyn felt the tears in her eyes as she started to back away from her sister’s loving embrace. She felt Adaine reach out to her, but it was like she felt it second-hand. The panic enveloped her for the moment, and the desire to run from this, all of this, was stronger than ever.

What have you done to deserve this?

At least with us, you know to expect. Affection is the reward.

This is a trick, Aelywn. Don’t be stupid.

She hated how much the voices sounded like Angwyn and Arianwen.

“...in for three, out for six,” she heard an unfamiliar yet paternal voice ask. “Breathe in for three, out for six.”

Simple commands. She could comply with that. Simple tasks, doing what she’s told? It’s all she’s known since she was a toddler. After a moment of following the instructions, she opened her eyes, though she didn’t know when she decided to close them. She met the gaze of who she assumed was Jawbone.

“Hey, kiddo,” he rumbled. “You had a panic attack there. How’re you feelin’ now?”

“F-fine,” she stuttered out, and then frantically glanced around. “Adaine? Where’s Adaine?”

“She’s inside,” he tried to soothe. “She thought maybe you might want some space to—”

Aelwyn didn’t listen to the rest of it. She pushed past him, mumbled an apology for it, and went in search of Adaine. As promised, her little sister was in the front room waiting for her. Aelwyn gave her a quick scan to assure herself that she wasn’t harmed. Adaine looked concerned, but not hurt. That was enough to settle the racing heart in her chest.

“Hey! It’s okay, Aelwyn,” her little sister said, holding her hands out in invitation. “What happened back there? Was there a trigger?”

“What? Trigger? I… I don’t know,” Aelwyn dismissed, taking her sister’s hands and squeezing them tight. “I just didn’t know where you went.”

“I’m sorry, I wanted to give you time and space to breathe. I didn’t know what you needed.”

“Forgiven,” Aelwyn answered quickly. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Panic attacks aren’t worthy of apologies,” Jawbone called out from the doorway. “It’s not a character flaw or a mistake.”

Aelwyn didn’t have the words to answer him. She didn’t know how to explain the deep pit of shame in her stomach. How did explain that she wasn’t raised to act this way without hurting Adaine’s feelings? She knew her sister experienced similar things, but they’d never really talked about it.

“What happened? I said something and you just… switched off,” Adaine murmured.

Aelwyn glanced behind her, and noticed that Jawbone was still listening. “Nothing, I don’t know. It was silly. I won’t let it happen again.”

Adaine made some sort of gesture to send Jawbone away so they could chat. He complied, making some excuse about checking in on Sandra Lynn. Meanwhile, Adaine led her to her bedroom upstairs. Once they were there, they sat face-to-face on the bed.

“You can talk to me, Aelwyn,” she whispered. “No one will hear a word of this if that’s what you need to be able to confide in me.”

Aelwyn hesitated, watching her little sister with wide hopeful eyes before asking, “Where’s the punchline?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The punchline,” she repeated in a frustrated tone. “When will you rip this out from under me? The longer you wait the more cruel it is!”

“Oh Aelwyn,” Adaine said with a pitying sigh, and Aelwyn’s instinct was to immediately recoil. Who was she to pity her? Old habits die hard. Still, she managed to remain still as her little sister continued, “Love isn’t conditional anymore. You deserve nice things like me, and a family, and a home not because of your actions, but because you're my sister. You’re a person, Aelwyn. No one is taking this from you. Mother and Father were manipulative bastards, but that doesn’t have to be us anymore. Never again, understand?”

The tears came before Aelwyn could put up some façade to stop them. In fact, she found that she didn’t want to. Streaming tears turned into heavy hiccupping sobs, the kind that stole your breath and left you gasping for air. Adaine didn’t say a single word, but simply pulled Aelwyn into her lap.

There’s still work left to do, more to repair and patch, but that would come with time. They’d have each other, and neither of them would have to stare down that road to recovery alone. For now, they had a home that they could call theirs. For the present, that could be enough.

[fandom-necromancer]

Ghosts of the past

This was prompted by an awesome anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed1700 (Warnings: implied past abuse, manipulation, mentioned forced drug intake, drug abuse)

[Part2]

‘I don’t feel too good about this…’ ‘Me neither, but I can’t think of any other way, unfortunately…’ Nines swallowed, looking Connor in the eyes. It was hard to look into these eyes when he normally was the one telling Nines to forget about the mission for a while. Whenever Nines sunk a little too far into his comfort zone of code and orders, Connor was there to remind him he didn’t had to follow it. He was allowed to indulge in his emotions and listen to his wants. Now that their roles had changed it really made him think about how compromised he really was with this particular case.

‘Nines, we need that confession. You know that.’ ‘I know Connor!’, the android yelled with frustration. ‘I know, but I’m not sacrificing Gavin’s mental state, health or career, just because some criminal decides to play with us!’ Connor sighed. ‘Do you think I want that? Nines, he matters to me as much as to you, I’d rather die myself than see him hurt. I’m just saying we should ask him and not decide for him just because that makes us more comfortable.’ Nines sighed, nodding. ‘His sense of duty will make him say yes.’ ‘Maybe, but it will be his decision. He’s a grown man and we will be there for him should anything happen. Come on.’

Gavin immediately shit was about to go down as both androids exited the interrogation room heading his direction. Both their LED’s were yellow bordering to red and knowing just who sat behind that door, Gavin knew exactly what must have happened. Still, he tried to look optimistic: ‘And? What did you find out?’ Nines looked aside, arms crossed over his chest, while Connor put up a fake grin that should be calming. So they both were disagreeing about their way of action. Gavin wouldn’t dare saying he knew what was going on in their heads most of the time, but he could read their emotional state like nobody else. ‘Not much’, Connor answered him. ‘He refuses to speak with anyone but you.’

Gavin swallowed and lowered his head. ‘Well phck’, he cursed, accepting his fate. ‘Guess I’ll go talk to the asshole then.’ ‘You don’t have to’, Nines immediately stated, taking a step forwards when Gavin stood up. ‘You don’t have to talk to him.’ ‘Nines, I have to if we want to get a confession, right?’ ‘He didn’t say anything about confessing’, Connor corrected. ‘Just that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone but you.’ ‘Yeah, well, that’s basically the same thing, isn’t it?’, Gavin huffed determined. ‘It’s been years, I think I can talk to the asshole if it means I won’t see him for a long time, because he’s locked up. I’ll manage.’ ‘We’re right in the next room observing’, Nines tried to reassure him, knowing arguments wouldn’t help. ‘Then I’ll try to give you two a show, huh?’, Gavin joked and took the lead towards the interrogation room.

He heard the others following him and tried to keep his composure for as long as they saw him. He knew they worried about him. Hell, Gavin worried about himself. It had been a long time since he had last seen David Smith and he wouldn’t have complained if more years had been added to that. And his confidence in his ability to keep calm and professional around him was fragile at best. But they needed that confession and Gavin would get it. No matter the cost.

He took a deep breath before opening the door and entering the room. He didn’t spare the man sitting across the table any mind, sat down and slammed the file on the table in front of him. ‘Your name is David Smith, is that correct?’ He stared strictly on the papers in front of him. ‘Yes.’ Oh that phcking voice. That goddamn soft voice that reminded him of all the times this stupid phck had him wrapped around his finger. If he could, he would have thrown up already, but as it was, he kept up his neutral façade. ‘State your age and occupation.’ ‘Thirty-nine. Freelancing salesman.’ Gavin could hear the asshole’s sly grin in his words and narrowed his eyes. ‘Come on, Gav. Why so stuck-up? Not happy about seeing your man?’ ‘You will address me as Detective Reed, Mr. Smith’, Gavin commented sharply. ‘And I’d appreciate you staying on topic. Does “freelancing salesman” include the producing and selling of illegal substances by any chance? We found copious amounts of drugs, mostly Red Ice and cocaine in your flat. Additionally, there have been accounts of eyewitnesses depicting you handing over those substances to others. The evidence clearly speaks against you, but a confession might increase your chance at a decreased sentence.’

‘You’re still as beautiful as I remember you.’ Gavin felt himself shudder but ignored the goose bumps in his back. ‘Mr. Smith, I doubt you understand the situation you are in.’ ‘Hmm… all professional, aren’t we, Gav? I remember I could get you to be pretty unprofessional in a matter of seconds.’ Gavin couldn’t help but look up. It had been a mistake, as the man’s grin widened, and those eyes captured him once again. ‘Ah… So you remember too.’

Gavin sighed and closed the file. ‘Why the phck did you refuse to speak with my partners? David, we’re over and done with. The years with you were some of my worst and there is no way I will ever want that back.’ The man smirked at him. ‘So they are your partners? I thought so, they’re your type. Tall and strong enough to put you in your place…’ Gavin ground his teeth and stared at David with eyes that could kill. ‘Are you selling drugs again? Who are your suppliers? Who do you keep around to test your phcking new creations on?’ ‘Come on, babe, you were more than just that for me.’ ‘I asked you a question asshole. You said you’d talk to me. I’ve yet to hear a single word that’s worth the air.’

David leaned back and grinned. ‘Oh, please Gavin. You pretend to be so high and mighty. You can’t put me behind bars. In fact, I know I will be walking free in a matter of hours.’ ‘And why should that be?’, Gavin asked. ‘Charlotte 2.0.’

Gavin’s eyes widened and he had to hide his hands beneath the table because they were shaking too much. In one quick motion, he took the file and left the room. Only to sink against the closed door as his knees gave in. Not much later Nines and Connor came running to his side. ‘Gavin! Are you alright? What the hell happened in there?’, Connor asked, obviously scanning his vitals. ‘Who… What is Charlotte 2.0?’, Nines asked. Gavin concentrated on breathing first, speaking second. ‘We have to let him go’, he whispered desperately. ‘We have to.’ ‘What? Why?’

Gavin stood up and walked away from the door. ‘Charlotte was an android. Non-deviant. His fail-safe. Remember how I never wanted to tell you how I got out of that relationship? I killed her. Killed her and ran, moved and stopped talking to anyone I knew. Deleted all accounts and made new ones.’ ‘You did what?’, Nines asked. ‘Yeah, she was just a machine, okay? It was the only way out. I… David is anything if not prepared. Charlotte had the single task to gather as much information as she could. That means he can notify any gang, any lab, drug den or dealer in the city they have been compromised. With a single word from him, she can make every current operation in narcotics null and void with everyone alarmed.’ ‘Then why did you kill her?’, Connor asked. ‘Because she also keeps tabs open on everyone dear to the people he wants to keep in line. I’m not an idiot, I realised what I had fallen into a week after we first met. But I could only run years later because she was dead and couldn’t hold my family and friends at gunpoint in secret.’

Connor and Nines stared at each other. ‘So we need to find the android he uses this time.’ Gavin shook his head. ‘I doubt he will be dumb enough to make the same mistake twice. I’d guess Charlotte 2.0 is a program ready to unleash all the gathered information if something goes wrong.’ ‘Then what do we do? Search his apartment again?’ ‘Would be a good start.’

Less then twenty minutes later, Gavin, Nines and Connor sat in a car driving towards David’s apartment. ‘You did good in there’, RK900 suddenly broke the silence. ‘I worried for you.’ ‘We both did’, Connor added. ‘But it’s good you decided to go.’ ‘I just want to end this shit’, Gavin sighed. ‘I don’t want to think back to it, and I’ll sleep the hell of a lot easier knowing the asshole is behind bars.’ ‘Couldn’t put it better’, Connor nodded. ‘You want to come with us?’ They had parked the car and Gavin looked up to the apartment complex he knew far too well. ‘Yeah, I’ll come. Don’t like it a bit, but I might be of help.’

They exited the car and made their way up using the shitty rumbling elevator Gavin despised. Not only that you had to fear the damn thing giving in any moment, the memories of how he had been slammed against a wall, barely conscious with the bastard’s lips all over his body… No, he refused to think of that. He refused to think of anything but him being here to put an end to it all. He felt two reassuring hands on his shoulders as the door opened and gladly let them exit first, following the two androids towards the apartment Gavin had never wanted to see ever again.

In the end it didn’t look too different to what he had gotten to know: the flat was messy, clothes thrown around, empty mugs and take out containers stood on the kitchen counters and table. The dead plant that had been Gavin’s company throughout many drying-outs from some experimental drug high, still stood on the windowsill rotting and gathering dust. ‘Would you rather wait outside?’, Connor asked, but Gavin shook his head. ‘No. Thank you, but we need to find Charlotte 2.0. I’ll help.’ They systematically went through every corner and every drawer. Gavin found a few disposable phones he couldn’t activate; Connor was long sitting on the couch interfacing with a laptop while Nines was somewhere in the bathroom.

Gavin was waiting for the next phone to charge enough so he could try to get to any contacts or other data on it. He tried to concentrate on his task, but waiting hadn’t exactly sat right with him for most, so he ended up lost in memories he hoped to rather forget. Two years of his life just gone and wasted. Who knew how many years of his life the drugs had taken from him? The lies he had told. The things he had done to keep David safe. No, to keep those dear to him safe. He looked up at Connor. Did David know of his relationship with Connor and Nines? Did he know how happy he was with them, how much he loved and needed them? Was Charlotte programmed to cause them harm too? He didn’t want to imagine what would happen would they not find whatever failsafe David had thought up this time. If they had to let David go. Phck, no, they had to find it. They-

‘Nines!’ Connor had stood up and placed the laptop on the kitchen counter next to Gavin. ‘I found something, but you are better at this.’ RK900 hurried out of the bathroom and joined their side. ‘Better at what?’ ‘At breaching the security measures. I think I found this Charlotte 2.0, but I can’t access it. It’s protected with a password and I can’t get past it. The system looks everything like an android mind to me. Or at least the security is similar. I can’t get in.’ ‘Okay, let me try.’ Nines reached for the laptop to interface and Gavin watched how his LED spun faster and faster as his brows furrowed. It only was a matter of seconds, but that alone should have told Gavin something was wrong. When the android stepped back desperately looking at the computer-screen asking for a password. ‘I can’t get in either. We need the password.’

‘How many tries do we have?’, Gavin asked. ‘Three’, Connor supplied. ‘We can’t just trial and error the solution.’ Gavin stared at the keyboard, then turned around to look at the apartment. ‘Try Gavin Reed.’ ‘What?’, Nines asked. ‘Darling, we can’t just try it out.’ ‘Listen’, Gavin sighed. ‘I wasn’t the only one David tried his drugs on. But it… It was personal with me. In some twisted way, he really loved me. Why else pull such a damn stunt? He could have just moved to a different place and continued on with his business. But he stayed, he kept dealing right under our noses after I left. The asshole wanted to be found. And we don’t exactly have much time. Try my name, if it doesn’t work, we still have two tries left.’

Nines stared at him unmoving, but Connor took the chance and typed in “Gavin Reed” Then he hit enter. The screen cleared to give access to code Gavin didn’t understand. But from the way Nines and Connor interfaced with the device immediately he took it had worked. ‘It’s deactivated’, Nines stated, stepping back. He looked at Gavin, who had pulled his arms around his middle and looked to the ground. ‘Thank you, Gavin. Let’s get this Laptop to the police and then go home.’ ‘Forget this all’, Connor said, when he pushed the laptop shut. ‘Sounds good’, Gavin sighed tiredly and closed his eyes as both androids pulled him in a deep hug. ‘Sounds phcking perfect.’

[>next part]

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 10

<- Chapter 9 | Chapter 11 ->

Summary: Can things ever be fixed between you and Frederick?

4,109 words

As you turned to leave, the door opened suddenly and struck you on the rump, nearly sending you sprawling on the hard laminated floor.

“Oh! Excuse me,” said the startled nurse, who, upon seeing who you were, greeted you loudly and deliberately by name. “Here to see Frederick?” she asked, holding the door wide open for you while klaxons blared up and down the corridors of your mind and your anxiety banged pots and pans together.

It didn’t matter what you answered at that point. Frederick was staring straight at you.

The nurse patiently held the door until you nodded politely and entered. Then she let it shut behind you, and you and Frederick were alone.

The room was silent except for the hum and beep of machinery. The air between you was still, but felt laced with invisible barbed wire, as if crossing the distance to his bedside was a treacherous task to be undertaken with extreme caution, and not just a handful of feet you could close in two strides. You scuffed your heel against the floor and cleared your throat. Neither of you wanted to speak first.

“Hi.”

“It is good to see you,” Frederick said, following your stiff tone.

“Is it?” you replied too quickly, too much frustration slipping into your voice by accident. Your heart skipped several beats at the thought that it might be true—that he was glad to see you. The possibility gave you hope. “It’s good to see you, too,” you said.

“I doubt that,” he said dryly. “I am hardly a sight for sore eyes.”

Your lips pressed together, unable to believe he had the nerve to be self-deprecating as you came to extend an olive branch, when the entire fight was about his appearance! “Shut up. Idiot.” The snap to your tone was undercut by a low waver in its pitch.

“A pleasure to hear the delicate birdsong of your voice.”

“Asshole.” Your shoulders shook with laughter at the familiar banter: his words dripping with playful condescension, but without the cutting edge of cruelty that had seeped into them recently. He was so charming when he was like this. You wanted him to be yours again—to be exchanging little barbs with him forever. Talking to him felt so familiar, but standing in front of the door with a field of invisible wires between you and the bed, unsure if this would be the last time, the heaving of your shoulders broke into a sob. You wiped your eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

His eyes watched you with unwavering focus, though it was difficult to tell what emotion he was feeling.

“So, what’s this?” You risked a step closer to nod at the new material fitted tightly over his head and hands. It hadn’t been there when you last saw him, but you managed to hide the sting in your voice that you were out of the loop with his treatment, and asked with genuine curiosity.

“Pressure garments,” he answered just as factually. “To reduce scarring. Now that my skin has healed enough to tolerate wearing them, I have been instructed not to remove them longer than an hour per day.” His eyes rolled in annoyance. “I shall be looking into more fashionable alternatives as soon as possible, of course. I feel as though I am wearing a gimp suit made of women’s shapewear.”

You bit back another laugh, because that was exactly what it looked like he was wearing, and if you laughed again, you would definitely break down crying.

“I see you started physical therapy...” Your small-talk was growing strained. The distance between your bodies too wide. “...since I’ve been gone.”

He flinched at the word “gone,” as if you’d simply been away on vacation and not coarsely thrown out and told not to come back. All the anger he’d stuffed down like a knot in his diaphragm had long since loosened and been replaced by guilt, and the realization of his own failure.

“I… have missed you,” he said slowly, his longing for you overtaking his stubborn pride. His already-exhausted arm reached out to you, as far it physically could. It was pitifully narrow and trembling with the effort of extending. His arms used to be surprisingly thick and strong for a priggish man his size, but after nearly two months of laying in the same position and being metabolized by his own body as it healed itself, they were skeletal. And your heart lurched at the sight.

It no longer mattered if the distance was trapped with barbed wire or planted with hidden minefields. Your thin façade of indifference crumbled, and you threw yourself at the side of his bed, head falling onto the mattress under his gesturing hand just as tears began to flow. His arm sagged, drained of energy, to rest in your hair.

“I missed… you too… dummy...” you choked out between sobs. “Why did you… why did you….” You couldn’t manage to form the question around the lump in your throat, losing yourself in shaking. His gloved fingers moved in your hair, almost stroking it, though the movements were too weak and stilted. But he was trying, and you knew he was trying, and that made it feel better than any time he’d ever stroked your hair before.

His fingers paused their motion, and you wondered if he was about to confirm your fears and tell you to leave again. That he missed you, but it really was over. 

His chest rose and fell with a deep, preparatory breath. Then he whispered, slow and hoarse, “I should never have pushed you away. I was afraid you would never speak to me again.” He glanced surreptitiously at your finger. His eyesight was blurry and poor at close distance, especially with tears swimming in his vision, but he did not see a trace of the gold band he told you to pawn.

Peeling your wet face off the sheets, you gently grasped his hand in both of yours and pressed your lips to his fingers. “No, I should never have left like that. I’m sorry I took so long to come back. What you’re going through… it’s normal to be angry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never said I was sorry,” he said, teeth clicking together in a slight underbite, as if he were trying to press his lips into a bored slant. You stopped kissing his hand and narrowed your eyes at him. He looked a bit shocked at his own mouth’s behavior when all he wanted to do was be overwhelmed by your forgiveness, his watery eyes widening in fear of your reaction. The next terrified, but genuine, words out of him were, “I am. I am sorry.”

“You could have called me.”

“I know.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” you cocked your head with a half-smiling expression lost somewhere between pleased with how well you understood his quirks and annoyed. An hour ago, you would have said annoyed. Right now, you were leaning toward the former.

“Then you were mistaken. I did call. You did not answer,” said shortly, flipping the blame to you.

“When?”

“A moment ago.”

“Really?” You groaned, pulling your phone out of your pocket and showing him the black screen. “It’s off. Hospital rules.”

A huff of laughter hissed through his teeth. He was about to give up all hope of reconciliation when you did not answer his call, but it was because you were here. It was incredible how quickly a day could turn around. “Pam told me not to read into it going to voicemail...”

Pam. That nurse. You must have made a very obvious face, and Frederick must have seen it as broad as daylight, because a creeping smirk pulled at his cheeks, making his permanent grimace even wider, his eyes narrowed deviously.

“Are you jealous?”

“No!”

“You ought to be,” he insinuated. “She was wonderful after my ordeal with Abel Gideon. I tried to tempt her to come work for me, know you. But she is a stubborn woman. She likes helping people, and apparently a hospital incarcerating the criminally insane does not qualify. She has been... shall we say, supportive, since you abandoned me.”

“It isn’t fair to rub salt in my wounds when I can’t punish you for your insolence,” you grumbled, gently grasping his hand in both of yours and pressing your lips to his fingers. His brow darted upward under the mask with keen interest at the prospect of punishment.

The flirtation was mainly performative—he was far from well enough for any kind of sexual performance, and even the idea of it, at this point, made his gut squirm uncomfortably—but he enjoyed the playful innuendo. The bit of swagger and pretend-confidence. It set you at ease and put on a smile on your lips that he adored.

This was another part of your relationship that had been missing while Frederick was recovering. The sinful little promises in a glance, a dare in the tone of your voice. Things had been considerably less romantic lately, but suddenly it was like he was seeing everything as it used to be, all of the wonderful, exciting, sensual moments he had callously given up. He had shattered that old life. This moment of nostalgia that would soon be over. And suddenly, his flirtatious brow sank back to its usual place, and he became sullen and still.

“I wish that… I could take it all back. That we could return to the way we were before.”

You hesitated. This would be when you would normally have squeezed his hand or crawled into bed beside him, but you still were not sure how much physical contact he could take, and you desperately did not want to hurt him. You risked leaning so your upper body was resting halfway on the bed, and you could cuddle as close as you could without really touching. You looked him deeply in the eye, hoping, with a pinprick of pain, that he would not turn sour and accuse you of staring again. 

“I know things will be different now, but you’re getting better. It’s hard to see the progress because you’re here every day, but I’ve been gone two weeks, and all of a sudden your skin is healed enough to wear this… this Spanx ski mask, and you’re doing PT. Things won’t be the same, but they’ll be good again soon.”

“Between us,” he pressed the meaning you had not taken. “Things between us cannot simply return to normal. What are we to one another now? Ex-fiancés? I wish it were possible to go back to before I ended our relationship.” His voice was thick and mournful, eyes cast low, like he was giving a eulogy.

“Why can’t we?”

Frederick was taken aback by that. It was so obvious, anyone who had not been raised by wolves like you apparently had should understand it implicitly. “One cannot break off an engagement and simply take it back.”

“Why?”

“Because!” he cried, as if that in itself was an explanation. “I have failed you, hurt you. Proven my lack of commitment. One may glue a shattered glass back into the approximate shape of a glass, but it will always have sharp edges and missing pieces. It will leak. Its surface will be marred with cracks. When one has shattered a glass, it is easier to throw it away.”

“That is the saddest thing I have ever heard, Frederick. And you have clearly never heard of kintsugi,” you said. Frederick looked confused, and you briefly considered telling him to just fucking google it when he could hold a smartphone again, but just sighed and quickly explained, “It’s the Japanese philosophy of repairing pottery with gold so it becomes more beautiful and precious the more it’s damaged. It’s an overused cliché for recovery, but it’s way better than your morbid fucking glass—and need I remind you we are not dishware.”

Frederick stared, unable to come up with words for once in his life. You sat up. The hard plastic chair—your old frenemy—had been pushed out of the way in the corner of the room. You dragged it to the side of the bed so you could sit and hold Frederick’s elastic-gloved hand, and get out of the awkward crouch you had been in.

Soft and uncertain, afraid of the answer, you gathered the courage to ask, “Do you want me to be here? Do I just make things worse?”

“You are all that makes my days bearable,” he croaked. “If your presence worsens my mood, it is only in seeing your brightness dimmed on my account. But I am selfish. I would gladly drag you down only to have you by my side as I drown.”

“Then you do want to take it back? The breakup?” you asked, head swimming with hope. “You want to un-break up.”

“I do, but—”

“Good! So do I. It’s done,” you said, laughing through tears. “That’s all there is to it.”

A tear fell from Frederick’s green eye, and another pooled dangerously close to spilling on the lower lid of the sightless blue one. “It cannot be that easy.” It could not be so easy getting the love of his life back. His head trembled side to side, and you could tell he was about to protest.

“We are not fragile dishware.” You squeezed his hand gently. “We can decide to be whole again, and it will happen. I don’t care if there are supposed to be rules—if I’m supposed to feel betrayed and never trust you again. I don’t care. I am of the opinion that you should do whatever you feel like doing, and all I want is to live in your house, and steal your snacks. I want to sleep beside you every night, in our bed, and argue with you over stupid little things every day. I want you to push my buttons and rile me up, and help me relax and make me try new things. I want to make you feel safe. And I want to fuck you senseless. So if I want to, and you want to, then why don’t we?”

Frederick’s breaths were coming out erratically, and it was all you could do not to scoop him up in a full-body hug. “You will also have to stand my bitterness and abuse,” he added cynically. “You left that out.”

“No,” you leaned in close to the bump of his ear under the tight fabric. “Another great thing about not being pottery is that we can change when something isn’t working. We’re going to find some better way for you to cope than taking it out on me, because that sucks.” You leaned back with a satisfied grin, “But I don’t mind if you’re a pain in the ass sometimes—that’s the man I fell in love with. I love you, Frederick. Just love me, too, and it will be alright.”

“Just like that?” he asked, a challenge his tone, despite the hoarseness of held-back tears in his timbre.

“Just like that.”

“Should I not be in the proverbial dog house?”

“Frederick, you’re already in the literal hospital; no point making you sleep on the figurative couch.”

“The couch would be a marked improvement,” he admitted.

“Well, not just like that,” you said, sitting up from the side of the bed and putting your weight back in the chair. “There is one thing to do before we can be engaged again.” You dabbed the corners of your eyes and sniffed deeply to clear any remaining nasal drip. Frederick watched you anxiously as you reached into your bag to grab something. You pulled out a small, square, black velvet box and opened it, displaying its contents. Inside was a gold ring matching yours, but more ornate, with a few more diamond embellishments, and attached to a gold chain.

“What is this?” Frederick whispered.

“The ring. The one the EMTs had to cut off of you. I took it to the jeweler and had it soldered back together. It’s on a chain so you can wear it until your hands are healed enough.” His heart fluttered as you dropped to one knee beside the bed and held the box aloft. “Frederick Chilton, will you marry me?”

He welled with emotion, and for a few moments—long enough for your knee on the hard floor to begin to pinch—the only sounds he could make were hitched breathing as he fought not to cry. “Damn you!” he cursed through wet eyes, “Asking that when I cannot kiss you or hold you to me...”

“Your answer?”

“And what if I never walk again? What if this is life, forever?”

“Then I love you, and I want to be with you.”

“It is not enough!” he shouted, practically snarling with vicious intent, but not toward you. Wood burns because it has the proper stuff in it, and a man becomes famous because he has the proper stuff in him. You do not have the proper stuff, Frederick. He remembered Hannibal’s words to him the day before the Dragon burned him. It was so easy for Dr. Lecter to strike surgically at the deepest and oldest wounds. Now he was even less than he was that day.

“You are enough, Frederick,” your soft voice insisted, still holding up the ring and looking at him like your heart might break. “You’ve always been enough. You always will be. Please, marry me?”

“I am not an idiot,” he grumbled, light shining softly in his eyes. “Of course I will marry you.”

The truth was, he was still conflicted. As you smiled and wept and clasped the delicate gold chain around his neck, putting your own back on your finger, he thought of so many reasons he was unhealthy for you, so many things he should tell you. But he was selfish, and being with you felt good. It felt like breathing when he’d been deprived of oxygen. And pushing you away had been selfish, too. Maybe you were right, and the only thing that mattered was that he loved you. Because he did. He loved you more than he had ever loved anything.

“I need to touch you,” he whined, desperation in his voice, his arms shifting by helpless inches. “Please touch me?”

“Where can I touch you? How do you want to be touched?” You looked to him for guidance, and he explained the few painful spots with more severe or recent scars. Everywhere else was still tender, but healed enough to tolerate pressure and light caresses.

“I cannot do much in return,” he lamented, “but you may put your arms around me if it pleases you.” With some embarrassment, which would have reddened his cheeks if they were not already red with inflammation and hidden, besides, he added, “… I would… enjoy that.”

You complied readily, with a contented sigh, uttering soft praise and oaths of love as you crawled into the small bed with as much of your body as you could squeeze in beside him. It was a tight fit, but Frederick had fewer wires and tubes coming out of him than before, and every little jostle no longer caused him agonizing pain. His body felt so warm pressed close against yours, and the warmth spread out through your chest, multiplying itself like embers hopping from one dry leaf to the next, soothing every muscle until they were melting off your bones. You wrapped your arm around him and gave him a gentle squeeze, relishing the happy little moan it elicited as Frederick melted into you.

The air in the room was still and quiet except for the hum of machinery. But it was a comfortable, sleepy sort of quiet this time, laced with steady breathing and barely-audible whines as you cuddled into him.

“It’s amazing to be able to touch you again,” you whispered, smoothing your palm up and down his side.

He hummed in agreement, eyes closed. But he frowned at a thought that plagued him even through his dreamy happiness at having you beside him again. “I want more,” he growled, pleading to a higher power. “I am too impatient to wait a year to do such simple things as holding you. Walking.” Frederick’s body trembled. “Touching my skin without it burning is progress worthy of celebration?” he spat in frustration, then took in a long breath and held it to calm down. “My anger is not directed at you, dear. Sorry.”

“I know,” you breathed, tightening your grip around him, and releasing quickly when he gave a sharp hiss. “I hate it, too. I hate waiting,” you commiserated. Your hand skimmed over his chest, careful of the places he had warned you to avoid. It killed you needing to be so cautious when you wanted to climb on top of him and ride him hard into oblivion. But that would be a long way off. So you celebrated every little victory. Each new thing he could do that he couldn’t yesterday.

You kissed down his bandaged side and over his arm. Between his new compression glove and the bandages encasing his elbow, there was a bare patch of exposed skin. It was discolored, still reddened, and scarred, but looked intact. You pressed a kiss to it, warm beneath your lips. He shuddered, and exhaled slowly.

“Can you feel that?” you asked.

“Yes,” he breathed. “I have missed this.”

You wished there was more exposed skin for you to kiss. You glanced at his face. His mouth was uncovered. His mangled lip stubs gave a ghastly impression over his pearly white teeth, though you would never admit to him that you thought so. However gruesome they looked, the only reason you hadn’t kissed them yet was that they were badly injured where they’d been bitten off. It had not been a clean cut in any sense, the uneven tearing and bruising an impediment to the recovery of the wound’s edge. But if his face was fitted with this compression mask, then his mouth must have been healed enough. As you inspected the jagged flesh, you concluded that it was as sound as the skin on his arm.

A strange look came over Frederick, cagey and watery-eyed, and you knew he was holding in the urge to snap at you for staring, terrified of pushing you away again.

“Can I kiss you?” you whispered, lowering your mouth close enough to breathe his air, but waiting for his approval. His pupils blew wide with longing, eyes darting over your lips, and his tongue ran along the inside of his teeth.

“Is that a joke?” he let out a huff of cynical laughter. “You do not need to prove your devotion with these… displays of willingness to do the revolting.”

“It’s not a joke! I want to kiss you.”

“God, you are serious. That paraphilia of yours,” he tutted, teasing you. The sides of his eyes tilted, and he fixed you with a sober, sincere gaze—the deepest he had let you look into his eyes, for fear of being this close to his face, since being maimed. The green one was still that perfect, warm crystalline color of the crest of a wave curling toward Assateague Island. The blinded eye was a pure blue now, as if he had the North Atlantic in one eye and a Caribbean beach in the other. But you couldn’t blame him for not finding the beauty in his injuries, especially when they were still sore. “No,” he said. “I am not ready for that.”

“OK,” you nodded.

His eyes caressed your face lovingly, since he could not do it with his hands. “I would like it if you held me more,” he suggested, voice thick with his desire to feel you. Just not on his mouth. You kissed his wrist once more, slowly, savoring the feel of his skin on your lips, then settled yourself beside him again. You lowered your head onto his shoulder, careful not to put too much weight down, and draped an arm over his chest. Fredrick let out a vulnerable whine as he relaxed, and it nearly burst your heart.

One day, you would kiss him again. One day, you would have everything back. But it would be one day at a time. For now, this—laying beside him in his cramped hospital bed, nearly dozing—was enough.

This was plenty.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:  @beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @da-po / @madamsnape921

[fearnyas]

♡ — @etoilenyas​. ❞

          He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes glued squarely to the scratched wood of the table in front of him. He doesn’t want to look him in the eye. 

          His throat feels sore. Every time he breathes, it’s like he’s pulling in glass and that’s almost enough to make his eyes well up from the pain, but that’s not what’s most pressing on his mind right now. If he really wanted to, he could open his mouth and speak through the pain. He could reassure him, or himself, or the both of them, but he makes the conscious choice not to. He’s not sure what to say anymore. He wonders if that hurts him more than it hurts Oliver. He doubts it. He’s always shouldered both of their pains together.

          He’s observant. He can pick up on the fact that the other’s breath has hitched, because the air around them feels so much more still than it had a few seconds ago. It makes him feel guilty, but not guilty enough. There’s too much, no room for more. But his brows still furrow and his façade still cracks, because he doesn’t want to hurt him. He never wants to hurt him, but what can he do when they’re both in pain. At some point, he has to admit that he has a limit. Maybe he’s well past his own. He can’t shoulder their pain anymore. He wants to, but he can’t.

          Finally, he moves, seeming to start out of his daze, but it’s so subtle that it’s possible to miss it. It feels disgusting to move his body, but he brings his elbows onto the table, purposefully avoiding looking at the dark, angry bruises that cover his arms as he does so. They cross in front of him and he wants to put his head down, but he waits. He’s exhausted, but he isn’t dead. A voice in the back of his head says he should be. It sounds like Oleander. His eyes start to tear up, for real this time.

          He’s not sure he can imagine life without him, but it’s the first time he’s ever tried. He thinks of Hebenaid’s purgatory, where a piece of Ollie had come to him, taken his hand in his own, comforted him. The same presence he’d felt all those years ago facing his vice had now come to protect him against his own. It had been dark until he’d come. In middle school, he hadn’t spoken. In high school, the only reason he’d felt purpose was because he’d come to him, then, too. There’s no Dmitry without Oliver. In the end, maybe there’s no Dmitry.

          He begins to show signs of life, blinking even as he still continues to stare below him. He doesn’t need to glance over to know that his fiancé has probably started crying. Even with the world seeming mute around him, he knows him better than anyone. Sometimes, he thinks he knows him better than himself. Without him, who is Ollie? Do either of them exist? 

          He was right, he’s not strong enough to do this. For once, he sees the clarity in his soulmate’s past arguments. If he were dead, he wouldn’t have to make these choices. If he fell asleep and never woke up, he wouldn’t have to worry about Ollie’s suffering or his own or the scars that the Ventriloquist had left behind. If Oleander were here, he’d urge him, he thinks. He still isn’t sure if Ollie himself is here and if he is, he doesn’t know what he’d ask of him anymore. He’d ask, but he wouldn’t listen.

          What does this mean? He repeats to himself, trying not to think too hard on the missing gem in the ring, the scorched surface, the way he’d laid it back in his open palm without a word. Do you want to call off the engagement…? No, never. But he still hasn’t said it, has he? For the first time in their relationship, he considers the possibility of saying yes. 

          He’s the one crying now. He tries to close his eyes against it, because he’d known it was coming in full force, but he can’t do anything except remove his glasses, set them aside and let it happen. His arms fold flat on the surface of the table, his chest aching in a way he could never put into words. He can’t exist without him. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. But he doesn’t think that Ollie has to die in order for him to feel half alive. He’s been alone all along. And, really, it’s his own fault.

          “I…"  He can’t. He shakes his head no in lieu of answering him verbally, because he can barely swallow right now and it’ll kill him if he tries to say anything. He doesn’t want to break it off. He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to lose him. He can’t. Oliver could destroy every part of him and he would let him. He would have drowned alongside Oleander back then, if that had been his only choice to be with him. He’ll let himself die for this man before he ever turns away from him. It doesn’t change how much it hurts and there’s nothing he can do anymore to stop it from showing. He lowers his head to rest on his arms, trying to muffle the sound as his sobs become more prominent and it’s the first time in his life he thinks he’s never reached out for Ollie, the thought buried in the back of his mind that he knows he won’t reach back for him. 

                   It was only ten seconds. Ten seconds of silence. Ten seconds in waiting of an answer that had never been so uncertain. It’s somehow simultaneously too much and yet no time at all, but the weight behind them makes him feel as if Dmitry might have waited hours between. For the first time in what felt like forever, their future together lacked the surety he’d come to rely on. The certainty that consoled him and inspired him all the same; but this wouldn’t have been the first time their relationship felt so fragile. Ten seconds--and it all comes rushing back. With every second that passes, another piece falls into place. 

                ten. He’d felt like this before. Years ago, right when he buckled under the weight of his own burdens. Maybe neither of them had moved on. (Of course they hadn’t, he thinks--he’s seen Dmitry cry before, stayed up on his restless nights, holding his hand and reminding him over and over again that the worst was over; though in hindsight, the worst had only just begun.) When Oleander first manifested, he was the cause. Oliver, himself, his doubts, his fears, and what he thought he wanted most converging into one, Oleander taking what he saw as a final solution to everything that weighed so heavy on his shoulders. Selfish, stupid, he didn’t think of it then, not a single thought spared to what Dmitry must have felt. He didn’t think of his love; how he held him whenever he cried, how he sat with him when panic ran its course, he didn’t think of him at all. And maybe that’s one thing that eats at him the most, how little he ever gave in return. 

Vices were fickle things, and his own memory of it’s possession is hazy at its best. He remembers suffocating, the way his lungs burned, crying out for air they couldn’t find, and a lingering ache whenever he woke from it. He remembers crying afterwards, his chest burning every time a sob wracked his body, torn between choking on tears and trying to cough up water he swore still set itself behind his ribs. Maybe this isn’t much different. His eyes still sting, and his hands still shake. it’s hard to will them to stop, even with him wringing them in his lap. For once, Ollie finds it hard to look at him.

                eight.  There hadn’t been anything too out of place, so he thought. In hindsight, he should’ve pried a little more, not have given in so easily to complacency. It was normal for Dmitry to work himself to the bone, it wasn’t normal for him to come back to their apartment practically stumbling over himself. It strikes him how much he helped to build those habits, wonders why he didn’t reach out to him then. He can’t come up with an answer. Dmitry would come back with blood on his heels, and dark stains on the pointe shoes he otherwise took so much care of, and Oliver would maybe tend to his wounds, but more often than not, he had turned his back to him. 

The date had started well enough, a glimpse of normalcy; of the love they had before--though the more he thinks now, the more he sees how unusual it was. Dmitry always did have a habit of overworking himself, didn’t he?--so when he worked himself even harder, Oliver had hardly thought to question it. That wasn’t his first mistake, but it was one of many. They’d caught a break, finally had the time to spend together, and it felt like everything would be okay.

They were sat one across from the other. Ollie had reached across to take hold of his hand, played with his fingers while they talked--looking back, he remembers how Dmitry couldn’t seem to meet his gaze, how he tensed up with every compliment spared. He didn’t say anything, then. Would it have changed things if he did? A part of him is scared to ask if anything would have changed at all. Maybe this was inevitable too. There’s warmth against his cheeks. His shoulders tense.

                six. He’d walked into the final stage confidently. with the other Nyans at his side, a warmth built in his chest, swelling with pride, and it brought him more comfort than he thought possible when facing the biggest battle of their lives. For a moment, he felt anything was possible. And then it hit--all over again. Suffocating; drowning in a sea unseen, he’d clutch and claw at his throat the more the pressure pressed down on him, and he hardly had the chance to look and see how well the others were faring, let alone look at the enemy. It felt familiar. The warmth sunk with him, coiled in his stomach, and all he was left with was the same fear that nearly ate him alive all those years ago.

Tick, tick, tock. The stage wouldn’t wait for them. Hebenaid wouldn’t--couldn’t--either. Despite the way they’d seem to crumble in the final stretch, he’d move on with or without them. Oliver didn’t see what happened then, there was a flash of white, nothing, and it all began again; the pressure weighed down heavier--he could’ve sworn they were dying. One, and then another, and yet when he felt his weakest despite his best efforts he felt him : a distant sort of thing, but the warmth flared, enveloped every part of him, and with it light was brought to his fingertips. He gave him the will to carry on, to lead them through. Breaking through it all, his voice rang through: I’m with you. 

                four. His chest is burning. He’s always been a crybaby, above all else. His breath catches in his throat, and despite all his efforts he can still feel tears start streaming down his face. There’s barely been a word spared between them and yet he feels like his heart is breaking. Why hasn’t he said no? The thought occurs to him that if he feels this broken, Dmitry must be in pieces beside him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he thinks he knows that much. When they first met, Dmitry hadn’t spoke, they communicated only in actions alone, yet he felt he understood him perfectly. Sitting there with him in silence, he had to learn to get closer to the man he loved. He doesn’t get it now. Where did he go wrong?

                two. The ring is pocketed. He can't bear to look at it either, damage aside. He hates the fact his hands still tremble so, that it takes at least two tries before it's put away proper. He’ll figure out what to do with it later.

                  Now, an epiphany. How much had he missed? He hardly noticed how much he’s curled into himself; knee pulled against his chest and him hugging it tight, closing himself off. From what? Myself? 

Slowly, he breathes in, lets himself sit upright with the breath out. He can’t relax, but he can try to steady himself for all that’s worth. For years, he’s left Dmitry alone in his own suffering while begging him to aid his own--it can’t continue like this. He doesn’t want it to. It’d be cruel to ask him to stay, after all he put him through, and yet where words fail he still shakes his head no, and he doesn’t understand. Was it love, or was it some kind of sick desperation keeping them holding on?

It’s harder than he thought it would be to swallow his fear, to try and look at him properly. He looks...miserable. The image of the Ventriloquist leading them both along with its tendrils around Dmitry’s neck haunt him the most, the bruises where they bound him are blossoming blue and purple against his skin. He takes a moment, wrings his hands together one last time, and reaches out to him; it’s nothing more than a light touch, carding his fingers through his hair. It’s rare he ever let him touch him that way, but he feels in some way, it’s one of the most comforting things he can do. It’s gentle, loving, familiar--he hopes he thinks so too, in some way. What he wants is to pull him in as abruptly as he could; unfurl him himself and squeeze his arms so tightly around him that he can hardly breathe, but doing even that much feels cruel in a way.

“I’m here for you.” He fears his voice shakes, betrays him and what confidence he tries to fake no matter how true the words might be. There’s no reason for Dmitry to believe him, and even if he did, Ollie would be confused why he did to begin with. He was never there for him before, but he wants to be. And the want runs so deep that it aches, an open wound in his heart that would never heal. “I’m here,” softer, now. As much pain as he feels, he’s certain Dmitry’s is worse. He pauses, presses his lips together, and slowly shifts closer, curling his arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t want to press too hard against him, doesn’t want to hurt him worse. “We’re here, together. It might not be much, but…” Reaching down to rest his hand over his fiance’s, he continues. “I’m here. You don’t have to carry everything anymore.”

There’s a pause, contemplative. He only tears his gaze away from him for a second, struggling to find the words, stares at their hands overlaid. “I’m sorry you ever had to.” 

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Ten

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“That’s the idea?”

Mistface narrowed his eyes and looked back at Flyfang, who was giving the oak forest in the very far distance a doubtful look.

“It’s unoccupied at this time of year,” Greyleaf said, just a little ahead of her. “Or at least, the cats who could be there have a low chance of meeting us and knowing anything about the Clast.”

“It’ll be mighty wet,” Mistface added. “Smell of the mud and plants ought to cover us up, long as it stays that way.”

“Yeah, but sometimes the Marish hunt there.” Flyfang grimaced. “I’m not inclined to meet them again. Not just yet, anyway.”

Darkpelt picked up her pace to walk alongside Flyfang. “If we’re careful, we won’t. You’d be surprised what cats can miss when tree-bark is soaked.”

Flyfang surprisingly seemed more assured at this particular input. She tilted her head back and forth, considering, before saying, “I guess it’ll do for now.”

“We can’t be here long anyway,” Beetlefoot said, trotting alongside Greyleaf. “I don’t intend to be a contrarian, but the rain could take a while coming back, and by then…”

“Our smell will be everywhere,” Redheart finished. “Yes, I was considering that. But you two…” she turned her attention to Mistface and Greyleaf. “You grew up by this forest. If you’re confident this will work for a time, I trust you.”

“We are,” Mistface and Greyleaf said together.

“Then we ought to move a little quicker.” Redheart nodded to everyone behind her and sped up into a trot. The party immediately followed along after her without a word from anyone.

Mistface, at the front near Redheart, glanced back a few times to gauge how everyone was doing. The warmth of the sun had brought some small sense of comfort when they had started south, their fur drying well (if a tad stiff from bits of mud still clinging to their coats). It helped that there was some form of a plan, however small it was, for the next course of action. It gave everyone at least the façade of comfort. As they walked off their nervous energy, cats were in a line of pairs and talking quietly to each other, sometimes to someone ahead or behind them. Laurelclaw and Littlepaw were at the back, trying to stay cheery and share their experiences of where they had traveled in their lives (evidently, neither of them had been in a proper forest before). Darkpelt was talking so quietly to Flyfang that Mistface couldn’t pick up their conversation, but by her tone, it was oddly sympathetic, and Flyfang had a nostalgic look on her face. Beetlefoot and Greyleaf were behind Mistface, discussing the leaders and their next course of action.

Mistface was nearly alongside Redheart, but he had kept quiet almost their entire travel today. Not only because he didn’t feel like talking, but because he wasn’t sure how to actually hold a conversation with a cat like Redheart – a deputy, an outlaw, and a bearer of secrets he was barely keeping composed just hearing about, nevermind being forced to shoulder alone.

Or at least shouldering it alone until she met his brother.

It stung a little, he had to admit, that Greyleaf hadn’t entrusted him with the truth about StarClan. He could understand why, at least; Greyleaf was terrified of his knowledge and clearly felt like telling anyone would get him labeled as crazy, if not accused of heresy. Still, Mistface couldn’t help feeling some hurt. He and their mother would have listened to him, wouldn’t they? They’d believe him, right? Mistface believed him now, and supported him. Did that not count for anything?

“Mistface.”

As If he’d been caught saying something rude by his mother, he jolted and turned to the right. Redheart had slowed down to walk alongside him and was giving him a very…

Interesting. She looked like she was guilty of something. The usual exhaustion in her eyes was even deeper now, muddy with regret and shame. Mistface said nothing, waiting.

She leaned a little closer to him and spoke in a low voice. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

Mistface’s ears swiveled and he squinted a little at her. “Pardon?”

“I mean to say that I’m sorry he’s involved in this.” Redheart looked ahead again, head down like she was pulling something behind her. “I was so relieved that there was someone else out there who knew the truth. I couldn’t know what was going to happen then – I don’t think anyone would – but all the same, I put him in a difficult position. He couldn’t refuse to help. I couldn’t, if it was me.”

“Mm.” Mistface’s eyes flicked to his brother. “He’s awful helpful like that. Would be why he’s a healer.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Redheart said.

“I know what you mean.” Mistface heard a tinge of snappiness in his voice and immediately corrected it to something more polite – not necessarily friendly, but polite. “I won’t lie and say I got a good grasp on what you two dealt with for so long.” He narrowed his eyes. “I also won’t say that I know my brother well as I do, because clearly I don’t.”

Redheart sighed quietly. “No one does. But it’s my fault that he disappeared and left you and your mother behind. And it’s my fault that you were sent to spy on us – that you were alienated from your own kin.” She looked back at him, guilty again. “I don’t know how he feels about it now, but I know you can’t be happy, and so I want to apologize to you directly.”

Mistface didn’t say anything for a while. He turned the apology over slowly and carefully in his head, sure, but there was a bit of spite in him making her wait for his response. He knew that was petty. He couldn’t help it.

“Well,” he said at last, “I suppose I can’t blame you for bein’ desperate.”

Redheart’s face was hard to read. He didn’t know how she reacted in her head. She just faced forward and kept walking. The two of them were silent, listening to the conversations behind them.

The sun was sinking well into the southern horizon before the group had reached the edge of the oak forest. It had warmed up considerably, but the air coming from the shadows of the woods was almost chilly. Greyleaf and Mistface took the lead now, stepping into the much softer earth beneath the trees with everyone hesitantly following them.

As they had predicted, the ground inside was still wet. Better still, the plants clinging to the moist bark of the trees were giving off (admittedly rather unpleasant) scents that almost clogged the nose. The oaks’ boughs refused to let the sunlight through, forcing it to sneak through tiny openings in the leaves and dot the ground in the perfect way to mask the cats from any eyes that may have been looking into the woods. The trees were thick, too; within half a minute of walking, they couldn’t see the valley outside beyond tiny, determined streaks of light that were dimming with every step.

“And it’ll be foggy in the morning, too,” Greyleaf told everyone. It was nice to see him so enthused, especially given their current situation. “This is about as safe as it’s going to get before we come up with a course of action.”

“If you say so.” Darkpelt’s nose was wrinkled. “Boy and howdy, if it isn’t impossible to get your bearings with just your nose.”

“It’s hard with eyes too.” Laurelclaw was watching Darkpelt grimacing with every sniff and poorly hiding his amusement. “It’s pretty dark, and everything’s the same color.”

“Perfect place to hide some fugitives, then,” Mistface said. “Now, if we can find any dry places to sleep…”

It took some more wandering around, but Beetlefoot did eventually call that he had found a cluster of oaks where someone had tried to make some dens before evidently giving up and leaving. They were nestled under the thickest roots, and they were shallow, but at least dry. With that, Laurelclaw stood on watch while Flyfang, Mistface and Redheart went to hunt. Flyfang took the opportunity to bring Littlepaw along to teach her a few tricks. Mistface half-smiled overhearing Littlepaw practicing her pounces and being cheered on by Flyfang.

Dinner was at least less tense than this morning – prey was small, but no one complained, and Littlepaw’s pride at having caught a squirrel by herself seemed to warm the air in the circle they had formed. There was very little conversation after the meal. Perhaps there didn’t need to be. Everyone was thinking or trying to scrape mud off of their paws and onto tree roots. It didn’t feel awkward, which was nice.

Eventually, it got too dark for any running around or exploring, so the cats picked out their dens and said their goodnights. Mistface shared one with Greyleaf and the others paired up close by. It was quite soothing, having his brother with him again. Mistface could forget the sting of betrayal (what a dramatic way to put it, honestly) and just be grateful that they weren’t isolated from each other.

The others must have felt some sense of security too, because the woods went quiet in moments. Soft, deep breaths were the only sounds in the stillness of the nights. It was peaceful.

For almost everyone.

 ---

 A sort of horrified curiosity had been buzzing around Littlepaw’s head. All afternoon, she’d wondered what, exactly, Redheart and Greyleaf had seen all this time. They had avoided saying exactly what StarClan – or this thing pretending to be it – looked like. Perhaps it was too horrible to describe, but that just made her all the more curious.

Besides, she thought, shifting a little to be more comfortable – besides, this raised so many questions about her dreams. How could she have never suspected anything? How did Meliclight appear so often and stay the same no matter what? How was this the same for every other seer? Was StarClan really that good at pretending?

All of these questions and more whined like a mosquito in her ears, until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She had the distinct sensation of something pulling at her head before she fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped. The field of her seer dreams was grassy, sunny, beautiful flowers with butterflies flitting around. Now, it looked… almost abstract. The grass was bowed and bent at an angle, like someone had broken all of their stalks. The earth under her paws felt more like a thick pad of lichen on a cracked rock – like she was barely standing on something at all. The air was almost too dense to breathe, and there was no sunlight or shadows to give her an idea of her surroundings. Everything felt so flat, so empty. She could hear nothing. Smell nothing. The only real sensation she had was a creeping dread along her spine.

Hesitantly, she called out, “Meliclight?”

Something vaguely shimmered in front of her. She couldn’t tell what it was before the image splintered and faded away.

“M-“ She had to breathe shallowly to speak. “Meliclight, it’s Littlepaw. Are you here? Are- are you safe?”

Nothing. Littlepaw’s tail started to shake unconsciously.

“Please tell me you’re real,” she said, more to herself than Meliclight.

“-paw.”

Littlepaw blinked.

All around her was a voice, stuttering and faint. “-Ii-i-i-ttlepaaaaw. Li. Sssssssssf here.”

The dread sparked into fear. Littlepaw stepped backwards a few paces, looking around, trying to find some glimpse of Meliclight. Why was the sky grey now?

“StarClan?” she whispered.

“IIIHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” The feeling of land faded from under Littlepaw’s feet. “Trust- truuu-uuuuUAAAA-“

The words split off into a deafening wail. As if that was a signal, the field shattered like ice. Littlepaw cried out as everything drifted apart. Suddenly she was just floating, choking on the air, looking around wildly for someone, anyone, that could help her.

A deep, rattling, ancient breath.

Littlepaw turned her head forward again.

Aspects above.

She understood now.

 ---

 Mistface was jarred awake by a shriek. He caught Greyleaf scrambling to his feet and climbing out of the den. He followed his brother, fur bristling as the shriek cracked even higher and louder.

Everyone was outside now, with Laurelclaw halfway inside one of the dens. He pulled himself out backwards, hauling a thrashing Littlepaw by the scruff.

“Littlepaw!” Flyfang was trying to shake the apprentice’s shoulder with a paw. “Hey! What’s wrong?”

“What’s happening?” Beetlefoot was standing stiff and bristling harder than Mistface.

Littlepaw shrieked again, claws unsheathed and paws flailing like she was fighting something off. Flyfang ducked around her and bit down hard on her tail.

That did the trick; Littlepaw’s eyes shot wide open and she raised her head, hyperventilating. She stared at the rest of the cats like she wasn’t sure they were real. Flyfang immediately went to her head and started grooming her like one would a fussy kitten.

Laurelclaw lowered his head to about as close to Littlepaw’s eye-level as he could without crouching. “Are you okay? Were you having a nightmare?”

Littlepaw swallowed air like she hadn’t breathed in hours. “I saw it.” Her wide eyes went to Redheart and Greyleaf. “They’re telling the truth.”

Flyfang stopped grooming. Slowly, everyone’s heads turned to the deputy and healer. Greyleaf shut his eyes, brow creased a little as if in pain. Redheart almost looked heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I wish you didn’t have to see it.”

Darkpelt took a step forward. “StarClan? The thing?”

“Mhm,” Littlepaw said, and from the sound of her voice it was almost too much to respond. She was shaking violently and now staring at nothing. Laurelclaw leaned over her a little, protecting her from her visions, and Flyfang resumed grooming. They both looked like they could use some soothing themselves.

Everyone looked at each other. It was silent. Appropriately. There was nothing that could be said now to comfort any of them.

[kinsbin]

Miscommunication

Title: Miscommunication WC: 3760 Ship: Ghost Grinder [Papa Emeritus III/Self Insert]

Summary: A conversation overheard by Terzo results in a minor miscommunication between him and his assistant... And brings about a confession both needed to hear. 

A/N: I WANTED TO WRITE THIS SO I INDULGED MYSELF TODAY I had a good time with it ;w; I love Ghost so much man. It’s just a very long fic about my first confession of love to Terzo okay. 

----

Secondo’s office was a comforting place. The tall, intense walls lined with books and baubles so neatly organized in their spaces surrounded Kai with a sense of comfort. The plush carpet was always soft under their feet and the scent of the constant burning incense, held in an old chinese holder decorated in macabre designs, only served to comfort them even more. It was a stark contrast to the two whenever they were required to commune together as they currently were: The desk before them being neatly stacked with papers that organized themselves alphabetically and by month as they poured over each one with a type of exhausted desperation that only those managing an entire church budget could seem to handle.

“I think that’s the last of it,” Kai finally spoke after what felt like hours of terse silence between the two of them, “The budget reports are - at least - organized enough to keep better track of for the time being in the files.”

“Yes,” The second Emeritus’ brother’s voice was a dull and disheartening void of disbelief to the other’s words, “Until my foolish brother decides to give half of it up for some sort of grandiose soiree.”

“We’ll be ready if he does and I will kindly remind him about these painstaking hours.” Kai returned curtly as they dropped the final reports before them in their designated pile. A deep and long sigh reached their throat as they crackled their fingers carefully. The noise echoed eerily from against the walls of the space around them. Secondo’s eyes trailed on them for what felt like longer than necessary, but they made no comment on it as they stood.

Brushing the edge of their black dress uniform off, they made to gather the rest of the papers in the stack that belonged to them, their minds already working through the carefully planned filing system they would put through in Terzo’s own office. If left alone, the man would have no clue where to file his own pieces. The knowledge of the intense cabinet system was left to Kai and Kai alone. At the very least they had that as leverage should Terzo ever threaten them with a vacation away from him.

(Which he would never do. He more often than not insisted they went on vacations together).

“Brother,” Secondo’s voice was lilted as he held a hand upwards to stop the other’s movements, “A moment of your personal time, per favore.”

Kai’s fingers stopped gathering the papers before them as they looked upwards into the other’s face. Their mouth curved down into a frown of concern as they tilted their head. The air was suddenly cold on the back of their neck as they slowly released the papers from the full grasp, making sure to keep them in their organized positions to prevent any mix ups for the second time they were meaning to reach for them.

“Is there something I forgot, Excellency?”

Rather than reply right away, Secondo stood up from his seat. Though his outfit was a casual thing (as casual as he could be in a fine Italian branded 3 piece suit) the skull paint lacing his features was as sharp as ever. It showed off the glowering edges of his cheekbones and seemed to exemplify the overarching intimidation of him as a whole being. If Kai had not been staring at it endlessly for the past several months as they helped to arrange the church budget per his request, they might have been intimidated by such a righteous façade. Instead they met his rising façade by straightening their own back, moving upright as he rounded the table to approach them.

“I’ve found myself - hm how you say - interested in something. A proposition I feel may interest you as well.”

Kai shifted in their spot, tilting their head as they rested some of their weight on the desk at their side. The wood dug into their hip, but they made no sign of discomfort as their brow furrowed in confusion.

--

Neither saw nor heard the form of Terzo as he shifted through the halls, a skip in his step as he chased after where he knew his favorite assistant to be at. He couldn’t imagine how boring a meeting with his elder brother had trapped them in. Surely they were already longing to break free and return back to the arms of their beloved Papa!

At least he really hoped they did.

Terzo was no fool, of course, and he never missed the calmness that followed after Kai when they returned from their brother’s office. Nor did he miss the smile that seemed to grace their lip when Secondo discussed in hushed whispers to them about an important document that needed reviewing and organization. Kai insisted on a multitude of occasions that it was simply a habit of theirs to find pleasantness in organization. To manage and to be in control was something of a sin they carried with them in one way or another, and Terzo had tried to understand many times.

Yet that feeling of dread often filled his heart when Secondo’s eyes lingered too long on their form. Or when they seemed to laugh a little too much at something he whispered into their ear as they left their private meetings. It made his heart clench enough to convince himself a visit was necessary. Just to check in. Just to find something of an excuse that would make his best confidant come to his side once more.

A ghoul had asked him why he wanted them so often by him. Terzo had no answer.

He arrived at the slightly ajar door to his brother’s office and scoffed at the heady scent of incense flowing from it. Surely they both must be suffocating in such an intense scent. He poked his head around the door, intent on knocking as he did so, but his hand fell as he watched the elder Emeritus walk towards Kai. As Kai tilted their head curiously. As they answered a question Terzo hadn’t caught fully from his brother’s lips. He could see their gaze raised curiously as they leaned on the desk before them.

“What proposition would that be, Sir?”

Secondo’s hand rose forward and out, brushing his fingers over the top of Kai’s and resting it against their own flesh with a surprisingly tender embrace. Kai’s body stiffened in surprise and - try as they might- they could not hide their gaze as it widened in shock. Secondo was now...very close to them. Close enough that they could smell the faint cologne and whiskey that lingered across his form at any given moment, and they were not sure if the smell was comforting or dangerous. His height made it so they had to bend their neck upwards to watch him, gaze furrowed as he tilted his head at them in return.

“You work for my brother,” Secondo began evenly, “But he does not deserve you, you know. Your skills would be much better served in my company, caro. We do much together already and it would be… interesting to see if we could do more.”

Kai’s eyes widened in surprise, their jaw momentarily going slack as Secondo kept his hand evenly on their own, squeezing now with purpose as the proposition fell from between his lips:

“Leave my brother and be mine. It sounds reasonable, yes? I will value you far more than he could ever imagine.”

Terzo exhaled furiously through his nose, not caring if the sound was heard or not, and his fingers clenched against one another in frustration. Of course his brother would pull this shit. Of  course he would ask to take away something as precious - as important - as Kai was to him. His brow furrowed as he tried to hold back the short wave of emotions that pressed into his stomach as a result of the proposition spread before him.

The worst part was - with their interactions - he saw no reason for Kai to say no.

Hell. They would not.

Turning his back to the door, he moved with a purpose through the hallowed halls of the church around him. His shoes made a clattering noise as they pushed him forward with unnecessary frustration. Fine, then. If they wanted to be with his brother he would let them.

... He would…. Let them, he supposed.

--

The room swam in the silence for what felt like hours. Kai’s breath caught in their throat as a sense of panic rose against their chest. The last thing they had expected from the older brother’s lips had been… something like that, certainly. Opening up their mouth, the dryness of their throat caught the edge of their breath and a dry cough of surprise made its way through their lips, their free hand raising to cover their mouth as they moved their other from under the other’s grip. Secondo allowed it, watching their face with patience of his own.

“I… Am flattered, Sir, I am.” They finally managed out with a flush of surprise to their cheeks, “But I simply could not accept. M-My assigned duty is to-”

“Duties can be moved around and reordered,” Secondo insisted with a menial shrug, “Someone would replace you at my brother’s side and it would be no trouble. You need not worry about something like duty in this respect, si?”

“No-!” Kai’s voice dared raise up in surprise for a moment, the sound shocking them both as they stared down one another. A frown momentarily placed itself on Secondo’s lips as he looked over Kai, who shrunk under the gaze. Never had they raised their voice at anyone, much less someone as high in ranking as a former Papa certainly. Even now he had power within the church. Even now he was not to be trifled with in those respects.

“No, your Excellency,” Kai breathed out with a more even tone this time, “It’s… It’s something else, you see. Terzo… needs me.”

“He can need another.”

“No he can’t,” Kai insisted, leaning forward with an ache in their eyes, “He needs me. I know him. I know how he works and I’m the best - the only - one who can do what I do for him and… and…”

Their voice broke softly as they looked away, a breath of emotions flooding their eyes as Kai took a step backwards from the other to compose themselves. Wiping away the tears that dared touch the edges of their vision, they could not get out the words of what they wanted to say. They could not manage the terrifying phrase that pressed to the edge of their lips as they tried to hold it back in their throat, lest something go wrong as they attempted it.

They did not have to, though. Secondo’s eyes lit up with a familiar recognition within moments of their voice cracking under the strain of his proposal. It made sense after that.

“Ah, I see,” He mused quietly, “You love him.”

The phrase sent fire to Kai’s face. They looked up with a red blush that matched the strands of their hair. Their lips parted to defend themselves, to counteract the absurdity of the statement with one of their own, but… Nothing came forward from them. Nothing to deter the thought or push the other away from the idea itself. No… In reality, they really couldn’t.

It was the truth.

“... Yes,” They finally whispered out, eyes switching to the floor as they tried not to cry in front of one of the heads of the church, “Please don’t make me leave him.”

When Secondo reached outwards to touch them again, it was to give them an assuring (f not awkward) pat on their shoulder. Kai startled at the touch and looked up, surprised at the way the elder took the refusal. He was not smiling, but he did not look angry either. A mere gaze of understanding was swept across his facial features as he nodded to Kai. Kai’s shoulders relaxed under his touch. They breathed out a breath they were not aware that they were holding.

“It was bold of me to express such a thing,” Secondo spoke, the closest thing he might get to an apology, “Go to your Papa then, caro. And… if you ask me… I would say explaining those feelings to him may end better than you might think.”

Kai laughed weakly through the breath they exhaled, reaching down to shakily gather their papers from where they had been left, not forgotten by their ever detailed eyes. They tried to ignore the intensity with which their fingers were shaking, barely able to grab the papers without trembling and dislodging one in their grip. It made them curse despite themselves. The frustration of their own emotions were obvious in their voice as they finally pulled the papers close to their chest and gave one last look at the man before them, inhaling sharply as they did so.

“Th-Thank you for going over them with me, Sir.” They managed out in a shaking tone, waving in the wind of their own emotions.

“Si, si,” Secondo waved a hand outwards in a dismissive motion, “Go off now.”

They let one more thank-you slide from their mouth before scurrying out of the office, Secondo’s eyes following them the entirety of the way out.

“Oi. They have something bad for him.”

--

Kai rushed down the halls of the church with a speed they did not know that they had in their legs, as shaking and unstable as they might be. Each movement felt like they were a newborn fawn, striding and tripping over themselves as they tried their best to push forward into the halls around them. The stained glass was a blur against their vision as their narrowed watch focused only on the road before them. Of the direction before them and just who it would bring them to see. A smile parted on their nerve-wracked lips despite the situation, the knowledge that they were still with Terzo… That they were still HIS assistant blossomed with pride in their heart.

Pride and something more.

All of those feelings, of course, came to a stop when they pushed open the door to the Papa’s quarters and saw just what was going on.

Ghouls scrambled swiftly around the room, picking up bits of items that they were surely aware belonged to them. Each bauble of theirs was wrapped neatly in bubble wrap and folded into a suitcase, surrounded by their own casual and formal clothing as it was loaded into the sleek cases and bound with thin metal clasps against the edge. None of the helpers acknowledged their presence as they continued on in their work. Scurrying to and fro, Kai could only watch with a sense of abject anxiety as their items were stolen from the places they had always been. The places Terzo allowed them to keep things since - well - since they had been busy helping him.

All the while Terzo himself sat at the desk in his room, a rare sight considering he only really used it to sit on and embellish his words, his gaze hot over some of the papers Kai had laid out in the hopes that he would overview them and sign then. They hadn’t actually expected him to do such a thing, especially not when so many workers were busy packing their own stuff away.

“Papa,” Kai managed out as they hurried over to the desk, placing their own papers on its edge and leaning forward with wide eyes, “What is the meaning of all of-”

Terzo held his hand out, stopping their words mid sentence as he frowned. Kai tensed, the look on Terzo’s face unfamiliar territory as they tried to gouge the reasoning behind such a sour look. They didn’t have the chance to fully take it in, though, not as he finally began speaking. The long silence was only one sharp pain compared to his words.

“Do not worry,” He huffed with a dry tone to his voice, “I overheard your… conversation with my brother. How you say… You’ll be out of here - ah - lickety split. To move wherever it is he wants you.”

Kai paled at the thought of him overhearing. Just how much had he actually heard? How long had he hung around for? Was this… because he heard that they loved him and did not want them around him anymore? Were they being kicked out because they were being rejected? Terror rose in thier heart as they realized the full situation before them. Kai was speechless for a long time, unable to fully part their lips to make words come from them. In the meantime, Terzo stood to move away.

It was as he was walking that they sprung into action.

“Papa what  are you saying!?”

“Do not think I’m an idiot!” He hissed with a near dangerous tone of his voice, “I see how he looked at you. I see how he touches you! If you are so dedicated to him, meeting every day and night, you might as well make it official. There is no reason for worry, caro, I promise, you will have everything organized with no huff and-”

“I don’t WANT to go with your brother!”

The admittance paused Terzo in his words, his tongue stumbling on his teeth as he turned to blink owlishly at his assistant. Kai’s face was bright red as they heaved their breath, the shout they had dared offer in the frontman’s direction was surprisingly loud for one who never raised their voice too much. Sure, it inclined with their special interests or built up power when they were excited, but this? It was a bellow out of their mouth. A dangerous yell that broke whatever frustrated facade Terzo dared carry around them.

“You… do not?”

“No!” Kai exhaled as they rubbed their temples for a moment, grounding themselves as they gestured forward, “No I… Whatever you saw… whatever your brother did to me… I refused it, Papa. I refused all of him because I wanted to stay here! I wanted to stay and be with YOU.”

“Me….” He trailed off, the word foreign on his tongue, “Why? When you enjoy his company so much.”

Kai felt frustration bubble up in their heart as they dragged a hand through their short cropping of hair and exhaled without thinking about it:

“Because I lo….” The stopped, the word faltering over their mouth, but the hopeful look on Terzo’s face showed that he had heard the start of their admittance. The warmth of their embarrassment flooded their tongue like a bitter medicine as they tried to hide their gaze by shifting it away to the floor. There was another long pause before they dared continue on, accepting the words that they had longed to say as they finally fell from their lips.

“It’s because…I love you.”

The silence was deafening now. The endless quiet between the both of them was suddenly and unbearable weight that pressed down into Kai’s shoulders as it hovered. It was a monster whose teeth was sinking into the back of their spine, making the bones ache with impatience and terror. All they could do was wait now. Wait to hear what Terzo had to say during the confession. To hear what they either did or did not want to hear leave his lips. The entirety of the thing was an anxiety inducing nightmare that sent goosebumps up Kai’s spine as their legs trembled beneath them out of pure adrenaline.

Terzo’s face morphed into a smile, soft and concerned, and Kai felt their tension melt away with a relieved sigh.

“Oh caro,” Terzo sighed as he approached them, “Why did you not tell me this thing before!”

It was all the warning they got before they were swept up in a pair of arms, twirled above the ground in a way that made them squeal in surprise. Once they were set back down, a single gloved hand reached out to take their chin between thumb and forefinger, dragging them up to stare into the mismatched eyes of the other. Terzo’s gaze glittered with amusement as he let his thumb rub across the bottom of their lip. His hold on their body was soft as he continued to stare down at them, as though they held all the secrets of the church itself. As though they were something he could breathe life into.

“Do you mean that? You love me… You mean it, yes?”

“I…” Kai swallowed and gave a shy smile back, “I do. I always did…”

The ghouls around them had stopped moving now, the change in situation so sudden that they were not aware of just what they were supposed to be doing now. Some set the items they were gathering back down and others simply stood with the items still in hand, their tails twitching as they watched the couple before them. Kai - suddenly aware of all of their stares - flushed in surprise, but had no chance to complain before those fingers holding their face brought themselves forward.

Soft, painted lips fell upon Kai’s own. The taste of champagne and setting spray overwhelming their mouth as Terzo kissed them. The shock of his sudden presence, of his brash audacity, overwhelmed them for only the briefest of moments before they melted into the kiss, limbs turning into jelly as they wrapped their arms around Terzo’s neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss longer as they shared it together.

By now the ghouls had slowly begun to unpack the things they had put away, unwrapping knick knacks and rearranging clothes carefully around the two as they read the room.

When they did pull away, Kai could taste the remnants of face paint on their lips, and they could not help but smile brightly at the sight of the man before them, grip tightening on his suit as he beamed down at them.

“I guess that is making it official then, hm?”

“Pft, making what official?”

“That you are mine.”

The honest words brought a blush to their face, but it was a pleasant feeling in the pit of their stomach that brought them to nod and laugh. Pressing their nose into his neck, they sighed deeply as they continued to hold him - and was held in return. Their confirming whisper sent stars in the back of Terzo’s vision as he memorized the breaths that were written along his neck:

“That I’m yours.”

[iraacundus]

Butterfly Lies - Three

chapter three ✭  masterlist ✭ previous ✭ next ✭

mafialeader kun x reader

words: 4.5k

genre: fluff, smut (in later chapters), angst

warnings: implied murder, probably swearing idk i forgot

money makes people do strange things, is what people would say, it can even motivate them to murder. kun didn’t have people killed for the money, he had them killed for the power, he was a monster among men, is what people would say. in reality kun had only ever been motivated by one thing, his love for you

✭  ✭  ✭  ✭  ✭  

You had never been a person to waste time. The next morning you had already formulated an idea that would kill two birds with one stone. You just needed Kun to agree. So, when you put your interview suit on, you swapped your normal skirt for a slightly shorter one and made sure you wore the bracelet Kun had given you.

You were not opposed to such low tactics. You were a woman with a plan.

You grabbed your CV off from your desk, along with a copy of your university work placement letter that you needed signed.

You had thought all night about how to become a strength to Kun rather than a weakness. It didn’t take you long that your intelligence and good decision-making skills had always been a strength of yours.

Kun was smart, but you were smarter, therefore you could help him.

Well at least you hoped you could as you struggled to find the heeled shoe that matched the one you were currently hopping around in.

You spotted it under the sofa, pumping your fist in the air triumphantly when you finally managed to get it out from underneath.

You were running about half an hour later than you had hoped but it only occurred to you when you were already on the bus that Kun might not even be at his office. He might have taken the day off due to injury or at least have come in late.

You began to wonder if his line of work even tended to start at nine in the morning, seeing as it wasn’t your typical nine to five.

But by that point you were already halfway there so you decided to just hope for the best. Practicing over and over again in your head what you would say. You somehow guessed it wasn’t going to be an easy sell.

You pressed the button for the bus to stop as you approached the street where Qian Industries was situated. It was filled with buildings for some of the biggest firms in the country and expensive restaurants.

You still weren’t fully processing how far Kun had managed to go up in the world.

This time when you walked into the building foyer it wasn’t empty. Security guards stood just inside the door and there were four receptionists at the desk, working away. The other day when Xiaojun had gotten you both in the elevator you vaguely remembered him using a staff card, something you weren’t in possession of.

Instead you had to overcome the first obstacle, getting the people who worked on reception to let you inside. You approached the desk, putting a smile on your face. The man on the phone didn’t look up, neither did the three women next to him, even after you had been standing there for about thirty seconds.

“Hello, hi, excuse me,” you said, trying to get one of them to notice you. Eventually the man stopped typing and looked up from his computer.

“Welcome to Qian Industries, do you have an appointment?” he asked in a monotone voice. You had absolutely no clue why Kun had hired such standoffish members of staff.

“I’m here to see Mr Qian,” you said, not mentioning that you technically didn’t have an appointment.

“He doesn’t have any meetings this morning, you need to call him and arrange a time, please come back then.” The receptionist gave you a false smile before going back to typing.

“My name is y/n, if you could just call him, he will agree to meet me, we are close friends,” you endeavoured to explain. The man didn’t reply, he just gave a small nod to the security guards who immediately came over and started to drag you out.

“I can walk myself out,” you said, pushing them off you and walking the rest of the way out the door. You stopped for a moment and sighed, not in defeat but out of annoyance. Pulling out your phone, you clicked on Kun’s name, ringing him.

“Hey y/n, what’s up?” he said, answering the phone.

“Can you tell your staff to let me into your building, they didn’t believe we were friends and so I have been dragged out,” you told him.

“Why are you at my building?” he asked but didn’t give you time to reply, “never mind, I will come down now and get you,” he said, hanging up the phone. You stood with your arms folded, giving the receptionist your best glare. The security team were just doing their jobs, but the man, he was just rude.

Kun was taking his time in coming down to meet you and you were starting to regret your decision to wear heels, even if it had been part of your master plan. But seeing as step one: get into his office had so far failed, your optimism was somewhat dwindling.

Seconds later the elevator doors opened and Kun walked out. You took the opportunity to walk back inside the building to greet him.

��How’s your arm?” you asked. Kun didn’t reply and the look he gave you made you think you probably shouldn’t have mentioned the arm in front of these people.

“This is y/n,” Kun said loudly, causing all the staff to actively look over, whereas before they had been pretending not to, “she is allowed into the building at any time, please refrain from escorting her out in the future.”

He turned on his heels back towards the elevator, so you followed him, waiting until the doors had shut to bring him his arm again.

“Are you okay though,” you checked,

“I’m as fine anyone who was recently stabbed in the arm,” Kun replied. He didn’t ask you what you were doing there until you got to his office and he had shut the door.

You placed your CV and the university form down on his desk, side by side.

“I have a proposal,” you said, smiling.

Kun raised one eyebrow slightly but didn’t interrupt.

“I am going to be your strength, by using my brilliant brain to help your company.”

Kun shook his head and sat down in his chair, almost laughing out of shock.

“You are not going to work for me. Not going to happen, no chance, never, no, not happening.”

“Just listen to me before you make up your mind,” you urged. This was the reaction you had expected from him. However, you knew you had a card up your sleeve that meant there was no way he would refuse in the end.

“I am intelligent right, more so than the average person, I’m not trying to be arrogant… but we have all seen my test scores,” you began, “I want to be able to help you and with my amazing strategy and logic skills I can. I also need a work placement for University and you technically own a large firm.”

“Still no,” Kun said, “can you not find work experience, literally anywhere else, that’s not, you know, an illegal organisation.”

“Not by next week. The work placement I have currently got is not one I really want,” you explained, pulling out a third piece of paper and unfolding it. Pointing to the part you wanted him to see, “because it would make Minjun my supervisor, he skipped uni, his dad has a lot of influence, so he is already quite high up in this firm. I refuse to work for Minjun.”

Two birds with one stone. Help Kun, avoid Minjun. Minjun whose dad was one of the richest Korean businessmen in China and the ex-boyfriend Kun hated.

Kun rubbed his temple in frustration before looking up at you. He held up your CV, glancing at it quickly, as if that was going to make any difference at all, before throwing his hands up in the air.

“Fine, you win. You can work here. Nothing is worse than you working with that asshole.” He languished in referring to Minjun in a derogatory fashion.

Two weeks later you once again entered Kun Industries but this time you held an employee pass that had intern printed in large lettering.

You had been told to go to the third floor to meet the strategy department. You had expected to go in and see Xiaojun or Ten. Instead you saw a room full of people you had never seen before.

You greeted the supervisor who explained to you briefly what your job would consist of. It became clear very quickly that these people weren’t really involved in what Kun was really doing. Their jobs were to create the façade.

Your first task had been to come up with a presentation that one of the senior managers could give at a conference of what “Qian Industries” were planning on doing in the future. He said you could go with whatever engineering project you wanted, as long as it could be faked easily.

You were less than impressed.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be doing something dangerous or violent. You defiantly didn’t want that. You did however want to do something that would really benefit Kun.

You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he really did need help creating the façade, convincing everyone in the business circle that Qian Industries was a legitimate firm.

So, you worked hard. You came in everyday you were meant to be there from eight in the morning until nine at night. You came up with the best proposal and presentation you possible could.

Your work was impeccable, if you did say so yourself. Your manager said the same, he said he had never seen anything so impressive and that the boss would be pleased.

“Can I give him the proposal myself? He’s a friend of mine, I’m sure he would like to see me,” you asked the manager. On hearing Kun was a friend of yours he immediately said yes. He had always been nice to you, but he managed to become even nicer after that.

You smiled. Gathering up your files and walking out into the corridor and down to the lift. You pressed the button for the fourteenth floor with confidence. You had diligently done the work and now you were going to get what you wanted.

You knocked on Kun’s door,

“Come in!” he called out as you pushed the door open. A man exited the room as fast as possible as you entered, a fearful expression on his face.

“Tough day?” you joked, trying to ease the slight tension in the air. Kun didn’t bite.

“Not that I don’t love to see you, but why are you here may I ask?”

“To deliver your presentation,” you said, “read it over before you say anything.”

And he did, he spent five minutes carefully glancing over the key points of your work before smiling up at you.

“This is really good,” he said, “I think we should hire you full time,”

“Or you could let me do an actually useful job,” you countered.

“Those presentations are useful, without them people would instantly be suspicious of me and the company,” Kun said, trying to justify his placement of you.

“While that may be true, the presentations don’t need to be as good as the one sitting in front of you, the employee’s you have are competent enough. I want to do a job that really helps you, to make what you do less dangerous or more efficient, I want to be a strength, someone you can rely on.”

Kun closed your report, linking his hand with yours across the desk.

“I understand that, I really do, but I don’t want you to be sucked into the danger of what I do, because even with your brain, if you made it less dangerous it would still be life or death in some situations. You shouldn’t have to live like that just because you met me by chance.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You really think chance encounter friends is all we are. Yes, we met by chance, but we have been friending all this time by choice.”

“You didn’t know what I really did then,” he argued.

“I sort of did to an extent. And now I do, and this is the choice I’m making now, if you ever want there to be a chance of us ever being together you have to let me into your life. Not just a pretend part of your life where we eat ice cream, but the real part as well, where you make hard choices and do some questionable things. You don’t have to tell me all of it, I stand by that, I still don’t want to know all the grisly details, but I do need to know some of it and I want to be able to help you with that some of it. Help you make a better organisation. Make it so you don’t end up needing to save someone like Yangyang because something went wrong.”

Kun spun his pen, processing your words. He didn’t want to agree with you, but he also knew you well enough to know you weren’t going to give in.

He also knew deep down that you he couldn’t ever be your boyfriend if he had to hide ninety percent of his life from you. He needed to reduce that to about sixty percent at least.

“Okay. You’re right, I suppose I shouldn’t waste your intelligence when you could be a real asset.”

You clapped your hands together in excitement.

“I knew you would come around,” you beamed at him, mostly happy you had won the conversation.

Kun wasn’t smiling though.

“We are planning to expand to Korea, deal with some problems arising from there. I have a friend with a similar organisation there named Johnny. He’s a long-time friend of Ten’s. You can work with Ten to help plan the expansion. It’s not a super dangerous job innately but it will be super dangerous if it gets fucked up. So, use your 150 IQ to make sure that doesn’t happen,” he said, his voice monotone.

You squeezed his hand.

“Thank you,” you told him, “I’m not doing this to annoy you or upset you Kun, I hope you know that. I genuinely want to help you. That’s what best friends are for right?”

“I suppose so,” Kun answered giving you a small smile back.                          

Your first order of business however, turned out to be a black-tie event with Kun. Not the planning of Qian Industries expansion.

“I’ll get someone to drop off a dress at your apartment, it will be one of my top guys, I’m not just handing out your address, don’t worry,” he assured you.

About an hour later there was a knock at your door and Yangyang stood there holding a box.

“Not to be mean but how are you one of his top guys?” you asked, unable to take your eyes off of the horrible bruise all over his once broken nose.

“They call me young, dumb and enthusiastic,” replied, handing you the box, “well they don’t but I guess that is why, I am an enthusiastic team player. I’m also very good at grand theft auto – in real life, not the video game.”

“Fair enough, thanks for dropping this off,” you said, shutting your door. You walked into your room before opening the box. Inside was a note which told you to be ready by seven. You placed it aside and lifted the dress from the box.

It was one of the most beautiful black dresses you had ever seen. It must have cost Kun an inordinate amount of money. You had offered to wear one of your own dresses but Kun insisted he would buy you one.

You knew he had bought it so you wouldn’t stand out at a party of rich people, but he would never say that. It was one of the reasons you had a slight crush on him too.

You got ready, trying your best not to stab yourself in the eye with the mascara wand, something you usually had trouble with. You didn’t have a lot of time which made it particularly difficult.

You were still waiting for your nails to dry when you heard a knock at the door for the second time that day, cursing that you hadn’t sorted out the mess that was your nails before that point.

You blew on them as you grabbed your bag from the side, throwing your phone and keys in, hoping that somehow your nails would miraculously dry on the walk to the door.

You opened it to see Kun standing there in black tie attire, bowtie slightly lopsided but a mesmerising sight.

“Let me fix that,” you offered, stepping forward to readjust the bow tie. You could faintly feel his breath against your cheek as you sorted it out, “all better,” you smiled, stepping back.

“You look stunning y/n,” he said, his face beaming.

You had never seen Kun dressed this smart, he always wore a suit when you went to a fancy restaurant, but he never wore a tie or anything like that, so the tuxedo was something else.

“And you look indeed very handsome,” you said in a fake posh voice to indicate some sort of joke. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good looking, you just seemed to have an emotional issue, “shall we go and party with the rich?”

“We shall,” Kun said, shaking his head laughing, but yet still copying your accent, going along with it.

The drive wasn’t a long one, nothing was that far from your apartment in the centre of the city. You had no clue how you had found it for such a cheap price.

The event was being held at a large hall, there was a red carpet outside and tabloid photographers waiting, camera’s poised, hoping to get the best shot of a famous couple or a wealthy heiress.

The driver opened the door and Kun helped you out of the car, offering you his arm. He led you up the carpet as you did your best not to look awkward when there was so many camera’s in your face.

“What is this event for?” you whispered to him. Kun shrugged.

“I don’t know, some sort of education charity or something, Ten wanted to donate money, so we did, clearly a sizeable enough donation that they invited us here,” he explained.

“I think you’re more attractive now I know your such a philanthropist.”

“My only act of philanthropy was not killing Minjun, the rest is just being rich, it’s not hard to donate money when you have a lot of it.”

He wasn’t wrong there.

The people at the door didn’t even ask for your name, clearly, they were aware of who Kun was and so you just walked straight in.

As expected, it was all très extravagant, champagne towers, seafood platters, men in expensive suits, women in even more expensive dresses. A single bottle of the champagne they were serving could probably have paid your rent for three months.

“I don’t think I’m quite fancy enough for this event,” you said to Kun, staring at the other people around you, “I’m not rich, I’m a broke college student.”

“Yes, but I am rich, these days anyway, and you’re wearing a twelve-thousand-dollar dress.” He smiled at you softly, “care to dance,” he said, grabbing your waist with one and your hand with the other.

“Did you leave the tag on!? Can we take it back to the shop? That’s stupid money on a dress Kun,” you whispered forcefully in his ear. Kun just chuckled.

“That’s what it takes to fit in at an event like this, especially when you are as terrible at waltzing as you are.”

“Why would I know how to waltz, that wasn’t on my PE course thank you very much.”

You waltzed terribly with Kun for a while longer before gave you a reprise. Unfortunately, the next activity was much worse. Kun dragged you around to introduce you to many rich people and engage in the most harrowing of small talk about yachts and stories from swiss boarding schools.

At some point you just started making things up.

“Yes, my friend Marcos had a yacht that we stayed on in Italy for a week, we just got so bored of ski class you know,” some people around you nodded sympathetically and you had to pinch yourself to avoid laughter.

“I might actual die, how often do you do this?” you said to Kun when you finally sat down at a table away from other people.

“Twice a month or so, but only in the last two years have I had the money to do this, I got rich in a short period of time. Also, you seemed to fit right in anyway, what’s the issue, how is Marcos doing these days?”

You poured a shot of vodka in your champagne and downed the whole thing in one, hoping that somehow it was be better, if you were drunk.

A few drinks later and you were very tipsy and very warm.

“I am so hot, is it me or is it warm?” you asked.

“I’ll call the car,” Kun said, picking up his phone. Before he could dial you put your arm out and stopped him.

“Do you wanna maybe walk around for a bit,” you asked, and he nodded. You grabbed his hand and made your way for the exit. Thankfully the paparazzi were on a break. They would come back at around midnight to take picks of the less sober exits from the whole affair.

The hall wasn’t that far from the river, which was always beautiful when the city lights reflected in the water at night. You and Kun stopped by the railing, staring out across the water.

After a while you realised Kun wasn’t looking out over the water anymore, he was looking at you. You started to notice the lights reflecting into the depths of his eyes more than the river in front of you.

“I’m happy I could finally take someone to one of those events, they are so much worse when you are alone,” Kun said.

“Why did you never take someone else, surely I can’t be the only girl you know, there must be a rich girl out there, or a scary but cool girl in a leather jacket who works for you?” your eyes searched his for an answer.

Kun brought his hand to your face, slowly brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“You know you’re the only girl I care about, the only one I have ever been interested in.”

Your heart was on fire, it hurt so much to hear him say that when you knew that you had never said anything of the same kind back. That it wasn’t something you felt ready to say, even if you felt it too.

Instead, in your tipsy, adrenaline high state all you could do was close your eyes and step forward. Your hands tangling in Kun’s hair as you brought your lips to his. Kun didn’t react for a second, clearly surprised.

When his brain finally seemed to connect with his body, Kun’s arm snaked around your back and pulled you closer to him, somehow taking control of the kiss with ease.

Your brain was screaming at you to stop, that it wasn’t a good idea, but you couldn’t you were too intoxicated by his lips. You were surprised, Kun was usually so sweet, you hadn’t expected him to have a dominant side. On reflection you weren’t sure how you never guessed that of your gang leader… friend.

Before anything could go any further Kun’s phone began to ring. You pushed him away softly.

“You should take that,” you said, before covering your lips with your hand, contemplating how to beat yourself up.

Kun glanced down at his phone,

“It’s just Ten I can call him back later; I think it’s probably more important that we talk about…”

‘It’s late he probably wouldn’t call you unless it was important,” you said, the phone still ringing.

Kun turned around, picking up the phone,

“I’m kinda busy, is it important?” he asked, not wasting time to say hello. He listened silently for a moment before raising his hand to his forehead, “Fuck. Well you have to kill him then, the rule on that was always clear. If we don’t kill him then you know what will happen.”

You were in your own state of shock. You were witnessing Kun, smiley Kun, order someone’s execution, and you wanted to be sick. You started to feel dizzy and so sat yourself down on the cold asphalt.

Kun ended the call moments later. He turned back around and saw you staring blankly into space and remembered that you had just been there to hear everything you said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, apologising for the hundredth time that month. His voice snapped you somewhat back into reality, “I hate being the bad guy, you shouldn’t have kissed me, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have let you.”

You just patted the ground beside you, just wanting him to sit with you, even if it was ridiculous for you both to sit on the ground outside in the middle of the night. Kun obliged and tucked his phone back into his pocket before sitting down next to you.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you agreed and Kun’s face fell, even though he had said it himself, “not because of that phone call, I’m not stupid I have an idea of what you do, even though I don’t like it and even if it shocked me to actually hear it. I shouldn’t have kissed you because I’m still not clear about my feelings regardless. It wasn’t fair on you.”

“You shouldn’t be sympathetic towards me; you should run and never look back.”

“You’re being melodramatic Kun. Would you really be happy if I transferred university to a different city and never came back?”

“I would miss you, but I think you would be happier… It’s hard for me to watch you struggle internally with the idea of me and what I do.”

“You ignored me for a month, and I missed you enough to break every rule I had about not interfering with your life Kun, there is zero chance moving away from you would make me happy. But I promise, if I ever feel like that isn’t true, I will leave and never come back. Clean break.”

Kun took off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders.

“Then I only have one question,” he said, you nodded form him to continue, “was kissing me so bad you had to reassess your feelings. You laughed out loud.

“Your kissing skills are not under question here. I just need to do a bit more… internal struggling as you called it. That’s my fault not yours though. You are pretty great Qian Kun.”

[ambientstars]

If you could maybe do prompt 14 “Are you trying to seduce me?” with either 13th doctor. Maybe she realizes that she like you and attempt to seduce you but its really awkward/funny because she struggle with social situation. Thanks :)

Thank you for the request, I really enjoyed writing this one! :) -  -  -

You sat on your bed, back against the wall and legs crossed comfortably. The room was dimly light and you were settled down for the evening, a mug of warm herbal tea between the palms of your hands and a captivating book nestled on your lap.

Everyone had said their good nights just over an hour ago, the halls becoming quiet, only the gentle humming of the TARDIS was left behind.

It was calm now, unlike how it usually is during the day with you, The Doctor and the rest of the fam milling about and making an array of different background noises in the process or when you’d just got back from a trip out and everyone was still running on adrenaline, unintentionally shouting at each other and burning off the last of their energy running to places the TARDIS had provided for sport.

As you took a sip of your tea, the door knocked and opened, your mug blocking your view of who was standing there.

“We need to talk.”

You lowered your mug and saw The Doctor standing in the door frame, only in her long coat and blue striped socks and although all her parts were covered, you still choked on the hot liquid in your mouth.

“Doctor!” You sputtered out, barely recovering from your choking fit, your book falling to the floor with a thud that definitely sounded louder in that moment than it probably was. “What are you doing?”

She allowed herself in and closed the door behind her, leaning back on it. Her hair was slightly wavy like she had just got out of the shower and it was beginning to air dry, and although her skin now dry, the smell of fresh bubbles exuded from her and filled the air of the small bedroom.

You set your tea down on the nightstand before you dropped it and sat up on your knees.

“We need to talk.” The Doctor repeated, moving forward.

“About what? And do you really have to be naked for us to have this talk?”

She bit her lip, eyes wide in innocence and came to stand in front of you. The height difference between you meant that you were at eye level with her navel and her… there was only a quick drop of the eyes away.

“I was just in the shower, thinking about things like usual,” she stood completely still, almost like she was too nervous and afraid to move. “And I got to thinking about you.”

You looked up at her to meet her eyes. “Me?”

She nodded, a small, but genuine smile gracing her pale face in the dim light. “I like you, a lot.”

This night was turning into something not so chilled after all.

“So you made the bold choice to come into my room naked in the hopes that I might like you back?”

Her smile was ever present, now turning slightly cocky. “I know you do.”

You raised a brow, hoping to appear confident. “Oh really? And how would you know that?”

“Yaz told me.”

Your confident façade fell just as quickly as you had put it up. Of course Yaz had opened her big mouth about what you had spoken about the other night with her, even after begging her not to repeat it to anyone.

The truth was, you did like The Doctor back. You had for a very long time and although some days it was harder to hide your feelings than others, you figured you’d found a good balance between showing affection for her and playing it cool like you’d only ever be friends.

“Was this her idea too?”

The Doctor shrugged and nodded once. “Yeah. I didn’t know how to do this so I asked and this is the idea she gave me.”

You raised a brow, curiously amused. “And what is this?”

She began to shimmy her shoulders, allowing the coat to fall from them and stopping at her wrists, exposing her top half. She continued taking the coat off slowly, but in her nervousness, fumbled with the arms of it too haphazardly and got her hand stuck in an awkward way.

You watched with a smile held back as much as you could manage as she flicked the coat off of her, brows furrowed in concentration and frustration, and the tip of her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth. Eventually she managed to free herself from the confines of her coat and let it fall to the floor, pooling around her sock covered feet.

“There.” She huffed quietly, all pink and flustered, standing completely naked right in front of you.

You had to admire that for as old as she was and that she rarely took care of herself properly, hardly ever eating, not sleeping enough and generally allowing herself to become altogether rundown, she was in good shape and quite something to look at.

“Doctor, this is cute and all, but-“

“It’s not supposed to be cute, it’s supposed to be…” she let her sentence fade away, as if she was too embarrassed to finish it.

She covered her chest with her arms in sudden insecurity, a blush heavy on her cheeks. You’d never seen The Doctor in such a vulnerable state before, her guard always too high up to climb over, never allowing anyone to see just exactly what’s going on inside her head.

“Are you…” you narrowed your eyes in thought, but mostly in disbelief that this was even happening. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

The Doctor sighed, her eyes on the ground and her body subconsciously turning away from you. “I just. I don’t know how. You know?”

You smiled sweetly and reached for her hands, moving them away from her bare chest and kissing her palm carefully before pulling her even closer with them. “It’s okay.”

She pouted slightly, eyes filled with disappointment. “I wanted this moment to be perfect. The first time I tell you how I feel and I’ve gone and ruined it.”

“It is perfect.” You brought her arms around your waist and forced her hands to latch onto the hem of your sleep shirt, and with the encouragement of your hands on hers, allowed her to pull it up and over your head, leaving you also bare chested.

You stood up from the bed so you were at the same height as the Doctor and held her close with your hand on the small of her back. Your bodies pressed together in such an intimate way, your shaky breathing intertwined, a moment you would never be able to forget.

“There, now you don’t have to feel so self conscious.” You grinned at her, watching her blush spread across her nose and up to her ears.

“So what do we do now?” She asked, still quite socially awkward, even in a moment like this.

You took it upon yourself to take charge, even though it had been The Doctor who started it, knowing you’d be standing here forever like this if you didn’t. Not that it would be a bad thing to be stood chest to chest with the timelord, but eventually it would come to an end and things would more than likely become awkward between the two of you.

You tucked the hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear and gently played the chain there, lightly massaging down to her lobe. She hummed in appreciation, her eyes falling closed, her body finally relaxing.

You moved your hand to the side of her face and stroked her cheek, your thumb tracing her laugh lines. She truly was something to behold, otherworldly and magnificent, graced with beauty in all its forms.

“Beautiful.” You murmured, your lips gently grazing hers as you spoke.

Without opening her eyes, The Doctor pushed her hand into your hair and held the back of your head, bringing you forward to close the small gap between you, pressing your lips together in a kiss that felt like the universe had shifted slightly and fallen perfectly into place.

The kiss was long and slow, innocent and curious. You held each other tightly, fingernails unintentionally digging into skin, the rising hairs on your bodies tickling each other’s.

Finally you broke away, breathing shaky breaths. Neither of you daring to open your eyes in fear of losing this soft, blissful moment. The humming of the TARDIS helped to make the atmosphere around you feel calm and serene, encouraging almost.

The Doctor’s fingers combed through your hair, her forehead against yours. “Do it again.”

With your hand still caressing the soft skin of her back, you smiled as you leant back in, connecting your lips again, over and over, and turning the sweet kisses into giggles which ultimately became full on belly laughs, the two of you falling onto the bed and playfully planting loud kisses over one another’s revealed skin until falling back exhausted, ready to sleep in each other’s embrace for the very first time.