#blinks looks around i mean ill probably still like

[de-adend-archived]

de-adend -> de-adend-archived o7 so long!

[hyunniesgirl]

I wanna be yours

Pairing: Bangchan x fem!reader

Summary: it was all a game to him, until all he could think about was you. He wanted to have all of you. Ruin all of you. Love all of you.

Or, the one where Chan is a cocky asshole who's going out with you just for fun and ends up falling in love.

Slightly inspired in the movie 10 things I hate about you.

Genres: angst, smut, fluff

Words count: 10,991

Masterlist

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact!

Warnings: Corruption kink(kinda), dry humping, fingering, blowjob, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, pet names(princess, baby), Chan is cocky as fuck(and I'm here for it, stan cocky Bangchan), reader gets kinda insecure close to the end(let me know if I missed something)

A/N: should I be answering my requests or updating my series? Yes, did I spend too much time in a super long self indulgent oneshot? I did. It was supposed to be just smut with corruption kink 😭 turns out I can't write the porn without the plot.

It all started as a game for him. He just didn't guess how much you would mess with his head.

Bang Chan doesn't care much about college, with a promising career in music, he's just attending classes so his parents won't nag him too much.

That means he's bored all the time.

So when Jeongin, his youngest friend, begged him to win his girlfriend's sister over and date her for a bit, he almost accepted right away, yearning for some fun. But he didn't, not before knowing who you were.

That's how he ended up here, trying to find you in the middle of communication class. He didn't need to look too much, from Jeongin’s description, he could find you in the blink of an eye.

“A pretty girl, probably wearing black or some neutral color and she'll probably be in a corner. She's very shy, when you speak to her don't be too straightforward, you may scare her”

The way Jeongin described you didn't show any ill intent and he was always a good guy, that's why Chan considered accepting his offer in the first place. He must have his reasons for almost kneeling in front of his friend, asking for him to date you.

Chan sits behind you, observing every movement you make. You're indeed pretty and you really are shy. He notices how you want to raise your hand every time the professor asks a question, but you always hesitate and someone speaks over you. Every time you try to speak, some rude person cuts you and instead of getting mad, your face turns red and you shrink in your seat, trying to make yourself even more invisible.

There's something about you, Chan can't tell what it is, but it's something amusing about how you behave. Someone like you could have every guy in this university wrapped around your little finger and every girl wanting to be your friend.

As soon as the class ends, Chan sends a text to Jeongin, telling him he will do it. He doesn't waste time, waiting for everyone to get out of the classroom while you're still collecting your things.

“Hey”, he says out of nowhere, making you jump and look at him with huge doe eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you”.

He kinda did want that, though, curious to see how you would react, he thought maybe you would raise your voice and curse him, but you reacted as calmly as possible.

“It's okay”, you mumble.

You keep organizing your things, trying to ignore his presence.

“So, I wanted to ask if you can let me borrow your notes”, he asks, making puppy eyes.

You turn back to him and Chan can almost see the gears turning inside your head.

“Why does he want my notes if he just attended the same class?” It's written all over your face.

“I pulled an all nighter studying for another class and kind of dozed off earlier”, he lies, smiling sheepishly while scratching the back of his neck.

You stare at him for a bit, pondering if you should say yes, actually, let's be real: can you even say no?

This is Bang Chan, handsome and popular, everyone knows him and the other two guys from 3racha. The last you heard, he didn't care much about classes since he's already progressing in his music career so you still don't understand why he wants to borrow your notes.

“Yeah, okay”, you nod, deciding to agree so this conversation can be over soon. You pull your notebook out of your bag and hand it to him. “Just make sure to give it back by next class”

“Sure, thanks”, he gives you a big bright smile that makes you gulp while staring at him, just a few minutes in his presence and you already know something very important: this man is dangerous.

You look around awkwardly, not knowing what Chan wants more. He's just standing there, staring at you.

“I'll get going then”, you sigh, feeling exhausted by this whole interaction.

You turn around, walking to the door, leaving Chan there, dumbstruck. Jeongin was right, you have no social skills, but you're much more entertaining than he made you out to be.

—

You're having lunch with Yuna, your sister, and Jeongin, her boyfriend, in the cafeteria. You like spending time with them, they are probably the only people you feel comfortable around in this university.

You met Jeongin three months ago. Your sister came home giggling like a child on Christmas, sat on your bed and told you she got a boyfriend.

You ran to your door, closing it after checking that your parents weren't around. There's only one rule in the house: your younger sister must not date before you do.

Your parents are not conservative or anything like that, they just had you two later than other parents, so they are very overprotective. You don't know exactly the reason why they set this rule, maybe it's because they are sure you're never going to date.

Yuna is your best friend, she was a sickly child so all those interactions and fights that normal sisters have, you didn't. You spent most of her childhood and a huge part of yours by her side in the hospital. Fortunately, she was able to go back to a normal life by the time she was becoming a teenager, she was always a social butterfly even in the hospital everyone loved her.

You always thought it was unfair that she had to wait to have a boyfriend simply because you are not interesting enough or can't even hold a conversation properly without stuttering, but there was nothing you could do about it. You even tried arguing with your parents about it but it always ended with them telling you to forget about it.

You see Jeongin waving to someone, something is off, they never invite anyone to eat with them. A tray is settled by your side and you look at the person who sits in the seat next to yours: Bang Chan.

“Hello again”, he smiles at you, a handsome smile with dimples showing and everything. He greets the others after.

You look at Yuna and Jeongin, she is frowning just like you and her boyfriend is eating like this is an ordinary situation in your daily lunch.

“Hi”, you sister answers, “I don't think we met before”

“Oh, yeah, I'm Bang Chan!” He stretches his hand so she can shake it. “Jeongin is an old friend and I have communication class with y/n”

“Ah”, she nods, looking at her boyfriend. You stay in silence, playing with your food, waiting for Jeongin to send Bang Chan away.

“Babe, I forgot I have a project due tonight”, Jeongin says, slapping the palm of his hand on his forehead. He stands up, “can you help me? Chan will keep y/n company.”

No. You don't want him to keep you company. Your eyes widen and you stare at your sister, trying to send her a mental signal so she won't let you alone with him.

What you don't see, it's that she has already caught up on the way Bang Chan is looking at you and she might think she understands what's happening.

“Okay, yeah. Take care of her”, your sister says, smiling apologetically to you while she gets up and follows Jeongin out of your sight.

You should just throw your food away and go to the library, maybe you can eat a sandwich.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” You hear Bang Chan's voice before you can put your plan into practice, turning around to look at him with the most terrified face he ever saw on someone. “Ouch, does the idea scare you so much?” He jokes.

“Why would you want to go on a date with me? We just met yesterday”, you point out, holding yourself back so you won't just stand up and run away.

“I find you interesting, it's just a date so we can get to know each other better”, he shrugs. He's so nonchalant about it, while you're freaking out inside.

“I don't think that's a good idea, I'm not good at keeping conversations, you'll get bored”, you say frantically. You just didn't expect him to laugh.

“I can do all the talking, I love to talk"

Chan knows this move is risky and there's a high probability you won't accept, but he just felt like asking you at that moment.

“Are you sure you won't get bored?” You ask.

His eyes widen and he nods, are you really considering it?

You are, obviously. You bet no one could ever guess, but Bang Chan is your ideal type, actually he is probably everyone's ideal type.

He has the kindest smile you have ever seen and the way his eyes turn into crescents when he's smiling makes your legs weak. He met you yesterday, but you know him since 3racha performed in the university’s festival last year. Since the first time you two crossed paths, everything about him, appearance wise, seemed appealing: his dark eyes, his smile, his dark curls, his broad shoulders and his muscular body. That's why you freaked out so much when he spoke to you yesterday, you never thought he would give you the time of day. So you would be dumb to reject his offer.

“Okay”, you nod, handing your phone to him. “You can put your number there, I'll text you so you can save my contact”, you say and he stares at the device for a few moments before picking it up and typing his number.

This was easier than he thought.

—

“Do you have pepper spray with you?” Your mother asks for the 30th time in the last hour.

“Yes, mom. I'm going on a date with another student, he's not a criminal”, you tell her and your father tsks.

“There are alot of students that commit crimes”, he says.

“I know”, you sigh, “don't worry, I have pepper spray, emergency numbers and I'll turn on my localization”

Your sister is watching the scene unfolding in front of her, while she chuckles.

“You shouldn't laugh, if I start dating you will go through the same thing when it's your time”, you whisper at her and she sighs.

“You're not going to this date just so I can officially date Jeongin, right?”

You grin.

“You think too highly of me, I'm not that selfless”, you hear the sound of a horn in front of your house, “I'm going on this date because he's hot”

Chan thought you were pretty in your everyday clothes but after seeing you ready for your date he just couldn't take his eyes off you. You're wearing a little sundress with thin straps holding your much too generous and low cleavage. Your hair is down and your lips are red with lipstick.

He's waiting for you outside of the car so he can open the door for you, but when you stop in front of him, he just doesn't move.

You frown, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Are you okay?” You ask and he snaps out of his daze.

“Yeah, you're just too pretty”, he tells you honestly, “I just couldn't believe I'm so lucky”

You feel your skin hotter, you're sure your whole face must be red like a tomato.

The restaurant you are going to have dinner at is a bit further than you thought, it takes at least one hour by car to get there.

“Were all the places close to the city closed?” You try making a joke and he smiles.

“Considering your personality, I thought you would like this place better”, he tells you while you go in. A person greets you two, leading you inside. There's no open space, the building is full of rooms and you're guided to one of those. There's a glass wall in the back of the room with a view to a lake and a waterfall, there's colorful lights everywhere, making it even more beautiful.

“So, when I was searching for a nice place to go on a date, I came across this one.” Chan starts speaking and you notice there's a small stove on top of the table. “There's no attendants, so we will cook our own food and only call them if we want more servings”, he explains, pulling the chair so you can sit.

“Oh”, you feel a weird feeling on your stomach, are these the butterflies your sister told you about? You never knew something like this existed and the fact that he was attentive enough to take your shyness into consideration while choosing the place of your date makes you melt inside. “Thank you”, you tell him after sitting.

You don't shut up the whole night. This is the first time you feel so comfortable with someone other than your family.

“So, you want to work with entertainment?” He asks surprised.

“Yes, I really like the whole thing about managing an artist, it sound exciting”, you smile happily, “who knows, maybe one day I can manage 3racha”

“You have heard 3racha?” Chan asks, surprised.

“I really like your music”, you tell him, “besides, everyone knows about you guys”

“Yeah, but I didn't know you knew about us”, he smiles charmingly, leaning on the table while clasping his hands. “So does that win me some points? Maybe a kiss?”

You already are red because of the wine, now you feel your whole face hot. You're already feeling a bit out of it, not drunk enough to make a bad decision but definitely drunk enough to lose a bit of your shyness.

“I don't know how to kiss”, you say simply, no further explanation.

Chan almost chokes on the air he just breathed, he didn't think you would be so blunt about it. Curiously, he finds your innocent face while saying that too enticing.

“I can help you with that”, he says, tilting his head and winking.

“Would you really?” You ask and he nods. “Like now?”

Chan didn't expect that to happen so soon, especially with someone as shy as you. But he won't refuse your offer.

“Are you done?” He asks, eagerly, standing up and you nod. Chan stretches his hand to you, waiting for you to hold it.

He takes you to his car, helping you get in and fastening your seatbelt. He's not in his right mind, not at all, he didn't even drink so why is he so excited? He doesn't think he ever felt this way about a kiss. He drives for a while, looking for the drive in movie theater he had read about while looking for the restaurant.

After fifteen minutes he parks his car behind others, there are a lot of people there to watch the movie.

You have your hands on your lap, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. It's so endearing how innocent you are.

“Would you like to take a seat?” He asks and you frown, looking around and then looking at him. You are already seated.

He tilts his head, chuckling and patting his lap. You nod so fast, it's embarrassing. He smiles, seeing you climb on top of him, legs are over the cup holder, you're using him as a literal seat.

“You never kissed anyone?” He asks, while you adjust yourself on top of him, his breath hitting your neck, making goosebumps rise all over your body. You shake your head, feeling a bit insecure, what if you are no good?

Chan bites on his lower lip, shifting a bit so you won't feel his hardening cock under you, you're just too cute, too sexy.

“Okay, I'll go slowly, we can stop anytime you want”, he tells you, brushing his hand on your arm all the way to your neck, making you close your eyes to his touch. He pulls your face closer, touching your lips with his, it's warm and soft, it feels like heaven.

He brings his other hand to your cheek, caressing. He pulls back a bit, just enough so he can speak.

“Open your mouth for me, baby”, he tells you and you obey instantly, feeling his lips back on yours. His tongue brushes against yours and you whine, lifting your hands to grab on his shoulders to steady yourself, causing your ass to rub on his cock. Chan groans, making you flinch, did you do something wrong?

He notices your hesitancy, so he slides his hand to your waist, squeezing you in reassurance.

“Are you sure you have never done this?” He asks playfully and you smile, shyly.

“Can- Can we do it again?” You whisper, making him chuckle. Dear god, would he be able to stop this with just kisses?

“Did you like kissing me, princess?” He teases, seeing you blush. Chan wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. He lands a kiss on your exposed collarbone, tracing kisses up to your neck.

“You smell so good”, he tells you before leaving a kiss on your jaw, then on your chin and finally a peck on your lips.

“Must taste even better”, he thinks, smiling to himself.

Your phone starts ringing, taking you two out of that hazy atmosphere. You feel embarrassed now, not believing you actually acted that way. Going back to your seat, you pick up the call, it's Yuna.

“Mom and dad are freaking out because you stopped moving for too long”, she whispers. Shit, you forgot your localization was turned.

“Tell them you called Chan and I'm alright, my phone just died”, you instruct her.

“Yeah, got it, just hurry”

Chan probably heard the conversation, but you still feel upset that he started the car right away and drove fast back to your home.

When you arrive in front of your house, you're not sure if you should kiss him goodnight or just wave, both are awkward options for you, so you go with the one you want the most.

You grab his arm and pull him closer to you, kissing him on the lips. Chan is quite surprised with your bold action, but he won't complain, he can't get enough of your lips.

“I will text you when I get home”, he says after pulling away and you nod.

You get out of the car and walk to your door, stealing glances at Chan. He's giggling at your antics, watching until you are safe inside your house.

He should be thankful to Jeongin, he's finally having a good time.

—

Chan is taking his mission seriously, he's texting you everyday and even stopped seeing all his fuck buddies. This is the closest he ever got to a relationship, but you're not official yet.

Especially not when you're avoiding him like the plague when it comes to meeting face to face. You answer his texts normally but he has to literally hunt you down so he can find you in this damn university and if you see him before he sees you, it's game over, you'll hide immediately and he has to begin his search all over again.

This time, though, he caught you off guard. You are at the library, seated alone, trying to focus on the book you have in your hands.

He smiles to himself, knowing you can't escape anymore. Chan leans over, caging your body with his two hands around you, gripping the table.

“I missed you, baby”, he whispers and you shiver, feeling butterflies on your stomach.

“H-hi”, you say, closing your book and taking a deep breath.

You will not try and pretend you didn't hide from him for almost a week. But that's not your fault, it's your brain's.

After Chan left you home, you ran to your room, still feeling all tingly and hot from kissing him. Since Yuna didn't come to your room you guessed she was already asleep, so you took your makeup off, took a long bath and snuggled in your nice sheets.

The thing is: you had the most lewd, filthy, awfully good dream that night. You could never even say the things Chan did to you in that dream out loud.

You woke up sweaty, heavy breathing and panties soaked, this never happened to you before.

You just couldn't look at his face after that, you felt dirty and guilty with having those thoughts about such a nice guy.

“Am I wrong or were you avoiding me?” He asks, not moving from behind you.

“No- I wasn't”, you turn around to look at him, bumping into his face too close from yours. He glances at your lips, biting his lower one and chuckles. “I was just, hm, kinda embarrassed”, you tell him, aware that he's going to know right away if you try lying.

“Embarrassed about what?” He asks, tilting his head.

“I don't know”, you look away, trying not to give in and tell him about your dream.

“I think you should come to my place so we can talk about it”, he says and you choke on your own spit, struggling to function correctly. Did he just ask you to go to his house? Just you? And him? Just the two of you?

The apartment is not far from the campus, it's a maximum twenty minutes walk. The building is nice and modern, it absolutely matches what you had imagined Chan’s place would look like.

His apartment is huge, it's not possible that he lives there alone.

“I have three roommates, Jisung and Changbin you already know and Hyunjin, he's an arts major”

“Hwang Hyunjin? I know him, he's friends with my sister”, Chan nods, he forgot your sister dates Jeongin, she probably knows his entire group of friends.

“Do you want to drink something?” He asks, looking at you while you walk around the living room, looking at every corner but not at him.

“Water is fine”, you say, looking at some pictures he has with his friends. He always has that breathtaking smile that makes all your insides turn around.

“What about watching a movie?” He asks out of nowhere, sitting on the sofa. He looks at you, an arm resting on the back of the sofa.

“Sure”, you walk to him, sitting on the far corner. Chan has to bite back a laugh so you won't feel embarrassed, do you really think it's so easy for you to get away from him?

He turns on the movie, adjusting himself on his seat. You're really trying to pay attention to what's going on on the screen, but you just can't. Not when Chan's scent is all over the place, making you remember about your dirty dream.

He knows you're restless, he can see you fidgeting by his peripheral vision.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, turning his head towards you, with a smirk plastered on his lips. “Maybe you can sit here again, I'm sure you are going to like it better”, he pats on his lap.

You feel your face red.

“Stop teasing”, you mumble, pouting, “that's not nice”

He chuckles. If you're not coming to him, he has no problem going to you, so Chan slides his body closer, making you stare at him with a frown.

He raises his hand to your face, cupping it and caressing your cheek.

“Tell me you don't want this, princess, I'll stop”, he says. But you want this more than anything in the world, how could you not?

You lean a bit, trying to close the gap between your mouths. Oh, how much Chan missed your soft lips, he felt almost like going through a withdrawal staying so long without kissing you.

You learn fast, your mouth opens right away after your lips touch. In a bold move, your tongue is the one to look for his first, making him groan. He puts his right hand on your thigh, squeezing it harder than he predicted, but he didn't predict the bite you would give on his lip at that exact moment.

Chan grabs your hip, pulling you up to his lap, this time with a leg on each side of him. You're looking at him in that innocent way when all he has on his mind are the dirtiest thoughts. He caresses your thigh, sliding his hand to grab your ass and pulling you closer to him.

“Will you tell me now, why you were embarrassed? You looked pretty fine when I left you home after our date”, he asks and you blush instantly, oh, you forgot about the reason you are here. You can't tell him about your dream, you'll die of embarrassment if you do.

“It was- nothing”, you lie, avoiding his eyes. Chan noticed this already, you always look anywhere but him when you are lying to him.

Maybe he'll have to make you tell the truth.

“Really?” He says, skeptical. “Then you were just being mean? Playing with my feelings after just one date?” He's teasing, he knows you'll give in eventually, it's just a question of time.

“No, I wasn't”, you argue, with a frown on your face, your lips shut tight in a pout.

“Baby”, he calls, your legs would definitely give out if he called you like that while you were standing. “I don't like liars”

Chan slides his hands up to your ass, grabbing a handful and pulling you closer. You can already feel something hard beneath you, making you shift and adjust on his lap, involuntarily seeking some friction. Your core is aching, just by staying so close to him.

“I'm not lying, that's mean”, you try changing the subject and he chuckles.

Chan comes closer, lips brushing against yours, his breathing hitting on your mouth, everything just making the wet spot on your panties grow bigger and bigger. He kisses you, a nice and soft kiss with his tongue caressing yours gently.

Chan notices that you're moving your hips slightly, trying to feel his cock. He smiles during the kiss, pulling away while putting his hands on your hips, guiding your movements to be harder.

“Hm”, you whine, feeling his hard on giving you the friction you're looking for. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer into a kiss again.

You never felt this way, like ever. You did masturbate but it's different to do it with another person. It's just so good to feel Chan's touch on your skin, his breathing, his muscular arms holding you. You feel your orgasm coming, you can't believe you're going to cum by just rubbing yourself on this man.

Chan knows you're almost there, that's when he grabs your hips steadying you, not letting you move further. He earns a whine from you, an angry look on your face.

“I will only let you keep going if you tell me why you were embarrassed and avoided me”, he says cockyly and you shake your head, trying to move again but his grip on your hips is too strong.

“I don't wanna”, you tell him.

“Then, I guess you won't be cumming today”, he shrugs. “At least, not with me”, he smirks to your face becoming even redder.

“You're such a meanie”, you whine, pouting, still trying to move again but he just won't let you.

“Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” He tilts his head.

You ponder for a moment, what should you do? It's not going to end here, if you don't tell him right now, you're sure he won't let it go.

“I- I had a dream”, you start, trying to gather some courage.

“Uhm”, he nods, “what about it?” He asks curiously, feeling strangely aroused by the way you're looking around, lips pulled into a line and the way you're speaking leads him to believe you're talking about a wet dream.

“Li- like one of those dreams”, so he was right, did you have a wet dream about him? That's interesting.

“Hm, you'll have to be more specific, princess”, he pushes, “I don't think I know what you're talking about”

“I mean”, you groan, dropping your head to his shoulder so you won't feel his eyes on you. “A sex dream… with you”, you whisper.

The grin on Chan's face after you finish saying that, is priceless. He can feel his cock twitching, he's eager to know more.

“Tell me more about it”, he presses, “I really wanna know what happened in that dream that left you so embarrassed”

“Please, Chan. Don't make me say it”, you beg, but he's not having it. He likes seeing you blushing and struggling to talk dirty, it's endearing.

“No can do”, he grabs your shoulder to pull you away so he can look at your face. “I promise I'll give a nice reward if you tell me”

You nod. If he won't drop it, then you have to try and earn something over your embarrassing situation.

“I- like- you ate me out”, you start and he smiles, he would indeed love to do that. “And I s-sucked you off, it was nice”, you stumble over your words in each sentence. Chan can only feel even more turned on, your lips are so soft, he can't even picture what it would feel like to have them wrapped around him.

“Keep going, princess. You're doing great”, he reassures you. Chan loosens the grip on your hips, guiding your movements back and forth once again.

“And you said all these dirty things to me, I can't say it out loud, please”, he smirks, pulling you even closer and pressing your covered core against his cock.

“Did I tell you how good it felt to have your pretty little mouth sucking on my cock?” He asks playfully and you nod, feeling the warmth creeping in your face again while that tingly sensation grows bigger in your lower stomach.

“Did we fuck?” He asks, feeling himself getting closer to cum too.

“Yeah”, you nod frantically with your eyes closed shut. “You fucked me on all fours and in this same position too”, you tell him.

“Oh? Did you ride me? Did you like it?”

“I did”, you struggle to make your voice come out, feeling too light headed to even speak properly.

“There's something more, right, baby?” He feels his cock throbbing, he's almost at his limit.

“Yes, you- you choked me a bit, I liked that”, and that sentence was enough to make Chan reach his orgasm, being followed by you right after.

He can't believe he really did cum in his pants, like a fucking teenager. It's your fault actually, how can someone make him cum like this and still look angelic and innocent? Like you never told him he choked you and you liked it, even though it was a dream.

Chan kisses you eagerly this time, his chest is feeling hot and he feels a weird sensation on his stomach.

“You shouldn't feel embarrassed about this kind of thing”, he tells you and you nod, because it's true, “if it makes you feel better, I'm sure I had worse thoughts about you”, he smiles, seeing you blush.

“Like what?” You ask, curiously.

“Oh, I won't tell you”, he shakes his head, “you would never look at me again if you knew all the dirty things I wanna do to you”

—

Another week went by and now you were not avoiding Chan anymore. He follows you around pretty much all day at school, stealing kisses and pulling you to empty classrooms to have make out sessions.

It's time for him to meet your parents, it's not something he ever did, he never dated anyone after all. It's a Wednesday night, he brought flowers and a bottle of wine. So five minutes before the set time, he's knocking at your door.

Your sister opens up, greeting him but you're nowhere to be found until he hears your voice from upstairs.

“Is he already here?” You sound panicked and your sister giggles.

“Yes! Hurry up”, she says and Chan hears something falling and making a weird noise. It was not loud enough to be a person so he's not worried you fell, but he finds it funny to think about you nervously stumbling around.

When you show up at the top of the stairs, he has to blink a few times to actually believe you're real. You look so beautiful, showing your nice legs in a short skirt and your shoulders in a tank top.

“Hey”, you greet him, looking at the things he has in hands and he finally regains his composure.

“Hi”, he gives you a peck on the lips, “this is for you” he hands you a bouquet of red camellias.

You stop for a second, you never received flowers. Before you can answer him, your father's head is popping out of the living room.

“Why is it taking so long for you to bring this guy inside?”, he asks grumpy, he's not too happy about you dating but there's nothing he can do about it.

Chan straightens himself, walking to your father to greet him.

“Good night, sir. I'm Bang Chan”, he clears his throat when your father doesn't say a thing, just staring at him. “I brought this for you”, he shows the wine bottle and your father takes it.

“At least you have good taste”, he nods to the wine bottle Chan stole from his father's collection.

He turns around, shrugging to you and you smile, listening to your sister's chuckles. You take his hand into yours, interlacing your fingers.

In the living room there's a woman that looks too much like you and your sister to not be your mother, she smiles kindly at you two.

She's less intimidating than your father so Chan's greetings to her are less awkward this time. As time goes by, your parents warm up to him, making jokes and even telling him about your childhood.

“The night went great”, you say while walking Chan to his car. “Thank you for coming”

“Your parents are great”, he says, leaning on the door of his car. He takes your hands in his and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Thank you for inviting me”

He looks so good tonight, his dark hair is carefully styled and he's wearing much more formal clothes than usual, making him look like a prince.

“Can I have a good night’s kiss?” He asks, slyly, seeing you eyeing him up. You nod, putting your hands on his chest and closing the gap between your mouths. Chan's hands slide from your waist to your ass, squeezing slightly, he can't get too into it since he won't be able to go further than a kiss tonight.

You pull away from him when you have to breathe, his lips are so inviting you could kiss him all night long.

“I will see you tomorrow”, he tells you.

There's something wrong with his heart, it's beating so fast he thinks he may be dying. After driving away from you, he calms himself a bit. It's not possible that you were the cause of that reaction, right? This is supposed to be fun, he only has to date you for a while and then break up, no strings attached. So why does he feel such hurt in his chest after thinking about leaving you?

After one more long and sleepless night Chan realized something: he is in love. This feeling snuck in so unexpectedly he didn't even notice he was falling in love. Chan never fell in love before, so he can only guess that this is how it feels to love someone.

He notices every little detail about you, he jokes around all the time waiting to hear you laugh about something he says. Chan likes the way you smell, the way you smile, the way you just look at him so focused while he is speaking. He is in love with your personality, your cleverness, your kindness, your beauty is just a bonus that makes him even more in love with you.

He wants to confess to you, ask you to be his girlfriend, to never leave him.

He even asked for your sister's help to make something for you, maybe a song, he can definitely make something beautiful and romantic for you. Maybe he can cook too, he wants to make you feel appreciated.

He's waiting for your class to finish, seated on the bench in front of the classroom while scrolling through his phone.

He feels someone sitting by his side and before he can look, a kiss lands onto his cheek. Chan puts his hand on his face, blushing and you laugh seeing his reaction. You two did much more than just a kiss on the cheek, why is he embarrassed about it?

“Did you miss me?” You ask him and he rolls his eyes.

“Of course I did”, he grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers. “Should we go to my place?” He asks and you nod, standing up, pulling him to get up too.

It's still a bit weird that you two are together, you never thought liking someone as much as you like Chan could actually happen to you, you could even say you're in love. The only thing that still makes you doubtful is the fact that he didn't ask you to be his girlfriend yet, you have been going out for a month and you do everything together, so why hasn't he made it official?

You still have many questions in your mind, sitting on Chan's bed while he makes popcorn and you choose the movie you're watching tonight.

He enters the room, closing the door and turning off the lights, two water bottles and a huge bowl in his hands.

“What movie did you choose?” He asks, but you can't hear it, your mind is too loud. “Y/N? Are you alright?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Are we exclusive?” You ask out of nowhere, ripping the air out of his lungs.

“Yes”, he says firmly, “do you want to be with other people?”

Chan asked that, but he's holding his breath until you answer him, hoping you're going to deny. For a moment, you don't say a thing and seeing you hesitate makes his heart ache.

“No, I-” you try speaking, trying not to sound ridiculous, “I want to be exclusive, I just don't know if you want that”

Chan takes a deep breath, putting the things he has in hands on the nightstand.

“Of course, I want to”, he takes your hand into his, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss the palm. He's feeling guilty, he's taking his time preparing a nice confession but you're feeling insecure. “I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't want things to get more serious”, he climbs on the bed, getting closer to you, “let me show you that you're the only one I want, hum? Can I?”

You suck on your teeth, knowing exactly what is about to happen but you just can't say no to him, let's be real, you don't want to say no to him. So you nod, making him smile.

Chan is eager to have you, he has been for weeks, just waiting for you to be ready to give yourself to him. He cups your face, pulling you closer and kissing you.

He helps you lay down on the bed, towering over you while landing kisses down your neck. You feel him biting on your shoulder and he brings his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up. His hands travel around your body, making you hotter.

“You're so pretty, princess”, he says, kissing your chest. You whine, he's taking too much time to get to the place you want the most.

“Channie”, you whisper, “please, touch me”, you ask him.

His smile grows bigger as he mumbles “your wish is my command”. Chan unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs, throwing it someplace in the room.

He slides his hand down to your core, your underwear is soaked. He pulls your panties down your legs and brushes a finger along your folds, collecting the wetness before inserting a finger inside, you arch your back to the feeling. It's delicious, but it hurts a bit. It's different from how it feels doing it alone.

“Is this okay?” He asks and you nod. “You're such a good girl, baby, all wet and ready for me.” He whispers, getting closer to your face again. I'm going to put another one”, he tells you. The sensation it's too much already, his fingers are too much.

“Chan”, you moan, “I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that”

“Oh? But I didn't even get to the better part”, he answers pressing his thumb on your clit, making circles.

“Fuck”, you whine.

His smirk grows while he keeps the movement of back and forth inside of you. Before he can tease you more, your legs are shaking and your tight hole is clenching around his fingers. You put your hand on your mouth, covering it so you won't make a loud sound, but he doesn't like that. He wants to hear how well he's fucking you.

“Let's not do that, okay? I want you to be loud, want to hear you scream my name” He says, pulling his fingers out of you and sliding them on his mouth. He comes closer, kissing your neck and face, helping you calm down after your orgasm.

Goosebumps rise all over your body, his kisses feel like fire on your skin, you thought you'd feel less horny after cumming, but you're still so turned on.

Chan kisses your chest, opening your bra. You feel embarrassed when he sees you completely naked.

“You're still dressed”, you point out, face red.

He gets out of the bed immediately, taking his shirt off and his pants too, crawling back to you in only his underwear. His cock is hard, outlined by the thin fabric of his boxers.

You feel the urge to touch him, maybe taste it. So you grab his length, making him groan.

“What are you doing, princess?” He asks, eyes closed from the pleasure of having your beautiful hands wrapped around him.

“I want to make you feel good”, you tell him, pushing his chest and making him fall on his back on the bed. You kiss his neck the same as he was doing to you, suddenly feeling possessive and sucking on the skin, leaving a few hickeys there.

You go down, kissing his chest and stomach, getting closer and closer to his throbbing cock. You pull his underwear down and his cock spring on your face.

“I just- you need to teach me”, you tell him. How can you look at him with such innocence in your eyes when you're about to suck him off?

“Hold the base”, he instructs, “now you can go up and down with your hand.”

 He feels your movements, making him groan. You are bolder than he gives you credit for, since you lick the head of his cock without being told to. You wrap his dick with your mouth, waiting for the next command.

“You can go up and down, princess, yes, like that” he moans, feeling his cock being embraced by your warm mouth.

Chan feels like exploding any time now, weeks of pent-up sexual tension being released. He sees you rubbing yourself on his bed while sucking on him, that just makes him crazier, he wants to make you feel good now, he can let you do the same for him another time.

“Baby”, you hear him say and you stop your movements. “I won't be able to last long with your soft mouth doing that, I need to feel you around my cock”

You nod, letting go of his cock and climbing up, stopping on top of Chan.

“I wanna be on top”, you say confidently.

“Let's do it slowly okay? I don't want to hurt you”, Chan tells you and you agree.

He grabs the base of his cock, brushing the head on your folds, trying to wet it enough to make it easier for you.

It feels like heaven when his cock finally slides inside of you, you're so tight he feels like he can cum at any moment.

Chan sees the pain in your eyes, he doesn't move, “do you want to stop?” He asks worriedly, putting his hands on your hips to stop you from moving but you shake your head.

You keep pushing it in, trying to relax. Chan kisses you, massaging your breasts to help you relax a bit.

When the painful part is gone and you're feeling all the good sensations back, you don't think you can stop, it's too addictive. You start riding on him freely, hands taking support on his chest and head thrown back, the pleasure is just too much, you'll be coming soon.

“Fuck, you look so good riding me, princess”, he says, feeling his own high almost catching him.

“Oh, Channie, I'm gonna cum”, you whine, fastening the movements of your hips, “please, oh, your cock feels so good”

For someone who couldn't talk about a wet dream a few weeks ago you sure talk dirty in real life, Chan chuckles, feeling you clenching around him and when you squeeze his cock for the last time he cums too, filling you up.

You collapse on top of him, breathing heavily. Your eyes are heavy, you're not sure if you can stay awake. Chan caresses your back and plays with your hair, making you fall fast asleep.

You wake up feeling just a bit sore. You're on cloud nine, the night was amazing. When you open your eyes, there's no one in the bed with you. You wrap yourself in the blankets trying to find and collect all your clothes scattered around the room.

The delicious smell that embraces your nose the moment you step out of the room, is enough to make you drool.

Chan is in the kitchen, dressed in nothing but sweatpants and an apron. That's right, he's shirtless. You're feeling bold today, so you get closer to him wrapping your arms around his waist in a back hug.

He lets out a laugh, putting his hand over yours and turning off the stove. He turns around, hugging you.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, kissing your forehead and you nod, snuggling in his embrace.

“Why didn't you wake me earlier? I woke up missing you”

“Ow, my baby is so needy”, he teases, making you pout. “I was making you, breakfast”

“Hm”, you look at what he was cooking.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, a bit worried, it was your first time after all.

“I'm doing great”, you smile, “just a bit sore, but it's nothing”

He nods, putting his hands on your shoulders and turning you around.

“I'm happy to hear that”, he kisses the top of your head, guiding you to take a seat on the table. “Let's eat so we can go for another round then”, he smirks.

—

“Jeongin is coming here today?” You ask your sister and she nods frantically while fixing her hair.

“He's coming to ask dad's permission to date me”, she giggles excitedly.

“Alright”, you smile seeing your sister so happy.

You're the one opening the door for Jeongin while your sister is getting ready, he's clearly nervous but he's trying to keep his smile.

“Hey!” You give space for him to enter, “Yuna is almost done”

He nods, looking around. Your sister comes down minutes later, leading Jeongin to the living room.

Your father is less hostile to him than he was to Chan, maybe it's because Jeongin is adorable.

After an hour of conversation, you go upstairs, you have a date tonight and need to get ready.

The memories from your night with Chan flood your mind making you giggle and kick your feet, they have been your most cherished thoughts lately. It's a struggle but you finally end your bath after probably an hour.

You walk back to your room, you're already late. However, you stop in front of your sister's room when you hear voices being a little bit too loud.

“You did what, Jeongin?” your sister's voice is a pitch higher than usual.

“I didn't think things would get out of hand”, Jeongin answers, are they fighting?

“In what world did you think that was a good idea?”

“I was desperate, I'm not proud of that”, he answers back.

“There's no excuse for you to ask Bangchan to date my sister”, she tries speaking lower but you still can hear them. Your whole world crumbles with that one sentence, what does she mean by that?

“I didn't do it to be mean, I know how hard it is for your sister to get to meet new people, I thought it would benefit the both of us”, he tries explaining. Your heart is beating too fast, the throbbing in your ears grows stronger and your legs are giving out.

“How am I supposed to tell her now? She is so happy” Yuna cries out. “Don't come any closer, get out of here”, you panic instantly, they can't see you there. But you're too slow, when you finally manage to move Jeongin is swinging the door open. He stops on his tracks, turning white on the spot.

“Y/N-”, he tries to speak, but you run to your room before he can say anything else.

You can't believe this is actually happening to you, you thought that someone finally liked you but everything was a lie? That's not possible, right?

You are going to go to Chan, you two have a date, and he is going to tell you that Jeongin is lying, that he was just joking.

The uber to Chan's apartment doesn't seem to show up fast enough and the ride there couldn't be slower. You're restless, fidgeting with your fingers and shaking your legs.

You pay the man, practically running out of the car and running upstairs. The person who opens the door is not Chan but Changbin, you met him a few times when you were visiting the apartment.

“Hey, y/n”, Changbin greets you. “Chan is not home, but he will be here soon, I heard you have a date”, he says, letting you in.

“I'm going to wait for him in his room”, you tell him, too disturbed to worry about proper manners.

You walk back and forth in the room, anxiously waiting for Chan's arrival. You hear his voice after twenty minutes, he's talking to his friend in the living room when Changbin tells him you're there.

You can hear the fast footsteps leading to where you are, you take a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“Hey, baby”, Chan smiles at you, dropping his bag on the floor and walking towards you with open arms. “Did something happen?” He stops, noticing your face.

You stare at him for a minute, brows knit together and eyes trying to find the least bit of sincerity in the time you two spent together.

“Did you ask me out as a favor to Jeongin?” You ask and his standing falter, how did you find out?

“L-let me explain”, he says, taking a step closer to you.

“So you did”, you feel the tears trying to escape from your eyes.

“Please, just… just hear what I have to say”, he asks, trying to hold your hand, but you pull away from him.

“I don't want to hear a thing from you”, you tell him, running your hands through your hair.

It really was all a lie. How could you be so dumb?

You walk past him, trying to get out of the room, go anywhere but there. But Chan grabs your arm, making you stop in your tracks.

“Please, don't leave”, he begs. You feel a pang in your chest, but it doesn't make a difference since you're already hurting too much.

“You have no right to ask me that”, you pull your arm out of his grasp and walk out of the apartment.

It would be too humiliating to enter the uber while bawling your eyes out, so you decide to walk. You walk for a long time before your feet start hurting and your eyes are burning from how much you cried. You can't believe you really let yourself fall pray to such a scheme, you thought you were smarter than that.

It's obvious you only fell for it because it's Chan, you were attracted to him since the first time you laid eyes on him. You try to believe that it wouldn't be that easy to trick you if it was anyone else.

After at least two hours, you finally reach your house and you're feeling utterly miserable. You greet your parents and walk upstairs, anxiously searching for your room so you can finally let yourself fall and cry as much as you can.

Your sister is seated on your bed, biting on her nails. She stands up as soon as she sees you.

“I'm really sorry”, she says, teary.

You sigh, feeling the weight on your chest even heavier.

“It's not your fault”, you tell her. You start to undress, looking for your pajamas so you can snuggle on your bed until all of this passes.

“I shouldn't have started dating before you”, she whines.

“I don't blame you, so stop doing that to yourself”, you say, even though you feel a bit of resentment because Jeongin likes her truly, he likes her because she's her. Of course no one's going to like you, you're… you.

“But”, she bites on her lower lip, not sure if she should say this, “I think Chan really likes you-”, she stops talking when you give her the meanest glare you ever threw in someone's way.

“I don't want to hear it”, you say.

“He even asked help so he could confess to you in a way you would like”, she continues.

“I'm not going to repeat myself”, you say and your sister knows that tone too well, it's better for her to stay silent for the time being. “If you're done, I would like to be alone”

Yuna nods, glancing at you all the way to the door.

You collapse on your bed, finally able to cry your eyes out without people looking at you in a weird way. This is the moment you realize how much you love Bang Chan, the pain you're feeling is greater than anything you ever felt in your whole life, you truly don't think you'll be able to survive this.

Chan is an idiot, he knows this and you are right to never look at his face again. But even though he knows you're right, he can't accept the thought of you leaving him.

He tried calling and texting you, you blocked him. He tried talking to your sister, she cursed him out and told him to leave you alone. She and Jeongin are on bad terms right now but they didn't break up yet.

He tried to find you in the university, but you didn't show up for the entire week, he just doesn't know what to do.

“You are an idiot”, Hyunjin says after listening to the whole story, “you should have told her about it while you still had time”

“I didn't know I was in love”, Chan runs his hands through his hair, “not until it was too late”

His friend sighs, he just can't see Chan like that anymore. He's just miserable, he looks like he's dying and Hyunjin doesn't doubt it could actually happen at this point.

So as a good friend, he takes this matter into his own hands and calls your sister, trying to convince her to listen to Chan and maybe forgive Jeongin too, Hyunjin is tired of him whining all day long.

“Did you really call me here for this?”, Yuna asks, ready to grab her things and go home.

“Hear me out, okay?” He says. “I know what they did was wrong but they regret it, Jeongin even told you about it”

She huffs, crossing her arms.

“He told me because I was talking about how Chan wanted to ask y/n to be his girlfriend”, she says. “He felt guilty, he would have never told me about it otherwise”

“Chan really likes y/n, he really wants to be with her”

Yuna sighs, she knows that. There was no way Chan could fake the way he looked at you.

“She's not going to believe that”, Yuna says, “y/n is heartbroken, she's not even going to her classes. She just stays in her room all day, crying’

“There's nothing better to fix her broken heart then”, Hyunjin points out, “let's help them meet, they can talk things out that way”

“She doesn't want to see him”, Yuna sighs, “but I do think this is the best solution”

“Okay, I'll text you the day and time, just bring y/n, Chan will take care of the rest”

Yuna nods, collecting her things but before she can stand up, Hyunjin's voice sounds again.

“About Jeongin-”, he starts, but she cuts him off right away.

“This whole mess started because of Jeongin”, she takes a deep breath, “after y/n and Chan resolve this matter I'll see what I'm going to do about him”

Yuna turns around, leaving Hyunjin there. At least he got Chan a chance, he can't save everyone.

Chan can't take it anymore, he has to see you. So he musters all the courage he has and goes to your house. It doesn't help that it's 2 a.m. so everyone is sleeping, except you it seems, since there's light coming from your room.

He begins throwing rocks at your window, trying to make you notice him and after a few tries he sees your face popping out.

Chan wishes he didn't come at all, your face is puffy so he knows you have been crying and the way you're looking at him, it's just awful, he feels despicable. More than he has felt all this time without you.

“What do you want?” You ask, at least you didn't ignore him.

“Can you come down for a bit?”

You sigh, you don't actually want to, but you're afraid he'll make too much noise trying to convince you to go down and wake up the neighbors or even worse, your parents.

You close the window, he knew it would be hard, that you wouldn't want to see him. Before he can turn around and walk away, Chan hears the sound of the front door opening.

You are in your pajamas, holding yourself trying to protect your body from the cold air.

You stop in your tracks, looking at him with an intense gaze, like you can read all his thoughts and know about all his mistakes.

“How have you been?” He asks and you scoff.

“Are you here to survey my mood? I have been feeling like shit, what about you?” He remembers the first time he talked to you, how he wished to see you mad, now he regrets that. He never wanted to see you mad at him.

“I'm not well either”, he says.

You sigh.

“Now that we know how each other is feeling, you can go”, you tell him.

“Can you let me explain?” He pleads.

“Did you start dating me as a favor for Jeongin?” You ask and he sighs, nodding. “That's all I need to know, I would appreciate it if you don't come looking for me anymore”, you say, turning around and going back inside. Tears start running down your face while you go back to your room, when will this pain subside?

—

You are finally back at school, after moping around all day at home for an entire week, you decided it was time to get back to your life. Staying at home just made you feel worse, you didn't have a thing to distract yourself so you ended up thinking about Chan the whole time. That only weakened your resolve to forget about him, you avoided coming to school because you knew you would give in if he tried to approach you.

Your day goes by fast enough and you just want to go home to lay on your bed. You feel your phone buzzing, it's a message from Jeongin. You were so angry with Chan that you forgot to block him.

He should be begging to meet Yuna, so why is he asking to meet you? Maybe he wants your help to fix things between them.

You don't know why you decided to meet him, maybe it's curiosity to know why he did such a thing to you or maybe you want to look at his face and curse at him.

He arrives at the cafe at the set time, looking around for you and walking towards you when his eyes lock with yours.

“Hey”, he says, sitting in front of you. You don't say anything back, not in the mood to be polite.

Jeongin sighs, he expected this much.

“I wanted to talk with you about this whole situation, believe me I didn't mean to hurt you even though it ended up happening in the end-”

“I considered you my friend”, you say making him stop talking.

“I- I'm”, he says, voice a pitch higher.

“Friends don't do what you did”, you say and he nods.

“I know it was an ill executed plan, but my intentions weren't bad, I swear”, he tells you.

“And do your intentions matter if I was the one hurt in the end?” You ask, angrier now.

“No”, he answers. “I'm truly sorry, I swear, I just caught you staring at Chan more than once. I thought this would be good for us both but I was clearly wrong”

You huff, exhausted. You start collecting your things to go home but you hear Jeongin's voice once more.

“Chan really likes you, he fell in love with you”, he says and your heart skips a beat, it shouldn't be behaving like this, not after the heartbreak you are going through.

“I don't care, he lost his chance”, you answer firmly, even though you know it's not true.

“Are you sure?” Jeongin asks, “are you sure you won't regret it? Not let him explain or not hearing him out?”

You glance at him once more, before standing up and walking out of the cafe.

Your mid terms are finally over, that means, you don't have anything to study so you're stuck with your thoughts. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, it's a message from Yuna, asking you to meet her in the arts department.

You reply, saying you'll be there in a moment. What is she even doing there? She's a business major.

The arts department is not far from yours, but it's emptier than you are used to. She asked you to meet in the first classroom of the second floor.

When you open the door, the first thing you see is Bang Chan. He looks awful, worse than you even.

You try going back, but he already saw you, so he stands up, coming closer.

“Don't leave, I'll do anything just… don't leave”

He's pale, and the eyebags he normally has are darker than usual.

“Are you sick?” You ask, worried. It's not like you can stop loving him in such a short period of time, of course you're worried.

“No”, he says, “I mean, I'm not feeling well, but I don't think I have an illness”

You nod, feeling awkward. It's been a while since you felt this way about him.

“Okay, then I'll get going”, you say trying to leave, but his voice stops you.

“I love you”, he is desperate, you can hear it in his voice. However, you're too petty.

“This was part of Jeongin’s plan too?”, you scoff, seeing his lips trembling.

He takes a deep breath, he deserves that, he knows he does.

“I really started going out with you because Jeongin asked”, he starts explaining, “but I fell in love with you, for real”

You feel your heart ache once more, he's about to cry, you can see it. But you're not sure if you can forgive him, even if what he's telling you is true.

“I don't believe you”, you say, shrugging, trying to hold your own tears.

“I will do anything to prove it to you, just say what I need to do for you to believe me”, he says, taking a step closer to you.

“I'm not sure if I'll be able to forget this or even forgive you, Chan”, you sigh, letting your heart speak and not your anger.

“I know I messed up, I don't deserve you I know that too”, he grabs your hand, “but please, I'll prove to you that I deserve a second chance, I'll earn back your trust”, he pleads.

You sigh, even after all this, it seems you still can't say no to him.

“I'm going to need some time”, you say slowly, “but I will give you a second chance, you better not ruin it”, you say.

Chan can't believe you're really going to try and forgive him, he can't ask for anything more.

“I won't disappoint you this time, I promise”, he says, kissing the palm of your hand, the same way he did before.

“Let's see about that”, you sigh, feeling your heart beating fast once again.

You may be making a stupid choice, but you'll only learn by making mistakes. You just sure hope this is not one.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

[ikarakie]

after eddie introduces a demogorgon to one of his hellfire campaigns, the kids get a little squirmy. they're nervously looking at each other and aren't engaging as excitedly as they usually do. when he calls time, he watches dustin rummage through his backpack and produce a walkie talkie.

he watches, a bit dumbfounded, as the kid demands a 'check-in'. all at once, multiple different voices come over the channel. stating a name and then saying 'safe.' ("nancy, safe." "robin, safe." "max, safe.")

"steve?" dustin demands. there's only static. "steve!" a little more frantic this time.

"he left to pick you up." a female voice replies, "he's probably fine. you'll see him soon."

none of the kids look particularly pleased, and pack up hastily. eddie and the other hellfire members all share confused glances. he, more morbidly curious than anything else, follows the little sheep as they hurry out of the school.

dustin is fucking restless as they all stand in the empty parking lot. he won't stay still and none of them are answering any of eddie's questions. and he only gets more confused when a brown beemer pulls in, windows down and playing depeche mode through the speakers. dustin goes to sprint towards it, and he has to hold him by the collar to stop him getting run over.

the beemer pulls up and steve harrington, in all his glory, steps out, frowning. dustin wrenches out of eddie's grip and all but bodies the guy, wrapping arms tightly around his midsection. steve, still looking puzzled, hugs back. lucas and mike trail after dustin.

"we called a check-in." dustin says, a bit muffled from where his face is smushed into steve's shirt. steve goes sort of pale, and- and presses a goddamn kiss to the top of henderson's head before tightening the hug.

"shit, i'm sorry." and eddie believes him. he sounds so guilty. "i meant to replace the batteries before i left. sorry, i'm okay." dustin pulls back and scrubs at his eyes. lucas takes his place, though the hug he gives is more like one of those bro-hugs jocks seem to love. steve smiles regardless. he just ruffles mike's hair, who pouts in response but looks relieved nonetheless.

"asshole." he mutters. "rule four, walkies on at all times." steve nods as the kid half-heartedly waves goodbye to eddie and hops in the backseat of the beemer. lucas follows. dustin seems reluctant to walk around the car, to take his eyes off steve for even a second.

"you wanna stay over tonight?" steve asks, warm and gentle. he folds his arms and in that moment eddie thinks they look sort of like brothers. "robin and me were gonna watch some films. we can call your mom from mine."

the kid nods, looking a bit happier. steve slaps him on the back and motions him to get in the car. dustin swivels to hug and say goodbye to eddie (who sort of forgot he was physically present in this moment) before doing as he was told.

steve turns to eddie. which- whew! hi pretty eyes.

"sorry." he smiles and eddie can't for the life of him figure out what he's apologising for. "they, uh- yeah. them." he gestures vaguely at the car and eddie just chuckles.

"hey, man, no worries." he says, a little breathless that he's having a conversation with the steve harrington. "they okay? never seen henderson look so rattled." steve nods, then seems to think better of it and just shrugs. cocks his hip to the side (stop fucking staring at his hips, munson, lord!)

"they will be." he glances back at the beemer, which is now full of childish bickering. pauses to think and then asks, "you using demogorgons in your campaign right now?"

eddie blinks at him. "yes? yeah. what the fuck- how do you know what that is? what-" steve just laughs.

"long story." there's a haunted look in his eyes before he continues, "just, uh- that's probably what upset them. demogorgons and us- them, i mean-" he waves his hand. "bad memories. hard to explain, but... if you could..." he doesn't need to ask, seems like he doesn't know how or even if he's allowed.

"got it, ill tweak the campaign." harrington smiles at him, something small and genuine, and murmurs a thanks. offers him a fucking lift, which eddie declines, motioning to his van. harrington just nods, tells him to get home safe and then clambers back into the car, yells at the kids to put seatbelts on with all the exasperation of a single dad, and pulls away.

eddie watches them go, having seen a side of harrington he'd thought dustin had been lying about. steve harrington, the caring babysitter, everyone's older brother, a changed man.

he starts escorting the kids to the parking lot more often.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [31] - Chamomile

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: A ballroom can be a place of reconciliation.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence.

Word Count: 4400

Series Masterlist

The following days after that night were interesting.

Granted things were still quite tense between you two, but perhaps because now you knew that neither of you wanted to walk away from this no matter how terrible that fight had been, there was also an unspoken agreement of peace. 

You passed by the hallway, fixing your gloves as you went downstairs and as soon as you reached the foyer, you saw Benedict entering the house.

“Husband,” you greeted him in a half joking manner as you walked past him, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat.

“Wife,” he joked back, making you bite down on your smile but you stopped dead on your tracks as the thought hit you, and you turned around.

“Benedict wait,” you said, making him stop at the bottom of the stairs before he turned around as well to look at you.

“Yes?”

“We have the Coleshill ball tonight,” you said. “Don’t forget.”

“I haven’t,” he assured you. “At eight, I know. Are we going together?”

“I’ll be back before evening,” you said, shifting your weight. “So we can.”

He nodded and you cleared your throat, motioning at him.

“I mean if it’s fine with you, that is.”

“It’s fine—of course it’s fine,” he said quickly. “I just asked because you’re leaving, so…”

“To my uncle’s,” you replied and offered him a small smile. “Any luck with Lottie?”

“Not at all,” he said with a sigh. “And you?”

“I went there yesterday, she just sent a maid downstairs to tell me she was ill so she ‘couldn’t talk to me’,” you used air quotes and Benedict hummed.

“Same here,” he said. “Anthony says he saw her for a moment, she went to the drawing room to tell him she didn’t want to talk to him, and went straight back to her room.”  

“So she’s not speaking to any of us,” you clicked her tongue. “Great. I’ll talk to her during tonight’s ball, it’s fine.”

“You sound confident.”

“I try,” you murmured. “But if I get to talk to her, I’ll tell her the truth. Just so you know.”

“I doubt we have much of a choice on that, she already knows the general idea,” he commented and you shifted your weight.

“Sorry about that,” you said. “I really didn’t know she was there. I was arguing with Josie, and…”

“Not your fault,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. And Josie?”

“She’ll come around,” you said. “By the way, if she knows then Bess knows as well. And probably Andrew.”

“Alright,” he said and cleared his throat. “I was thinking maybe I should talk to Josie.”

Your eyes widened. “What?” you asked. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“I think she’d want an explanation about this whole thing.”

“Josie isn’t the type to listen to explanations.”

“I’ll try anyway,” he said and thought for a moment. “I should probably try it with a body armor though.”

“She’s not going to stab you,” you said, and shook your head. “She’s not. She knows better.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Both,” you muttered and took a deep breath. “Just—you know. It’ll be fine but be careful.”

“I will.”

“Also make sure there are witnesses around but it’ll be fine,” you added and he pulled his brows together.

“You are terrible at assuring people.”

“I’m working on it,” you admitted and clapped your hands together, offering him a smile. “It’ll be fine, hooray!”

He paused for a moment and blinked a couple of times, then nodded quite enthusiastically.

“Baby steps,” he said as if trying to encourage you. “We’ll get you there.”

You grimaced, making him chuckle and you both stared at each other for a moment, then you frowned, trying to snap out of it.

“Anyway, I’d better go.”

“Right,” Benedict said, shaking his head slightly. “See you when you come back.”  

“Sure thing,” you said and you walked out of the house, then approached the carriage as the coachman opened the door for you.

“Where to, ma’am?”

“My uncle’s house,” you said and got in the carriage. “Thank you.”

                                   *

When you got to your uncle’s house, there was no sign of Teddy or your aunt, and you looked around, then made your way to the closed door of your uncle’s study to knock on it.

“Come in!” he called out and you opened the door to peek your head in.

“Good morning uncle.”

“Oh my Clover is here!” he smiled and got up from his seat. You walked to him to hug him with a laugh.

“Were you busy?”

“Not at all, just going over…” he motioned at his desk. “Never mind. Your aunt and Teddy are outside at the park.”

“Oh that’s alright,” you said. “I was actually hoping I could talk to you?”

“Of course, sit down, sit down!” he said and called for the maid passing by the door, then asked her for some cookies and tea. You sat down on the sofa and he came to take his place on the armchair.

“To what do I owe this wonderful surprise?”

“I need your wisdom.”

“It’s at your service,” he joked as the maid walked in, carrying a tray.

“Thank you,” you said as she placed the cookies and tea on the small coffee table, then curtsied and left the room. You took a sip of your tea and leaned back.

“Any other letters?”

“None,” he said. “As I’ve told you.”

“That’s a relief at least.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he assured you. “Now, what do you need my wisdom for?”

You looked down at the tea cup in your hand, then raised your glances.

“You and auntie have been married for a long time,” you started. “And auntie says you two fell in love after your first dance.”

“We did,” he said with a smile. “I thought I was dreaming when I first saw her.”

You licked your lips. “And you’re…you still love each other.”

“We do.”

“So you’ve never had a fight or anything right?”

He tilted his head. “Clover, what is this about?”

You took a deep breath, then cleared your throat.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you started. “Let’s say you and auntie had a fight and hypothetically it was a big fight and hypothetically you said things.”

“A lot of hypotheticals.”

“I woke up curious,” you replied and he chuckled.

“Is everything alright between you and Benedict?”

“Sure,” you said. “So? What would you do if that happened?”

He reached out to grab a cookie, then hummed.

“To answer your first question, we did have fights, me and your aunt,” he said and you frowned.

“You have the perfect marriage.”

“Perfect marriages don’t just happen, Clover,” he said. “Especially at the start of the said marriage. Yes we were in love, we still are but it doesn’t mean we didn’t have arguments. Every couple is bound to have them sooner or later.”

“Why did you have a fight?”

“Well, marriage is a huge change in one’s life. Takes a bit of time to get used to,” he said. “The important thing is to never forget how much you love the person you’re married to, no matter what you’re fighting over.”

You pressed your lips together and he gave you a small smile.

“How bad was the fight?”

“I uh—I said things,” you admitted and paused for a moment. “Not necessarily nice things.”

“Ah,” he said. “An apology could work, perhaps?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you try?”

“…No,” you said after a beat and sat up straighter. “I have another question.”

“Ask away dear.”

“How did you know?” you asked. “That you were in love with auntie?”

He thought for a couple of seconds, then shrugged his shoulders.

“I suppose I realized that no one else but her made me happier,” he said. “When I imagined my future, anything else was a detail as long as she was there. She was my first thought as I woke up and last thought as I went to sleep and I couldn’t…I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I didn’t have her in my life.”

You blinked a couple of times; the idea was way too familiar to you. You swallowed thickly, then let out a huff of breath and buried your palms into your eyes.

“He loves you,” he said, making you lower your hands. “Anyone could see that. A fight won’t change things as long as you two talk about what happened.”

“That’s not my strongest suit,” you murmured and he chuckled.

“No harm in trying.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Perhaps because it is easy?” he asked. “If you’re wondering the key to a good marriage, it’s knowing when to listen and when to apologize.”

You slipped a little on the sofa and hummed.

“What if I try to apologize and he doesn’t want to hear it?”

“No offense Clover but out of the two of you, I’d say it’s you who doesn’t want to hear apologies and not him.”

You pouted your lips.

“That’s not…” you started to protest, then let out a noise of agreement and shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, you might be right about that.”

                                  *

Coleshill Ball was an absolute blast. Lord Easton had apparently decided to attend along with Lucy and Henry, and he was instantly surrounded by many people trying to talk to him. He had only had a couple of seconds to greet you and Benedict before his many admirers started talking over each other, eager to have a conversation with him. The orchestra was very talented as well, so everyone seemed to be having fun, dancing and socializing.

Everyone except you, Benedict and Anthony. The three of you found yourselves huddled in the corner of the room while Lottie adamantly ignored you, busy with her conversation with Lord Finney after their dance. Lord Finney hadn’t stopped eyeing Lottie with a small smirk you didn’t like since the end of their dance, and you could swear if you tried to pass by Anthony’s eyesight, you would have dropped dead from a thousand invisible daggers he was glaring at Lord Finney whereas Benedict looked nearly impatient, biting inside his cheek.

“Can I stab him?” you asked to no one in particular and both Benedict and Anthony answered at the same time.

“No.”

“Yes.”

You looked up at Benedict. “The head of the family said yes.”

“Now you want to listen to someone?” he asked you. “Not to mention him of all people? You don’t even like him.”

“I’m standing right here Ben.”

“She doesn’t like you Anthony,” Benedict deadpanned without so much as sparing him a glance and you made a face.

“I have no idea what you speak of,” you mused. “I’ve been nothing but nice to Anthony.”

Anthony leaned forward to look at you around Benedict’s arm, a look of disbelief etched in his features. “This is you being nice?”

“You’re standing here alive and well, so yes.”

Benedict suppressed a laugh, and you took a deep breath, pursing your lips.

“You know what, that’s enough,” you said. “The next dance will not start for a half an hour, I’ll go there and talk to her.”

“And Finney?”

“I’ll threaten him,” you said and Benedict nodded.

“Want me to come with you?”

“I can intimidate people by myself Benedict, have some faith,” you told him and walked away from them to approach Lottie and Lord Finney.

“Lottie,” you said as you reached them. “Good evening.”

She stole a look at you, pouting. “Good evening to you too Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“…Fair enough,” you muttered and nodded in Finney’s direction. “Leave us.”

“Mrs. Bridgerton—”

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing into a cold glare as your voice lowered into a growl.

“I said leave.”

A look of intimidation crossed his eyes and he swallowed thickly, then took a step back and bowed his head before walking away from you both.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Lottie said and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not interested in being nice,” you commented and gave her a small smile. “Can we talk Lottie? Please?”

Her brows furrowed for a moment, that pout still apparent on her lips.

“Five minutes is all I ask,” you said. “I’d like to explain myself if you’d let me.”

She thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“Fine.”

“Great,” you said, a smile lighting up your face, “Let’s go outside.”

She followed you out of the ballroom and you both stepped outside to the garden. Thankfully there weren’t people around which was no wonder considering how fun the ball was inside, so you approached the nearest bench and sat down, Lottie taking her spot next to you.

“So?” she asked. “If you’re going to tell me any more lies—”

“I’m not,” you cut her off and shook your head. “I’m not going to lie to you, and I’m sorry that I did. I really am.”

That seemed to take her by surprise and she frowned slightly.

“And I know you heard my and Josie’s argument but I don’t think of you gullible or anything, it was just something I said because I was frustrated with Josie and the whole thing. I hope you know that.”

She nodded and thought for a moment.

“Tell me everything,” she said. “From the very beginning.”

So you did. If anything, it was such a relief that you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, and when you were finished a silence fell upon you both before Lottie let out a breath.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Exactly. You know what the ton thinks of me, they say Benedict married me because I trapped him or lured him away from you, or I planned it—”

“That’s not true.”

“And if they thought a scandal happened, you know what they would say about me,” you said. “So we told no one. The only reason we told Anthony was because he—he needed to know, considering everything. As I said, even my family doesn’t know.”

“Did you not trust me?”

“That’s not the reason,” you shook your head. “Lottie, you were so happy for us. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint you and I’m sure Benedict feels the same.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said. “I was just—I was sad.”

“I know.”

She nibbled on her lip and took a deep breath.

“Well,” she said. “At least it’s a relief that it wasn’t all a lie.”

“What?”

“Benedict and you have a love marriage.”

You raised your brows. “Uh, Lottie—”

“You two got married because you were caught kissing.”

“That’s lust Lottie, not love,” you said in a haste and she rolled her eyes at you.

“You honestly can’t see how he looks at you?” she asked. “Or how you look at him?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you sat up straighter. “Well because we had to pretend to be in love—”

“No one is that good of a pretender,” she said. “Not even you. And I’ve known Benedict for a long time, so I’d be able to tell if he were in fact pretending. It’s alright if you can’t see it yet, but I will be here to say I told you so when you finally realize that it is in fact a love marriage.”

You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat and averted your glances.

“Benedict and I are…” you trailed off. “We’re bound.”

“By marriage?”

“By fate.”

“By your hearts as well,” she pointed out and smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You hugged her back, and heaved a sigh when she pulled back.

“I’d better go, otherwise my next dance partner will assume I’m avoiding him,” she sighed and stood up. “Are you coming?”

“I think I’ll get some fresh air, it helps me think,” you said. “But I could also intimidate your next dance partner if you’d like.”

“I don’t wish to be rude,” she told you with a giggle and you saw Anthony stepping out of the house, making you tilt your head. Lottie turned around as he made his way to you.

“Charlotte, can we—?”

“No because I’m still angry at you,” Lottie said. “And I’m angry at Benny too, make sure to tell him that please.”

You pressed your lips together to contain your laughter at Anthony’s puzzled expression, but before he could say anything, Lottie stuck her nose in the air and walked past him to go back into the house. Anthony threw his head back and heaved a sigh while you leaned back, resting your elbows on the back of the bench.

“She forgave you?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yeah.”

“And she refuses to talk to me.”

“I have a more charming personality than you do.”

“Not really,” he said. “I mean just because your marriage is turbulent, doesn’t mean you should go around making others’ the same as well.”

You pulled your brows together in confusion. “You’re not married, in case it has escaped your notice.”

“I could’ve been,” he pointed out, “if I could get some spare time from the string of scandals you all throw at me. First you and Benedict, then Daphne and Simon, and now Colin wants to marry Miss Marina.”

“Wait really?” you asked. “It feels like yesterday he was getting all nervous to even talk to her. They grow up so fast.”

“Colin is older than you, Y/N.”

“That’s irrelevant,” you said and he came to sit beside you.

“So yeah, if everyone could stop for a moment to let me at least court Charlotte without getting in the way, it would be much appreciated.”

You smiled slightly and shrugged your shoulders.

“Patience is a virtue they say,” you said. “Perhaps waiting patiently will teach you a valuable lesson in the meantime.”

He scoffed. “Have you ever waited patiently for anything?”

“I’ve been waiting patiently for this conversation to end ever since you opened your mouth,” you retorted and rolled your eyes. “But if anything, she wants to marry you too.”

He turned to you, hope shining in his eyes. “She said that?”

“She mentioned it, yes,” you said. “So until she decides to forgive you, send her flowers, proclaim your undying love on a bent knee, whatever it is that in love people do.”

He nodded slowly, then cleared his throat.

“Speaking of that,” he said. “Is everything okay between Benedict and you?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you said and stole a glance at him. “What did he tell you?”

“He mentioned that you two had an argument but judging by the tortured look on his face for the last weeks up until a couple of days ago, I’d say it’s something more than a simple argument.”

You bit on your nail, keeping your gaze on the house.

“I’m not very pleasant when I’m angry,” you said and he raised his brows.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re not very pleasant when you’re not angry either,” he stated and you turned your head to make a face at him.

“I would say I’m more pleasant than you but let’s be honest, it’s not like you’re setting a high standard there” you told him, making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Fair enough,” he said. “But just so you know; whatever it is that is bothering you, whatever happened between you and Benedict, if my help is needed in any way it’s at your service.”

You blinked a couple of times, furrowing your brows.

“…Why?”

“Because you’re family.”

A tentative smile curled your lips and your eyes darted over his face to get a hint of insincerity, but it wasn’t there.

“Thank you,” you mumbled after a pause and he shook his head.

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you saw Benedict stepping outside. Anthony turned to look at him, then stood up.

“I’ll try my chances to talk to Charlotte,” he said and walked away from you, passing by Benedict to get in the house. Benedict put his hands in his pockets and approached you.

“Hello there.”

“Hello,” you said and stuck your nose in the air in an exaggerated smug manner. “Lottie forgave me.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yes but she’s still angry at you and Anthony,” you said and he hummed.

“That explains why she glared at me when she got back in the ballroom just now.”

You grinned. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“I appreciate that,” he said with a chuckle and motioned at the bench. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said and he sat beside you, making you bite down on your lip, stealing a look at him.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“I’m…” you paused for a moment, your heart climbing up to your throat in nervousness, making you take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

A look of surprise crossed his face and you sat up straighter, turning to see him better.

“I don’t…I don’t really pay attention to the words I say when I’m angry, which is no excuse but—I’m working on it,” you said, nodding as if trying to encourage yourself. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean any of that.”

A soft light appeared in his eyes and he nodded.

“Your apology is heard and accepted,” he quoted you, making you frown in doubt.

“That easily?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “That easily.”

“I would’ve made me suffer more.”

“Good thing we’re complete opposites then,” he said and you bit back a smile.

“Good thing for me at the very least,” you commented as the beginning notes of the orchestra’s dance tune reached your ears. Benedict stole a look at you.

“Do you want to dance?”

“I don’t feel like going back inside,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Too crowded.”

“Who said we needed to go back inside?” he asked as he stood up to offer his hand. A scoff of laughter escaped from your mouth, and your eyes went from his hand up to his face to see whether he was jesting or not. That playful lopsided grin curled his lips as you placed your hand in his, and he pulled you up to your feet.

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh I absolutely am,” he said as he entwined his fingers with yours and you let him twirl you before he pulled you closer, a giggle climbing up your throat despite you trying to repress it.

You two were standing much closer than this dance -or any dance- required, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You rested a hand on his broad chest, feeling the thrumming of his heart underneath your fingertips and he sneaked an arm around your waist, burying his nose into your hair while you two swayed slowly with the tune.

“I missed this,” Benedict murmured into your hair and you closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling his pleasant scent as discreetly as you could, all your senses full of him.

“Dancing?”

“Holding you,” he said softly and you smiled, opening your eyes but not pulling back.

“It’s peaceful,” you whispered and he hummed, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb, the simple gesture making your stomach do a happy flip.

“It is.”

“I missed it too,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “It’s been—”

“Hey lovebirds!” Henry’s voice cut through you and you pulled back, both you and Benedict turning to look at him. Lucy elbowed Henry.

“I told you not to interrupt!”

“They can continue that later on,” Henry said as you felt your cheeks burn, shifting your weight before you managed to smile at them.

“Hello.”

“We have a party to catch, come on,” Henry held up an envelope. “Apparently Jane felt like throwing a celebration for the sake of it all of a sudden, Thomas just sent word. You’re both invited as well.”

“Everyone is already there,” Lucy added and Henry grinned.

“Gordon is coming as well—we’ll go get the carriage,” he said and they both walked away from you. Benedict heaved a sigh.

“I don’t think—” you paused for a moment. “I think I’ll skip this one but you should go.”

“Oh no, I don’t have to be there,” he said in a haste and you smiled slightly.

“Benedict,” you said. “Go have fun, it’s been a while. I would’ve come with if it were any other time, but I think I should try to make things better between Lottie and Anthony—don’t tell him I said that.”

He pulled his brows together. “Sorry, you’ll try to make things better between them?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you and what did you do to my wife?”

Your heart skipped a beat at that but you bit back a smile, then heaved a sigh.

“What can I say? I’m very compassionate.”

He shot you a playful look before pointing at the house with his thumb. “Was there something in the lemonade?”

“I feel responsible,” you said. “And I don’t know, he’s—he’s family, so I should just at least try to patch things between them. Put in a good word and such.”

That made him smile before he cleared his throat.

“I don’t have to go, it’s just some party,” he insisted. “I’ll help you.”

“Lottie isn’t talking to you either, I doubt you’d be much of a help,” you reminded him and let out a laugh. “Go. I swear this is not me setting you up for…for a fight in the morning. I’ll make things better between those two and then go home. I doubt I’ll be able to talk to you when we go into that ballroom anyway, no reason for you to come with.”

He thought for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Go have fun. I’ll come with you to the other one, I promise.”

He looked at you as if trying to read your mind and took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be home early, okay? Definitely before you go to sleep.”

“Alright,” you said. “Well I have a very stubborn friend to convince, so if you’ll excuse me...”

He smiled softly, then held your hand to place a kiss on the back of it, making your heartbeat faster.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours then.”

“Deal,” you said, your cheeks still burning. “Have fun, give everyone my regards.”

“Good luck with those two,” he said, nodding in the direction of the house before walking away from you and you heaved a sigh, then licked your lips.

“Alright,” you muttered, painfully aware of the smile on your face as you made your way to the house. “This should be interesting.”

Chapter 32

[ambrozjas]

johnny with a shy reader

johnny and ponyboy x shy!reader hc’s ꨄ︎

johnny cade x reader, ponyboy curtis x reader (separate)

✧˖*°࿐notes 🧸 ᰔᩚ

aaah!! loved this request!! i put my soul into these small blurbs 😭 i got two reqs for johnny and pony x shy reader so i just decided to kill two birds with one stone, yknow?

✧˖*°࿐warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of scars in johnny’s, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ first off, JOHNNY is also a little shy and quiet so you two would legit probably be the quietest people in the room

❥ i feel like youd guys would be very in tune with each other though, like even with just one look, you guys could understand each other

❥ like i could just imagine you and johnny sitting next to each other, you fiddling with his hands when nobody’s paying attention to you two

❥ like you guys can just understand each other, no words needed??

❥ do you get what i mean 😭😭??

❥ that being said though, if needed, johnny will come to your aid

❥ like, if dally’s bothering you an awful ton or you’re getting picked on, he’d def stand up for you in his own little way

❥ you both are quiet but nothing gets better than the late night whispers of affection you two exchange

❥ LIKEE..???

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“how come you ain’t talk much either, johnny?” you asked the boy in front of you, who lay on his side in your bed, gazing into your eyes with that kicked puppy dog look as usual.

you and johnny were never chatty, who needed words when you guys could just understand one another just by a blink?

everybody used to joke how you guys could communicate telepathically, but sometimes that thought didn’t seem so silly. it was like you guys were telepaths, and you could just read each others mind at any time.

but even with few words, you two didn’t get bored. it was at night when all the words came out. which is where you were now, tracing johnny’s scars with a gentle hand, nothing but love and admiration coating your touch.

he seemed to think for a moment, eyes darting around your face as if to memorize every feature of your face in case one day he’d never see it again.

“only words i seem to ‘ave are f’you,” he paused, taking a second to lick his slightly chapped lips, “feels like you the only person who actually hears me.” he confessed, looking back into your eyes and almost wincing, waiting for the blows that never come. he waited for the insults that would never dare leave your lips, but when you didn’t say anything, it almost made his nerves worse.

“johnny cade.” you said his name, eyes not leaving his face once. “yeah..?” he whispered, almost inaudible.

“i love you.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

❥ you and PONYBOY are literally so cute together

❥ ponyboy is somewhat more talkative than johnny, so he’d be able to make more conversation, even if it’s awkward

❥ but sometimes ponyboy is a bit oblivious , so you might need to be a little more forward with how youre feeling

❥ sodapop always teases you both with how shy you are with each other

❥ would be more direct with telling people off for teasing you with ill intentions though

❥ you guys saw how bold he was for spitting at bob 😭

❥ AND UGH JUST IMAGINE HIM READING TO YOUUU

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡

your head was in ponyboy’s lap as he read one of his favorite books to you, ‘great expectations’. he was mid sentence before you dozed off, his hand buried in your hair and gently rubbing at your scalp with his free hand.

“.. and the clocks all stopped together. an e..ep—épergne, or center piece of some kind was in the middle of this cloth.’ did i say that right?” he had asked you, unaware that you had already nodded off.

“hey? you there?” he asked, tilting his head forward a little bit to check on your face, before taking notice of your sleepy state.

“oh—! shit..” he whispered. his hand still caressed your head, a soothing mechanism so you wouldn’t wake up. he couldn’t help but look lovingly at you in your serene state, how did he end up with such a perfect partner?

he smiled softly, before readjusting the book in his hand and continuing to read, still scratching at your scalp with his right hand. he didn’t mind if his legs fell asleep, as long as you got some sleep was all that matters.

boy, was ponyboy whipped.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ dkfkejddksk SORRY I HAVENT BEEN PUMPING OUT FICS THAT MUCH IVE BEEEN SOO BUSY WITH SCHOOLWORK !!

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[flowerandblood]

The Prince and The Fox (6)

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: threats, angst, mention a toxic relationship ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood!

Story Music Playlist

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in her life had she missed a class for any reason other than illness, bad form or some important trip. As it turned out, so had he. They went into a shop to buy something to drink and sat on a bench in a nearby park, watching people walking around.

She felt that he wanted to tell her something, felt that all this was not without reason.

He grunted after a long moment, opening his can of Coke with a loud pssst, he didn't look at her.

"She doesn't want to give me a break. She keeps texting me and calling me even though I don't answer. She's totally fucking out of her mind." He grinned, taking a deep sip of his drink, she heard the hiss of bubbles inside the can. He wasn't looking at her, just ahead.

She wondered what he wanted to hear.

Friendly advice?

"Why did you two break up?" She asked straight out, deciding there was no point in wrapping her mind around it.

He was silent for a long moment.

"Because she was praising me to the skies one time and humiliating me the next. She made fucking shit out of my brain. If it wasn't for Helaena I'd probably still be in it." He muttered, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching the passers-by.

She blinked, pressing her lips together, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he was trying to open up to her, trying to let her understand.

To be honest with her.

"Do you want to see?" He asked suddenly, pulling his phone from the pocket of his black sweatshirt, taking another loud sip from his can in the meantime. She looked at him surprised, unable to believe that he really wanted to show her their private messages.

"I've got some interesting screenshots from a few months back." He muttered, leaning back and moving towards her so that their shoulders touched, showing her his display, scrolling slowly through the next messages with his finger so that she had time to read them.

"She had a habit of deleting messages like that afterwards, so I started saving them to remind myself when I missed her what she really thought of me." He chuckled, locking his phone again, tucking it into his pocket.

She felt her heart pounding hard, felt some kind of discomfort and pain.

"How long did it last?" She asked uncertainly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He pressed his lips together, taking another deep sip from his can.

She remembered she had her juice and opened the wrapper to take out her straw, then stuck it in the carton and began to drink with a loud slurping sound.

He shrugged his shoulders as if he couldn't believe it himself.

"Two years. I've broken up with her a couple of times, but in all seriousness it was only a month ago. A fresh case." He muttered lowly, sipping the rest of the Coke he had in the can and crumpled it up, tossing it into the dumpster standing next to his bench.

A month ago.

When Aegon organised a house party.

She lowered her gaze, tightening her lips, hesitating to ask him the question that was pressing on her lips.

She decided she had to know.

"Why did you want me to stay in the room with you then?" She asked in a trembling voice and felt him cast her a quick, surprised glance. He grunted loudly, clearly embarrassed by this memory and scratched his cheek, licking his lips.

"I don't know. I…it just felt good with you, you know. So…tenderly." She muttered, tracing his fingers across his forehead, his head tilted, he was unable to look at her.

Tenderly.

"Do you regret it?" She asked in a tired voice, and he gave her a quick glance.

"What? I… fuck. No. It was one of the more pleasant things that's happened to me in recent times. So… innocent. The kind that when I think back on it, it makes my heart warmer." He confessed with shame, and she lowered her gaze, looking down at her blue orange juice carton, fiddling with it in her hands.

"I don't regret it either."

They said nothing more.

They went back to school for the last few hours and pretended nothing had happened. Driving home from school they listened to music together again on her earphones, sitting with their eyes closed. She saw his display light up from time to time, that his ex-girlfriend kept sending him new messages, desperate. He didn't even read them.

She asked him why he didn't just block her number, but he said he had done that before and then she simply buys a new card. According to her, he was just upset with her and was teasing her, pretending to be interested in someone else to make her jealous because she couldn't imagine that it was possible to stop loving her.

She thought with regret that she had found herself an easy target, a high school student, quiet and closed off, with complexes, who would never share with anyone else what harm she was doing to him and how she was slowly destroying his self-esteem, manipulating him and making him dependent on her.

They said their goodbyes and parted ways to their homes, however, she felt that something had snapped between them and even though she continued to feel uncomfortable and sad, she thought that this time he really took it seriously, that he really wanted to try.

Whatever that meant.

She recognised that they both needed a lot of space and that what they had now suited her.

She didn't hide her surprise when he called her in the evening when she was already lying in bed, preparing for a maths test. She answered with her heart beating hard, wondering what it could have been about, whether he wanted to wish her goodnight.

"She was recording us." He said as soon as she picked up, not even giving her a chance to say hello, despair in his voice, she felt like he was almost crying. She swallowed loudly, feeling a tightness in her throat.

"What do you mean?" She asked, lifting herself up on the bed to sit down, concerned.

"How do we…how do we…I…you know. God." He mumbled in a breaking voice and drew in the air loudly, breathing unevenly. "She's threatening to send this to the school principal if I don't come back to her. To our friends. She sent me one video to show me she's not bluffing. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

She pressed her lips together feeling the cold sweat on the back of her neck, her heart pounding like crazy, the seriousness and awfulness of this situation hitting her so hard that she didn't know what to say, what to do.

Of course he couldn't tell his parents or siblings about it.

"I… God, do you want to meet? M-maybe, maybe we can work something out." She mumbled with difficulty, not knowing what else to suggest, how to help him.

"Yes… yes, if you can, please, I can't stand being at home now."

She quickly dressed a warm sweatshirt over her pyjamas and told her parents that she would go out to talk to Helaena for a while.

She left her house and ran across the street with her trainers on her feet, he was standing far from his house, she saw to her shock that he was smoking a cigarette, his one leg moving in a nervous tic.

He was terrified.

She approached him and he threw her a quick, heartbroken look. He chuckled under his breath, rubbing the tip of his nose with the back of his hand.

"I know what you're thinking. I got what I deserved." He muttered in a trembling, low voice, and she shook her head in disbelief.

"What are you babbling about? Don't you have something on her? I don't know, can't you send her the screenshots you have, the ones where she humiliates you and say you'll send them to her friends too? Don't you have any naked pictures of her that you can scare her with?" She asked, speaking quickly, thinking intensely about what solutions he had. He shook his head.

"I deleted everything a month ago, I didn't want to go back to it, and she herself deleted everything from our chats that might be saved somewhere on the internet. Like she fucking planned it." He grinned under his breath in despair and took a drag on his cigarette looking sideways, his eyebrows arched in anguish, despair and regret, a single tear running down his cheek.

"A cyclops and a pervert. Fuck, that's what I needed. Why did I get involved in this." He uttered in a breaking voice, running his free hand over his face, all red.

She walked over to him and stroked his shoulder, looking at him with distress mixed with understanding.

"Come here." She said softly, and he sank into her arms as if without strength, snuggling his face into her neck, embracing her loosely, and cried aloud, her hands stroking his hair and back with tenderness.

"It's not your fault. You trusted her and she took advantage of you. What she's doing now is monstrous and she has no right to do it. You are not to blame." She said and kissed the side of his head softly, his free hand clamped down on her blouse, she felt that her neck was all wet from his tears.

"I'm so fucking scared. I'm frightened that my parents will see this." He whimpered like a small child with a shuddering breath, and she hugged him tighter, trying to embrace his large figure, to give him the shelter in her arms he so desperately needed.

Her heart was breaking.

"I know, I'm with you. We'll figure something out in a moment." She whispered, stroking his head and back reassuringly and felt his lips place a gentle kiss on the skin of her neck. She felt a warmth in her lower abdomen and a pleasant tickle between her thighs.

They stood like that for a moment until he calmed down, and then they sat on the pavement, their knees and shoulders touching. She slapped her hand on his thigh, getting a sudden idea.

"I know! Write her that if she sends this out, you will report with the same video to the rector of her university that she forced you to have sex before you were of the age of consent. You can go to jail for that!"

He looked at her shocked, tightening his lips, thinking strenuously, hesitant, terrified and uncertain.

"But…it's not true."

"How does it matter? She threatens you, so you threaten her! Clearly there is a big age difference between you, what she was doing was just plain grooming. Knowing that you were in high school when she videotaped it and on top of that you were younger than you are now, the police would certainly have taken an interest. Maybe you would have lost your dignity, but she has a lot more to lose. This will make her loathe sending anything anywhere!" She said with conviction, saw him lick his dry lips with his tongue, that he was increasingly convinced of her idea.

"Okay. Then what should I write her?"

She sat next to him looking at the screen of his phone telling him aloud what she thought he should write to sound as confident as possible, when they finished he swallowed loudly and clicked 'send'. They saw that she had read the message immediately and saw surprised as a wave of messages started to come in from her.

They looked at it in silence breathing loudly. She heard him swallow with difficulty, tense.

"Do you think she'll send it?" He asked in a trembling voice.

"No. She is shitting herself with fear."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Epilogue

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 13k

(CW: SMUT 18+, face sitting, cunnilingus, overstimulation, blow jobs, fingering, unprotected p in v, some cute role playing, Astarion really likes the sound of his own voice)

Summary:

You feel Astarion’s hand move, his thumb running along the length of your palm up to brush against the ring on his finger. 

“We met at my ball. A year ago, tonight.”

Though the beat of your heart is missing and it no longer flutters away inside your chest, a familiar warmth spreads through your veins all the same. 

“Happy anniversary,” you say and you feel a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“Not yet, my love,” Astarion says, but he smiles just as wide. “Not for another two days.”

Read on ao3 here

You could watch Astarion sleep forever. His mouth hangs open slightly and his gentle breathing mixes with the sound of waves. His face is so soft when he’s asleep and with the sun shining off his hair, he can only be described as angelic. 

The two of you are still on the beach, laying on the blanket spread out over the rock. Your feet are tangled with Astarion’s as you curl on your side to watch him doze. Touching. Always touching. The thought makes you smile.

When he wakes up, his long, pale lashes blink open slowly and his arms reach out to pull you tighter against him. You shower his face with kisses and he basks in your affection. 

By the late afternoon, the two of you decide to finally head back to the cottage. There had been a tentative plan for your first day in the sun which most certainly did involve you and Astarion making love on the beach, but which did not account for how long that would take. You probably should have woken Astarion up if you wanted to stick to the schedule, but he was sleeping so peacefully beside you and it seemed like a crime to disturb him. 

And besides, it’s not like the two of you were in a rush- being immortal meant there would be endless time for you both to explore the abilities that Mephistopheles had returned to you.

As you watch Astarion lazily pull on his trousers and shrug back on his shirt, you can’t help but think that he can be a little right sometimes- it is rather devastating to lose sight of his perfect body.

After watching him dress, you push yourself up from sitting on the rock, sliding your chemise and your loosened corset over your head. 

“Help, please,” you say, turning your back to Astarion so he can help lace up your corset. 

“Now, why would I do that? Helping you back in your clothes doesn’t benefit me in the slightest.”

“Astarion,” you whip around to face him with narrowed eyes. “If you aren’t going to help me, then you’re the one that’s going up to the house to fetch Shadowheart because there is no way I am walking back up there with my corset in hand like some kind of cheap harlot. And you know Shadowheart is going to be exceptionally ill-tempered if you bother her since I gave her the day off.”

You watch as he weighs out which option he finds more annoying in his head. 

“Turn around,” he grumbles. He drops a kiss to your shoulder and sighs. “You know, I have a love-hate relationship with this thing. I can’t deny that it makes your breasts look wonderful, but if you’re wearing it, that means I can’t actually see them, which is a travesty.”

“Poor Astarion,” you tease. “For he cannot always be touching his wife’s perfect breasts.”

“No,” he teases back, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Sometimes, I have to touch her cunt instead.”

“You’re too clever for your own good.” You playfully shove his head off your shoulder and he laughs, hands finally moving to help with your corset.

You know he does a purposefully bad job lacing it up. It doesn’t bother you too much because you also know that Astarion would likely be encouraging you to shed the offending garment from your body almost immediately upon your return to the house.

You reward him for his troubles with a peck on the cheek. Astarion seemingly deems it not enough payment for his efforts because he grabs your hips and dips you back into a bruising kiss that leaves you a bit weak in the knees. After a few more kisses, the two of you take your time walking back up to the cottage, your entwined fingers swinging loosely between you. 

When you enter, there’s a lavish spread of food in the kitchen- meats and cheeses and fancy chocolate desserts. The two of you had told the kitchen staff to make everything but evidently you had underestimated how much everything there was. 

When you sneak a peek at Astarion’s face, he looks a bit too overwhelmed by all the choices so you take over, instructing the kitchen staff to bring wine and to load a tray full of berries and sweet little tarts and the fancy chocolate desserts and deliver it all to your and Astarion’s bedroom. You aren’t sure why, but you have the sneaking suspicion that Astarion has a bit of a sweet tooth. 

When the staff ask what to do with the rest of the food, you tell them to throw a feast of their own tonight. 

And as you expected, the moment the door is shut to the bedroom, Astarion is pulling his shirt back off and helping you strip back out of your clothes to pull you onto the bed with him. 

As the two of you lounge on the bed together, you press different fruits to Astarion’s lips for him to taste. It hadn’t been that long since you’d eaten, but watching Astarion was something special. The way his eyes closed in pleasure. The way he would let out a little moan when he tasted something he really liked. The way he would lean over to lick the up the juices that ran down your arm when you fed him a particularly juicy strawberry. 

Eventually, you both grow bored of the food and the tray lays discarded on the other side of the room. The two of you curl into one another, sated and content.

Astarion’s hand rests on your stomach and you absentmindedly roll his wedding ring around his finger as you watch the curtains swaying in the breeze. The sun dips back down over the horizon. 

Astarion knocks his head lightly against yours to guide your attention back to him. 

“It’s been a year now, you know.”

You turn your head to look at him quizzically. “A year?”

You aren’t even sure you know the date, let alone why it holds any special significance outside the fact that it was your first day in the sunlight. You had unfortunately lost track of time in your haze of being a newborn vampire.

You feel Astarion’s hand move, his thumb running along the length of your palm up to brush against the ring on his finger. 

“We met at my ball. A year ago, tonight.”

Though the beat of your heart is missing and it no longer flutters away inside your chest, a familiar warmth spreads through your veins all the same. 

“Happy anniversary,” you say and you feel a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“Not yet, my love,” Astarion says, but he smiles just as wide. “Not for another two days.”

You roll your eyes affectionately but the two of you continue smiling at one another until Astarion leans over to kiss you. The sweet press of his lips against yours deepens as his tongue slides into your mouth. You whine when he pulls away.

“Always so needy, always so desperate for me,” Astarion murmurs.

You huff out a laugh and stretch lazily, playfully elbowing him. “Keep talking like that and I’ll rescind the comment I was going to make that I like you better now than I did at this time last year.”

Astarion simply smiles at your insincere taunt and props his head up on his hand, looking down on you with the hungry eyes of a predator playing with its food. 

“I don’t know, I found it rather amusing when you held that butter knife up to my throat.”

“That’s just because you thought I didn’t know how to use it. You know better now.”

He gives you a condescending, arrogant smile. “It’s cute that you still think you can get the upper hand on me.”

And because you like nothing more in this world than proving people wrong, you reach out, quickly wrapping a leg around Astarion’s hip and pressing on his shoulders to push him backward so you are sitting on top of him, straddling him. You catch his hands with yours, lovingly threading your fingers together before you wrench his hands over his head. 

He doesn’t even try to fight back, which is boring.

“Still don’t think I have the upper hand?” you ask.

“No, I know you don’t.” Astarion’s arms flex underneath yours, pushing back against your hold. There’s a hidden strength there.

“And yet, I’m the one who came out on top.” 

You squeeze his hands to accentuate your point, a silent reminder that he is the one at your mercy right now. 

“Cute,” Astarion says and you shoot him a glare. 

And then, with the graceful elegance of a cat, Astarion manages to flip the two of you so that he is the one pinning you down on the bed. 

“But just know, darling, the only reason you were there is because I adore having you on top of me.” 

You test his hold on your arms but he’s stronger than he looks and your hands are locked in an iron vice.

“Fine, you win,” you admit reluctantly.

“And what do I get as my prize?” Astarion’s got a mischievous little gleam in his eye that spells trouble.

“What do you want?”

He drags his nose down your throat, inhaling your scent. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to ask for a bite. A silly request considering you had never refused him in the past. But Astarion simply retraces his path up your neck, gliding his tongue along your skin.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps, tongue skimming the shell of your ear. “Let me watch.”

Astarion rolls off you, sprawling among the pillows on the bed. His gaze trails along your body like a caress. Down the curve of your shoulder, over the valley of your breasts. Perfect, he had called them earlier. His eyes continue lower, staring expectantly at the juncture of your thighs.

“Well,” Astarion says impatiently. “I’m waiting.”

Beneath his cocky veneer, you recognize that this is Astarion asking your permission, presenting you with the opportunity to deny him. But what idiotic person would ever do that? Who wouldn’t allow the moon and stars to worship them? 

You sit yourself up to lean back against the wall of pillows on the bed and you spread your legs open before him. Astarion inches closer ever so slightly, staring at you with the same awed fascination of a man looking upon the divine.

You really put on a show for him, too- taking the time to let your hands wander your skin. His tongue darts out, wetting his perfect red lips, almost as if he is already fantasizing about the taste of you on his tongue.

When your hand finally makes contact with your cunt, you move your fingers in the way that you have taught yourself over the years, chasing after climax in moments of pent up frustration. Straightforward. To the point.

“No, slow down,” Astarion instructs. “I want to watch you struggle. Only when you have reached the heights of your desperation, only when you have gone delirious with need, only when you beg for it, will I grant you the release you so desire.”

You slow your movements. It’s a poor imitation of what you know Astarion is capable of- all clumsy where his hands are deft, all amateur where he is pure grace. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he orders, propping himself up to move closer to you. 

“Good,” you tell him, honestly. Because it does feel good. Just not as good as you know it could.

Astarion’s eyes narrow when he senses your hesitance. “What else?”

“Not the same as yours…” you confess in a whisper and you feel your skin flushing with heat. “Gods, the things you can do with your hands could bring the world to ruin.”

“Would you like that?” Astarion’s fingers stroke along your ankle, sending streaks of pleasure curling up around your legs, straight to your aching clit, which you roll slippery circles against with your fingers. “Would you like for me to bring you the world, bloody and bruised in my hands, and present it to you as a token of my love?”

You aren’t entirely sure whether Astarion genuinely means this or if this is a role he is adopting for this moment. All you know is that the desperate whine that forces its way from your chest is agonizingly real. 

“You liked that, did you, pet?” Astarion chuckles, all dark and deep and sending a chill down your spine. “You want to hear how I’d burn the world for you? How I’d take the charred remains and mold it in your shape?” His thumb traces little circles around your ankle bone. “I would have blotted out the sun for you. I would have made it rain death and darkness and chaos if we had not found our cure. I would have drowned the world in corruption and laid the soaking remains at your feet.”

And you know he’s not lying- that in another life, all these words are true. It shouldn’t turn you on. It does anyway. 

Astarion’s hands burn where they brush your calf. He touches you possessively, as if your body was simply an extension of his own.

And if he will not touch you where you need him the most, you will let yourself drown in his voice. You will let his words caress your skin where his hands will not. You will hear more of how this man you love would destroy the world, if only you asked.

“More,” you plead with him and he grins arrogantly.

He speaks with a newfound confidence, fingers running up and down your calf, but never any higher. 

“Just think of what we’re going to do to them, my beloved. All those fools… They think they know what true power looks like, but we’ll show them. We’ll rule from the shadows. And you, my queen, only need to point. I shall be your weapon. I shall be the one to enact your ruthless judgment upon the world.”

Astarion is relishing in the sound of his own voice, as well. His other hand falls down to languidly stroke his cock. There’s a lovely bead of moisture at the tip and your mouth waters, you want nothing more than to lean over and take him in your mouth, to let his hands thread in your hair as he guides your mouth along his hard length…

Astarion gently nips at your thigh, drawing your attention back to him. 

“And do you know how I plan to begin my crusade?” he asks, but doesn’t give you any time to answer. “I’ll start with all those men. Anyone who ever looked at you as less than the goddess you are. Any of them who spoke- No, dared to even think of you in a degrading, vulgar manner. Any of them who merely wasted your time by boring you with their presence.” 

Astarion’s hand curls around your knee, slender fingers brushing the sensitive skin along the back and making you shiver. He wrenches your leg open wider, giving himself a better view of the way your fingers slide along your cunt. 

His gaze stays transfixed on your cunt as he speaks. “I’ll kill them all.”

You shouldn’t want that but oh, you do. That bloodthirsty, hungry part of you wants nothing more than to watch Astarion rip those men limb from limb, to watch him bathe himself in their blood and allow you to lick it clean from his skin afterward. 

You reward Astarion by sinking one of your fingers into yourself and his mouth hangs open in awe. Slowly, his head has moved closer to you and your obscene wetness makes you acutely aware of each panting breath he releases. His grip tightens desperately around your knee, as if he is having to clutch onto you to hold himself back from reaching out to touch you. 

You move your finger slowly, letting the palm of your heel continue to graze against your aching clit. It’s not enough. It’s not Astarion- you aren’t full enough, your fingers don’t curl and hit that spot Astarion always manages to find.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” Astarion whispers in breathless praise and you feel the way your cunt tightens around your finger. You know that if he was buried deep inside you, that would have made him moan and his hips would stutter before he rutted into you even faster, even harder.

“What did I ever do before you?” He turns his head, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Do you have any idea how it feels to gaze upon perfection?”

Yes, you think. You know that feeling intimately as perfection is gazing up at you right now, his head resting in your lap as his blood-red eyes devour you. 

His voice is low and dark. “For months, I kept myself away from you, spent my time longing and pining and waiting for you to return to my arms. For months, all I had to sustain myself on was the memories of your silken skin. Of the pool of nectar hidden between your thighs. Of the noises you make. Oh,” Astarion cries out and his hand picks up speed where it strokes his cock. “Those pretty noises. I missed those the most.”

You make one such noise now- a desperate, gasping moan.

Astarion’s eyes are ruthless when they dart up to your face. “If you ever left me-”

“Never,” you cut him off.

You’ll speak with him about that insecurity later- assuage him and assure him until every doubt has been killed from his mind. But not now. Now is the time to feed into this wonderful power fantasy the two of you are discovering together. 

You let out another sound, a pitiful whine, annoyed that your hands have brought you teetering so close to the precipice of bliss with no hope of falling over it.

“Do you need me that badly, pet?” Astarion chides, his hand mercifully moving higher up your leg, closer, so close, almost right there, nearly at the spot you need him to touch you. He stops. You nearly sob.  

“I wouldn’t have let you leave me anyway,” he hisses, fingers digging into the flesh of your hip so hard that you worry it would leave bruises if you were still human. And thank the gods you aren’t if it means Astarion can clutch at you with such desperate abandon with little to no consequences to you. “Besides, if you had, I would have followed you. Anywhere you went, to the ends of the earth. Understand?”

You nod.

You know there is a metaphorical truth to his words. If you wanted, Astarion would have let you leave. But his heart would have followed after you. Just as surely as yours would have stayed with him. 

“You have to say it if you want me to touch you.” You feel Astarion smirking where his mouth rests against your thigh. He has enjoyed this- has enjoyed watching you back yourself into a corner. Now, it was time for him to pounce. 

“I understand.”

Astarion descends with the ferocity of a man whose very last shred of control was hanging on by a thread. He sucks your fingers into his mouth, messy and ravenous, as if he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of your arousal. His own hand quickly takes over, slipping a finger inside you and curling it so good. Your hands claw desperately at the sheets. 

You come almost immediately. After so much build up, it was little wonder it would happen so quickly. What is a wonder is that Astarion immediately pulls his hand and mouth away from you rather than driving you repeatedly to the brink of madness like you had expected. 

For lack of a better term, the whole thing is anticlimactic.

Astarion, seemingly sensing your disappointment, reclines back on the pillows behind him.

“Well, come on, then.” He gives your ass an affectionate pat, silently instructing you to move on top of him. “I’ve given you one. You’ll have to work for the rest of them.”

You crawl over to him, moving to sling your leg around his hips, wanting nothing more than to grind yourself against his cock and guide him into you.

“Not there, pet,” he catches your leg, reflexes still somehow lightning quick even when you know he has to be distracted by how hard he is. 

“Sit on my face,” Astarion says, using his grip on your leg to pull your knee up by his shoulder. 

And out of everything that has happened today- from making a deal with an archdevil to watching a breathtaking sunrise to discovering Astarion has a penchant for blackberries- this request is what has shocked you the most.

 “But what about you?”

Astarion laughs, his soft fingers stroking along the back of your leg. “My motivations are not selfless, if that’s what concerns you, little flower. Your cunt is my favorite meal. I need to spend time appreciating it with these new taste buds. And besides, this bed is just so comfortable. You’ll forgive me if I want to lay back and relax while I feast for once.”

“But I want you to feel good, too,” you pout.

“I assure you, I do.” Astarion tugs more insistently on your hip and you move, knees framing either side of his head. 

“You can stop whenever you want.”

“I know, my love,” Astarion’s face softens and he catches your left hand, bringing it to his lips so he can press a kiss to your knuckles, right under your wedding ring. “Now, as much as I appreciate you checking in with me, you’re keeping me from my plans of drowning between your thighs.”

His arms, soft and surprisingly strong, wrap around your hips and pull you down. His nose brushes along the thatch of hair on your pubic bone before he continues to move it lower. And for a moment, the two of you sit like that, with you shivering in anticipation and Astarion simply breathing against your cunt. 

And then, his mouth is on you and there’s lightning running through your veins. He presses an open mouthed kiss to your cunt before his tongue flattens and he licks.

You feel his strangled groan reverberating in your own bones as he continues lapping. His nose brushes against your clit and you have to reach out one of your hands to steady yourself on the headboard. Your other hand winds its way into Astarion’s hair, tugging at the white curls whenever he does something especially wonderful. Which is… pretty much always. 

When the gods made Astarion, they surely started with his tongue. 

The whole time, his hands stroke and knead along the flesh of your thighs and ass, guiding you to start rolling your hips. It has his nose moving against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars and gasping for air.

Astarion leads to climax again. And again. And again.

Astarion plays your body like it is a violin and he is your virtuoso. He plucks and pulls at the strings, creating a symphony of music that threatens to overwhelm you. Your thighs ache and burn and still you continue rolling your hips against his face. Still, he continues to lap at your cunt with the fervor of a dying man.

At some point, you have transcended your corporeal form. Nothing else exists but these waves of pleasure- constant, unending.

Surely, the ringing you hear in your ears is some form of holy communion. Surely, the gods in the heavens have finally noticed Astarion missing from their ranks and have come to summon him home.

Your grip in his hair slackens. Your head bows in reverence.

It takes you far too long to register that Astarion’s mouth is no longer upon you.

“There you are,” He says, voice a low rasp. “You were missing from me for a moment.”

His beauty is stunning. His chin is glistening, his lips are red and swollen, his white curls are messy and wild. And best of all, he’s got that pretty, pink blush on his cheeks.

Astarion’s hands continue rubbing soothingly along your thighs, anchoring you back to your body.

“Too much, too good,” you slur out. 

Your whole body feels all delightfully fuzzy and light as air. 

Astarion slides out from underneath your legs and gathers you in his arms. You’re sure that you are very moldable and easy to move around right now since you think you might have turned into liquid.

You feel Astarion lips brush against your forehead as he wraps his arms tighter around you. Faintly, you register him praising how good you did, how you listened so well, how you gifted him with yet another lovely moment to cherish forever. The whole time, his fingers knead gently into your muscles, easing away the dull aching in your hips. You simply sigh and curl further into him.  

“We should have a ball,” you say, tracing your fingers in little heart shapes over his chest. “To celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Our anniversary.”

Astarion’s lips press against your forehead. “We’ll have as many balls as you want. Gods, you can have whatever you want, you only need to say the word and I’ll get it for you. Or, well- I’ll have someone else get it for you, more likely.”

You giggle. “What about a kiss?”

“Hm, I think I can handle that by myself.”

—-----------------

FOUR YEARS LATER

The dress you're wearing tonight truly is breathtaking. In the past, the price of the red silk alone would have nearly made your jaw drop, but you had gotten used to prices like that after years of Astarion waving them away like they were nothing. 

‘What’s the point of money if you aren’t going to spend it,’ Astarion had said. 

After the dressmaker had finished construction, Astarion had spent weeks embroidering the material. The front of the gown only hinted at the masterful craftsmanship- just a delicate chain of flowers along your waist, but the long train which followed you was decadent to the extreme. The lovely red had been nearly covered in the shimmery gold thread, a garden following behind you. 

Astarion had said it was some of his best work to date and had praised you as his muse. 

And the past few months, you had gotten to enjoy a lot of time watching him as the two of you sat out in the gardens in the sunlight, entranced by how his fingers were able to move the tiny silver needle so easily, spinning gold seemingly out of thin air. He never pricked himself, like you and the roses. 

And of course, Astarion had insisted that the two of you matched. His waistcoat was the same blood red fabric covered in flowers that he had embroidered.

Astarion had even humored you by letting you sew some little stars onto the inner lining of his waistcoat, right over his unbeating heart. He had feigned that he had been doing you some big favor, allowing you to put your mark on his body, but you caught how his eyes went a little misty when he saw your work.

“You look wonderful, darling,” Astarion slides up behind you as stand before the mirror, attempting to clasp the ruby necklace behind your neck. His hands meet your own and he deftly clasps the chain into place before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

Your reflection grins back at him.

“We can see our reflections and still, the mirror doesn’t do you justice,” Astarion says, nose trailing over your collarbone to the juncture of your neck where he always likes to bite down. He surprises you by redirecting instead, coming up to whisper huskily in your ear, “The way this fabric hugs your body, the way the silk brings out the red in your eyes, the way the diamonds in your hair shine like stars in the night sky, those are all things too lovely to be captured by a simple pane of glass.”

You turn your head toward him and Astarion lips move closer and closer to yours with each word until they are just a hair’s breadth away. The anticipation is killing you, but you hold steady, daring him to meet you. 

He brings his hand up to gently cradle the back of your head-

“Don’t mess up her hair!” Shadowheart yells from across the room, where she’s fiddling with all the leftover hairpins. She huffs quietly to herself, “I spent forever on that.”

You and Astarion are shocked out of your trance, his hand immediately dropping away from your hair. Astarion is so startled by her presence that his cool facade even slips for a moment as he mutters out a quiet ‘sorry.’

“What’s she still doing here?” He whispers to you just loud enough that you know Shadowheart can hear and roll her eyes. 

You use the opportunity to slip out of his arms and continue getting ready.

“I asked her to stay,” you tell him, pulling the gloves up your arms. You watch the twin marks on your wrist disappear as you slide on the silken white fabric. “I don’t trust myself around you and I’m determined to get down to the ball on time this year.”

You hold out your wrist so Astarion can clasp the slippery little buttons along the side. He just stares at you for a moment, giving you a look like ‘you know this kind of task is beneath me’ and you jut your wrist at him a bit more insistently and he rolls his eyes as he grabs your arm. 

“I assure you, little flower,” Astarion says as he buttons your glove, placing a delicate kiss to your wrist before he moves on to the other. “You would have made it to the ball on time.”

“That’s what you said last year. And then we ended up being an hour late.”

No, if you were allowed to be alone with Astarion, he would surely have already bent you over your vanity by now and your throat would be decorated by a necklace of his bite marks. And as beautiful as blood and jewels go together, it would have certainly distracted from the ornate ruby necklace Astarion had given you as a fifth anniversary present.

Five years. Has it really been that long already? Or have you simply been too happy to notice the time passing?

“I don’t recall hearing any complaints from you last year, my love. In fact, I do believe you said ‘more’ quite a few times,” Astarion’s hand drops and rests heavily on your hip. “And besides, who cares what those idiots think?”

“We have to at least pretend to care about propriety, darling,” you remind Astarion and he rolls his eyes. You know he’s going to say something like ‘fuck propriety, let the world know how a true man satisfies his wife,’ so you gently rearrange the folds of his cravat as you speak, “There’s going to be a lot of important people here tonight. We need to uphold their high opinion of us if we hope to continue to use them.”

“I love the way you think,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye, pulling you back into his arms. 

Shadowheart loudly clears her throat and Astarion glares at her but steps away from you.

“Don’t be upset, husband, there’s still plenty of time to let you plant your seed in my garden tonight,” you say, giving Astarion a big wink at your double entendre.

He looks mortified for a moment before he’s practically falling over in laughter. “Be honest, little flower, how long have you been waiting to use that line?”

“It just came to me.”

Astarion tilts your chin up, a devilish smirk on his beautiful face. “That won’t be the only thing coming in you tonight.”

“You two are strange and… off-putting.” Shadowheart has a look of disgust on her face that has you burying your head in Astarion’s chest to laugh.

“Speaking of strange, Lae’zel is going to be here tonight. I’m sure she’d love it if you made an appearance downstairs long enough for her to ask you for a dance,” Astarion says and Shadowheart’s face turns bright red as she tries to excuse herself from the room as quickly as possible. 

“Look at what you did!” You cry out. “You chased off a perfectly good Shadowheart!” 

“Yes, but now I can finally do this.”

Astarion leans down to kiss you, careful to keep his hands resting on your hips and far away from your ornate hairstyle. You sigh happily against his lips and he presses a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth before he pulls away.

“You ready?” he asks, holding his arm out to you. 

You tuck yourself into his side and the two of you make your way down to the party.

Of course, because this is a ball hosted by Astarion, there’s a big fanfare at your entrance as your names are announced. The two of you descend down the stairs with the grace and elegance that only two vampires can possess. When you reach the ballroom, people are swarming the two of you immediately, begging to speak with you and offer their congratulations on your anniversary. 

The gentry were practically throwing themselves at your feet and what were you supposed to do? Stop them? No, not when it was so much more fun to encourage them. 

You and Astarion make your initial rounds, but your eyes continue scanning the crowds. You hope your father comes again this year. It always fills you with glee, the fact that he shows up every year and is forced to celebrate your anniversary with Astarion. Forced to watch you be happy and in love and thriving. That he continues to grow old and wither away while you and Astarion retain your youthful glows. 

You spot him over by the wine and you’re filled with the wicked thought that maybe one year, you would kill him, make it look like a drunken old fool had stumbled out into the woods and been attacked by an animal. 

Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back. Touching. Always touching. His breath whispers against your ear, “Oh, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that glare. Tell me, wife, who do you want me to kill for you tonight?”

“No one,” you think for a moment. “Yet.”

A sly grin spreads across your husband’s face. “Only speak the words and it shall be done. I am yours to command.”

“Oh, I know you are, pet,” you tease him, trying to sound like him. You even give him a little pat on the cheek for added effect. Astarions bares his fangs playfully at you.

“Come dance with me, I’m bored,” you tug on his hand.

You let Astarion wrap you in his arms and spin you around the dancefloor.

“Should I be hurt that you aren’t tripping over your feet at the sight of me anymore, little flower?”

“No, I just have expensive tastes now,” you giggle. “I fear I’m growing too used to awe-inspiring beauties such as yours.”

Astarion’s hand moves down your back, just a bit too low to be acceptable. “Sounds like you’re getting too spoiled.”

“I’m not the one to blame for that problem, star. Not when you insist on buying me far too many lavish gifts.”

“You might be right,” Astarion agrees with a chuckle. “I just can’t help myself. My gifts always look so beautiful on you and your face always lights up so bright. It’s addictive, your smile.”

You smile brightly up at him and Astarion looks upon you with adoration. 

“Pardon the intrusion,” Wyll interrupts with a friendly hand on Astarion’s shoulder. “But I believe I was promised a dance?”

He bows elegantly and extends his hand out.

“Wyll!” You cry out happily. “You know that I always save a dance for you!”

“Who said I was asking you?” Wyll playfully holds his hand out to Astarion, who feigns a delighted shock. “Lord Ancunin, if I may.”

“Cute,” you say, looking between the two of them and pouting. “But you can dance with Astarion later. Right now, it’s my turn.”

They both laugh. 

“Have fun.” Astarion drops a kiss on your cheek and passes you off to Wyll. “I’ll go speak with Lord Idril about our stance on the upcoming council vote. He’s the last person we need to sway.”

The upcoming vote was about providing relief to farmers after a particularly long and harsh winter. You and Astarion really did try to use your influence for good from time to time honestly.

The two of you simply had your own methods for doing good that others might qualify as ‘morally questionable’ and ‘deeply manipulative.’ 

Astarion glides away with a charming smile on his face, waving at adoring nobles as he passes by like he’s the king himself.

“I can’t even imagine the size of his ego by the end of the night,” Wyll says.

You don’t mind too much, Astarion with an ego in public turned into a mouthy Astarion in the bedroom later. The ego boost of the ball was most certainly worth it if you were the one to reap the rewards at the end of the night. 

But you’re fairly certain that Wyll doesn’t want to hear about your methods for taming a wild Astarion so you turn the conversation back to him with a friendly smile.

“How have you been?” you ask as the two of you begin to step in time to the music. 

“Can’t complain. Karlach and I have been traveling along the Sword Coast, as of late.”

“Ah, yes, the formidable Blade of Frontiers,” you tease but you catch the way Wyll’s chest puffs out proudly at the nickname. “That’s what they’re calling you now, right? I’ve been keeping up with your adventures through Volo’s books.”

Wyll rolls his eyes. “Volo… If I fought half as many battles half as valiantly as he writes, I’d wholly be dead.” 

You laugh. Volo was always known for his exaggerations, but you had been so proud when he decided to start following Karlach and Wyll since it kept you up to date on their valiant adventures.

“It’s good storytelling. His books are always best-sellers for a reason,” you say with a shrug. “And besides, I quite like to imagine you and Karlach out there slaying dragons and hunting down devils.”

Wyll laughs, “Yes, devils have become a bit of a speciality of ours.”

“Where’s she at by the way? I haven’t seen her yet this evening.” 

“She’s here, but she’s doing her own dancing,” Wyll grins when he speaks of Karlach and you wonder if his smile is a bit too affectionate to be considered friendly. “She doesn’t like all the stuffy rich-people small talk.”

“Gods, and who could blame her?” You groan when you and Wyll hear the couple next to you discussing how they think you and Astarion sourced the shrimp. “They seem to be exceptionally dull this evening.”

The two of you giggle together and Wyll spins you in a delightful twirl.

“So,” he asks when he brings you back from the twirl, “How are the renovations on the Szarr palace going?”

“Ancunin palace,” you correct him. 

In the interests of venturing into the political landscape of Baldur’s Gate, you and Astarion had decided to renovate the old Szarr palace to use as a secondary base. It had been sitting vacant in the years since Astarion had left and a couple bands of rogues and thieves managed to find their way inside, tearing the place apart. 

A part of you was almost glad when you and Astarion had discovered the disrepair- it felt like poetic symbolism of how his life as a spawn was dead and behind him and that now, he could build something beautiful in its place. 

You and Astarion had spent a long time hiring new staff to work at the palace and even longer working on plans for the renovations. Astarion leaned toward opulence and grandeur in all areas of life, so his ideas were rather… ambitious. It had taken a while to find guild artisans who met his high standards of craftsmanship (and that’s not even mentioning the headache of how few people specialize in gold metalwork, which Astarion would still complain about at length when the mood struck him). 

But aside from your husband’s expensive tastes, the whole process had been mostly fun. The two of you had spent many afternoons laying out in the gardens, swapping fantasies of how you pictured each room in the palace looking. It felt like the two of you were building a home together.

A very expensive, very gold home, but a home, nonetheless. 

Your visits to the palace were still infrequent, however. Astarion still had nightmares and episodes that always seemed to get worse after a visit. You hated to see him in pain and you knew he was frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t simply will himself out of those moments. 

You both knew it would still take time. Luckily, time was the one thing the two of you had in abundance. 

“It’s been slow progress,” you answer Wyll. “There’s lots of memories there, so I think it will take us a while. Though, we are planning another trip to the city soon. How’s your father doing?”

“He’s well,” Wyll smiles and you know he is grateful you asked. Both he and his father adored talking about one another. It was wonderful to see a family with that much love, even as the two of them attempted to navigate past their previous differences.

Astarion had told you about Wyll’s complicated relationship with his father soon after you had met him. Since you and Astarion were beginning to make a name for yourselves in Baldur’s Gate and Wyll’s father was the Duke of the city, it only made sense to introduce yourselves. It didn’t hurt that Duke Ravengard was surprisingly refreshing company in a city full of pompous nobles. 

“He’s sorry he couldn’t make it tonight but he wanted me to extend an invitation for you and Astarion to dine with him again next time you visit Baldur’s Gate,” Wyll says. “Father said that he’d be sure to buy more wine this time so Astarion doesn’t bleed him dry again.”

“I do apologize, bleeding people dry is a particularly nasty habit of mine,” Astarion interrupts.

You know your face lights up when you see him, even if you have only been parted for a few short dances.

“If you’ll excuse me, Wyll.” Astarion’s hand rests on your lower back and you lean into his side instinctually. “I think I’d like another dance with my wife.”

“Of course,” Wyll smiles at the two of you. “And congratulations on your anniversary.” He leans in to whisper conspiratorially to you, but loud enough that Astarion can overhear. “Somehow, you’ve made Astarion considerably less insufferable to be around. We all owe you our thanks for that.”

“I’m not insufferable,” Astarion pouts, pulling your body against his far tighter than most of the other married couples dancing together. 

“No, darling,” you reassure him. “Not unless your feet are cold.”

He was a particular sort of monster when he was cold. It was lucky that you knew a few good ways to warm him back up. 

“Little minx.” He pinches your hip affectionately. “You’re far too much trouble. I’m not sure why I bother to keep you around.”

“Cause you love me.” You move your hand up from his shoulder to cradle the back of his head, stroking your thumb along the sharp line of his jaw.

Astarion’s eyes soften. “I do, don’t I?”

He looks so handsome, you think to yourself. The red in his waistcoat really does bring out the shade of his eyes and when he’s staring at you like this, his heart nearly bleeds out of them. You let your hand drop from Astarion’s face when it is time for Astarion to twirl you in the dance. He pulls you back into him, your back against his chest.

“Got the vote by the way,” his voice is a whisper in your ear. 

He means to disguise his true intentions of political scheming as a loving husband whispering words of affection in his wife’s ear. And he really did whisper in your ear often enough that his actions hardly turned any eyes. 

“Turns out Idril really doesn’t want his wife to find out about the bastards he’s left around the Lower City. Thanks for that bit of gossip by the way.” Astarion twirls you out again and you miss the cool line of his body pressed against your back. 

You give him one of your ‘I told you so’ smiles. “I knew that damned sewing circle would feed me something good eventually. It’s all about playing the long game for you and I.”

“Be honest, darling,” Astarion smirks, “you really just like taking credit for my embroidery, don’t you?”

He’s only partially right. You mostly like showing off his work because you’re proud to have such a talented husband. It’s a very small part of you that does enjoy passing it off as your own since your own attempts at needlework were typically abysmal. 

You laugh. “Oh, don’t pretend you aren’t listening through the walls as they praise your work.”

“Do you really think so little of me as to believe I need the approval of a group of old married hags?” Astarion gasps in faux offense. You giggle and he drops the act to laugh along with you. “Did you enjoy your dance with Wyll?”

“I did. Wyll’s an excellent dancer,” you answer. And then, because you can’t resist teasing Astarion, you add, “Some might say he’s better than you.”

“Oh, really?” Astarion raises his eyebrows. 

“Some might. But not me.”

Astarion looks so pleased with himself, like he could exist off your praise alone. 

“It’s all about the right partner,” he says, repeating one of your favorite phrases back to you.

“And I’m lucky that I found mine.” 

The smile he gives you is radiant. 

Over his shoulder, you catch sight of Gale, trying to get Astarion’s attention. “Looks like Gale is here with your little snack.”

You give both Gale and the woman standing next to him a friendly wave. Now that you are a more experienced vampire, you have better control over your bloodlust and so, about a year ago you had started feeding from the townspeople that you and Astarion payed. It has allowed you to develop tenuous friendships with a few of them. 

But tonight, the two of you had a plan. This snack was for Astarion alone.

Astarion kisses you in a way that is far too scandalous for public eyes. Over the years, that kind of behavior has come to be expected from the two of you, so people simply avert their gazes. And anyone that is staring at you in shock, you simply ignore, choosing instead to enjoy the way Astarion’s fingers curl underneath your chin to tilt your face up to his and the way his lips slide sweetly against yours.

“See you in a few minutes,” he murmurs before he’s walking over to Gale. 

You mingle a while longer before you leisurely make your way out to the gardens, following Astarion. The warm summer night doesn’t feel quite as hot against your skin as it did when you were human. It’s easy to find Astarion now. You know the path in the garden and, more than that, you can smell him. You can practically taste the sharp metallic sting in the air from the woman he’s drinking. 

But it’s not your job to find him easily tonight so you wander, slipping your gloves down your arms and discarding them on a bench to be picked up later as you let your hands brush along the delicate rose petals. You need to make Astarion a new bouquet soon, you think absentmindedly, the one currently in his study was starting to droop.

Eventually, you round the corner to the spot where you know Astarion will be.

He has the woman in his arms, his mouth on her throat. You think back to that first night you saw him, when your heart had shuddered with fear and dread and beneath that, some carnal desire that you couldn’t yet name. You make sure to step loudly so Astarion will hear you but deep down, you know he is just as aware of you as you are of him, even if he is a bit distracted by feeding right now. 

His eyes tear up to look at you, all crimson red and blood dripping down his chin. The shiver that runs down your spine is caused by elation rather than terror, like all those years ago. Looking at him, you cannot help but be filled with love and warmth.

Astarion practically drops the other woman to the ground as he moves to chase after you.

You laugh, a twinkling, sparkly thing that belongs like a star in the night sky, and you have to stop yourself from practically skipping with delight back up to the manor. You remind yourself that you’re supposed to be acting scared as you sneak a peek at Astarion over your shoulder. 

He catches your wrist in his grasp just when you’re about to slip inside and he drags you to that familiar closet. It’s cozy and it’s dark and there’s not much room inside unless Astarion’s body is pressed tightly against your own. His arm presses deliciously against your throat to pin you in place.

His eyes are ravenous as they flit across your face. “Tell me, sweet flower, what’s an innocent thing like you doing out in the gardens all by herself at this time of night?”

“My husband left me all alone,” you say demurely, looking up at Astarion from underneath your lashes.

“He must be a stupid man, indeed, if he ever dared to leave a treasure as precious as you unaccompanied.”

“Yes, he’s very stupid,” you say, poking at his ribs. It’s just so hard to resist teasing him when he presents you with so many wonderful opportunities. 

Astarion rolls his eyes, moving his arm from your neck to rest his hand on the wall, next to your head. “Well, that’s not fun, pet. That’s just being mean.”

“I’m playing along! Like you told me. It just gets too self-referential and confusing if I think about it for too long, star. Somehow you’re both my husband and the seductive vampire that lures me into dark corners.” You whine, your hand moving to squeeze his ass and pull him closer to you. “Just tell me pretty things and fuck me, please.”

Astarion’s hand cups your cheek. “I do that all the time, my love. I was trying to make tonight memorable.”

“Every day with you is memorable in its own way, even without the role playing,” you promise him. You nuzzle into Astarion’s hand and his thumb strokes softly along your cheekbone. 

“You’re sweet,” Astarion says and his face melts into a soft smile. 

“I think I just need more rules about what I’m supposed to say. I’m not you- I can’t just whip up seductive lines full of dirty innuendos at the drop of a hat.”

Astarion laughs. “I am rather gifted at that, aren’t I? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I can take you upstairs and make love to you like I normally do if you’d prefer.”

It’s a tempting offer. Astarion making love to you was likely one of your favorite activities. You liked it almost as much as when Astarion went on a bit of a power trip and whispered lovely, depraved things to you while he fucked you like you were his entire reason for existing, which was exactly what he was offering you tonight.

Besides, when Astarion had brought up this idea, he had been so excited to try it out, so excited to recreate the night you first met in a space where the two of you could act on all the perverse desires you had been holding back. 

And you truly loved seeing Astarion enjoying and having fun with intimacy, watching his comfort zone expand with time and listening to the new desires he whispered that he wanted to try. 

Sometimes, he didn’t end up liking the outcome nearly as much as the idea. There had been that… unfortunate time where Astarion’s hands had only been bound to the bedposts for a few minutes before he was already pulling himself free from the loose restraints, pleading with you that he was sorry. You had simply wrapped your arms around him and held him against your chest, reminding him that he never needed to apologize for setting boundaries. 

No, from then on, restraints were saved solely for you. 

“No, let me try again.” You drop your hand from his ass and smile sweetly up at him. “Can we go back to the beginning, please?”

Astarion presses a quick peck on your lips. “Just follow my lead. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He takes a moment to compose himself before he’s pressing his arm against your throat again, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes. It sends an immediate spark of arousal straight to your cunt.

“Tell me, sweet flower, what’s an innocent thing like you doing out in the gardens all by herself at this time of night?”

You look at him with your best impression of wide, scared eyes, like you are a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. You speak, voice barely a whisper, “Chasing after monsters, it seems.”

“A monster?” Astarion laughs, all dark and condescending. “Is that what you think you saw?”

He presses his leg between yours, pinning you to the wall with the full weight of his body and your cunt is aching and it would be easy, so, so easy, to just grind yourself down against his thigh. 

“I don’t know what I saw,” you say and your voice comes out surprisingly breathy and naive. You tilt your head up a bit to look at Astarion, exposing more of your neck and your hand clings desperately to the hem of his coat, pulling him tighter against you. “All I know is that you’re simply too beautiful to be human.”

And in another life, perhaps these are the exact words that you would have said to Astarion in that closet when you first met. Perhaps if you had put up less of a fight or been brave enough to say what you were truly thinking, you would have confessed how you thought he was a beam of moonlight come to life, how you thought that there was no way that the perfect man in front of you could exist because he had to be the embodiment of all your childhood fantasies.

“And yet, I was not the most beautiful person in that garden tonight.” His voice is smooth and silky and feels like a caress on your skin. 

His arm flexes where it sits across your neck and his fingers brush along your collarbone, just the hint of a touch. You roll your hips down upon Astarion’s leg and apparently he’s feeling benevolent tonight because he pushes his thigh into you a little bit harder and it provides just the amount of friction you need. 

“Yes, the woman you were with was very pretty.”

It’s a bit too boring if you just feed Astarion compliments. He deserves to do some work here, too.  

“Don’t go chasing after compliments. It’s unbecoming of you.” Astarion’s arm presses harder into your throat and he narrows his eyes at you. You don’t even need to breathe but the slight impact on your airflow has you feeling dizzy. Or maybe that’s just Astarion’s scent, all bergamot and rosemary and the hint of blood on his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur and you both know that you don’t mean it because your hips don’t even stutter where they grind against Astarion’s leg. 

“You already know that I meant you,” he continues, ignoring your insincere apology. “All those roses, all those flowers, and they looked pale and lifeless compared to you.”

His voice is low and hungry in your ear. He licks along the shell of it before he whispers, “Don’t all the great poets compare cunts to flowers? I fear they’d run out of words if they ever saw yours. I’d have to kill them all, obviously, but at least they would gaze upon perfection before they died.”

Yeah, that line was a little too ‘your husband’ Astarion and less ‘vampire cornering you in a dark room’ Astarion. It sends a victorious trill singing in your veins because you know he’s fighting just as hard as you to keep himself composed. 

Astarion takes a shuddering breath and corrects himself. “It’s truly a shame that I’m going to have to kill you.” 

“No, please. Perhaps I can find some way to convince you that I’m worth keeping alive.” 

You really play it up, too- pouting your lips, looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, tilting your chin up to expose your neck just so. Astarion loved to spoil you normally, but he was always so especially susceptible to your begging.

Astarion releases his arm from where it had been pressed against your neck, tracing one of his fingers down his favorite artery. You can feel Astarion’s cock where it presses into your stomach, hard and heavy. 

And although his body betrays his desires, Astarion manages to keep his voice flat and unimpressed when he speaks, like this negotiation is beneath him. “I already have more than enough blood, my sweet treat. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more creative about what you can offer me.”

“I’ve been told that I have a very talented mouth. Let me show you. Maybe that will change your mind.”

And thank the gods Astarion released his arm from your neck because now you have more freedom to move. He moans when you catch one of his earlobes between your teeth and his hand comes back up, wrapping gently around your throat and pushing you away from him. 

Gods, you can only imagine how wonderful his hand looks wrapped around your throat, accentuated by the lovely ruby necklace he had given you. Maybe you would have to ask him to do it again later in front of a mirror, so you could actually see it. 

“Hm, you’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Astarion asks. He shifts his hand so his thumb presses heavily against your bottom lip. His eyes feel like they’re burning into you. “Go on, then, show me.”

You part your lips, letting his thumb slide into your mouth. You suck on it greedily, letting your tongue swirl around it teasingly in that same way you know he always likes around the head of his cock in a silent promise of what is to come. You can feel Astarion’s hips grinding subtly against you as he watches your lewd display and it makes your cunt move so wonderfully against his leg.

“Very well, pet, you’ve proven your point.” His breathing is ragged as he slips his thumb out of your mouth. He leaves a wet trail as he slides it along your chin, all the way down your throat. “Now it’s time for you to really convince me.”

Astarion’s hands fall down to your hips and he pulls you with him, moving until his back is against the wall and your body is leaning into him. His mouth grazes yours as he purrs, “Your lips are going to look so pretty wrapped around my cock.”

He continues to trail teasing almost-kisses along the length of your neck before he bites down. You gasp at the shock of cold, but his mouth retracts from your skin almost immediately. You whine in protest- the bite was too quick, you didn’t even get to really enjoy it.

“On your knees, darling,” he commands, voice all deep and heavy with desire. 

You obediently sink down to your knees in front of Astarion and look up at him as one of your hands reaches out to run along the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers. Your touches are light and fleeting and his hips jolt involuntarily as he tries to press himself harder into your hand.

You’re the one on your knees for him and yet you are the one who will control his pleasure. What a lovely dynamic.

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you ask, acting timid as you fiddle with the fastenings on his pants. 

“I don’t know,” Astarion’s eyes glint dangerously in the darkness. “Perhaps a little death is in order tonight.”

It’s a cheesy double entendre but he sells it with the way he’s looking down on you like he can’t wait to devour you. You feel electric, like all your veins in your body are sending molten fire straight to your cunt. 

You make quick work of the fastenings on Astarion’s pants and he helps you push them down enough to free his cock. He hisses when your hand wraps around his length. 

It’s up to you now, whether you want this to be quick and messy or whether you want to drag this out so long that Astarion is crying and begging to come. Or maybe a mix of both? You’ll see where the mood takes you, you decide, as you lean forward to kiss the base of Astarion’s cock. 

You trace a line of teasing kisses along the whole length and when you reach the head of his cock, you let your tongue slip out to run along the slit. Astarion groans, his fingers threading into your hair as a silent request to finally take him in your mouth. You ignore him, content to trace another line of kisses back down his cock. 

“Right now, I’m leaning toward killing you,” Astarion says and you can’t help but laugh. You apologize by licking a stripe along the underside of his cock before sucking the tip into the soft, wet heat of mouth.

“Gods, your mouth,” Astarion groans. 

You hum in response and Astarion’s hips give a little buck. You take the cue and begin bobbing your head slowly, swirling your tongue around his tip a few times in between each drag of your mouth up and down his cock. You’re trying to take your time, you want Astarion to enjoy this as long as possible, want to make this moment good and special for him.  

You take more and more of his cock into your mouth as you move, hollowing your cheeks and bringing your hand up to assist where you’re unable to fit him in your mouth. Quickly, too quickly for what you have planned tonight, you’re able to get a good rhythm going and Astarion’s cock pulses in your mouth in response as he lets out a long string of curses.

Because you are a bit selfish and you don’t want this to end just yet, you pull your mouth off Astarion with a gentle pop. You keep pumping your hand up and down at a slow pace- enough to feel good, but not enough for him to come. Not yet. 

With Astarion’s fingers still loosely threaded in your hair, you sneak a peek up at him. He’s breathtakingly gorgeous, of course. His head tilts back against the wall, eyes closed in rapture, and his beautiful pink lips are slightly parted as soft gasps and breaths escape his mouth. 

Gods, you want nothing more than to bite him, to taste his little snack from earlier for yourself. 

You grab his wrist with your other hand, bringing it toward your mouth. Pushing up his sleeve, you run your nose along the veins in his wrist. 

“Let me taste you,” you plead. And then because you know Astarion is weak for you, especially when you’re on your knees for him, you add a breathy, “please.”

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes and his voice is so deliciously condescending when he says, “Only since you asked so nicely. Drink up, pet.”

With his permission given, you sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his wrist. It tastes divine. You let your tongue lick away the blood until his wounds have closed and then you set back to work on his cock with a renewed vigor. 

When you take him back in your mouth, you lift your hand up to pat on Astarion’s thigh three times, the signal between the two of you that it was okay for him to start moving however he wanted.

His fingers curl in your hair a bit more insistently as he starts guiding your motions and you relax your jaw, letting him fuck into your mouth as he chases after his orgasm. You wish you could get to your cunt more easily around the skirts of this heavy ball gown because you’re practically aching with need. 

“That’s- fuck, so good, my love,” Astarion pants out. 

His hips quicken and you know he’s close so you move one of your hands to cup his balls and you feel them tightening beneath your fingers. 

“Fuck, I’m going to-” Astarion gasps. “That okay?”

And it would make you smile, if your mouth wasn’t currently otherwise occupied. It was sweet, how even in the heat of the moment, Astarion still found the time to check in with you. Even now, after years of assuring him that was unnecessary. 

You pat on his leg thigh again, another okay, and it only takes a few more thrusts before his cock is twitching and he’s coming in your mouth. 

When you finish swallowing, Astarion is guiding you to stand again, pressing his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. Gods, are you ever grateful that Astarion is not shy. It certainly helped you over the initial awkwardness you felt at moments like this very quickly. 

Astarion groans into your mouth as he tastes himself. The metallic tang of the woman’s blood still remains faintly on his own lips. You find yourself fighting against Astarion as you both try desperately to chase after the taste in the other’s mouth. 

Between your messy kisses, Astarion ungracefully works to bunch the gorgeous fabric of your dress up to your hips, shifting again to push you against the wall. 

“Hold,” Astarion instructs you, passing your bunched up skirts off to you. You collect them in your arms and hold them up around your waist. His lips slide slowly and deliciously against yours before he murmurs, “I can smell you. I can practically taste in the air how wet you are. And we don’t want you making a mess out of your pretty dress, now do we? I imagine someone worked very hard on that.”

Astarion’s leg presses against you and for a moment, you wonder if that was his hidden plan for the night all along- if he was going to make you rut against his leg in the dark closet, guiding you to ecstasy with just the sound of his voice. You start rolling your hips again and the relief you feel at finally giving your cunt some attention nearly makes you sob.

“Now, now, pet,” Astarion tuts. “I know your cunt is just aching for me, but now is the time for patience. If you can wait just a little longer, I promise to reward you handsomely.”

And oh, how you adored being rewarded by Astarion. It usually involved at least a few orgasms that left your legs shaking and your mind spinning. Astarion accentuates his words by kicking your legs a bit wider apart with one of his own feet. His hand moves down between your body, fingers brushing against your cunt.

“Just like I expected, you’re practically dripping. You like sucking my cock that much, don’t you?”

Your eyes fall closed as you let yourself drown in the soft strokes of Astarion’s fingers along your folds. It feels like you might very well burn alive.

Astarion’s other hand gently weaves through your hair. You’re sure the rubies that Shadowheart spent hours weaving into your hair have long since been scattered across the floor. You can’t bring yourself to even begin to care. 

“Answer me when I speak to you, pet,” he commands in that wonderful low voice. 

It’s accompanied by a sharp tug on the roots of your hair that have you offering up your neck to Astarion. His mouth dips down to suck at your throat and you mewl in delight when he finds a particularly sensitive spot. 

“You know I love your cock,” you tell him. 

You’d add how much you love the rest of him, too, but that doesn’t seem to fit the mood right now. No, you’d save that for later tonight while you rode him, forbidding his hands from roaming your body. With his hands tightly gripping the sheets, you would shower him in praise and be those lovely, pathetic whimpers he made as he fought to keep his hands off you. 

Astarion hums, tilting your chin up to press another deep, slow kiss to your lips. “And you know I adore your mouth.”

His hand keeps moving in maddening, feather-light patterns along your cunt, occasionally moving up to brush against your clit before his fingers are darting away again. It seems Astarion has not finished having his fun with you tonight. 

He speaks against your lips, “You look so pretty on your knees for me. I’d keep you there forever, pet, but I think I’d grow tired of not being able to properly kiss you.”

And if anyone else said that line, you’d be rolling your eyes and grimacing about how corny it was. But this is Astarion and he commits and says it in the low, hungry voice that has your toes curling and heat pooling in your cunt.

His mouth is hovering just centimeters away from yours. You can feel each panting breath on your lips. You move forward to kiss him, but Astarion tugs on your hair again, keeping you just a hair's breadth away from what you want. 

Trying to outsmart Astarion, you use your free arm that is not holding your skirts to pull him down by his cravat and seal his lips against yours. He actually seems rather glad that you managed to work around his grip in your hair as he hums happily into the kiss. 

And either Astarion is extra observant tonight or you’re just being extra obvious about the way you chase after the taste of blood in his mouth.  

“She tasted divine,” Astarion says, his thumb making a slow circle around your clit before it’s gone again. “But I doubt you want to hear about that, do you, pet? No, I think you’d much rather hear about how she paled in comparison to you.”

He dips just the tip of one of his fingers inside you before pulling it out again almost immediately.

“She was nothing. They’re all nothing,” Astarion hisses. Gods, how did that even manage to sound attractive coming from him? “No one else has ever made me feel as good as you.”

For a moment, his pure, unadulterated love breaks through on his face and your chest burns with love- you know how devoted he is to you, you know how much he adores you. 

For a moment, it is just the two of you in a little bubble of love. And then Astarion finally, mercifully pushes a finger into you, working it in and out so agonizingly slow. You whimper and Astarion smiles wickedly down at you. 

“They all bow to us, you know?” Astarion asks, knowing you are in no state to answer. “They bow to me. To you.”

You pull his lips down to yours again and slip your tongue in his mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing- he knows this line of speaking always works you into a state of frenzy. And you know that arrogant side of him enjoys the sound of his voice just as much as you do. 

It had been so easy, too, to work the nobles onto your side, to start poisoning their minds with your and Astarion’s ideas. A few carefully placed smiles, a few favors promised and repaid, a few veiled threats. The two of you worked together so easily- Astarion charmed and you schemed. 

Astarion chuckles, slipping another finger into you and curling them in a way that makes you unsteady on your feet. He seems perfectly content to keep his other hand threaded in your hair, delivering your mouth to his whenever he wants a kiss. 

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, pet? You like thinking about them on their knees for you, just like you were for me a few moments ago.” The heel of his palm brushes against your clit. “Do you want to hear more? Do you want to hear about how even the sun herself bows her head in deference to your light and beauty? About how even I bow down to you, surrendering myself to you in worship?”

“Show me, then,” you pant out, pulling on the back of his neck to press his forehead against yours. “Show me how you intend to worship me.”

That has Astarion cursing under his breath and reaching down to give his cock a few pumps before he’s pushing into you, already hard again. 

The fullness and the stretch of him finally inside you soothes the ache that had been plaguing you all night. And when he moves, you can’t help the barrage of moans and gasps that fall from your lips.

“Quiet, little flower. We don’t want everyone to hear, do we?” Astarion asks, bringing his fingers up to your mouth. They’re still wet with your arousal and you follow his silent cue, sucking them into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he purrs and it sends a spark straight to your cunt. You feel yourself tighten around his cock and Astarion groans in response, his hips thrusting into you with even more desperation. 

The thought of who’s the one being loud now? passes through your mind as Astarion groans and tells you how good you feel. And then, because deep down, you’re a little bit vindictive, you let one of your fangs scratch along the skin of Astarion’s fingers in your mouth. You greedily lick up the blood, enjoying the way it mixes with the taste of your wetness on your tongue. 

What was it that Astarion always called the combination of your blood and your cunt? The nectar of the gods? He might be onto something there. 

Astarion’s eyes lock in on you with a single-minded focus before he’s wrenching his fingers from your mouth, capturing your lips with his own. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and bites down, lapping up the blood until your wound closes.

“I love you,” you whisper when he pulls away.

His cock pulses inside you and his hips stutter a bit before he can recover his rhythm. You would never get tired of that- of reminding Astarion of how deeply you loved him and watching how he never failed to viscerally react to those words. 

“Love you, too,” Astarion says, pressing a peck to your cheek. You can feel him smiling against your skin. It’s a total contradiction to the obscene way his cock drives into you.

You grab Astarion’s hand from where it had been gently cupping your face and drag it down between your bodies. 

“Need your hands.”

“I know just what you need,” he assures as his magical fingers begin circling your clit. 

There’s that lovely heat building low in your stomach, rising into a great inferno that surrounds you. And with Astarion’s whispered promises of how he loves you, how good you feel, how you shine brighter than the sun, you come. 

Astarion fucks you through your orgasm before his fingers fall away from your sensitive clit and his hips continue to drive into you as he chases after his own high.

“Come for me,” you tell him, half a command and half a begged request. “Want to feel you inside me.”

Astarion’s forehead rests against yours as he comes.

He keeps you pressed to the wall with the full weight of his body for a few moments longer as the two of you fight to steady your breathing. 

Frankly, it’s a miracle that you managed to hold up your dress the whole time. You had been so worried about damaging the lovely needlework that Astarion had spent so long embroidering that you had kept the fabric clenched to your stomach in an iron-vice the whole time. 

Astarion ensures you are steady on your feet before he shuffles around the closet in search of a rag to wipe between your legs. He finds one and helps you to clean up before throwing it in a bucket with the other dirty rags. You finally release your skirts and flex the muscles in your aching arm as you lean back against the wall, grabbing Astarion’s wrist to pull him back toward you. 

“I love you.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he pulls you into a hug. “I love you, too, now and forever.”

“‘Til death do us part,” you tease, because the idea of death to a vampire seems nothing more than a joke. 

Astarion laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And even after then.”

----------------------

Notes:

Me? Ending a fic on the title? It's almost like I planned that from the beginning... This chapter could alternatively be called 'I let Astarion have a delusions of grandeur as a treat for working on himself.' He's still the Astarion we know and love and of course he's still a little bit evil, but now he's got a wife to help him channel all that energy in healthier ways!

Wow, I can't believe this story is over and this is my final note. I'm getting a bit teary eyed as I write this. Know that I will never be able to fully express my appreciation to everyone who has read/liked/commented on this story. This whole experience has been so much more fun that I ever could have imagined and I have all of you to thank for that!!!

As always, hugest thank you to my beta-writer (and real life friend) AliensNSuch on ao3. She has put up with my insane text rants about obscure details and she has logged many, many hours editing this thing and hyping me up over the parts I hate. I owe her a lifetime of boba for her service!

I've also got some plans for a new fic that I'm gonna start. I'll have a follow up post on my blog talking about my plans if anyone is interested in that. I'm not quite done with Astarion yet!

Thanks again. I love you all!

Taglist: @ayselluna@idkbrodontaskme@maruichio@fanfic-share@the-littlest-bruja@asterordinary@divineknightmare@fandomarchiveilyd

[blood-grove]

Werewolf Bites

pervious <- discomfort -> next stage of infection

tws; sickness , injuries , vomiting , violence, no use of y/n

parings: gaz x male reader (established relationship)

-> c/n - call sign

-> n/n - nickname

Fuck

You feel like you've said that too many times now.

But it was right once again.

The fluorescent lights were killing you as you squinted around the room your eyes landing on a blurry figure entering the room they said something something as they talked too your side.

It was all muffled you just stared up at them.

You probably look stupid now eyes all unfocused and ears still faintly ringing as your hearing came back staring up at them like a bug.

"..God you're probably too drugged up to even remember the past few days..maybe even too out of it to understand this again."

Again.

Hm.

You blinked as he came into focus finally.

Oh right, Kyle.

"Again?"

"..Yeah Lovie..nice to see you awake again you've been in and out of it..How's the shoulder..?"

Right the bite.

You could barely feel it really but with a quick glance at it and more colors of bruises than the rainbow itself, you guessed the drugs were working great for you to feel barely anything.

"..Can't feel it much.."

"..Good..they upped your dosage enough the last time you woke you were sobbing near screaming in pain..I..It hurt to see you like that.."

"..Oh sorry.."

He just sighed chuckled as he shook his head and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead as he leaned down.

"Don't apologize..You've been through so much..Mission was a success though..The guys have been checking in on you too.."

"..Ghost too..?"

"Yes, love..I still don't understand why you think he hates you over a small prank.."

You just whined huffing it was a small prank honestly but it feels like you've done something horrible, You could blame your anxiety or whatever the hell else is wrong with you.

But you blamed yourself.

"..Try not to think about it much..Focus on healing up.."

And focus you did.

A day had passed and you fever had gone down.

They took you off your IV and finally gave you the all-clear for a mostly solid lunch a sandwich, some apples, medicine.

Water.

You had ate everything else swallowing your pills dry.

You couldn't stand the taste of the water though.

Maybe it was just your tastebuds being weird.

Next day you luckily got juice.

Gaz visited when he could ill you were eventually back up on your feet with a still sore and off-colored shoulder.

You'd still have to get some checkups for it it would have returned back to its normal color by now you weren't that worried though you were feeling great really.

You were told to take it easy minimal training meant you were still benched on Price's order and your begrudging acceptance.

But there were pros the main being that now you were cuddled up gently with Gaz who carded his hand gently through your hair peppering kisses along your face grinning.

"I missed you so much.."

"You saw me everyday.."

"I..I mean I missed holding you..Being close like this with you.."

"..I missed you too."

God, you didn't know how you got with such an incredible man.

Luck? Pity?

Maybe both.

The day you confessed you honestly thought your heart would give out when he just giggled.

That sly man of course had to tease you he already knew the rest of team knew your schoolgirl crush on Kyle.

You weren't subtle about it.

Following him around and 'coincidentally' ending up in the same room as him.

Just being close to him made you feel all fuzzy, You didnt want to be seen as a creep but you just loved everything about him.

You both never talked about marriage but you'd give everything you had to be with him to please him the lingering fear of showing such love to him still hung around.

You fear you'd break if he left you.

Us.

"Love?"

"Mm..?"

Oh he was looking at you all concerned.

Why.

Did you do something wrong? You didnt mean too.

Please dont be upset.

"You whined..Is it your shoulder..?"

"I did..?"

"Yeah..you did.."

"Its nothing.."

You shifted as you sat up in bed ignoring the tug at the back of your mind to sit and stay.

Why were you thinking like this now?.

"Love..c'mon speak for me please.. Whatever ever it is you can tell me."

"I-..I don't know..I just..feel off.."

"You must be..youve been cooped up in the medical ward for days.."

"Yeah..I guess its that.."

You sighed as you felt him gently kiss your sore shoulder.

"Hows the shoulder..?"

"Sore..achy..but fine."

"Mm..Well thats better.."

He smiled, God that smile.

You didnt resist when he gently brought you back to laying down his hands gently glided his hands over your arms and thighs before coming back up to cup your face.

"Heh.."

"What..? Is..Is there something on my face?"

"If you mean the adorable look your giving me then yeah.."

"Oh hush.."

You both laid like that for a bit enjoying the quiet.

"Love you n/n"

"Love you too.."

a/n: hopefully this is good kinda of rushed the end

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [5/5]

we made it!!! part 5/5 + a mini epilogue (5.6k words) at long last 🥹 (aka the installment in which i remember that h/c has a c in it in addition to the h, haha.) [part 1] is here!

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

The world comes back to him in pieces—first the wooden panels of the ceiling, the sloped wooden beams. The coldness of the room, the slight, monotonous whir of the air circulating through one of the vents overhead.

He’s leaned up against the wall, seated on the floor in the hallway, and Vincent is kneeling beside him, his eyebrows furrowed.

It takes him a moment to realize where he is. He had been about to head back to the courtyard, hadn’t he? He doesn’t have much memory of anything that happened after, but judging by Vincent’s reaction, he thinks he can probably guess.

“Hi,” Yves says, for lack of a better thing to say. 

He watches a complicated set of expressions flicker through Vincent’s face—relief, first, before it turns to something distinctly less neutral.

“You’re awake,” Vincent says. He turns away, for a moment. Yves notes the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his grip—his fingers white around Yves’s sleeve.

“Was I out for long?”

“A couple minutes.”

Yves wants to say something. He should say something. Anything to lighten the tension, anything to get the point across that this is all just an unlucky miscalculation, on his part. It really isn’t something Vincent should have to be worried about. 

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he starts. Really, what he means is, I’m sorry for making you worry about me. “I promise I’mb fine.”

The look on Vincent’s face, then, is something that Yves hasn’t seen before. 

“Why do you have to—” he starts, frustration rising in his voice. He sighs, his jaw set. “I don’t understand why you—” He drops his hand from Yves’s sleeve, and it’s then when Yves notices the stiffness to his shoulders, the tension in his posture. He runs a hand through his hair, lets out another short, exasperated breath. “You’re not fine.” 

It’s strange, Yves thinks, to see him like this—Vincent, who usually never wears his emotions on his face, looks clearly displeased, now. 

“Hey,” Yves says, softly. He reaches out to take Vincent’s hand. Vincent goes very still with the contact, but he doesn’t say anything. “I—”

Fuck. His body seems to always pick the worst time for unwanted interjections. He wrenches his hand away just in time to smother a sneeze into his sleeve, though it’s forceful enough to leave him slightly lightheaded. 

“Stay here,” Vincent says, getting to his feet. “Lay down if you get dizzy again.”

Yves blinks. “Where are you going?”

“To tell the others that we’re leaving.”

Yves wants to protest. Dinner is already halfway over. It’s not as if the festivities are particularly strenuous. They’ll probably move inside after dinner, where it’s warmer.

But he thinks better of it. Judging by how exhausted he still feels, how much his head aches, it probably wouldn’t be wise to push it. 

“Don’t tell them about this,” he says.

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Aimee is going to worry if she finds out,” Yves says, dropping his head to his knees. He doesn’t want to look at Vincent, doesn’t want to know what expression is on his face. “Just—let them have this night. It’s—supposed to be perfect.” I really wanted it to be perfect, he almost adds. There’s a strange tightness to his throat as he says it, a strange heaviness to his chest.

He knows what it means. If, after he’s tried so hard to do his part, their evening still ends up ruined on his own accord, he’s not sure if he could live with himself after.

For a moment, Vincent doesn’t say anything at all.

“Okay,” he says, at last. “Just stay here.”

And then he heads down the hallway. The door at the end of the reception hall swings shut behind him. Yves thinks he should be relieved, but he finds that he doesn’t feel much other than exhausted.

—

The ride home on the shuttle is silent. Vincent sits next to him, even though all of the other seats are empty. Yves thinks the proximity is probably inadvisable. He opens his mouth to say as much, and then shuts it.

Vincent sits and stares straight ahead, his posture stiff, and doesn’t say anything for the entirety of the ride. It’s strange. Yves is no stranger to silence—Vincent is, after all, a coworker, and Yves has endured more than a few quiet elevator rides and quiet team lunches at the office, but it’s strange because it’s Vincent.

Vincent, who usually takes care to make conversation with him, whenever it’s just the two of them. Vincent, who stayed up through the lull of antihistamines a couple months ago to talk to Yves, until Yves had given him explicit permission to go to sleep.

Yves tries not to think about it. Through the haze of his fever, everything feels unusually bright—the interior of the shuttle, with its leather seats and metal handrails.

The shuttle stops just outside the main entrance to their hotel. Just before he gets to the doors, he stumbles. Vincent’s hand shoots out, instinctively, to steady him.

“Sorry,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. It’s not that he’s dizzy. The roads are just uneven, and it’s dark. “I can walk.”

But Vincent doesn’t let go—not for the entirety of the walk through the cool, air-conditioned lobby, through the hallways to the hotel elevators. Not when the elevator stops at their floor, not when they pass by the grid of wooden doors leading up to their room. 

Before Yves can manage to reach for his keycard, Vincent has already swiped them in, scarily efficient. He slides the card back into his pocket, pushes the door open. 

“Thadks for walking me back,” Yves says. “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer. You mbust’ve been halfway through dinner.”

“I already finished eating,” Vincent says.

“Even dessert?” Yves says. “I think Aimee got everyone creme brulee from one of the local bakeries. I was excited to try it. Maybe Leon can save us some.” he muffles a yawn into his hand. It’s too early to be sleeping, but his pull out bed looks very inviting right now.

“Take the bed,” Vincent says.

Yves blinks at him. “What?”

“The bed’s warmer.”

There’s absolutely no way he’s going to let Vincent take the pull-out bed in his place, Yves thinks blearily. He’s spent the past couple nights muffling sneezes into the covers—if there’s anything he’s certain of, it’s that he really, really doesn’t want Vincent to catch this.

“I dod’t think we should switch,” he says, sniffling. “I’ve been sleeping here ever sidce I started coming down with this. I’mb— hHeh-!” He veers away, raising an elbow to his face. “hh—HHEh’IIDZschH’-iEEW! Ugh, I’mb pretty sure I contaminated it.”

“We can both take the bed, if you’d prefer,” Vincent says. As if it’s that simple.

Yves opens his mouth to protest—is Vincent really okay with sharing a bed with him?—but then he thinks about Vincent finding him in the hallway—the stricken expression on his face, then, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched—and thinks better of himself. 

Instead, he lets Vincent lead him to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made—the covers drawn, the pillows propped up against the headboard.

“Lay down,” Vincent says, pushing lightly down on his shoulders. Yves sits. He peels off his suit jacket, folds it, and sets it aside on the nightstand.

“Hey, I kdow that was sudden,” he says, in reference to earlier. “I’mb sorry you had to witness it. I… probably shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Vincent says nothing, to that.

Yves lays down, shuts his eyes. “You didn’t have to accompady me home, you know.”

Silence. He exhales, burrowing deeper into the covers. “It’s not as bad as it looks, seriously.”

He opens his mouth to say more. He has to say something, he thinks, to convince Vincent that it’s really not that big of a deal. Anything, to assuage that look on Vincent’s face.

But he’s so tired. He can feel the exhaustion now that he’s finally let himself lay down. The bed is traitorously comfortable, with its soft feather pillows and its fluffy layers of blankets, and Vincent was right—it really is warmer.

He feels the press of a hand on his forehead, feels the cold, unyielding pressure. Feels gentle, calloused fingers brush the hair out of his face.

“Sleep,” Vincent says, firmly. 

And Yves—

Yves, already half gone, is powerless, when Vincent says it like that.

—

When he wakes, it’s just barely bright outside. He takes it in—the first few rays of sunlight, streaking through the curtains. The bed, a little more well-cushioned than the pullout bed he’d spent the past few nights on—higher up and decisively sturdier. He blinks.

Beside him, seated on a chair he recognizes as belonging to the desk at the opposite end of the room, is Vincent.

Vincent, awake. Yves isn’t sure if he’s slept at all. He certainly doesn’t look tired, at first glance, but closer inspection reveals a little more. It’s evident in the way he holds his shoulders, stiff, and perhaps a little tired, as if there’s been tension sitting in them all night. 

He’s reading a book. Whether he bought it at the convenience store downstairs, or on one of the other days when Yves was busy running errands for the wedding and Vincent was elsewhere, or whether it’d been sitting in his suitcase since the start of the vacation, Yves doesn’t know.

“How’s the book?” Yves says.

His throat is dry, he realizes, for the way it makes him cough, afterwards. Vincent’s eyes meet his, unerringly. He shuts the book, sets it down on the bedside table.

“It’s a little boring,” Vincent says. “How’s the fever?”

Before Yves can answer, Vincent leans forward and presses the back of his hand to Yves’s forehead. His touch is unerringly gentle, and Yves allows himself to look. 

Vincent’s eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, and Yves wonders, suddenly, if he’s been this worried for awhile, now. If he’s been this worried ever since he’d walked them both back into the hotel room last night.

“I’m fine,” Yves says. 

It has the opposite effect he intends it to.

Vincent’s expression shutters. “The last time you said that, you passed out in front of me,” he says, withdrawing his hand with a frown. “So forgive me if I don’t entirely believe you.”

Yves sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s a fair point. “I’m usually more reliable whed it comes to these things.”

“What things?”

“Kdowing my limits.”

Vincent says, “I think you knew your limits. I think you just didn’t want to honor them, because you decided the wedding took precedence.”

He’s… frustrated, Yves realizes. Still. He’s sure he can guess why. Their fake relationship does not extend to Vincent having to look after him, to Vincent having to drop everything in the middle of a wedding, of all things, to take him home. To Vincent having to worry about all this—the fever Yves knows he has, now, and the bed he’s currently taking up—on top of everything else. As if being in a foreign country, surrounded by people he knows almost exclusively through Yves, who, for the most part, converse in a language he barely speaks, wasn’t already enough work on its own.

And Yves gets it. He hadn’t wanted this to happen, either. He’d told himself that if this—this pretend relationship, this pretense—is contingent upon both of them playing their part, the least he can do is be self-sufficient outside of it.

But now—because Vincent is here with him, and because they share a hotel room—all of this is now Vincent’s problem, too, by extension.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks.

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly, as if the answer is evident. 

“You gave up your bed just for me to steal it,” Yves says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s really comfortable, and all, but I’mb pretty sure they make these kinds of beds for two.”

“Is that a proposition?” Vincent says.

“Maybe.” Yves thinks it through. “Realistically, probably ndot, until I have a chance to shower.” He’s still dressed in his dress shirt and slacks from yesterday, a little embarrassingly—he should probably get changed. “Speaking of which, I should do that soon, so you don’t feel the need to stay up all night reading—” Yves leans forward, squints at the book cover on the nightstand. “—Hemingway? Somehow, I didn’t expect you to be the type.”

“I’m not,” Vincent says. “Victoire lent it to me.”

“Oh,” Yves says, trying to think of when Vincent would’ve had time to ask her for a recommendation. “Yeah. She’s—” He twists aside, ducking into his elbow. “hHEH’IIDzschh-EEW! snf-! She’s quite the literary reader. Is it really that boring?”

“I can see why people think the transparency of his prose is appealing,” Vincent says. “But I’m fifty pages in, and nothing has happened.”

“Isd’t that the sort of thing Hemingway can get away with, since he’s straightforward about it?”

“In a short story, maybe,” Vincent says. Then: “You are trying to make me feel better.”

Ah.

Yves laughs. “Where in the world did you get that idea?”

Vincent just sighs. “I would be exceptionally unobservant not to notice when I’ve seen you do the same thing all this week.”

“What?”

“Telling people that you’re fine,” Vincent says. “And distracting them when they don’t believe you.”

Yves doesn’t think that’s entirely accurate. It’s not like he was trying to be dishonest. It’s just that it was never the most important thing to address.

“Distracting is a bit disingenuous.”

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, with a frown. “You’re so insistent on putting yourself last, even when you were obviously—” He sighs. There it is—that expression again, the one that makes itself evident through the furrowed eyebrows, the tense set of his jaw—frustration, and maybe something else. “You’re surrounded by people who care about you, so why not just—”

“There are plenty of things more important than how I’mb feeling,” Yves says.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

But of course it is, Yves thinks. A wedding is a once in a lifetime occurrence. An illness is nothing, in the face of that.

“I promised I’d be there,” he says, because when it really comes down to it, it’s true. He had no intention of going back on his word. “I didn’t want to be the one to let them down. Is that so hard to believe?” He reaches up with a hand to massage his temples. His head aches, even though he’s slept for long enough that he feels like it ought to feel a little better, by now. “It’s already bad enough that I had to drag you into this.” 

“You didn’t drag me into this,” Vincent says. “I came on my own volition.”

Yves tries a laugh, but it’s humorless. “I made you leave halfway through the wedding dinner.”

“I’d already finished eating.”

“Ndot to mention, you practically had to carry me upstairs.”

“Because you’re ill.”

“That’s no excuse.” Yves wants to say more, but he finds himself beholden to a tickle in the back of his throat—irritatingly present, until he concedes to it by ducking into his elbow to cough, and cough.

When he looks up, blinking tears out of his vision, Vincent isn’t looking at him.

“You should get some rest,” he says, simply.

Yves can tell—just by the way he says it—that there is no argument to him, anymore. Just like that, Vincent is back to being closed off—poised and perfectly, infuriatingly unreadable, just like he is at work, his face so carefully a mask of indifference, even in the most stressful presentations, the most frustrating disagreements. Yves wants none of it.

 “Hey,” he says. A part of him itches to crack a joke, to change the subject—anything to take away this air of seriousness. A part of him wants to reach out, again—to take Vincent’s hand, entwine their fingers; to reassure him, again, that he’s really fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says, instead. Maybe it’s the fever that loosens his tongue. Maybe it’s just a combination of everything.

He can feel Vincent’s eyes on him, still. Vincent has always held a sort of intensity to him, a quiet sort of perceptiveness. “I’m not sure I follow,” Vincent says.

“This visit was supposed to be fun for you,” he says. “And now you’re here, stuck in the hotel room because of me, even though today was supposed to be for sightseeing.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. What can he say to make it enough? There’s a strange ache in his chest, a strange, crushing pressure. Yves is horrified to find his eyes stinging. He’s held it together for so long, he thinks. Why now? Why, when Vincent is right here?

But a part of him knows, too. Of course traveling to a different country would be more involved than going to a party, or spending an evening at a stranger’s house. But there was a time when he thought this could really just be a fun excursion for the both of them—half a week in his family’s home country, with someone who he thoroughly enjoys spending time with. 

And now, because of this untimely illness—or because of his own short-sightedness in managing it—it isn’t. He didn’t get to stay through dinner, didn’t get to wish Aimee and Genevieve a good rest of their night, like he’d planned to. He has no idea if things went smoothly in his absence. To make matters worse, Vincent is here, having endured a sleepless night, instead of anywhere else.

And really, when he thinks about it, who does have to blame for all of this, except himself?

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this,” he says. “So I’m sorry.” He resists the urge to swipe a hand over his eyes—surely, he thinks, that would give him away.

He turns away. It’s convenient, he thinks, that the embarrassing sniffle that follows could be attributed to something else. 

“You’ve been nothing but accommodating to me, this whole visit,” Vincent says. “If anything, I should’ve insisted that you take the bed earlier. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

He says it with such certainty. Yves opens his mouth to protest this—or to apologize, for all the times he must’ve kept Vincent up, including but not limited to last night—but Vincent presses on.

“You spent all of yesterday morning helping everyone get ready, and when I got back, you apologized for not being around—as if the reason why you weren’t around wasn’t that you were so busy making sure everything was fine for everyone else.” Vincent pauses, takes in a slow, measured breath. Yves is surprised to hear that he sounds… distinctly angry, in a way that Yves is not used to hearing.

“And then you showed up to the rehearsal and the wedding, even though you weren’t feeling well. And you still think you have something to apologize for? Are you even hearing yourself?” Yves hears the creak of the chair as he stands, the sound of quiet footsteps. Feels the dip of the bed as Vincent takes a seat at the edge of it. 

“You know, after you left the dinner table, Genevieve was talking about how much she liked your speech? Do you know that yesterday morning, Solaine told me how grateful she was that you helped her with fixing her dress? Do you know that when I got lunch with Leon and Victoire, they told me how much time you spent preparing for everything—the speech, and the wedding, both?”

Oh. Yves hadn’t known any of those things, and he knows Vincent isn’t the kind of person who would lie about this sort of thing.

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, sounding distinctly pained to say it. “How could you possibly think that you haven’t done enough?”

Yves finds himself taken aback—by the frustration in his voice, by the fact that Vincent has noticed these things in the first place, by the fact that he’s deemed them important enough to take stock of. He makes it sound so simple. 

“I don’t know,” Yves says, at last. He shuts his eyes. “If it was enough.”

“I’m telling you that it was,” Vincent says.

But Yves knows that he could have done more, if the circumstances were different. If he hadn’t been so out of it during the wedding. If he’d taken the necessary precautions to avoid coming down with this in the first place. If he’d been able to stay through dinner, at least; if he hadn’t needed Vincent to accompany him home. 

“You don’t believe me,” Vincent says, with a sigh.

Yves doesn’t say anything, to that.

“I can’t speak for anyone else,” Vincent says. There’s the slight rustling of the covers as he shifts, rearranging one of the pillows at the headboard. “But I had fun.”

Yves’s heart twists.

It’s sweet, unexpectedly. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” Yves says.

“When have I ever said anything just to make you feel better?” Vincent says, with a short laugh. When Yves chances a look at him, he’s smiling down at himself. “I mean it. Meeting your family has been a lot of fun. It’s not often that I get the chance to be a part of something like this.”

Whether he’s referring to France, or the wedding and the festivities, or being surrounded by Yves’s large extended family, Yves isn’t sure. But if Vincent is trying to cheer him up, it’s working.

“I can see why you like France so much,” he says, turning his gaze out the window, though the view outside is filtered through the semi-translucent curtains. “It’s beautiful.”

“Today was supposed to be the last day for sightseeing,” Yves says, a little regretful. “But you’re stuck here.”

“In a sunny, luxurious hotel room, with a view of the pool and the garden?” Vincent says, with a scoff. “I could think of worse places to be.”

Staying up all night, just to check up on Yves, more accurately. Vincent must be tired, too—yesterday was already tiring enough. And now it’s morning already, and he hasn’t gotten any sleep. 

“Reading Hemingway,” Yves adds.

Vincent looks a little surprised. Then he laughs. “Yes. I guess you’re right. Perhaps it’s an agonizing experience after all.”

The yawn he stifles into his hand, after that isn’t half as subtle as he tries to make it.

Yves feels his eyebrows creep up. “Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep? There’s plenty of room.” He scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed, just to make a point.

Vincent peers down at the space beside him, a little hesitant. “At 10am?”

“It’d be, what, 4am, back in Eastern time?” Yves says. “By Ndew York standards, you’re supposed to already be asleep.”

“That’s not how it works,” Vincent says, but he dutifully moves a little closer to Yves anyways. He’s changed out of yesterday’s wedding attire, more sensibly, but now he’s wearing a knitted cardigan which Yves thinks looks unfairly, terribly good on him. Yves finds himself marveling at the unfairness of it all. How can someone look so good wearing something so casual?

Vincent smells good, up close. When he lays down next to Yves, pulling the covers gingerly over himself—leaving a careful amount of room between them, but still dangerously, intoxicatingly close—Yves feels his breath catch in his throat.

Vincent is right there, less than an arm’s length away from him, closer than he’s ever been, and Yves—Yves is—

“See,” Yves says, as evenly as he can manage to, in his current state, as if his heart isn’t practically beating out of his chest. He swallows. His throat feels dry. “This bed definitely fits two.”

“I suppose it does,” Vincent says. “Now you can tell me if I’m a terrible person to share a bed with.”

“After everything I’ve put you through,” Yves says, “I think I’d honestly feel reassured if you were.”

Vincent smiles, again, as if he finds this humorous. “Are you sure you’re going to be fine?”

“Positive,” Yves says. “You should sleep. I’ll wake you if I ndeed anything.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Vincent shuts his eyes.

It’s not long before his breathing evens out, not long before he goes perfectly still. He must really be tired, Yves thinks, with a pang.

Yves, for some reason, finds that he can’t get to sleep. He stares up at the ceiling for what feels like minutes on end, shuts his eyes, all to no avail. Maybe it’s because he’s already slept far more than his usual share. Maybe it’s the jetlag. Maybe it’s merely Vincent’s unusual presence—the strangeness of having him so close, in an environment so intimate.

But when he allows himself to look, he sees—

Vincent, his eyes shut, his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. From the window, the filtered light gleams unevenly across the crown of dark hair on his head. There’s almost no movement to him at all, aside from the even rise and fall of his shoulders.

And Yves knows what the feeling in his chest is. He’s regrettably, intimately familiar with it.

He just isn’t sure he likes what it means.

—

Vincent—despite falling asleep so quickly—is up before him. When Yves wakes, next, it’s to a hand to his forehead.

“Hey,” Vincent is saying, softly. “Yves. You have a visitor.”

Yves opens his eyes.

He’s feeling—a little better, remarkably. Still feverish, still a little unsteady, but leagues better as compared to yesterday. When he looks over, he sees—

He doesn’t jolt upright, but it’s a close thing. “Aimee!”

He barely has a chance to ask before she’s crashing into him, encircling him in a tight hug. “Yves!” she exclaims, pulling back from him. “How are you feeling? Oh my gosh, when I heard you left early because you were unwell, I was so worried…”

Yves grimaces, turning away. “Sorry, I had every idtention of staying until the end—”

“You came all the way out with the flu!” she says. “I honestly can’t believe you. The fact that you still took the trouble to attend with a fever—”

“It—” Yves starts, but he finds himself twisting away, lifting an arm to his face. “hhEH-! HEEhD’TTSCHH-iiiEEw! Snf-! It’s fide, snf-! I’mb practically recovered already.”

“I should’ve told you not to push yourself when you told me you were coming down with something,” Aimee says, shaking her head. “And you stayed and gave such a lovely speech, even though you weren’t feeling well? When I was talking to Victoire after, she mentioned that you’ve been sick for days and Genevieve—you should’ve said something.”

“I’ll say somethidg next time,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. “Did the wedding go okay?”

Aimee visibly brightens, at this. “It was more than okay,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “It blew every expectation that I had out of the water.”

Aimee fills him in on everything that happened after he left, last night—dessert, the first dance, the cake-cutting; her favorites out of the photos they’d taken after the ceremony (a shot of Genevieve braiding her hair during the cocktail hour; a shot of them leaning in close, for the dance, tired but smiling; a shot of the cake with its multiple tiers, the frosting strung like banners across it; another where both of them are holding onto the cutting knife together and Genevieve looks like she is trying not to laugh; a shot of the bouquet toss, the flowers suspended in mid-air). She tells him about the conversations she and Genevieve had with others about marriage and their futures and their plans for their honeymoon.

Then she lectures him on how he should worry about his health first, next time. She tells him, in no uncertain terms, that she’s fully prepared to give him a piece of her mind the next time he tries to pull something like this. She insists that his health is more important than anything. Vincent stands off to the side the entire time, his arms crossed, passively listening in, but when Yves looks over helplessly, mid-lecture, he definitely looks a little smug. 

All in all, she doesn’t seem disappointed in him at all. And, more importantly, she seems happy. Yves finds himself relieved, at this.

Genevieve stops by, too, a little later, to thank him for the advice he’d given her the day before the wedding. She hugs him too, and she leaves him a bag of tea that she promises “is practically a cure to anything—I hope it makes your flight home tomorrow a little more tolerable.” Victoire stops by, with Leon, and Yves resigns himself to more lecturing from the both of them. It’s humbling, a little, to be lectured by his younger sister and his younger brother, though he concedes that perhaps this time, it might be at least partially warranted.

Then Leon opens their hotel fridge to show him the two creme brulees he and Vincent had missed out on, packaged nicely in small paper containers. (“Vincent told me you were interested in these,” he says, and Yves finds himself slightly mortified—but perhaps also a little endeared—that whatever it was that he’d said last night, offhandedly, Vincent had deemed it important enough to text Leon about.)

Later, after Yves showers and gets changed—when he and Vincent eat the creme brulees at the table in the living room, and Vincent tells him that he’s finished the book, perhaps a little masochistically (“it doesn’t get any better,” he says, sounding a little spiteful)—Yves finds himself smiling.

He’s happy, he realizes, despite everything that’s happened. Even with the slight headache, and the lingering congestion, the fever that hasn’t quite gone away entirely. The revelation comes as a surprise to him, at first. But when he thinks about the people he’s surrounded with, he thinks perhaps it isn’t all that surprising.

—

EPILOGUE

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Vincent asks.

“Yes,” Yves says. It’s not a lie.

This time, he’s seated right next to the window, and Vincent is in the middle seat. Yves had offered to take the middle seat instead, but Vincent had insisted(“If you wanted to sleep, you could lean against the window,” he’d said, and Yves had accepted only because it would be better to fall asleep against the window than do something embarrassing, like fall asleep on Vincent’s shoulder).

“It’s just the annoyidg residual symptoms, now,” he says. “I—”

God. He always has the worst timing. He veers away, muffling a tightly contained sneeze into his shoulder.

“hHEH-’IIDDZschH-yyEW! Snf-! I’mb — hHhEHh’DjjsSHH-iEW! Ugh, I’m fine. I feel better thad I sound.”

“Bless you,” Vincent says, leaning over to press his hand against Yves’s forehead. “No fever,” he says. “That’s good. But you should take another day off when we get back.”

Yves doesn’t think taking another day off is necessary. “I spedt the entirety of yesterday sleeping,” he says. “I think I’ve rested enough.”

Vincent just raises an eyebrow at him. “Need I remind you that someone very wise told you to take it easy?”

“Since when has Aimee been your spokesperson?”

“She made a lot of good points,” Vincent says, deceptively unassuming. “I think you should consider taking notes.”

Yves looks at him for a moment. “You’re laughing at me.”

This time, Vincent smiles. “Maybe.”

Yves leans back in his seat, reaching up with one hand to massage his temples. The changing cabin pressure is not exactly comfortable—his head still hurts a little, but he’s flown enough times to know that it won’t be as much of a problem once they finish their ascent. 

“Thadks again for coming,” he says, unwrapping one of the small, packaged pillows the airline has left on their seats. 

“You invited me,” Vincent says, blinking. “All I did was show up.”

But that isn’t true at all, Yves thinks. Vincent is the one who spent time learning basic French, who met Yves’s family and who spoke with everyone with genuine interest, who bought Yves medicine and water, all while being careful to not be overbearing. Vincent is the one who left the wedding early to walk Yves back to the hotel, who stayed with him the entire day afterwards.

“That’s such a huge understatement I don’t even kdow where to get started,” Yves says. “Thanks for meetidg my family—they love you, by the way. They’re going to be askidg about you every summer from now on, I just know it.”

He can already picture it—June, this year, after busy season is over, if their fake relationship lasts that long. Another flight where they’re next to each other. Another dozen conversations about how they’d met, about what it’s like dating a coworker, about what their plans for the future are.

Perhaps it’s wishful thinking. This was never meant to be a long-term arrangement in the first place. But something about this—about being here with Vincent—just feels so unthinkingly easy.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says. “The feeling is mutual. I’m glad I got to meet them.”

“Thanks for looking after me, too,” Yves says, with another apologetic smile. “I’mb sure being stuck in a hotel room all day wasn’t how you were planning on spending your last day of vacation.”

“I don’t mind,” Vincent says, sounding strangely like he means it. “I like spending time with you.”

Yves nearly drops the pillow he’s holding. 

When he looks back at Vincent, Vincent looks faintly amused. “Is that so surprising? I think I’d be a terrible fake boyfriend if I didn’t.”

“You make a really good one, as it stands,” Yves tells him, sincerely, and Vincent smiles.

Yves looks out the window—where the city beneath them begins to resolve itself into miniature, where the sky stretches where he can see Vincent reflected faintly back at him, from the glass—and finds that he feels impossibly light.

[nights-flying-fox]

Mystic Sickness Part 1

This is based on @turtleblogatlast 's post about mystic sickness idea :D Hope you like it!!!

Word Count: 2178 ☆ Fandom: rottmnt ☆ Warnings: a brief mention of throwing up, nothing else i can think of ^^ ☆ AO3 Link: N/A

 Raph has had his bad mornings. He had been sick from overworking too. With how he felt today, he could tell it was a mix of both.

 

 Except it turned out there was more than that. It must be, or else why would a clone of himself stare at him like that?

 

 Raph yelped as he fell from the bed. "What the-?!"

 

 His copy didn't seem to care. It lay on his bed, not even looking at Raph. The turtle blinked in confusion. That was definitely his own ninpo copy. Why was it here, and why was it moving like that? Raph tried to focus and control it, just like he always did, but he failed. The copy still lay on the bed.

 

 He stared at him. Raph was too tired for that, not to mention how early it was-

 

 "AH-"

 

 Raph turned around. "Leo?"

 

 There was nobody else in his room though.

 

 "Is this some sort of joke?" Raph grunted. "If so, Raph's going back to bed and leavin' you to deal with today's plans alone. All day."

 

 "RAPH NO-"

 

 He turned around again, looking everywhere searching for his brother. Again, nothing.

 

 "I am really not in the mood for pranks-"

 

 Suddenly Leo appeared in front of him, "RAPH HELP I-" and disappeared.

 

 Raph looked at the empty spot where a second ago his brother stood. First his own copy, now Leo. What was going on?

 

 "RAAAAAPH!!" 

 

 Raph groaned, “WHAT IS IT DONNIE?”

 

 “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOUR COPIES DOING?!”

 

 His copies? Raph glanced at his copy on his bed before leaving his room and heading to the living room. He had many ideas, most of them nonsense considering his tired and hazy mind. But nothing could’ve prepared him for this:

 

 Many copies of himself running around, accidentally breaking some stuff, some sitting in random places... Donnie was standing at the other entrance, looking tired and angry. Pissed off even.

 

 He noticed Raph looking. “Dear brother, may you explain what is going on during such an early hour that you have decided bring out a whole army of yous?”

 

 “It is not me...” Raph mumbled as he walked towards Donnie, not being able to look away from the chaos going on in the room.

 

 “They are your copies though. Can’t you control them?” Donnie pointed out. “Genuinely asking. I am too tired to be salty.”

 

 “I tried but it is not working.” Raph tried again, failing. Then gave his full attention to Donnie, “You are tired too?”

 

 “I suspect I have caught a cold.” He nodded.

 

 “Me too. I’ve been feeling down since I woke up.”

 

 “Groan. It better not be some sort of illness.” Donnie said.

 

 “As long as it is not rat flu, it will be okay.” Raph reassured.

 

 Donnie shuddered. “Rat flu. Let’s forget about the failure and move on to our current problem.”

 

 “Cold or them?” Raph asked.

 

 “...” Donnie stared at nothing before answering. A usual sign of Donnie being sick. “Yes.”

 

 “Okay, okay. Sickness. Leo has the most knowledge about this.” Raph said out loud. “I’ll go and ask him.”

 

 “Mhm.” Donnie had already begun walking towards the kitchen.

 

 Raph started walking towards Leo’s room, ignoring the messy hallway. Since when did they have all that stuff and who was responsible for this mess? Probably his clones... When he reached to the room, “Leo?” he called. He received no reply. Raph didn’t bother asking again. He walked in, not caring about Leo’s upcoming protests. Except there was none because Leo wasn’t in there. “What?..”

 

 Oh. Right, he had seen Leo for a second in his room for a second. He had appeared and disappeared as if teleporting. But Raph didn’t remember seeing his katanas. He glanced around and saw the swords near his bed on the ground. He was right.

 

 What did this mean?.. What was going on this morning?? Raph began getting annoyed with whatever was going on. Not to mention how anxious he started feeling not finding Leo in his room. Where was he?

 

 Maybe he was with Mikey. Maybe they were doing some stupid prank.

 

 Raph a bit faster from before left the room and began walking towards Mikey’s room. Normally Mikey would be up, making breakfast. But if he and Donnie were right, he should be in his room resting. As he stepped into Mikey’s room, he hopped to see him and Leo doing some sort of mischief.

 

 Instead, he found Mikey levitating, golden chains around him, asleep.

 

 “What the shell?!”

 

 Mikey yawned, blinking. “Mmmmmorning Raphie!” He smiled, being the morning person he was. “Is there any possibility you let me sleep a bit more?”

 

 “Mikey, you are flying.”

 

 “What?”

 

 “Look around, Mike.”

 

 Mikey did. In a second his expression shifted from confused to shocked to excited to panicked. “I AM FLYING!”

 

 “THAT’S WHAT I AM SAYING!” Raph yelled. “GET BACK TO THE GROUND NOW.”

 

 “I DON’T KNOW HOW TO!”

 

 “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?!”

 

 “Boys, what is all this yelling for?..” Raph heard Splinter’s voice come from behind. Then he heard a gasp. “ORANGE WHY ARE YOU LEVIATING?”

 

 “I have no idea.” Mikey answered. He noticed the chains around him, “Oooh I also have no idea what these are but cool.”

 

 Raph took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. First things first. Pops, have you seen Leo?”

 

 “Uh- no. No, I haven’t.” Splinter turned his attention to Raph, less surprised and more worried.

 

 “Mikey, did you see him?”

 

 “Nope!”

 

 So Leo was lost. Don’t panic Raph. He is probably somewhere around here, he thought. “I’ll text April.”

 

 “Red, is everythin—”

 

 Suddenly, just like how it happened in Raph’s room, Leo appeared in the room. He looked very puzzled, tired, annoyed, and a bit panicked. Before Raph could be sure, Leo disappeared again.

 

 His voice, however, was heard from another room. “COME ON!!”

 

 And then from another room, they heard him again. Raph couldn’t make up the words but he sounded irritated.

 

 “Was that Leo?” Mikey asked.

 

 “Yes.” Raph answered, still very confused.

 

 “Where did he go?”

 

 “I don’t know.”

 

 “Boys, what is going on?” Splinter sounded serious.

 

 Raph sadly didn’t have a proper answer. “That’s what I am trying to figure out.” He sighed. “Can you check Donnie? He is in the kitchen and said that he felt sick too.”

 

 “I will be waiting you two there.” Splinter nodded. “I’ll look around for Blue on the way.”

 “CAN SOMEONE—”

 

 Leo’s voice came from his room.

 

 “—HELP ME—”

 

 This time from somewhere closer.

 

 “I think I can handle him.” Raph said.

 

 Splinter smiled, “I’ll make you chicken soup.”

 

 “Thanks Dad.”

 

 As Splinter left, Raph reached for Mikey. Grabbing his blanket, he pulled him closer to him. Mikey watched him with sleepy eyes. “Raphie, can we sleep more?”

 

 “No, Big Man. We need to help Leo first, and then we need to eat something.” Raph said softly, walking out of the room meanwhile. Mikey huffed but didn’t protest. Raph decided to find Leo following his voice: “Leo? Where are you?”

 

 “RAPH! Bathroom—” Suddenly his voice was cut. Then continued from somewhere else, “Never mind. I-” Another pause. The Leo calmly yelled, “I’ll go insane.”

 

 “What’s happening?” Raph shouted.

 

 “I keep teleported-” “-without wanting-” “-to every second.”

 

 “That sounds bad.”

 

 “You don’t say-” “DONNIE IS THA-” “THAT WAS MY MUG!!”

 

 At least Leo didn't teleport out of the lair.

 

 "I think we should call Draxum." Mikey hummed, somehow unbothered.

 

 "Wha- why?" Splinter's reaction hadn't changed even after everything. 

 

 "He knows about mystic stuff." Mikey said lazily. It reminded Raph of how he was when he had eaten one of the poisoned pizza puffs.

 

 "You think this is because of a mystic problem?" Raph asked.

 

 "I know it is because of a mystic problem." Mikey confirmed. 

 

 "How?"

 

 "Can't you feel it? Hm?"

 

 Raph wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel. Donnie leaned towards them, goggles on his eyes. "He is right. There is something wrong with our mystic energies." 

 

 "I'm calling Draxum." Raph announced. 

 

 "Already on it." Donnie interrupted. He, from out of nowhere, had found his phone and was calling the yokai. 

 

 "Please tell me you're solving this." Leo appeared next to Raph, not looking good.

 

 "We're calling Draxum." Mikey smiled.

 

 "Oh good, because I- hrk-" 

 

 Luckily before he could throw up, he disappeared. 

 

 "We need you here. No, we didn't put the world in danger. We aren't dying either. No, we aren't calling you so you can cook us your new abomination. Abomination as a strange creature made of food, i.e. Sloppy Joseph. No, I'm not talking about your food. Yes. There's a problem with our ninpo. Okay, goodbye." Donnie put the phone on the table. "He'll be here soon." 

 

 "Good… Donnie, what's that?" Raph pointed at the tech that wasn't on the table a second ago. 

 

 "Ah. A piece for my new project. Why?"

 

 "When did you bring it here?"

 

 "...I didn't."

 

 "What do you mean I didn't?" 

 

 Donnie raised a brow. "I didn't bring it here. I was thinking about it and it appeared." 

 

 "Appeared?"

 

 Donnie shrugged.

 

 "Since when do things appear when you think of them, Dee?" Raph questioned.

 

 "That's a talent of mine, dear Raphael. My ninpo is very unique in comparison to yours–" Donnie began explaining.

 

 "Since when do they appear without you controlling them?" Raph corrected his own question.

 

 "Ah. Yes, that would be… since last night." 

 

 "And you didn't think of telling us?" Raph was losing his patience, to be honest.

 

 "I didn't think it would be a problem." Donnie admitted.

 

 Raph wanted to break the table. "You thought it wouldn't be a problem." He repeated. "And what if you accidentally create something deadly?" 

 

 "Come on Raph, he creates something deadly all the time." Mikey chimed in. "Like pipe bombs." 

 

 "Mikey, don't!" But Raph was too late. A pipe bomb was formed next to Donnie's mug. 

 

 "None of us is dumb enough to use a pipe bomb, we will be fine." Donnie stated. Then took a sip from his tea. 

 

 Raph wasn't sure about that. He trusted his brothers, but he also knew how much of a trouble they could be. 

 

 Leo appeared among them again. "Dee, I'd suggest you not enter your lab." He said tiredly. 

 

 "Nardo, what did you do to my lab?" Donnie looked at him with a mixture of horror and anger.

 

"Adiós." He made a peace sign and disappeared again.

 

 Donnie immediately opened his phone to check the cameras inside his laboratory. Raph could see the fury in his eyes. Maybe Leo was lucky to be teleported every second, now that he got on Donnie's hit list. 

 

 Splinter put bowls of chicken soup in front of them, "You boys look terrible."

 

 "Thanks." Raph sighed.

 

 "You'll feel much better after my delicious soup." He said. "Now, only if Blue could join us…"

 

 The soup was warm and smelled delicious. Raph couldn't wait to taste it. He would already, if he hadn't noticed his copy coming in. Ninpo Raph walked towards them, stood by them, then took the pipe bomb and ran.

 

 "What the-?! HEY STOP!" Raph got up and ran after him, leaving Mikey to float again.

 

 He chased his clone back to the living room, but it was hard to catch yourself. Especially in a room full of yourself. He stopped, trying to find which one was the right clone. When he did, he was leaving towards the bathroom. Raph didn't waste time following him. Before he reached him though, someone made his copy trip and fell. 

 

 "This yours, Boss Man?" Leo asked.

 

 "Yep." And with a punch, poof the copy disappeared. "Thanks."

 

 "Save me some soup." Leo said before getting teleported again. 

  

 "I will." Raph sighed, taking the pipe bomb from the ground. He could hide it in his room for now. Then go back and drink some soup so he can focus on the situation better when Draxum arrives. Perfect plan.

 

 He quickly walked to his room, found a nice place to hide it, and proceeded to grab his mask and stuff. Then he remembered the transceivers Donnie had put on their gear. They could use this to communicate with Leo! If only Leo can stand in a place for a moment. Raph still thought it was worth a try, so he went to Leo’s room to get his stuff as well before returning to the kitchen.

 

 Donnie had dozed off on the table with a few weapons and tech things that Raph didn’t know their names around him. Mikey was still floating, also sleeping. He seemed to be fine though. Splinter was enjoying his own bowl of soup. Raph sat down and finally tasted the soup. It was delicious, as always, even though it wasn’t warm anymore.

 

 “Did you boys mess up with somebody evil again?” Splinter asked Raph.

 

 “No, we were training and patroling the past few days.” He answered. “That’s what I don’t understand too.”

 

 “Hmm...”

 

 “Don’t worry, Pops. I am sure it is something Draxum can explain. Then we can fix it all at once and then rest.”

[blasphemecel]

Shidou Ryuusei — Like Teeth

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.6k TYPE: Humor, Feelings realization, idfk what this even is but i threw in some surprise fluff at the end WARNING(S): Nsfw jokes but cmon it's shidou you gotta forgive me for finding sex funny this once, play-fighting that doesn't seem very playful, canon-typical mental illness, canon-typical unnecessary dramatics, canon-typical overly intense soccer rivalry NOTE: Reader is a part of the blue lock project but no concrete gender identity or pronouns are specified

It starts like this:

After the freaky nerd from the ceremony whose name you hadn’t bothered remembering finishes with his instructions about this game of tag you’re supposed to be playing, the biggest asshole in the room immediately targets you once he realizes you’re the one with the highest number on your jersey. You trap the ball with ease and then kick it straight into his face with as much power as you can muster, knocking him out, the force sending him reeling.

While the timer continues ticking, no one dares to make a move or even exhale too loudly in your presence, scared you might take their bodily functions as a challenge to your authority. Like every opponent before, they’ve submitted to you.

You stare at the ceiling, your lips set in a tight line, the despair settling in. Just this once, you want to meet someone who can excite you, and you’d hoped this ridiculous place could help.

___

As the top scorer of your pathetic excuse for a team — though behind your back they call you ‘the top red card holder,’ but considering how far up your own ass your head is, you’re yet to pay attention to this remark — by the second qualifying match they already know to pass the ball to you no matter what. In your defense, you’re not any more tyrannical than the average douche in this competition. It’s not your fault they’re too worthless to do what you can.

Two of the opponents are blocking your path, and you shuffle the ball between your feet trying to get the positioning right while they attempt to steal it. Everyone is making noises, but they never mean anything to you. You back up once you’ve felt that the stars have aligned and strike the ball through the tight opening between their bodies, taking the first goal of the match.

“You’re good!”

You blink, the words bringing you out of your perpetual trance to look at the guy in front of you. He starts rambling some nonsense about explosions and how he’s going to beat the ass of anyone who can’t give a good show and you think at some point he has started finding new roundabout ways of saying that he basically wants to bust a nut on the field. It is absurd. You understand it down to your bones, except maybe the last thing. For the first time, everything is coming into view. You can make out his face and you can hear his words and you see your teammates in your peripheral vision. How you didn’t notice him before, what with the hairstyle and his cartoonishly beautiful eyelashes, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been more present during a game before.

“Alright, gyaru,” you say. “Show me how you explode.”

“Gyaru?” he tilts his head, grin wide like a demon’s. “You think I’m pretty?”

Though Jinpachi Ego officially writes down what ensues as a round-robin tourney in his notes, the spectators (meaning literally anyone else who was in your physical proximity) would describe it as ‘The Longest Dick Measuring Contest They’ve Ever Seen.’

The way he moves fascinates you like nothing else. Just like you, he is a creature of instinct. You both circle around while trying to score or steal the ball, only to find that stopping the other is impossible.

After this match, two monsters glance at each other and think, ‘Maybe there is someone out here who understands me.’

___

There are still jitters in your veins. You can’t sleep. Is it ridiculous and maybe parasocial that the thought of ‘I want to see this guy again’ is keeping you up at night? Yeah, probably. You also feel like a creep lying down in the dark with your eyes wide open, yearning to bulldoze through something like you do when you want to calm down.

Frustrated, you slip out of the futon and leave the room while the rest of them are sleeping. The hallways let out ominous flickers, trailing after you while your steps echo and bounce off the walls. This building looks like a prison, you think, though you hadn’t noticed before.

You hate to think that your desperation is so strong you’ve developed the power of manifestation overnight, but when you step inside of the training room, he’s already there. He doesn’t have the decency to seem surprised at your entrance when you close in on him. His arms are crossed and he has a smug aura about him, but for the love of everything you cannot comprehend why he’s standing there doing nothing. At least you planned on being productive when you headed here with your plan to obliterate whatever you could get your hands on. Just so happens it’s him that you found.

The weird silence stretches, but it doesn’t bother either of you because as it turns out you have the same kind of social incompetence. You realize you don’t even know the guy’s name, but he declares, “You really came.”

You don’t really know what he means by this considering you didn’t arrange to meet here beforehand, but he’s saying it as if this was some unanimous agreement you came to earlier. “Waiting for me in the middle of the night all by yourself, handsome?”

“Every cell in my body was calling out to yours,” he says as if it explains anything. His expression is bordering on maniacal. Anyone else might’ve realized this was a bad idea, read the warning signs, but to someone like you who has lived their entire life sleepwalking, the excitement of such a strange encounter is addictive. “We’re the same… That’s why you felt it.”

“In that case, please avoid summoning me so late,” you say. “I value good sleep.”

He cannot tell if you’re just taking the piss or if you’re on the same page, but it’s rare that anyone entertains him when he says anything of that nature. To him, this is an amusing turn of events. “They say you’re some kinda unhinged delinquent. ‘s that true?”

“Sure, if that’s what you call putting a few sorry bums down in their place after they crossed me.”

“So you know how to scrap too, right?”

Right now, Shidou Ryuusei is like a kid at the candy store. You can’t discern any reason for him to swing at you, but he does, smiling all the while. After you respond to his provocation with a duck and a kick of your own — you avoid using your hands for anything if you can avoid it, finding it beneath you — you decide to consider this your friendly introduction to each other.

If he wants to coax the crazy out of you with his punches, then you’re trying to get him to settle down every time you retaliate, daring him to pipe down and turn boring just like everyone else. You’re not sure for how long you duke it out, but at some point you grow sloppy, and the last you remember of it before succumbing to your exhaustion is the last round of boneless slaps you offered each other.

___

Two of your teammates hatefully watch you and Shidou from across the cafeteria. You’re a selfish and insensitive person, of course, they know that. Before this, you’d always eat alone, but ever since the match where they were forced to watch you two flex on them, you’d hang out with him. Still, “I can’t believe [L/n] would rather have a romantic dinner with the only goddamn bastard in this goddamn building who gets better meals than share with us! I’m sick of this natto.”

“You’re telling me,” the other boy says, sadly eating a radish.

This must be an advanced form of psychological torture administered by Ego himself. Even if you don’t notice the audience, Shidou seems to be reveling in the negative attention. They can only watch and drool while you two push at each other and try to steal ingredients. At some point, you put Shidou in a suplex, making him cough out something. Then he wrestles his way out of your maneuver and shoves your head into your plate, forces you up again, and licks the food off your face while you scowl at him.

“I’d hardly call that a romantic dinner, though.”

“A guy from blondie’s team said he caught them asleep on top of each other in the training facility once.”

“Do you think they’re-?!”

“Oh my god, they’re…!”

They scream and point at each other and then hug as if traumatized. To add insult to injury, your voice rings from afar, “Are your eyes really pink? There’s no way that’s natural,” while some of the sauce still sticks to your skin.

“What? You think I’m some kinda fake?” asks Shidou, apparently offended.

“I’m gonna expose you, trust.”

How are you blowing everyone in your cell out of the water in terms of performance? You have to be the dumbest person in this entire wing.

___

“I want you,” he says.

Granted, this is out of context, but you still find that the words have some effect on you. But this won’t do no matter how hard you want to give in. With the first stage of the second selection cleared, you can’t continue as you are. You’ve been complacent in your talent. To expand your abilities, you need to observe whatever other powerful players there are in here instead of still chasing after him. Even the wet wipes on your old team have started catching up.

Besides, you’d always thought your appeal to him is as an opponent, someone who he wants on the other side of the field to face off against, and now Shidou is demanding to work together with you.

“I was in a coma before I met you,” you say. He pinches his eyebrows together, which is probably the first time you’ve seen him pull such an expression. To think you have the ability to utter something so strange, it weirds out even Shidou. “You pulled me out of it, but now I need to see other things, too.”

“If you tell me you wanna go watch other guys, I might get jealous.” Despite the initial waver, he sticks his tongue out at you, trying to be playful like always.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Shidou grabs you by the collar of your jersey and pushes you against the wall. You blink at him, finding this an inappropriate time for a spar seeing as this is regular enough for him, but then he invades your personal space in a way which doesn’t feel particularly combative, your noses brushing against each other, and he blatantly glances at your lips before closing his eyes. You don’t think about it when you pull him in by the neck, your body reacting to his cues.

It’s not even that great, he’s not really being effective at what he’s doing, mashing your mouth against his almost pointlessly, teeth clashing and all before moving far too quickly onto the tonguing part of making out. Your nails are digging into his neck and his hold against your waist is tight enough to bother you. There’s a latent aggression in it like there is in any other interaction between you two.

And you don’t enjoy this for the surface-level sensations but rather for the strange tightness in your chest, the headrush, the closeness where somehow he’s enveloping you and you’re enveloping him at the same time and it feels like you’re about to fuse. You don’t want to let go yet, maybe under the assumption that if you keep kissing him, he’s going to be polite and return your breath to you.

Steps come near the entrance of the hallway and then, “Ah! Uhhh…”

You snap out of it and push Shidou off of you. He has the gall to look offended, glaring.

There’s some puny kid with a buzz cut, standing there with his confusion clear on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, uh… whatever it was you were doing!” he says in a panic, waving his hands back and forth.

Yeah, that’s a good point. What the fuck were you doing? You just jumped at each other on instinct, ruled by some bizarre, mysterious need.

It must be because the air is so charged between you. Shidou is always in overdrive and he has a penchant for pulling you into his madness. You’re always doing something when you’re together — trading blows, trying to show the other up in soccer, saying heavy-handed things for no reason — and now a moment of stagnancy happened and you both turned into even bigger morons than usual.

He didn’t think about it either, you’re sure. Besides, even if you’re a crazy bastard on the field, you’re not like him. Shidou will meet even stronger players once he advances and he’ll move onto his next obsession. This doesn’t mean anything, at least not to him, you’re convinced.

You untangle yourself from him and ram your shoulder into his as goodbye before lamely saying, “I’m going now,” and offering a nonchalant wave.

He frowns before kicking imaginary dust off the floor. “Sure, fine. Be this way!”

Igaguri isn’t super puritanical or anything. Yeah, he grew up in a temple and all, but seeing two people kiss doesn’t offend his sensibilities. What freaked him out was how you managed to make it look like a fight while you were going at it, and like, he knows the hallway was deserted before he came out of thin air, but this is still a public place. Whatever happened to shame?

And now he has to be in the same vicinity as this scary guy who’s glaring daggers at the spot you were standing in, vein bursting out of his forehead and all, as if you ruined his life by walking out of here. He looks like a manchild who’s sulking because his mom forgot to make him chicken nuggies. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down his forehead.

___

Ever since the beginning, Isagi has been honing his technique, always hungry to add another skill to his repertoire. Rin and Shidou have no synergy; fine, he thinks, it’s not like he really even wants to set up a goal using them. It’s not enough to satisfy him anymore, not after the last match. He’d much rather score himself.

But the problem with the spatial awareness he has developed is that he can’t turn it off at will, or say ‘la-la-la’ and ignore something to focus on what’s important.

Well, being on the same stage as you and Shidou has to be the worst thing of all time. He wants to smell a goal for himself, but the most likely chemical reaction he can predict is one between you two, and you’re not even on the same team. It’s like a ticking time bomb, like those explosions Shidou has been vaguely rambling about, and it permeates the air.

You’ve started adapting his bodily control and precision, almost coming close to scoring with your back on the net. And Shidou has managed to pull off one of ridiculously tight angled shots to break through a two-on-one, passing the ball to Rin. If the phenomenon Isagi observed and achieved before is ‘consumption,’ then he has a first row seat to watch you two cannibalize each other.

The most unfortunate thing is the chase. The ball will come to you, but Shidou will steal it. He’ll be in the air ready to strike, but you’ll sabotage him from below. Isagi recognizes this as an unconscious prediction — on a molecular level, you know where the other one will be, and you’ll race there. It’s like he’s watching both of you swing neon signs and desperately scream ‘Please look at me!’ and overall beg for attention while also stubbornly refusing to make eye contact in fear of rejection.

It is revolting. He wants to gag.

Sure, Ego talked about how luck is a skill and how a pro takes advantage of it, but he never mentioned what to do when someone on his team is living through a low-rated soap opera episode with an opponent. With all of the emotional constipation among the participants of this godforsaken project, he’s sure this won’t be the last time he’ll need it.

___

Sitting down in the middle of practice isn’t productive, but you’re ‘taking a break,’ by which you mean you want to snap someone’s neck. It’s been boring again, ever since Shidou started disregarding your presence. You’re even on the same team now and it’s like you’re no better than air to him.

Of course, you’d predicted he’d find someone new to excite him. You just hadn’t anticipated it’d hurt your feelings. Why do you care, anyway? You should be used to this. The soccer you’ve played has always been selfish and lonely, and moping and jealousy are below you.

But during the match against U-20, you saw him look at Itoshi Sae the same way he first looked at you on the day you met, spouting nonsense with his unique expert-level yappery. And you don’t like that. You don’t like it at all.

He’s off doing his own thing again when you search for him with your eyes. You stand up.

And then you don’t think at all, breaking out into a sprint at full speed.

You’re behind him in the matter of a minute or so, slipping your foot between his and kicking the ball overhead so it lands behind him. He bristles, perhaps at your unwanted company, but you’ve already turned on your heel to run in the other direction.

You’re dribbling the ball when you glance over your shoulder. He’s onto you, trademark grin on his face. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but all that comes to mind is, It doesn’t matter if it’s going way too fast or way too hard anymore. Just chase after me one more time.

You’re almost all the way over to the other goal, maintaining your lead, when Shidou kicks the ball after lunging around your side. It slips off half-assedly, but you don’t have much time to mock him for his technique because he grabs you by the wrists and pins you down, straddling you to the ground.

“That’s a foul,” you say, displeased.

“I don’t care.” His smile is so big you feel like he’s going to need to visit an orthodontist after you’re done here. The annoying strands of hair he keeps loose are hovering near your face, taunting you.

Your eyes dart again with your head in the fake grass and you see it straying off. “And the ball didn’t make it. To be honest, you were sloppy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You… don’t?”

There’s that sick fluttering feeling in your stomach again and your heart kicks against your chest painfully. Your cheeks are growing warm and you feel uncomfortable by the heat with Shidou so close to you. What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, he didn’t even tell you a line or anything. He just said ‘I don’t care’ twice. That’s not game! You need to get a grip.

“Yeah, why should I? I’ve got you right where I want you now.”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. If making you look like an idiot is his revenge to you for making him mad, then fine, you’re going to pretend you can’t make your way out of his grip with ease.

“You can’t give me a big dopamine hit like that and pull away,” he says, leaning closer. By this point you really can’t see much apart from his big ass head right in your face. Does he even know what he’s implying to you while looking at you straight-on? Does he realize you know his weird euphemisms are all figures of speech for whatever makes him horny?

“What do you mean?”

“Tellin’ me all that romantic stuff and running away…” Shidou narrows his eyes as if the memory is enough to annoy him.

You blink. Oh. You thought he was throwing a temper tantrum because you refused to team up with him. But once again, you’re unimpressed. “So did that turn you on or what? I don’t get it.”

“Well, I’d put it in other words, like, let’s say, hypothetically, maybe you made me explode because you’re an oxidizer and I’m an organic-”

“Ok, I know, but I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here-”

He retreats and rolls away from you, allowing you to sit up again, so you cease talking without reaching the point you were trying to make. It flies out of your head anyway when he links his hand with yours, staring at you, seemingly subdued now. You’re not sure why you’re both acting like shy middle schoolers now while indulging in something so chaste considering you’ve done way more indecent things together, but you intertwine your fingers and offer him a smile. The sight catches him off-guard.

Before he can bask in another achievement (this time being the first person to make you express any kind of joy when everyone knows you’re one distant asshole), a ball hits him straight on the forehead.

Without any preamble, Rin deems it fit to announce his presence by saying, “Your lukewarm displays are appalling. You should both just die.”

You stare at him and then at each other and burst out in laughter, pointing at him. Though you finish your laughing fits at about the same time, you spur on another one by asking, “Do you think he even knows what lukewarm means?”

“No, I seriously doubt it!”

Rin thinks to ask you how come you think it’s chill when your shitty boyfriend or whatever he is says the grossest things imaginable, but suddenly it’s a problem when he wants to say his favorite word, though he doesn’t want to seem too offended or otherwise invested.

___

Im sorry if this is in any way contradictory or shitty or sucks balls I havent slept in 4 days except for a one-off 3 hour nap and wrote this while possessed. Maybe ill sleep again at some point and this will be the worst thing ive ever seen and ill have to delete it. God forbid.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 ao3

Eddie goes to slip out for some air when El starts to doze against Steve’s shoulder.

As he reaches the door, Steve calls for him with a soft, “Wait a sec.”

He turns to see Steve trying to sit up a little, still mindful not to jostle El from where she now sits on the edge of the bed.

“Wake me up if I’m asleep when you get back? I don’t wanna miss Joyce.”

He says it casually, like it’s nothing, but Eddie can hear the trust in his voice.

“Yeah, ‘course I will,” Eddie says, and manages a genuine if subdued smile before he leaves the room.

Outside, he feels like he can let go a little, sighing loudly. It’s starting to rain, but he welcomes it, tilts his face upwards to focus on the sensation of water hitting his skin—hoping that maybe it will somehow chase away the memory of Steve’s words.

You shouldn’t have—

That’s different.

Eddie presses his hands against his eyes, sighs again.

“You okay there?”

He lowers his hands, blinks to adjust to the light.

Joyce Byers is sat on a bench smoking a cigarette, the overhang of the hospital roof sheltering her from the rain. She pats the space beside her in invitation.

He sits down hesitantly. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”

She smiles like she’s not convinced, blows out smoke a little shakily. She takes another drag, then says, “Hop’s gone for Round Two with the doctors. We want Steve to get a discharge note as soon as possible, you know? I just…” She sighs. “Just needed a minute.”

“He’ll be okay, right?” Eddie blurts out, can’t stop a note of anxiety from creeping in. Embarrassingly, his voice trembles right at the end.

Joyce immediately reaches across and squeezes his knee; her hand is small and warm. “Oh, yes, he’s—I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to make you worry.” She finishes the cigarette, stubs it out, and meets Eddie’s gaze reassuringly as she speaks. “He’s recovering, we know that for sure. Jim… Jim talked to him, and he’s probably in more pain than he’d ever let on, but we’re—trust that we’re ready for that, okay? We’re not gonna let him suffer in silence.”

There’s a fierce determination in her voice, and it takes the edge off Eddie’s worry—soothed by the thought that Steve does have people fighting for him.

Joyce draws back her hand, rubs briefly at the side of her face.

Eddie can’t stop himself from noticing, from asking. He never could. “Are you okay?”

She drops her hand, smiles at him. “Oh, you’re sweet. I’m all right, just…” Her eyes go off into the middle distance for a moment, and he is reminded of the snatches he saw of her around town three years ago, when people would sigh patronisingly: That poor woman.

“They had a whole file on Will, you know? So many damn papers, all these charts and monitoring, and, ‘Oh, isn’t this fascinating,’ and…”

Eddie inhales sharply, glad he’s already sitting down. There’s still gaping holes in his knowledge, he knows that Dustin gave him a hasty summary—needs must and all that, just glossing past it with an It all started when Will disappeared. Hearing it from Joyce like this is different, makes him reckon again with the sheer magnitude of it; and he feels ill at the thought of a very young Will Byers being studied.

“But when I cornered them today, it was… they barely had half a page on Steve.” She exhales forcefully. “Cowards. They thought they could get away with it.”

“With what?” Eddie says, already knowing that he won’t like the answer.

“They’re trying to run,” Joyce replies shortly. “They’re getting rid of evidence. I think they thought—hoped—that Steve would slip through the cracks.”

Eddie’s breath catches at that, and Joyce grips his knee again.

“Hey, listen to me. We’re not letting that happen. We’ve got him, okay?”

Eddie nods. “O-okay.”

“I’d better head up and see him.” Joyce stands, and then she just looks at him. “Eddie, you’re—you’ve done so much, you know? Thank you.”

Eddie can’t bite his tongue. “You don’t even know me,” he says, and he’s not sure himself of what he means, if it’s an accusation or… He’s used to murmurs, whispers, suspicion.

But Joyce’s eyes are shining with something like acceptance. She smiles, says, “I know enough,” like it’s easy.

And when she leaves, Eddie just sits with that. Breathes it in. Lets himself trust.

-

He crosses paths with El and Hopper as he heads back inside. He does a feigned double take in the foyer when El spots him, then crosses his eyes.

El sticks out her tongue.

Hopper doesn’t notice him; there’s a purpose to his step, car keys in hand.

Eddie lets them go.

-

Steve doesn’t need to be woke up; Eddie can already hear him talking as he approaches the room. The door is shut, but the corridor is empty, so silent that Eddie can make out words, muffled but comprehensible. Joyce.

“—so sorry, Steve, we went to the cabin first, and the phone kept cutting out, and then Hop got sick so we wanted to hold off, just in case it made you—”

“No, no, it’s fine, I wasn’t expecting—”

There’s a chair just outside the room—Eddie lowers himself into it and waits.

They talk for a while. Eddie zones out for part of it as Joyce does most of the talking, references to Russia that mostly go right over his head.

But then Steve speaks again, and there’s a discomfort in his voice that has Eddie straightening in his seat.

“I know you paid to fix the window, Joyce, please let me—”

“No, no, that’s not—”

“—pay you back, I can—”

“Steve,” Joyce insists, and it’s said kindly, but Eddie can sense the steel core behind it. “No. I don’t want you worrying about anything like that. It’s not a problem, okay?”

There’s a pause. In the silence, it’s almost like Eddie can feel Steve grappling for words.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I probably left the place a mess,” Steve says quietly.

“No, not at—”

“And, um, if you’re using the dryer, you’ve gotta—I don’t know what I did, but it’s not broken-broken, you just need to really slam it, and then it should—”

“All right,” Joyce interrupts gently. “Steve, it’s—thank you for—”

“No, you don’t need to—the house is always open if the kids need it, they know where the spare key is.”

“Still, it’s—it’s really kind of you to…” Joyce trails off, and Eddie wonders what she’s thinking. What she’s noticed.

Please see him. Reach him.

“It’s good for the kids to have that space,” Joyce says. “They’ve really needed it.”

“And they’re, um.” Steve’s voice wavers. “They’re all okay?”

“Oh, honey. Yeah, they’re all just fine, they can’t wait for you to—”

“I just—” Steve breathes in and out shakily. When he speaks again, his voice starts to rise in pitch, fighting tears. “I just needed them to be okay.”

Quick footsteps. Steve makes a small, desperate kind of gasp. Eddie does not need to see to know that Joyce is holding him.

“Everyone’s okay. You—you did so well, you kept them all safe.” She sighs. “Oh, sweetie, you’ve been so brave.”

And Steve quietly falls apart.

-

When Joyce leaves, she sweeps Eddie up in a brief, strong hug, almost lifting him right out of the chair. It reminds him a little of Nancy.

“They think I can leave in a couple of days,” Steve tells him. The only giveaway of earlier on is the blotches around his eyes—now he seems to breathe a little easier.

Eddie hopes that whatever strings Joyce and Hopper have pulled, it warrants Steve being given much more than half a fucking page.

“Tomorrow, could you, um—like, would you mind just picking up some clothes from mine? Just wanna look, uh, as normal as—”

“Normal? Think that ship sailed a long time ago, Harrington.”

Steve scoffs through a laugh. “You just don’t appreciate art when you see it.”

“Want me to iron the polos, too?”

“Now let’s not go crazy,” Steve says, smile broadening.

And it’s only when he goes to sprawl on the couch again that Eddie notices it’s pressed up against Steve’s bed once more—that Steve, at some point, must have asked for it to be moved back.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

You and your boyfriend Usopp taking care of a child would involve...

Usopp x reader. NSFW!!

*****

🤎 You and Usopp are childhood friends; you have been a couple since you were barely old enough to distinguish between affection and friendship, and you joined Luffy’s crew together. Despite the occasional fight and misunderstanding, your relationship is incredibly close, and has helped you to survive the various family losses you both experienced; neither of you even expected to become pirates, but you are confident that, whatever the future may have in store for you, you will face it together. 

🤎 One day, after an afternoon spent shopping with Nami, you return to the harbour where the ship is docked, looking forward to the moment you’ll show Usopp your purchases, and find the boys on the deck, gathered around something you can’t see, an animated discussion taking place among them. “Hi! What are you doing?” you ask happily, and when they see you the boys part silently, allowing you to see your boyfriend, who looks like a deer in the headlights… 

🤎 … and has a baby in his arms. A baby who looks just like him, and who is happily snuggling against his chest. 

🤎 For a whole minute you’re left speechless, your heart breaking in a million pieces as you still can’t believe Usopp, a guy so loyal to the people he loves, could have done something so terrible. “Alright; who was she?” you ask in the end, your arms to your chest, and your boyfriend, who has anxiously been waiting for your reaction, blinks, taken aback. “Who is who?” “The woman you betrayed me with, Usopp; it must have happened while we were still in Syrup, which means I probably knew her, and I’m gonna go back to smash her face…” “W-what? (name), I never cheated on you! I never could!” he exclaims, flabbergasted “This child is not mine!” “... he isn't?” “No; he’s my cousin. Please, let me explain.” 

🤎 Partially reassured, and as the others leave you alone to discuss, you sit on the deck, Usopp next to you still holding the baby in his arms; he is very cute, you think, not last because the family resemblance with your boyfriend is really striking. Maybe, you think vaguely, this is how a son of his would look… “This is Aso. You probably don’t remember, but I had an aunt, my mom’s sister, who left the village when she was still a girl and never returned. They used to write to each other, but I never heard from her since I wrote to tell her my mom had died; I had no idea she had had a child. And then today… well, two hours ago, a man came to see me; he was a lawyer, and he told me that my aunt died, coincidentally of the same illness that took my mom away.” You silently circle Usopp’s shoulders with your arm, and he gratefully smiles at you, resting his cheek on your shoulder; you doubt he still remembers his aunt, since she left the village when he was little more than a baby, but learning of her death must have been a very unpleasant reminder of when he lost his mother. “I’m very sorry.” you murmur, and your boyfriend smiles gratefully “So… this poor baby is now an orphan, is he not?”

🤎 Aso is fortunately too young to be aware of his loss, even though he must have realised his mother is absent; he is eleven months old, your boyfriend informs you, tiny but otherwise healthy, with the same dark skin and black hair of the young man next to you. Usopp has given him his slingshot to play with, and Aso seems very focused even though the weapon’s mode of use seems to escape him. When you tentatively try to pet his hair, the child smiles at you, the lack of several teeth making the expression even more adorable. “And where is this little one’s father?” you ask, and Usopp tenses, looking guiltily at you. “Well… that’s the problem. He and my aunt were never married, and he left her and Aso when he was a newborn; the lawyer told me he did find this guy, but he refused to take Aso, not to mention is a drunkard whose main hobby is bar brawls.” You agree that is not the sort of man who could raise a child, even in the case he could be forced to take responsibility. “But then… who is going to look after Aso?” you naively ask… 

🤎 … and then the reason for your boyfriend’s guilty expression hits you. “Oh, no.” you cry, immediately alarmed “No, it’s… it’s impossible!�� Usopp, who looks even more desperate than you feel, admits he’s also terrified, but he had no other choice: the lawyer told him that since this poor child has no other relatives, he would have ended up in an orphanage if Usopp didn’t accept taking responsibility for him. That is not a viable option, not if half of the horror stories he has heard about places like that are true. “I’m so sorry, (name); but… I didn’t know what else to do! He’s my cousin, I’m all the family he has left; I couldn’t abandon him!”

🤎 You look at him, scared and uncertain but still determined to protect that little boy he didn’t even know existed, and feel whatever protest or complaint you had melt away. If someone were to ask what is the thing you love the most about Usopp you could mention his lovely smile, his warm and deep brown eyes and his sense of humour, not to mention that way he has to use only his fingers to make you climax in less than four minutes, but the truth is you have cared for Usopp, become his friend and in time fallen in love with him, because of his good heart, for his kindness and his devotion to the people he loves. If he had rejected Aso, knowing he was the baby’s last hope and even just because he’s little more than a kid himself and knows nothing about child rearing, he wouldn’t have been the person you know and care so much about. You’re terrified, yes; but at the same time you feel incredibly proud. 

🤎 “Alright; we’ll manage somehow.” you decide with a shrug, and Usopp looks at you as if he couldn’t believe his own ears. “We?” “Of course; since he’s your cousin, and he needs care, I’ll do my best to help you with Aso. Let’s see, first of all we have to make sure he has clean clothes, and find out what he can and can’t eat…” A moment later Usopp has thrown his arms around you, shaking with relief. “Oh, thank you! I really didn’t know what to do…” 

🤎 He’s welcome, you tell him, but you doubt you can be much help; even with the best intentions, there are few people less suitable for taking care of a baby than the two of you. Barely adults yourselves, neither has any experience with children, especially with one as young as Aso, and as pirates you live a dangerous life, risking your lives on the daily; what if something were to happen to the child, what if one of your enemies kidnapped him and…? You shudder to think about that. Also, a baby needs proper and regular food; at the moment your crew can barely look after itself, and the little money Usopp’s aunt has left, and that the lawyer brought him together with Aso’s clothes and toys, will not last long. 

🤎 “I don’t think we can keep him, Usopp.” you murmur gently, aware that your boyfriend has already gotten attached to the child who, having grown bored with the slingshot, has stood from his lap and is now playing with his braids “Raising a child is a challenging job for a couple of well-settled adults, but for us…” “I know; and any mistake or shortcoming, it would be Aso who pays for it.” he admits, gently holding the baby to make sure he doesn’t fall or stumble “We have to find someone who will take good care of him, but who?” You reflect on it for a while, and in the end you decide your older sister might be your best option: ten years older than you, she is married, but she and her husband never had children, no matter how dearly they wished for it. They both have good jobs, respectively as a doctor and a nursery teacher, and are good-hearted people, with lots of love to give; raising Aso might be the best thing for all three of them. Usopp, who knew your sister before she moved away from Syrup, nods slowly. “That’d be good.” he admits “But are you sure your sister and her husband will accept taking care of a child who is not theirs?”

🤎 You use your Den Den Mushi to call your sister, and then return to Usopp, who has moved with Aso in the boys’ cabin; your boyfriend had taken some wooden cubes from the child’s bag, but suddenly you see him gasp, lift Aso in his arm to smell him, and look up at you, alarmed. “We have a poop emergency!” Usopp carries Aso to the bathroom, while you retrieve a nappy and a clean pair of trousers from the child’s bag; in the meantime Aso has started crying, but fortunately he allows you to take his clothes off to clean him. “Why isn’t he wearing a nappy?” Usopp groans “Gods, I need a clothespin…” The smell that has already filled the room is abominable, so you open the window and then find a plastic bag for the dirty nappy; in the meantime, Usopp is using a wet washcloth to clean the child’s delicate skin. “Here we go… you know, young man, that there are some giant birds on an island in the South Blue that produce so much poop, from afar it looks like mountains? If you think yours smells, imagine that!” Aso clearly can’t understand what Usopp is saying, but it’s like his voice has hypnotised him; he listens, open-mouthed, as your boyfriend manages to spin an epic tale about a brave warrior of the sea fighting the giant birds to save a pretty princess called (name), and in the meantimes manages to put the nappy on him. In the meantime, you have washed Aso’s trousers in the shower, holding your breath longer than you ever had; in the end you share a smile, while the child, now clean and dressed, raises his tiny arms, babbling animatedly and making you understand he wants to be picked up… by you.

🤎 Usopp smiles. “Oh? The lovely miss (name) has enchanted you, little cousin? You have good taste, but unfortunately she’s spoken for…” He helps you hold Aso against your chest, the child’s tiny hands grabbing at the fabric of your shirt; you don’t remember ever being close to such a young child, but it feels… nice, and the way he naturally rests his head against your chest does as well. You walk back to the boys’ cabin, and after you carefully lowered Aso on Usopp’s bed you tell him that while your sister and her husband can’t very well decide to adopt a child they have never met before after a single Den Den Mushi call, they want to meet Aso to discuss the matter, and see if they and the child are compatible. “We need to tell Luffy and the others.” Usopp points out, and fortunately your captain doesn’t mind making a three week detour to reach the island your sister is now living on, so that you and Usopp can introduce her and her husband to Aso. Usopp explains the situation to the others gathered in the ship’s kitchen, while you peel an apple and then cut it in tiny pieces for Aso (you have no idea what children this young eat, but fruit can’t make him sick, can it?) and your friends don’t disappoint: while none of them have children, the story of poor little Aso, abandoned and orphaned, affects them all, and they are quick to offer their help. Relieved, you and Usopp share a smile. “So this is it; we’ll have to  of Aso until we reach your sister’s place.” he points out “It’s only three weeks; how hard can it be?”

🤎 That is, it turns out, the sort of thing one should never say, to avoid bad luck, because the next three weeks are the most hectic of your life - and that’s saying something since you’re both members of Luffy’s crew and even though, in your defence, both you and Usopp have the best intentions. First of all, you agree that the most important thing to do is to make sure Aso is fed well, and since Sanji has no experience with diners as young as him, Usopp brings the child to a large grocery shop in town, where he explains the situation to the salesgirls and begs them to help him. You, in the meantime, reach the town’s library and check as many books as you’re allowed to on everything that concerns taking care of a child, from hygiene to the frequency of his meals and the best tricks to make him fall asleep. You spend most of the night reading, poring over the books and taking notes like a couple of stressed students preparing for an exam. Neither of you was ready for a challenge like this, and you’re both terrified: but when your eyes meet over the kitchen table, you both find the strength to smile. 

🤎 The first matter you have to care about is where to make the baby sleep, since he’s still clearly too young for one of your beds, not to mention it would be extremely dangerous for him to fall. A quick trip to the shops proves even the cheapest cribs are way too expensive for you, and at first, the best thing you can do is to fold a blanket inside a drawer you have taken off the kitchen’s cupboard; to avoid keeping your friends awake at night as well, you keep it in the ship’s spare room, and you and your boyfriend take turns sleeping with Aso, to watch over him, feeding and lulling him to sleep when he wakes up during the night. On your third day, Usopp asks you to  of his little cousin and leaves, returning a few hours later, soon before you’re due to leave the island, and he has brought a gift: a beautiful wooden crib, that he carved himself after asking for spare materials at the town’s shipyard, much more comfortable than whatever temporary arrangement you could come up with. “Usopp, it’s beautiful!” you exclaim, full of admiration, while Aso doesn’t seem too interested in the results of his cousin’s efforts, but that night he falls asleep much quicker than on the previous two, and only wakes up twice before morning.

🤎 The food is another source of headaches for you and your boyfriend. Luffy suggests giving Aso lots of meat, which will undoubtedly make him grow strong like it happened to him; Zoro proposes mixing a cup of sakè to the baby’s milk to ensure he sleeps at night. You stock up on baby-appropriate food, from fruit and vegetables to cheese and protein-rich aliments, plus obviously vast quantities of milk, so much that you start wishing you had a way to bring a cow on board, that you warm up in a saucepan before Aso can drink it. One night you wake up thirsty in the middle of the night, you leave the cabin you share with Nami and, as you approach the kitchen, you hear your boyfriend’s voice; he’s walking around the barely lit room, a still sobbing but quickly quieting Aso on his naked chest, and is softly singing what you recognise as a popular Syrup lullaby. You remain at the door, silently looking at the lovely, intimate scene in front of you, and for a moment you’re struck by an image, a sort of waking dream: an older Usopp, doing the same with a baby who looks like you as well as him. He smiles when he sees you, and then nods in the direction of your cabin -it’s fine, I’ll take care of this- but you enter and finish of the little snack your boyfriend had started preparing for the baby. 

🤎 When you bring it to him, you press your lips to Usopp’s in a quick but deep kiss, which your boyfriend welcomes, happy but surprised; your relationship has always been very close and Usopp knows how much you care for him, but you’re not the most effusive of women. “To what do I owe this?” “I felt like it, that’s all. I was simply thinking that you’re a good man, and Aso is not the only one lucky to have you.”

🤎 Then there are the nappies. Like Usopp points out one day, having to hold his nose for the third time today as he sprints towards the deck with something that smells like rotting fish and sewer gas together in his hands, it’s incredible that a body as small as Aso’s can produce such a quantity of waste matter; neither of you wants the stench to spread on the whole ship, but being at sea means you can’t simply go out and toss the bin bag in the skip whenever you want. Also, no matter how carefully you put his nappy on, there are nights in which Aso somehow manages to soil the blankets and pillows of his crib. You do your best to clean them and change the baby’s nappy as often as he needs it, even though you fear your hands will never feel, and smell, clean ever again; you make sure to wash Aso’s clothes in tepid water, since one of the books you consulted explained that using high temperatures might damage the fabric and, consequently, irritate the baby’s tender skin. 

🤎 The thing that scares you the most is that when Aso is unhappy, it’s often hard to understand what is wrong with him - if he feels hungry or cold or, Gods forbid, sick, or simply wants to be held and played with. At eleven months, Usopp’s little cousin still can’t talk, which is normal according to the books, but makes it incredibly hard to communicate with him. He makes ah! and oh! sounds to express joy, contentment or wonder, delicate and cheerful sounds that remind you of a bird chirping, clapping his little hands and stomping his feet, but nothing more; and then, of course, he cries. He cries all the time. 

🤎 Mostly it’s for attention. He likes to be held and entertained, especially by Usopp or you but, if neither is available, any of your friends will suffice; Luffy and the others offer their help when needed (including Zoro, who once even tries having the baby hold his sword) but sometimes it’s so frustrating you feel like crying as well, matching the high-pitched shrieks that fill the ship day and night. You haven’t had a moment’s rest since Aso arrived among you, and no matter how nice it is to play with him and tell him stories and help him learn to walk crouching only a few feet apart, you only wish you could actually talk to him, and have the baby tell you exactly what’s wrong, what he wants, and what you can do to make him better. “I’m doing everything wrong.” you lament one day, after Aso felt sick and vomited on your best shirt, while Usopp unsuccessfully tries to comfort you; you could never tell him, but the fact he’s much better than you at taking care of the child fills you with frustration as well as admiration “I can’t help him at all; he’s uncomfortable and I can’t even understand why!” 

🤎 You probably shouldn’t take it personally, but you can’t help it. The baby is not related to you, technically speaking, he hasn’t been entrusted to you, but he might become your adoptive nephew soon, and equally important, he’s your boyfriend’s cousin. He is the most fragile, helpless creature you’ve ever met, and he has no one else in the world apart from the two of you; you never thought about having children of your own, for now at least, but for some reason you don’t mind spending most of your day, and night, taking care of Aso, sacrificing your time and your money to make sure he’s well and safe and happy. You don’t rationally decide I’m going to protect him with my life or I will be a mother to him, however short our time together will be, nor you promise it out loud; it simply happens, and when you share a relieved smile with Usopp above the crib in which the baby has finally fallen asleep, you know in your heart he feels the same.  

🤎 Not all of it is bad, fortunately; despite the losses he has already suffered, Aso is a happy, extroverted child, and within two days the whole crew is completely in love with him, almost fighting for the privilege of playing with him. Among the things the lawyer brought from his old home there’s an old pushchair with a broken wheel, that your boyfriend promptly repairs so that the two of you can take the baby out for a walk, which you quickly realise is a foolproof method to calm him down when he’s fussy. The child is curious about everything, from the shadows reflected on the walls to the music wafting out of a kiosk you stop at to buy an ice-cream; you always make sure to make him wear a hat, given the warmth of the summer days. Sometimes people stop to look at him, cooing over his adorably suspicious expression as poor Aso finds himself surrounded by strangers; you seem too young to be parents already, several people comment looking at you, with more reproach than open surprise. You usually ignore them, while Usopp doesn’t mind explaining the circumstances that have led you to look after his little cousin, except for an occasion, when a particularly disapproving old woman openly chides you for indulging your sexual urges without taking the necessary precautions, he winks at her as he nods towards you. “Well, you know, madam, when you have a woman this sexy by your side it’s hard not to jump her bones, every day of the week and twice on Sunday!” The woman blushes furiously and quickly leaves, mumbling something about the insolence of today’s youth, and you, who usually dislike discussing your private matters with strangers, beam at your boyfriend, proud of how he closed the old busybody’s mouth. 

🤎 Aso hasn’t learnt to walk properly yet, which is not unusual for his age according to the books you keep looking for in every library and bookstore you encounter; he usually crawls, quite fast as well when he wants to reach something that has attracted his attention, but the most he can do in a standing position is wobble left and right for a few seconds, and then fall on his rump. You decide to help him reach that important milestone before you can introduce him to your sister and her husband: since Usopp spends all his time playing with the child and building and repairing tools and toys for him, you’ll be teaching him to walk. 

🤎 Your training mainly involves carrying Aso to the deck, waiting for the child to stand on his own and then holding a toy or his favourite snack a few feet from him, and hoping he’ll decide to come get it. For a few days your efforts yield no results; Aso eyes the slice of apple, or the stuffed caterpillar in your hand, tries to reach for it with his chubby little hand, but only seldom he tries actually advancing to claim his prize, and when he does he invariably falls on his rump. Vaguely frustrated and disappointed, you obviously don’t take it out on the baby, preferring to gently encourage him to try again. You don’t remember when you were the one being taught to walk, obviously, but unless your parents were completely different people from what you remember of your childhood, you doubt you were treated with the patience and encouragement you now know Aso needs and deserves; not for nothing your sister decided to move as far as she could after getting married.

🤎 One day Aso finally manages to take a single wobbly step in your direction, but then he falls, forward this time, hitting his head. Five minutes later Usopp rushes to you, and to the baby crying loud enough to wake the dead that you are observing sitting on the deck, preoccupied but unmoving. “(name), what in the world are you doing? Don’t you see he’s hurt?” your boyfriend exclaims, lifting the baby in his arms and checking his head for bruises “What happened?” You don’t like the accusing tone Usopp is using, but you tell him that his little cousin simply fell as he tried walking towards you. “And why didn’t you hug him or try to console him? Don’t you hear how he cries?” “I know! But the books say it’s alright sometimes to let them cry it out, because it might help them sleep…”

🤎 You’re both stressed. Dead tired. Worried. In a word, no matter how fond you have both grown of the baby and how much joy he has brought in your lives, you are both exhausted, and that state of things leads you to do something that rarely happens otherwise: you quarrel. Usopp starts accusing you of neglecting the baby and not caring if he gets hurt; you retort telling him that you’re just trying your best to educate him, and since Aso has already stopped crying, he can’t have gotten hurt too much, can he? You hate this, the two of you scolding and reprimanding each other, despite everything that you have shared since you were little more than babies; you’ve never been as close to anyone as you are to Usopp, and you know even the most inseparable couple can fight occasionally, but suddenly you feel him far, farther than if the two of you were standing on the two opposite extremes of the Grand Line. “I’m only trying to protect him! He’s not going to always have someone to take care of him, he has to learn to dry his own tears!” you try to explain, still convinced you are in the right and frustrated Usopp can’t seem to understand. Your boyfriend shakes his head; he’s holding Aso (who has started crying even louder, as if he had perceived the tension between his two caretakers) protectively against his chest, as if to shield him from someone who could hurt him - someone like you. “Young as he is he needs to be protected, not taught! The fact that you had a horrible childhood doesn’t mean other children should as well! If you can’t take care of my cousin, what will you do when we have children of…?”

🤎 Usopp slaps his hand on his mouth, but the damage is done. You stare mutely at him, unsure of what you’re more shocked by; the fact that your boyfriend, the man who swears he loves you and knows how painful the subject is for you, has spoken so callously of your dysfunctional family situation, or that he has admitted he wants to have children with you. You also wonder which of the two topics led him to silence himself, if inappropriateness or embarrassment, but you don’t intend to ask him; you stand still, tears already filling your eyes, and “You… you bastard!” you cry, and it’s the first bad word you utter since Aso has been entrusted to your care, both you and Usopp having agreed you don’t want fuck or shit to be the baby’s first word, but for a moment you don’t care. You stomp away, deaf to Usopp’s begging you to stop and listen; you lock yourself in the girls’ cabin, sit on your bed, and cry your eyes out, ashamed and angry and helpless, and then you do what the books (those blasted books, you think; maybe it was unwise of you to blindly trust what you read, but you have no experience whatsoever with children, nor any way to ask more knowledgeable people for help! How else were you supposed to know how to take care of Aso? Are women magically endowed with all the necessary knowledge as soon as they give birth or sign the adoption papers?) say it happens sometimes to children: you cry yourself to sleep, your face still flooded with tears as your head falls on the pillow. 

🤎 It’s hunger that wakes you up a few hours later; according to the clock on the wall you have skipped dinner, so you decide to go to the kitchen to eat something. You feel somewhat rested, but still hurt and angry, and you dearly hope you won’t run into Usopp while you’re there… which is why you literally walk into your boyfriend, busy leaving a tray with your favourite foods in front of the door. “Oh! Uhm, hi.” Usopp murmurs, standing with the food still in his hands; he seems unable to meet your gaze “You skipped dinner, so, uhm, Sanji prepared… I mean, I prepared this for you. I know you’re angry, you have every reason to be, but please, at least take care of yourself.” You sigh, and finally your eyes meet; wordlessly you move to let him enter the room, and Usopp places the tray on the tiny table Nami usually uses to work on her maps. “You want me to leave?” he asks in a murmur, and you shake your head silently as you sit and start eating, more famished than you had realised being; Sanji is a world-class chef, but no one has ever prepared better tomato, anchovies and chilli pepper spaghetti than the ones Usopp makes for you. The food is delicious… but that doesn’t mean you’re ready to forgive him. “I’m sorry, (name); I’m so sorry…” “About what?” “You know; about what I said. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I should have remembered how painful it is for you to talk about your family; I… I think I just saw Aso crying inconsolably on the floor, and I got worried. I couldn’t believe you were just sitting there without helping him; I should have imagined it wasn’t simple neglect.” “It wasn’t; and maybe I was wrong, maybe I should have acted differently, but you know I had never taken care of a child before, so I can’t always know what to do.” you point out, your mouth still full “And in any case, you shouldn’t have spoken of my parents; it’s not my fault I never had a loving mom and dad whose example I can follow. I did what I could the little I knew.”

🤎 Having a belly full of good food makes you more forgiving. You and Usopp talk, sitting side by side on your bed with his hand in yours, and both admit the stress and anxiety that the child’s presence has filled your days with have taken their toll; neither has had a full night’s sleep in almost three weeks, and equally frustrating, you haven’t had a minute for yourselves, even if just a simple walk to enjoy an ice cream or a picnic on the beach; both of you have grown to care deeply for the baby, but taking care of him and worrying about whatever risk he may incur as soon as you turn your head the other way is sapping your energy. You’re going to reach the island your sister lives on in two or three days, which means that if everything goes as you hope you will soon entrust Aso to people way better equipped than you to take care of him, but you’re not sure you’ll resist until then without throwing a fit another time. “I’m just so tired.” you confess, resting your cheek against Usopp’s shoulder, both because you enjoy feeling him close and because despite your recent nap you’re still tired, more mentally and emotionally than physically “And the worst thing is, I feel like I’m doing everything wrong; he cries all the time, and I can never bathe him without half of the water ending up on the floor…”

🤎 Usopp murmurs that in his opinion you’re actually doing a great job; in fact, he doesn’t know what he would have done if he had to look after the child by himself. “I’ll never thank you enough for everything you’re doing for Aso, and for me.” “You don’t need to thank me; he’s your family, which means… well, that he’s mine as well, sort of…” You bite your lip, intimately grateful that Usopp knows how much you care for him and you hope for a future together, because it is still hard, after so many years together, to say it out loud; your boyfriend smiles, affection filling his warm brown eyes, as he circles your shoulders with his arm, and a moment later you are lying on the bed, holding each other close. You share a single, chaste but intense kiss before making yourself comfortable, Usopp’s arm now around your waist, your hand on his chest, your legs intertwined. “Earlier, while we were arguing… you mentioned us having children.” you murmur, happy in your boyfriend’s embrace; living on the same ship, it would be almost impossible for the two of you not to spend time together, but you had missed this - you had missed him. 

🤎 Usopp blushes adorably. “Well, I know we have never talked about it, but… I like taking care of Aso, and he clearly adores you; I understand if these three weeks make you swear off children forever, but maybe… one day, when we’re older, and we have both achieved our dreams, and by that time I swear I’ll have learnt to put a diaper on…” “I’d like that.” “You don’t have to answer now, just… what?” “I said, I’d like that.” you murmur, and Usopp’s shocked but happy expression makes a smile blossom on your lips “In a few years,  once we’ve learnt to look after ourselves first… having a child or two would be nice. I… don’t know what it means to be a good mom, but I think I can learn, starting with doing the exact opposite of what my parents did.” Usopp smiles. “You’ll be an excellent mom.” he promises; he kisses you on the forehead, and soon after you’re both sleeping soundly, feeling just like you wish Aso would: relaxed, happy, and safe, close to the people you love.

🤎 The next day you are both sitting at the kitchen table, you peeling the potatoes Sanji has brought back from the market - the most complex task you can be entrusted with, cooking-wise; Usopp, next to you, is peeling an apple, while Aso sits on a blanket on the floor. The child is unusually well-behaved, playing quietly with his stuffed caterpillar, but suddenly he starts whining, waving his little hands towards Usopp; he wears a shirt that he has vomited on for the third time this morning, but you have washed it with an home-made soap of your sister’s invention, and the fabric has returned to its original colour. “Ah, sorry, little one, but it’s too early for you to eat.” Usopp says as he nods towards the fruit in his hand, making you smile. “What makes you think he wants food, rather than playing or something else? He can’t talk.” “I noticed he likes apples, and always wants some when he sees someone has one.” Usopp explains “Which is good, since at least it's healthy… oh… oh, my…”

🤎 You follow Usopp’s gaze back to the baby, who has gotten up to his feet and… is now walking towards you, the determined expression on his little face pushing him forward on his still wobbly legs. It takes the baby maybe three minutes to cover a distance of a few feet, and he falls once, but he succeeds, and in the end he’s standing in front of Usopp, his hand raised to claim the prize that your boyfriend, still flabbergasted, wordlessly hands over, placing the apple slice in Aso’s tight grasp. “I can’t believe it!” you exclaim, elated “He has learned to walk! Oh, good job, little one!” You lift the child, busy enjoying his treat, on your lap “He wanted something and he came to get it! That’s a good attitude, it’ll serve you well when you’re older…” You and Usopp share a smile, and he kisses the top of his little cousin’s head. 

🤎 There are so many things you’re scared of, regarding Aso. That he falls sick, given the fact your crew doesn’t have a doctor yet and neither you nor Usopp know anything about medicine; that he falls from your arms as you walk, with the potentially dramatic consequences you don’t even bear thinking about; that someone kidnaps him from his pushchair while you are distracted buying groceries or talking to your boyfriend. Fortunately nothing of it happens, but there is a terrible moment in which Aso does run a terrible risk, the day before you’re due to finally (or unfortunately?) reach your destination. You’re taking a nap in your cabin, taking advantage of the fact Usopp is playing with the baby, when suddenly your boyfriend is calling for you - he’s screaming, desperation and anguish filling his voice as he asks for help. You rush to the kitchen, without even stopping to put your shirt on, and find Usopp kneeling on the floor with Aso in his arms, the poor child struggling to breathe. “I think… I think he has swallowed something.” your boyfriend confesses helplessly “I’m sorry, I just turned my back for a moment… he’s suffocating, I don’t know what to do…!”

🤎 There have been moments in your life when you have been afraid. When your mother, completely drunk, raised the largest kitchen knife with one hand as he held you, guilty of having hidden the rent money from her, with the other; the time some older children pushed you in the water from the pier, late at night, before you learned to swim; when the neighbour’s dog bit you in the arm (and then Usopp, trembling with fear, chased him away with a broom) when you were ten and you were told they’d probably have to amputate. Yes, you do know fear, but nothing has ever terrified you like the scene in front of your eyes, an helpless child desperately trying to breathe as a foreign body blocks his trachea. He could die any minute, any second, and even if he survives the lack of oxygen could have devastating consequences on his brain… 

🤎 You need to act now. You tend to freeze when you’re scared, fear making you unable to move and defend yourself, but now you can’t afford to be idle, not for you but for Aso, who can only count on your help, and thank all the Gods you don’t fail him. You have read about the risk of accidental suffocation among babies in one of your books, and even though you don’t actively think back to the content of those pages, your body knows what to do. You quickly walk up to Usopp, wordlessly take the baby from his hands and kneel; you place Aso’s little body along your forearm, your bent leg supporting it, and hit him between the shoulderblades, mentally counting to five; then you turn him (he’s still gasping for air, Usopp silently crying by your side) and give five more thrusts. “Fuck!” you cry, once again unmindful of the dirty language you’re using; in that moment you’d be ready to give your life, to offer your soul to damnation and to commit the most unspeakable acts, to save his life “Come on, little one, breathe…”

🤎 And finally the responsible for all of that fear and danger comes out; a tiny plastic cube, broken off from one of Aso’s toys, that the baby had inadvertently swallowed as he munched on it and that finally falls from his lips. A moment later Aso is crying desperately, his loud and terrified but healthy and free screams filling the ship, and you have never felt a more beautiful sound in your life; you lull him in your arms, and Usopp cries as he embraces the both of you. “Thank the Gods you were here.” he sobs; you thought you had seen him upset after his mother’s death, but this was thousand times worse, because while he had no way of helping poor Banchina, your boyfriend was responsible for Aso, and you know guilt would have haunted him for the rest of his life if something had happened to the baby “Oh, thank the Gods… I was so scared, I didn’t know…”

🤎 “It’s alright; he’s alright.” you tell him, again and again, but it takes all three of you a while to bounce back from the shock; you give Aso some hot milk to soothe the pain of his throat, and later you sing his favourite lullaby to make him fall asleep while Usopp looks at you from the room’s door, his arm resting against the wall. “I still can’t believe he’s alright; I just turned my head once for a few seconds, I needed some water, and he could have died - or worse.” he murmurs when you join him outside; he’s hugging himself, his head bent low in shame “If only you hadn’t been there…” “Well, I was; and we’ll be more careful from now on.” you point out “It’s not your fault, Usopp, it happens to every child sooner or later…” He embraces you with a tired sigh, and you hold him tight, your back resting against the corridor’s wall, both of you attempting to leave that terrible moment behind you, both relieved it’s over and Aso is fine, and still scared it might happen again. Fortunately you are a light sleeper, you think, which means you’ll immediately wake up should the baby start struggling to breathe, but nevertheless…

🤎 And then Usopp starts kissing you. Not on the mouth, rather on the side of your throat, that tiny point that makes you see stars when stimulated, and no one knows it better than your boyfriend. A sudden moan escapes your lips while Usopp’s plush lips gently suck on your neck, his hands moving up and down your waist and hips. “Usopp, what…” “Ssh… I’m rewarding you.” he murmurs in your ear, his tone low and intimate in a way you rarely hear and that makes you shiver in such a pleasant way “You have been amazing, you saved Aso’s life… I need to show you how grateful I am…” You could go somewhere more private, either his cabin or yours, since it’s too early for the others to decide to go to sleep, but before you have time to propose to stop only for the few seconds it’d take you to cross the corridor Usopp’s mouth has claimed yours in a searing kiss, his tongue quickly finding yours, and any capacity for rational thought escapes you. Even though you’ve been intimate for years and after you’ve told him a thousand times how attractive you find him and how good he makes you feel, Usopp is still awkward, even insecure when it comes to sex, which is more terribly endearing - most of the times; there are moments, uncommon but each of them carved in your memory, in which a bolder, more uninhibited man takes his place, and then… then there’s no knowing what is going to happen. 

🤎 You’re moaning under your breath, mindful of the child sleeping only a few feet away but unable to control yourself, as Usopp seduces you with the simple pressure of his mouth on yours; you caress his soft black hair, and a moment later his body is pressed against yours, his desire hot and heavy against your pelvis, and you swear out loud, for the first time in the last three weeks (three weeks in which you and your boyfriend never had a moment for yourselves, at most sharing a chaste kiss goodnight before parting so that one of you could stand guard next to Aso while the other rested) more aroused than your left hand can help you with. Usopp smiles at you, well aware of the effect his sudden amorous attack is having on you; having been a couple since you were children you have explored your pleasure together, at first not even knowing fully which parts of your bodies had to connect and in time discovering what you liked and how to make each other happy. You like sex as much as the next person, but you know it’s the deep bond between you and your boyfriend that makes it special, the trust and affection you have built since you were children more important than any specific knowledge in the arts of love; you have always known it, and you know it again when your boyfriend stops ravishing your mouth to rest his forehead against yours. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you, you know?” he murmurs “Not just with Aso; I need you, (name). I-I love you so much.” “I love you too, Usopp.” you answer; you know you’re blushing furiously and you don’t care “And don’t worry; you’ll never get rid of me.”

🤎 Usopp lifts your shirt to expose your chest, and as he kisses and bites your breast gently his free hand has already cupped your sex through your clothes, easily finding your core despite the fabric separating then; he smiles up again, already aware of how wet you are. “If someone sees us…” “You want to stop?” “Gods, no.” you decide, cupping his face in your hands to kiss him again. You both fumble with your pants, and Usopp only allows you to pump his already hard cock a few times before reminding you in a whisper that today he’s taking care of you. He stretches you delicately with his fingers to make sure he’s not hurting you, and a moment later he’s pushed himself inside, your left leg wrapped around his waist as he thrusts inside you, doing what you have promised years ago, when you were still too young to know what love was but knew already you were meant to be together: you hold each other, take care of each other, and don’t let go. In the end, your boyfriend’s kisses still hot on your lips, you return to Aso, sleeping peacefully in his crib, blissfully unaware of what his temporary parents were up to until a minute ago; you smile as you brush your fingers against his cheek, careful not to wake him up. 

🤎 “I’m sorry for you, little one.” you murmur “He would have been an amazing dad.”

🤎 The Merry comes into view of the island your sister lives on in the morning of the twenty-second day since Aso has entered your and Usopp’s lives; it gets bigger by the minute, a favourable wind pushing your ship in the right direction. Standing on the deck with the child in your arms, you don’t quite know what to feel: joy for the imminent reunion with the only member of your family who has ever truly loved you, relief for the moment you’ll finally entrust Aso to people older and wiser than you… or something else. “Well, here we are then; I’m sure your sister and her husband will fall in love with this little one as soon as they see him.” Usopp comments walking up to you, the apparently happy tone of his voice betraying the same ambivalence you feel in your heart; you share a look, for once unable to be strong for each other “And they will decide to keep him; which is good. I mean, It’s not like I want to get rid of him or anything, but…” “I know; I-I don’t want either.” you confess; you know placing the baby in the care of an older, sedentary couple, with a nice home and enough money to cover his needs, will be a much better arrangement for Aso than with a couple of teenagers like you, who live on a ship and have already spent all the little money Usopp’s aunt had left, but you can’t deny you have grown very fond of the baby, and saying goodbye will be… painful.

🤎 The island’s harbour is now close enough you can distinguish a person with the same eye and hair colour as you, standing on the pier. It’s your sister, who excitedly waves her arm in your direction, and whose greeting you force yourself to return: you could bet your life that she and her husband will be amazing parents, that they will love and protect Aso and take care of his needs, both material and spiritual, but it’s not too late, the most fearful part of your heart tells you, you’re still in time to turn the ship around and escape… “(name).” Usopp murmurs; he’s not even bothering to try smiling, and you can see heartbreak in his warm brown eyes “We can’t stop now; this is what’s best for him, no matter how painful it could be for us.” “I know.” you murmur; you’ve never considered yourself a greedy person, nor you thought you could get so attached to a child who is not directly related to you and who you have known for less than a month, but the little creature in your arms has changed you, and your life, in a way you couldn’t imagine, and whatever happens you know you’ll never make peace with having to give him away “I know we can barely take care of ourselves, but I can’t help wishing…” “I know, baby; and I feel the same.” Usopp murmurs; he kisses Aso’s little head, and then looks at you, determined despite the pain “We need to be strong now; for him.”

🤎 You both find some comfort in discovering that your sister and her husband are thrilled about Aso’s arrival; the two of you share a warm hug and promise to find some time for yourselves  to talk, but your sister’s attention is quickly drawn to the child in your arms, who seems to quickly take a liking to her. Her husband has taken a day off from work to focus on the baby; you and Usopp meet him at their house, where a nursery has already been prepared for Aso, with toys and clothes bought especially for him, as well as tons of baby food. Already experienced in the care of children thanks to their job, they’re both good, kind-hearted people, if not rich at least capable to meet the necessary expenses for the rearing of a child, and clearly did their best to prepare for Aso’s arrival, even before knowing for sure you and Usopp will decide to entrust him to their care. “He couldn’t find better parents.” your boyfriend murmurs as you both look at your sister’s husband showing Aso an illustrated book “I mean, a doctor and a nursery teacher? And look, he loves them already. It’s a match made in heaven.”

🤎 You have to agree, and as you all spend some time together, it’s quickly evident not only that your sister and her husband will be excellent parents, but also that Aso feels comfortable in their company, even more at ease than he was on his first days with you and Usopp - a fact you severely forbid yourself from feeling jealous over. The town they live in in a nice place, safe, with good schools (including the nursery your sister works at, and where they plan to enrol Aso at once he’ll be old enough) and parks where the children can play and socialise; you couldn’t find a reason to oppose their adoption of Aso even if you wanted to - and you don’t want to, no matter what your heart and the most egotistical part of you say. In the end, you and Usopp have a long, serious conversation with them, and the morning after you all formalise the child’s adoption at the town hall. “We’ll take good care of him; I promise, we will protect him with our life.” your sister tells you as you share an embrace, and there is a touch of guilt in her eyes, proof that despite the years you have spent apart she can still read your heart easily, like your parents never bothered trying to do. “Usopp told me it was you who proposed we take the child; this was an enormous gift, (name), I’ll never thank you enough.”

🤎 There is no need to thank you and you tell her, even though you are very pleased for her and her husband; they and Aso will make each other very happy, and that is what counts the most. They’ll be a family, while you and Usopp have been… what? A pair of children taking care of another? A couple doing their best to keep Aso alive and who felt exhausted after only three weeks? Whatever it was it’s over, and the sooner you make peace with that situation the better it will be for you… and for your boyfriend, who is probably even more devastated than you are, since he and Aso clearly adore each other, and the child is his cousin by blood, maybe the only relative he has left after his mother died and his father took to the sea. 

🤎 The night after he has formally terminated his parental rights, you find Usopp sitting alone on the deck, and after a moment of hesitation you decide to join him. “Are you mad at me? Because I’d understand if you were.” you murmur, and he looks at you, clearly taken aback. “Mad at you? What for?” “Well, for suggesting my sister and her husband take Aso. I know we agreed it’d be the right thing to do, but…” “(name), no!” Usopp immediately reassures you “I’m sad, but you did nothing wrong. If anything I should thank you; if it weren’t for them I wouldn’t have known what to do with Aso.” “So… we’re alright? You and me, I mean.” “Of course we’re alright; I couldn’t have done this without you.”

🤎 Comforted, you remain with Usopp for a while, your cheek resting on his shoulder as he holds your hand in both of his; you both admire the starry sky above, even though neither can help thinking that this will be your first night without Aso since you’ve met him. A night of full sleep, without the baby’s desperate crying keeping you awake and wondering what is wrong with him, will be nice, but… “We couldn’t keep him.” you murmur in the end in what is both a question and a reassurance “I mean, it’s been difficult looking after him for only three weeks, I don’t think we would have managed…” “Of course not; I’ll miss him, but we had to do what’s best for him. We both grew up without our parents, and it wasn’t easy; Aso deserves better.” You’re being strong for each other, able to offer reassurance even though you’re both anguished; you hold hands for a long time, and without the need to talk both you and your boyfriend know that no matter how painful the separation from the child will be, you’ll be fine, because you’ll have each other to count on. 

🤎 The next morning, the crew prepares to leave the island; you envy the relative ease with which your friends say good-bye to Aso. All of them have grown fond of the baby, but none of them shares what you and Usopp are feeling - the excruciating feeling of loss of giving up something that has quickly become a part of you, or at least that might have been so, had  things been different. You and Usopp are on the pier with your sister and her husband, their new son in your arms; you kiss his brow, well aware that while his parents will certainly tell him about you, Aso will remember nothing of the time you have spent together, which does not make those three weeks less precious, but it does seem unfair. “Good-bye, my little love.” you murmur “You have shown me I can be something I never thought I could, and for this you have my thanks.”

🤎 Letting him go is the hardest thing you have ever done, but finally the child is in Usopp’s arms, giggling happily as he tries to grab at your boyfriend’s bandanna; Usopp manages to smile, even though tears have filled his eyes. “So here we are, young man.” he says “You better take care of your mom and dad, and remember everything (name) and I have taught you…” The child listens on, his eyes -eyes that he must have inherited from his mother, because they are the same colour as his cousin’s- open wide as if he had never heard anything so interesting; then he raises his arm, places his little hand against Usopp’s cheek and says, his little voice perfectly clear: “Papa?”

🤎 He didn’t simply repeat a word he has heard; you and Usopp have told him your sister and her husband are his new mom and dad, and you have no idea where Aso has heard that word, and you don’t care, not as you see Usopp tearing up. “I’m not your papa, baby.” he murmurs before kissing the baby’s cheek, blowing a raspberry to make him laugh “But I have been for three weeks, and those have been the best of my life. Be good for me, alright?” He carefully passes the baby to your sister, who smiles softly, well aware of the sacrifice you’re making. “I hope you know you can come back; every time you want.” she warns you, and you both nod, well aware that you’ll have to stay away at least for a few years, until Aso learns to consider her and her husband as his real parents, a family he will be part of forever and that hopefully will never let him down. “Look after him.” you beg her, well aware you don’t need to but unable to control yourself, and she nods. “We will; you have my word.”

🤎 You and Usopp hold hands as you walk back to the ship, quickly helping your friends push it into the sea; you both wave your hand in farewell, and see Aso doing the same as your sister holds him to her chest, and the island and the people standing on its pier become nothing more than tiny spots on the horizon. “He’ll forget us soon.” Usopp predicts, with only a touch of melancholy “Not because he doesn’t care, but he’s so young…” “I know; but he’ll grow up safe, and happy, and cared for, and that’s what matters.” You share a smile, your hands finding each other once more. “One day.” you promise, and your boyfriend nods; you know, without the need to ask, he’s not just thinking about your sister’s offer. “One day.” he agrees “Once we’re ready.”

[mint-yooxgi]

{8} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 8,715

Warnings: Anxiety and PTSD, minor mental illness. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Okay, so I totally forgot to write an authors note before posting lmfaoo. Anyways, this chapter is a bit meh in my opinoin, but it really sets up the next one in my opinion. But finally!! Reina!!!! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven

“What do you mean, ‘he’s not awake’?” Your eyes are wide, heart thundering inside of your chest as panic seizes you.

It’s been over twenty-four hours since you’ve gotten back to the house from the dragon’s nest. In that time, you’ve nearly slept for the entire day, only waking up for brief portions to either eat something, or use the bathroom. Honestly, you feel like you could probably use a few more hours still, but your worry for Jongho takes precedence over everything.

Currently, you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, the several other males standing around you precariously.

“It’ll be okay, Dearest,” Yeosang reassures you. “It’s probably just the after effects of the spell.”

“Really, he’s just sleeping it off.” Wooyoung shrugs, almost nonchalantly, but you can still see the tension in his shoulders. 

There’s concern in his eyes that he cannot hide. In all of their eyes. Concern that they cannot hide from you.

“What aren’t you telling me.” It’s not so much a question, but a demand.

“Baby…” San’s expression falls.

“I know you guys don’t sleep. At least, not like I do.” Your voice is calm as you do whatever you can to remain level headed at the moment. “You said it yourselves, he should have been up by now.”

A grimace lingers on all of their features.

Hongjoong sighs, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at his feet. “We think the spell he got hit with is more intricate than we first believed. We can’t even reach out to him in his own mind.”

“So, it’s the spell that’s put him in a comatose state?” You blink, taking a deep breath inwards as your fingers dig into the skin of your thighs.

“We’ve already tried every countermeasure that we can against all of the spells known to cause these effects.” Seonghwa’s gaze falls, as if ashamed to be telling you how they’ve failed both you, and their brother like this. “It seems our magic has no affect on it at all.”

“We’ve been browsing the library all night,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair, his eyes bloodshot and bottom lip nearly raw from worry.

Mingi fares no better. His hair still sticks up in odd angles, and he cannot prevent the way his jaw twitches every few minutes. You don’t even need to get your next question out to know that they still haven’t found anything.

Your head shifts, staring down at the counter before you. Blinking blankly, you attempt to wrap your mind around this turn of events. You thought Jongho would have been fine by now, but clearly there’s more going on than meets the eye.

Heaving a great sigh, you stand to your feet.

Immediately, all of their attention darts to you, both San and Wooyoung even going so far as to reach out in your direction. However, it’s Yeosang that reaches you first, grabbing your wrist gently in his one hand.

“Dearest,” there’s nothing but concern on his features as his brow furrows, a hint of fear shining through in his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” you offer him a small smile, “I’m not going to disappear on you again.” The conversation you had leading up to this moment was rough, but you managed to get through it. Together. “I just want to see him.”

Your words seem to assure them enough, for Yeosang is releasing his grip on your wrist in the next second. Still, that does not prevent them all from following behind you, and entering the youngest’s room with you.

Again, you sit yourself on the edge of the bed, the early morning light of the sun streaming through the open windows. Gently, a breeze drifts through, and the cool touch of wind offers you some semblance of assurance that things will all turn out okay. Eventually.

Lifting a hand up, you caress the side of Jongho’s face, his features reflecting nothing but a peaceful serenity.

At least you know that he’s no longer in any pain.

Steadily, his chest rises and falls with every breath, your thumb stroking languidly against his cheek as you look him over. There’s a sadness in your eyes that you do not try and hide, the guilt still tugging freshly at the wound in your heart. Despite their constant reassurance, you still blame yourself. You honestly don’t think you’ll be able to breathe again properly until you see his warm, brown eyes staring back at you once more.

“I need you all to be honest with me right now.” You keep your gaze fixed on Jongho’s sleeping features for the moment as you take a deep breath. “Is there a possibility that he can die?”

A brief silence greets you, and you have your answer before any one of them speaks.

“Yes.” Yunho breathes, his shoulders deflating at the reality settling over all of you. “If we can’t figure out the spell that was used, or how to counteract it, there’s a possibility that it could claim his life.”

“Or worse.” Mingi’s voice is barely above a whisper, yet you still manage to hear him.

Your blood runs cold. “Worse?”

Wooyoung swallows his suddenly dry throat. “He could remain in this state forever. Neither living, nor dead.”

You close your eyes, fingers pressing a little firmer into Jongho’s cheek as you attempt to ground yourself.

“Well, the spell was meant for me.” You reply, exhaling shakily. “What better way than to torture you than always keeping me just out of reach?”

Their silence speaks volumes.

Slowly, you begin to retract your touch from his face, grasping his hand in your own instead.

“At his base level, is Dimitri considered a caster?” Your eyes search Jongho’s features for any slight shift you can find.

“He is.” Hongjoong confirms lowly.

Your mind begins churning, thoughts flitting every which way as you attempt to wrap your head around things. Briefly, you recall that conversation with the two younger harpy sisters and Sudaem.

“Are there levels of magic different than your own?”

A grimace before Mingi is replying, “there are.”

You hum in understanding.

“What are you thinking?” There’s a minor curious gleam in Seonghwa’s eyes as he looks at you.

You turn to face them, determination beginning to bloom on your features. “We need to talk to Sudaem.”

“The gorgon?” San’s brow furrows.

“The leader of the gorgons.” Yeosang hums, understanding passing over his features.

“Are we sure we should be informing a gorgon of all people that Jongho has been incapacitated?” Wooyoung looks between his brothers, a grimace on his face.

“I don’t think we’ll have any issues concerning that.” The corner of Yunho’s lips quirk upwards as he shifts his gaze back to you.

“I know I probably know less about this stuff than all of you as it stands,” you begin, taking a deep breath in, “but will you let me handle it? You guys can be a little intimidating when you want something.”

“A little?” Mingi grins knowingly, and it warms all of their hearts to see you quirk one in response.

“Should we call for Stella, then?” Hongjoong smiles faintly at you, noting the way you nod your head lightly in his direction.

Seonghwa clicks his tongue twice quickly in succession.

A blink, and Stella appears circling over your heads. She lets out a concerned caw, immediately landing on your shoulder and nuzzling her beak against you.

You giggle, her feathers tickling your neck. “I’m alright, Stella.”

She begins poking the tip of her beak affectionately against your cheek, and you realize that she’s placing little kisses onto your skin. The fact that she coos each time she does so has you smiling, much to the irritation of the others. Yes, they love seeing you happy, but not when it’s from a bird who is clearly rubbing in the fact that she can flirt with you so openly during a time like this while directly in front of all of them.

“Stella.” Seonghwa warns, his lips tugging downwards at the corners.

A few sassy clicks, and an annoyed twitch of the eldest’s brow lets you know the type of reply she gave him.

“Okay, Stell, enough teasing the men.” You bring your hand up so she can hop onto it. “I’ve got an important task for you now.”

Instantly, the raven straightens, puffing out her chest as she stands at attention. She meets your gaze, nodding for you to continue.

“I need you to contact Sudaem,” you begin, laying out your instructions very clearly.

The whole time you speak, Stella remains silent. She nods her head in understanding at every detail you give her, noticing how the males around you barely even move, letting you take charge once again. The amount of trust alone they continue to show you warms your heart, even more so this time around.

The second she disappears from your hand, you’re standing back to your feet.

Wooyoung’s brow furrows. “Where are you going?”

“To change.” You reply simply. “I don’t think appearing before the leader of the gorgons in my pyjamas is going to make me look very intimidating.”

“You’re plenty intimidating in your pyjamas, Baby.” San nods assuringly, recalling the image of you appearing in the kitchen with a baseball bat held in your hands.

A snort of laughter escapes you as you head towards the door. “Only you would know, Pretty Boy.”

You manage to pat his shoulder lightly as you walk passed, a knowing grin tugging at your lips. Though, what you fail to see is how San freezes, a dopey grin spreading across his features as your words wash over him.

You called him Pretty Boy.

He giggles, his fingers twitching excitedly at his sides. 

He only wishes the circumstances were better.

Ten minutes later, and after freshening up slightly, you make your way back towards the foyer. You see all of them already waiting for you, Stella perched on Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“Did she agree?” You address your question towards the raven who caws eagerly in response, wings flaring and managing to hit Hongjoong square in the nose. You snort out a laugh. “So, how long have you been waiting to do that, Stell?”

The raven hops off of Hongjoong’s shoulder, the male glaring at the bird in irritation as he spits out a feather rather unceremoniously. She pays him no mind as she glides over to you, landing gracefully on your own shoulder and cooing affectionately.

“At least she didn’t poop on you this time.” Yeosang deadpans.

“This time?” Your hand comes up to muffle your laughter. “Stella!”

An innocent caw greets your ears, feeling her shift from foot to foot on your shoulder.

“To be fair, she was just a newborn at the time.” Yunho chuckles.

“Who hasn’t she pooped on at some point.” Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head.

Another soft snort of laughter escapes you as you turn to look at the bird perched on your shoulder. Casually, she avoids your gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say she’s embarrassed.

“We’re getting off topic.” Hongjoong frowns, arms crossed in front of his chest.

A blink, and you’re composing yourself, though none of them miss how your entire demeanour drops instantly. It almost makes Hongjoong regret bringing up why Stella is here in the first place.

“Sudaem is waiting for her summons from you.” Mingi tells you.

“She’s agreed to meet with us, then.” You nod your understanding.

“What, exactly, is it that you are planning, My Love?” Hongjoong meets your gaze, a curious gleam shining in his eyes.

“Simply getting an expert’s opinion on some things.” You reply before turning to Stella. “Bring her in.”

In the blink of an eye, both her and Yeosang have disappeared. A moment later, they’ve reappeared before you with Sudaem in tow. You can see the way her snakes shift nervously over her shoulders, her steel grey gaze darting every which way around the front foyer.

“Sudaem.” Seonghwa inclines his head in greeting.

“Hello.” She bows back, her whole body trembling as her hands begin to wring themselves nervously in front of her body.

You step forward, a gentle smile on your face. “Thank you for agreeing to come on such short notice.”

“Of course!” Her head perks up, snakes hissing lightly in response. “You said you needed my help, and as your friend, here I am!”

A sense of relief washes over you at her words, and you find yourself taking her hands in your own. Gently, you give them a firm squeeze, meeting her gaze.

“What seems to be the problem that you summoned me into your home?” She tilts her head somewhat curiously, gaze fixated on you. Almost as if looking around at the several other males surrounding you is too much for her at the moment.

“You are familiar with the two most powerful clans of casters, correct?” You inquire.

Immediately, she nods. “I am. The Ciervo, and Sintra.”

“Then, you are familiar with their spells?” You continue, and understanding washes over the rest of the males in that room with you.

“For my part, I know practically all of them.” She blinks at you, a mild confusion lining her words.

You nod once. “Follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heels. Her one hand is still held in your own as you guide her down the hallway and into Jongho’s room, leading her over to the comatose male on the bed.

“The only details you need to know are that he was hit by a spell about thirty hours ago or so, and he hasn’t regained consciousness since.” You state, releasing your hold on her hand to sit beside Jongho’s resting form. “I was hoping you might be able to help identify the spell he’s been hit with, and offer a solution for it.”

Sudaem searches your features, noting the worried tug of your brow as your one hand moves to hold onto the male’s beside you. She can feel the weight of the other seven King’s stares on her back as she stands before you, and she cannot help but shift from foot to foot.

“I understand you are under no moral obligation to help him,” you are quick to continue as you take her silence for hesitance, “But, please, Sudaem,” you swallow thickly, your eyes shining with unshed tears, “Please, help him.”

A firm nod is all you receive from the gorgon as she steps closer. “I’m not much of a healer, but I need to check his vitals.”

A soft ‘okay’ is all she hears from you as you shift slightly to allow her to get closer. Only, your hand on her shoulder stops her before she can so much as touch him.

“We do not know each other all that well, but I do consider you my friend, Sudaem.” There’s a hint of a warning in your tone as you meet her gaze, your fingers sinking a little firmer into the skin of her shoulder. “I appreciate you doing this.”

Gently, she places her own hand on top of your own. Understanding passes between the both of you as she nods once firmly, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in a thin smile.

She’s heard your message loud and clear. If she so much as tries anything to deceive you, and hurt him further, you will not hesitate to do to her what you did to that harpy the other day. Perhaps even worse. Besides, the several males standing around the room might also have something to say about it this time, too.

“I will need to know a few more details about his condition.” She begins her assessment of his being, starting with checking his pulse.

You watch her carefully, motioning for her to ask what she has to.

“When the spell hit, did he suddenly lose consciousness?” She directs her questions at you, her snakes shifting to rest against her back and out of the way for now.

“No, he had about ten minutes before he went under.” You reply, somewhat shakily.

“Was it a delayed hit?” She glances upwards as she leans over him in order to meet your gaze. At your confused look, she’s quick to continue. “Did the spell take time to take effect?”

“No, it was instant.” You avert your gaze to the floor, thumbs beginning to rub over one another as the vivid memories appear in your mind once more. “It appeared only a physical spell at first.”

“He bled.” Not a question, but a statement.

You still nod solemnly in confirmation, feeling a reassuring hand place itself onto your shoulder. Turning your head, you see Hongjoong standing there, Seonghwa right beside him.

“This might be an odd question, but do you remember the shape of his injury?” Sudaem stands back to her full height. “Sometimes the cuts can resemble a symbol related to the type of spell used.”

Briefly, your eyes glance over to both Wooyoung and Yeosang. You watch as the younger of the two steps forward, a small notebook appearing in his hands along with a pen. A quick flick of his wrist and the shape of Jongho’s wounds are drawn onto the paper, which gets torn out and handed to the gorgon in the next second.

A furrow immediately pulls at her brow. “I see.”

Your heart skips a beat in worry, eyes practically begging for her to tell you something. Anything.

“Can you tell me anything else about what happened afterwards?” She turns towards you, a sort of softness taking over her features as she sees the anxiety ridden state you’re in.

“What would you like to know?” Your voice is small, somewhat unsure of yourself.

A sight and sound of which Sudaem never thought you would be capable of. You seemed so confident at the meeting with The Three Sisters. You must really be worried.

“Anything and everything you can tell me that happened from the point of the spell hitting him, onwards.” She replies honestly.

You hesitate. Not even the seven males surrounding you are privy to all of the details of what happened after Jongho had been hit with the spell.

Comfortingly, they all brush against your mind, letting you know that they’re all right here for you if you need them. With that simple notion of support, you understand that you are not alone, and that everything will be okay.

Taking a deep breath, you begin your recollection of the events that took place immediately following Jongho jumping in front of that spell for you. The whole time you speak, you keep your gaze locked on the floor in front of you, not daring to look around the room. The memories threaten to consume you, that overwhelming sense of guilt creeping up your throat and nearly choking you out by the time you get to his final admission before he passed out. However, you neglect to tell her exactly what he said.

“He managed to speak after ten minutes of fighting against the hold of the spell?” She blinks, somewhat amazed. “That’s impressive.”

This catches your attention, your head whipping up to look her way. “What do you mean?”

“If my theory is correct, he was hit by the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ spell.” Sudaem says, addressing all of you.

A collective sharp intake of breath from the males around you has you looking around at all of them in worry. “What? What does that mean?”

“I didn’t think it were possible.” Mingi frowns, beginning to pace restlessly back and forth at the side of the room.

“Only a powerful caster could perform such a spell.” Sudaem continues. “He should have fell under the effects immediately, but he didn’t.”

“The 'Veil of the Hypnos’ is a dangerous spell. If it doesn’t kill the person on contact, they become lost in the veil between worlds, mind left in an eternal sleep.” Yunho explains, turning to look at you with clear worry in his eyes. “If the victim wanders too far, they can never return to their own body.”

You swear your heart stops. Pure, unaltered fear begins shining behind your eyes as you frantically look around at all of them.

“Dimitri will pay for this.” Wooyoung seethes, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“Dimitri was the one who cast such a spell?” Sudaem spares a glance around the room.

“It was meant for me.” You reply lowly, and you swear you hear her breath hitch.

“You will need an equally powerful caster with the same stores of magic held within them to pull him out of such a state. One that hails from the big two at the very least.” She says, voice firm.

The several males grimace from around the room.

“Their aid will not come freely.” Seonghwa states, somewhat pointedly. “At least not the ones we know.”

“But Dimitri’s not from the big two.” Your brow furrows in confusion. “Right?”

“He’s not directly from them, no.” she meets your gaze. “However, he has lineage, and he is the most powerful outside of them. You will need someone on par with him magic wise. Someone with the ability to summon the Eight Kings.”

Your brow quirks.

“There are a few things that work in our favour already.” She goes on to say. “One: that he took so long to succumb to the spell’s effects means he’s still fighting against it. Two: you inferred that you were the one that transported the both of you home despite you still being human. That means his blood is still running through your veins, correct?”

Your mouth parts only briefly, considering her words. You clear your throat. “It is.”

“Am I wrong to assume your blood also runs through his veins currently?” She inquires.

“Your assumption would also be correct.” You answer immediately.

“Then, he’s also tethered to you right now, even unknowingly.” She nods, somewhat to herself. “We’ll need to gather a few things first, and I’ll have to return to my home to grab the spell books we’ll need. You need to get that caster here as soon as possible, though. Every second you waste is a second he could stray further from his own body and mind.”

Immediately, you spring to your feet, moving to exit the room. You know what you have to do.

“Where are you going?” There’s a hint of worry in San’s gaze as he watches you dart across the space between Jongho’s bed and the door.

“I have to make a phone call.” You reply, not even bothering to stop as you reach the hallway. “It seems a catch up with my best friend is long overdue.”

“Angel, are you sure now is the time-“

“Reina is a Ciervo witch.” Yeosang cuts Wooyoung off.

A stunned silence passes throughout the room.

“But is she practicing?” San’s brow furrows as he watches you disappear from sight.

“It doesn’t matter. She had enough power to summon us, even unknowingly.” Hongjoong says, all of them quick to exit the room after Sudaem. “Besides, she won’t be alone.”

“You will only be able to help this caster so much.” Sudaem interjects, halting in the front foyer with Stella on her shoulder. “You may be able to lend her a portion of your strength if need be, but his will be a task meant for her and Your Queen.”

A brief pause where they think over her words.

“Because their blood runs through each other’s veins.” Yeosang observes.

“Correct.” Sudaem inclines her head. “That small fact may end up being the deciding factor on whether or not this countermeasure works or not.”

“What do you mean?” Mingi steps forward, frown tugging at his brow.

“How often have you heard of someone reversing the effects of the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ spell?” Sudaem fidgets, somewhat warily. 

Their expressions drop.

“It’s no easy task, and there’s a possibility that it might not work.” She admits, her snakes shifting restlessly over her head. “Especially if this caster has never performed such a spell before.”

“It will work.” Your firm voice cutting in from the side draws all of their attention to you for the moment.

Sudaem blinks at you in mild shock at how determined you sound. “How can you be so sure?”

“It will work because we say it must.” You reply, tucking your phone into your back pocket. “We take care of each other, because that is what we are meant to do. There’s no room for failure. Not this time.”

“Petal,” Yunho’s worried voice reaches your ears.

“I know for a fact that if that was me, you’d all be saying the exact same thing.” You watch as they all straighten at your words. “You would never stop until I was safe. Is it that astounding that I would want to ensure the same for any of you?”

The way they remain quiet is answer enough.

“We all know what we have to do.” Your firm nod confirms it as you step beside Yeosang for the moment. You turn to face Sudaem. “I will be as quick as I can, but knowing everything I’ll have to explain, I’ll be an hour at the very least.”

“Are you sure she’ll help you?” Sudaem shifts slightly from foot to foot, Stella releasing a worried coo from her shoulder.

Softly, your head begins to nod. “She will.”

“Then, I will need some assistance gathering the supplies.” Sudaem’s grey gaze darts around the room.

Both Mingi and Yunho share a look.

“We’ll help you.” Yunho steps forward, Mingi right behind him.

“Once we’ve gathered the supplies, I’ll set everything up and await for your return.” Sudaem turns back to face you.

“Alright,” a simple nod of understanding accompanies your words. You meet her gaze. “See you soon.”

In the blink of an eye, her, Stella, Mingi, and Yunho all disappear from sight.

Without wasting another moment, you turn to the remaining males.

“One of you needs to drop me off at Reina’s.” You say. “And it has to be Yeosang.”

Their brows all quirk at this.

“I need to test a theory I have.” You tell them. “See if she remembers him from the incident at the mall.”

Understanding flashes across their features, but you can still see the grimaces San, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa send your way.

“If she knows nothing of her heritage, then it may take some convincing on my part. I might need some help from all of you for that.” You step in closer to Yeosang’s side as he places a hand onto your lower back. “Maybe don’t attempt to rearrange the furniture in her apartment this time.”

The last thing they see is a slight upturn to the corner of your lips before you’re disappearing from sight.

The sight of Reina’s familiar red front door has you smiling slightly. You haven’t been to her apartment in months, but you cannot help the memories that invade your senses as you see the small scratch in the paint. It had been put there by accident by her when lugging in that old recliner with you last year. That’s not to mention all the other dings and dents put into her walls from the two of you over the years moving things around that you probably shouldn’t have.

You smile softly to yourself.

Gently, you take Yeosang’s hand in your own, intertwining your fingers as you subtly glance around the hallway. At least no one is around to have seen you both suddenly appear.

Taking a deep breath in, you knock.

Some shuffling is heard on the opposite side of the door before loud footsteps draw closer. A click of the lock later, and the door is swinging open to reveal your best friend. Her dark brown hair is tossed into a messy bun, an oversized hoodie wrapping around her frame.

“Geez, when you said you were close by with your one significant other, I didn’t think you’d be this close. What were you doing, waiting in the lobby?” She teases, grin tugging at her features. She swings the door wider, finally taking note of who you stand beside. Her gaze darts back to you almost immediately. “You should come inside.”

“Oh, he only came to drop me off.” You say, squeezing his hand lightly in your own.

“Just wanted to make sure she got here safe.” He smiles, squeezing back.

Reina stares intently at Yeosang, narrowing her eyes. “Have we met before? You seem really familiar.”

Something sparks within your gaze, a small sense of relief flooding your veins. 

Good. You can work with this.

“When we ran into each other briefly at the mall that one day,” you watch her carefully. “Remember?”

Her frown deepens, sparing a brief side glance at you. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Anyways,” you turn to Yeosang, placing a gentle kiss onto his cheek. “I’ll call for you when I’m ready to be picked up.”

"Alright, Dearest,“ a knowing look is shared between the both of you as he smiles. “You two have fun, then.”

With a final, reassuring squeeze to your hand, Yeosang is releasing his hold on you. A gentle smile rests on his features as he makes a show of walking all the way down the hallway and towards the elevators before disappearing once he rounds the corner.

You turn back to Reina. “Boy, do I ever-“

Your words die in your throat as she tugs you inside, somewhat frantically. Immediately, the door to her apartment is slammed shut, the locks clicking into place before she’s turning to face you with a wide-eyed look.

“Do you know who that was?” Her gaze is wild as she presses herself against her front door, as if blocking the only path Yeosang could take to reach you in this moment.

“Uh, yeah,” you shoot her a sceptical look, “Yeosang. One of my significant others.”

“No, that’s not-“ she sighs. “Do you know what he is?”

“Reina, you’re not making much sense right now.” You cross your arms over your chest. A hint of amusement dances on your features as you watch your best friend shift her gaze everywhere around her apartment but at you for the moment.

Heaving a sigh, she pushes herself off of the front door. She begins to make her way towards the living room, grabbing your wrist as she walks passed to drag you along with her. After sitting you on her couch, she crouches in front of you, as if she were a parent about to explain something extremely important to her child.

“Have you ever noticed anything strange happen when you’re with him?” She begins, watching your every expression carefully.

“Define strange, Reina,” you quirk a brow, almost knowingly.

“Strange as in things you can’t explain happening.” She replies, her hands coming to rest on your knees as she leans into you. “You know, like, supernatural.”

You nearly laugh from how paranoid she suddenly looks. “Rei, if you have something to say, why don’t you just come out and say it?”

“Well,” she hesitates, “you remember that day we ‘summoned’ something?”

“Vividly.” The corner of your lips quirk upwards.

“I know it was essentially an unspoken rule between us not to bring it up, but…”

“You ended up summoning the Eight Kings of the Realm, and now they’re my significant others and I’m their Queen.” Your eyebrow twitches playfully.

“This isn’t time for jokes-“ her breath catches in her throat. “Wait, what?”

“What?” You tilt your head slightly, blinking at her expectantly.

“You know who- what they are?” She replies, a bit incredulously.

“Of course I do.” You chuckle. “I’ve known for quite a while, actually.”

“How long have you known?” She asks, observing you carefully.

“Remember that spontaneous weekend trip I took all those months ago?” You inquire, seeing her nod her head in understanding. “Since then.”

“Fucking hell.” She curses under her breath.

“How long have you known?” You turn her question back on her.

“Only for about two months now, but I didn’t know you were in a relationship with them all.” She breathes, falling backwards slightly in order to sit on the floor before you.

“Wait, how do you know?” You shift forward, heart beginning to pound in anticipation in your chest.

“This might sound a bit crazy, but apparently I come from a family of casters?” She sounds a bit uncertain of herself as she says this, as if she’s still trying to wrap her own head around things.

“Oh my god, this will make things so much easier.” You breathe a tremendous sigh of relief.

“Wait, how do you know that?” Her face scrunches, looking at you suspiciously.

“We have so much to talk about.” You say, leaning back and getting comfortable on her couch.

“Should I get the blankets?” She grins, a sudden teasing gleam in her eyes.

“Sure,” you grin right back. “We may be here for a while.”

Two minutes later, you both have drinks and have swaddled yourselves in your favourite blankets like you always do for movie nights at her place. She sits across from you on her couch, legs tucked in beneath her as you mirror her position.

“Boy, do I have a lot to tell you, Rei.” You sigh, taking a sip of your drink as you hold it in your lap. “Honestly, I just need to talk to someone about it all, too. Are you okay with that? I’m not joking when I say there’s a shit ton of things we need to catch up on. I’ll try to be as quick as I can, though. Time really is of the essence right now.”

“You and me both, honestly.” She breathes, taking a sip of her own drink. “You go first, and then I’ll share mine.”

You nod your understanding. “Okay, well, here goes nothing…”

So, like every good catch up session you’ve ever had with her, you begin at the very beginning. You watch her every expression intently, noticing how her mouth drops as you recall the dress incident, and how she visibly starts shaking when you get to the very first dinner you ever shared with the eight of them all those months ago.

“You stabbed the Captain of the Eight Kings and you’re still alive?” Her eyes look about ready to bug out of her head. “Damn, he must really love you, then.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you smile, a fond chuckle escaping your lips.

The way her jaw drops once more as you go on to tell her about the next two weeks after that has a sort of nervousness tugging at your features.

“They kidnapped you, and held you hostage?” There’s nothing but absolute horror on her features as she looks at you.

“Yes, but no?” You shrug mildly. “I could literally do whatever I wanted, except leave them.” The shocked look she sends you has you continuing immediately. “It sounds a lot worse than it was. Honestly, I laid into them pretty good after two weeks had passed. Threw a mug at Wooyoung’s head, made them feel horrible for what they had done, you name it.”

“Did it hit him?” Her brow quirks.

“No, he dodged it.”

“Shame.”

“Reina!” You laugh in disbelief.

“What?” She blinks at you. “It’s the least that he deserves after fucking holding you hostage!”

“They let me go places!” You’re quick to defend them. “Sure, it wasn’t ideal at the start, but I never felt trapped when I was with them.”

She nods her head in understanding, eyeing you cautiously. “Are you aware of their powers.”

“I am very aware of their powers.” You confirm with a nod.

“I mean this in the best way a concerned best friend would, but you do realize they might be mentally manipulating-“

“Don’t even go there.” Your tone is sharp, gaze suddenly dark. “I’ve had this conversation with them before, and I trust them when they say that they haven’t, and never would use that aspect of their powers on me.”

She raises her hands in her own defence. “Just making sure. I didn’t sense anything off about your mental state, but I’m not as skilled as my grandmother.”

“I know they sound really bad, but please, Rei, let me finish my story.” You reach across and squeeze her knee.

She motions for you to continue. So, you do.

The moment you get to the mall incident, you notice her tense.

“I remember bits and pieces about that day, but it all felt like a dream to me.” She admits once you get to the part of running into her in the washroom. “I had hoped it was all a dream. Even after my grandmother sensed the possession, and made sure that I had been fully cleansed, I didn’t want to believe it. It’s all still pretty blurry.”

“I’m sorry, Rei,” your expression falls. “I never meant for you to get involved like that. I had no idea who Miyeon was until the very next day.”

Reina visibly starts shaking in anger as you tell her about the argument you had gotten into with them over everything after running into her at the mall.

“Are you kidding me?” She seethes.

“Reina, let me finish!” You shoot her a look, and she falls silent. For now.

The more you speak, the more you can visibly see her relax. You don’t go so far as to tell her everything that occurred between them and Miyeon, for those are not your memories to share. However, you give enough context so that she understands where they stood in their relationships at that point.

“You know, the stories my grandmother has been telling me about these Eight Kings of the Realm sound nothing like how they really are.” She comments. “I’ve yet to determine if they’re good or bad, but at least they can admit when they’ve made a mistake. Their love for you seems genuine, which is saying something.”

The knowing look sent your way does not go unnoticed by you.

You smile somewhat tensely.

“You’re telling me.” You agree. “Every day they kept surprising me, and every day I could feel that wall I had put up to try and protect myself from their advances slipping.”

“Wait,” her eyes flash, a worried pull to her brow, “they never… they never forced themselves-“

“Fuck no!” You’re quick to shake your head, going so far as to raise your hands in front of you for emphasis. “You know my own views on consent, and when I tell you that they are on the exact same level as I am, please believe me.”

Her brow quirks, and even though you think it’s subconscious on her part, she begins to nod her head.

“This doesn’t mean I approve of them, yet.” She states, looking at you through playfully narrowed eyes.

You raise your hands in your own defence, shifting your position slightly as you continue your story. You don’t realize, but there’s a certain fond look that begins to take over your features as you recount certain memories with the eight of them. A loving look, which Reina immediately picks up on, smiling to herself all the while.

“So, Mingi gave you a cat you’ve secretly always wanted. Yeosang played your favourite melody on his violin for you. Yunho brought you to see a horse they got for you named after a horse from your favourite series. San cooks your favourite meals whenever you want them,” Reina lists off, lifting a finger for each male counted. “They literally created your dream home to live in together, complete with a grandiose library and garden…”

“But wait, there’s more.” You wiggle your brows.

Reina tilts her head, a knowing grin tugging at her lips. “‘More’ you say?”

At the way you nod eagerly, she motions for you to continue. You can tell she’s listening intently to every word you have to say, opening up more to the idea of these eight men the more you tell her.

“Okay, I’m still wary of them a bit, but they do seem to genuinely care for you.” She observes.

“Believe me,” you smile softly. “They do.”

Her jaw drops, a gasp escaping her lips when you tell her about the portrait Yunho has painted of you.

“Okay, they are literally pulling out all of the stops and romantic gestures I can think of.” She pats the top of the couch excitedly. “Need me some freaks like that.”

“Oh?” You quirk a brow. “Are they beginning to get your approval?”

She hums, pretending to think about it for a moment. “Debatable.”

“Reina!” You laugh, her right along with you. 

Honestly, you haven’t felt this light for a while. You seriously missed being able to talk with your best friend about everything, and the fact that she already knows to a certain extent what they are saves you from having to both explain things, or leave certain things out of your retelling. It’s quite refreshing.

“I’m not liking this handsy one too much.” She frowns disapprovingly, her arms crossing over her chest. “Negating the fact that he took you to see literal dragons, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“Aren’t we all?” You hum, the corner of your lips quirking upwards. “Believe me, he will never make that mistake again.”

Reina’s brow quirks as you go on to explain the weeks that followed that incident, noticing how she remains quiet throughout it all. That is, until she’s leaning across the couch to smack you on your arm. Quite harshly, too.

“You fucking hypocrite!” She smacks you lightly a few more times after that as you lean away from her with a whine. “Fighting fire with fire only burns you both in the end.”

“I know, okay! Let me finish!” You swat her hand away.

After you finally explain that talk on the balcony that you had with Seonghwa to her, you notice how she leans back slightly on the couch.

“Huh,” she nods, somewhat to herself. “I’m honestly surprised it took you that long to play something on that piano. Even if you weren’t necessarily playing it for them.”

You shrug, “I had other things on my mind.”

“Fair enough,” she raises a hand along with her words.

A smirk daces across her features as you inform her of the very next set of events that followed.

“Didn’t like you swooning over WayV, did they?” She chuckles.

“No,” you laugh along with her. “Not particularly. But I will say, the payoff was quite sweet.”

“Didn’t pin you for one to enjoy jealous sex.” She deadpans, and you nearly spit out your drink in response.

“It wasn’t like that!” You attempt to defend yourself.

“Mmhmm,” she hums knowingly, “sure.”

“You’re the one who sent me the pictures of me in that corset.” You mumble, and this time, it’s her turn to almost spit out her drink.

A loud cackle greets your ears. “Then, you’re welcome!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave her off with a playful roll of your eyes. “Anyways…”

As you continue, even you can tell your whole body goes tense. You know what’s coming next, and you’re not too particularly fond of relieving those memories again so soon after telling Wyno. However, Reina is your best friend, and talking to her is one of the easiest things in your life. It always has been, and it always will be. You know that you’ll always be there for each other, and nothing will ever come between that.

The moment you mention Miyeon infiltrating your new home, you watch her expression drop. Horror paints her features as her whole body goes still, the blanket falling from her shoulders. Tears begin to line her eyes at each new detail you reveal to her, silently beginning to trail down her cheeks as she notices the pained look resting on your face.

Silently, she reaches over to grab your hand in her own, shifting closer to you on the couch. In any and every way she can, she offers you comfort for the tragic events that you have suffered through at the hands of that jealous and downright evil demon. She only wishes that she could have been there to offer you support when you needed it most.

“I am so deeply sorry you had to go through that,” she meets your gaze, the both of you sniffling as you cling to each other for dear life. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

“It’s not your fault, Reina,” you shake your head, assuring her in your own way. “I appreciate you saying that, but don’t put that on yourself. You supporting me now is all I need.”

“Of course,” she pulls you in for a hug. One which you gladly return. “I’m here for you, babes. You know I am.”

“That I do,” you smile, sinking a little deeper into her embrace as you hold her tighter. “The same goes for you with me. I’m here for you, too.”

A simple nod is all you receive in response, but you don’t need to look at Reina to know that she’s smiling, too.

Pulling away after another minute holding one another in each other’s arms, you meet her gaze. You feel as if another tremendous weight has been lifted from your chest, words coming much easier after that. 

Time seems to just be flying by as you continue to recount your adventures to your best friend. The way she gasps and starts hitting your knee affectionately when you describe gifting each male one of your pieces of jewelry has you chuckling fondly.

“You gave Hongjoong the One Ring?” Her jaw drops. “Okay, I believe you. They really are special.”

“I told you.” You grin.

“That still doesn’t mean they’ve earned the ‘Reina seal of approval.’” She shoots you a look. “They’ve gotta pass the best friend test first.”

“I don’t think they’ll have to try very hard.” You joke.

“No, I don’t think they will.” She confirms with a grin before turning dead serious in the next moment. “Though, if they hurt you, I am not afraid to curse them for it.”

You grimace, and she immediately picks up on it.

“Too soon?” Her brow furrows in worry.

“It’s not that, it’s just,” you let out a sigh, “another reason why I’m here today.”

“Wait, did one of them actually get cursed?” Her eyes widen dramatically, worry pulling at her features.

“You could say that,” you mumble. “I’m getting there, I promise.”

“Okay,” she nods. “Please, continue.”

Again, you pick up right where you last left off, explaining to her everything that has happened to you since you brought the eight of them to meet your parents. The events seem to fly by until you’re finally arriving at the start of this past week.

“If I ever meet this Malik guy, it’s on sight.” She raises her fists, mocking punching him in the face.

“You and me both, sis,” you hum, a small quirk to your lips upwards.

You make quick work about telling her what happened with Mina, then Wyno, and then the harpies, until finally, you reach the event that you had really been leading up to. You notice her little quips and encouragements have all stopped for the moment as you begin to curl in on yourself. Nothing but worry is on her features as you fight off the tears that wish to gather once more in the corners of your eyes as you explain what has happened to Jongho.

“Okay, first of all, that was not you fault,” she gets you to meet her gaze. “I would bet anything in the entire world that he doesn’t blame you either. Not after everything you’ve just told me about him and his brothers. So, get those lingering doubts out of your mind. They have no precedent being there.”

You can only offer her a solemn nod in response.

“You said he’s trapped under the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ spell?” Her brow furrows as she stands from the couch. Disappearing down the hallway, she continues speaking the whole time, calling over her shoulder, “I remember my grandmother mentioning something about it, hang on!”

Not even a minute later, she returns. A book is held in her hands. One which seems familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger as to why as you dry your eyes. With one knowing look from her, you suddenly remember why.

In her hands rests the spell book she used to summon the Eight Kings with. Flipping it open, she sits beside you on the couch, skimming through the pages until she finds the right one.

“Ah-ha!” She grins, pointing to a specific heading on the one page. “Here it is.”

The two of you briefly read over the page, and you have just the right mind to catch glimpses of ‘connection’ and ‘high emotion’ before you’re sparing a glance at her.

“So,” you nudge her shoulder lightly, “are you going to tell me about how you found out about all of this?”

Closing the book gently and resting it on her lap, Reina begins to rub her fingers over the detail work on the cover.

“Well, remember how I mentioned that I couldn’t remember much about what happened at the mall that one day?” She begins, to which you nod your head. “I couldn’t distinguish what was real, and what was a dream. It was my grandmother who sensed something was off. We went to visit her about two months ago, and she could immediately tell I had been possessed by a demonic entity of sort. She just couldn’t understand how this entity could no longer reach me. I realize now that I have both you and those eight males to thank for that.”

She spares a glance up at you, and you place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“My grandmother was quite blunt about it, and she cussed out my own mother for not telling me what I was.” Reina’s lips quirk upwards, as if recalling the memory now. “You know how passionate my grandmother can get.”

“Oh boy, do I ever,” you chuckle, recalling the amount of times you’ve seen her start cussing someone out in Spanish over something. “Really, though, she’s a lovely lady.”

“You don’t have to deal with her every day,” Reina sighs dramatically. “Anyways, that’s when my gran started asking me a bunch of questions. I told her I read something with you from this,” she shakes the tome in her hands, “spell book, and she nearly flipped. Started chanting in some ancient language, going off about protection spells and such. That’s when she realized there already were protection wards placed on both me and my mind.”

“I’m guess she was able to sense who put them there?” You quirk a brow.

“Bingo.” Reina turns to look at you. “Which is when she started freaking out and saying that I needed to start my training to learn how to be a proper caster to protect myself. The stories of the terror of the Eight Kings were soon to follow, apparently passed down from generation to generation.”

“Do you believe them?”

“Not anymore.” She shakes her head.

“Then, you’ve deduced part of the reason why I’m here right now?” You place a hand onto her shoulder.

“Other than wanting to see me,” she shoots you a playful look which you mirror, “I figured it out.”

A moment of silence.

“Will you-“

“Do you even have to ask?” She cuts you off with a pointed look.

“I should have known.” You let out a sigh, a grin pulling at your features.

“You said this gorgon - Sudaem - will have prepared everything by the time we get there?” She inquires. “All the ingredients, and the proper spell book?”

You nod in confirmation.

“Well, then,” she stands to her feet with a firm nod of her head. Tucking the tome beneath her one arm, a look of determination crosses her features. “What are we waiting for?”

[storiesofaot]

Hello. Would you, please, write smth about Hange and Levi's eventual reunion in the afterlife?

Hi Anon! Of course; I’ve wanted to write Levihan reuniting in afterlife for quite some time now, so thank you for giving me the opportunity!! 🤭 Here it is!

Title: Our Eternity; Rating: T; Word Count: 1137

With one final breath, Levi's eyes fluttered shut, leaving this world behind. For a moment, there was nothing - only darkness and an unbearable quietness enveloping him. 

But then, something changed, and the weight suddenly disappeared. A warmth that blossomed within him took over, spreading from his heart over his entire body. His eyes remained shut, but he knew that he was in another place - a world untouched by the scars of his past, where only peace reigned. 

He took a deep breath, feeling life rush back into him - though not in the same way as before. It felt different, lighter somehow, as if being alive carried a new meaning in this place. Underneath his body, he could feel the crisp grass touching his arms and neck, while a warm breeze brushed his face and tickled his bare feet.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by dazzlingly bright light, which was overwhelming at first. But he continued to breathe in the sweet air, listening to the rustling of the leaves around him and gradually, the light softened into a warm, golden hue, revealing the canopy of a tree.

Levi allowed himself to linger in that peace for a moment longer, savouring the tranquillity. Suddenly, a rustling reached his ears, which definitely didn't come from the leaves. Propping himself on his elbows, he sat up slightly - and instantly froze in place, his breath catching in his throat.  

He blinked a few times, certain that his eyes were playing tricks on him. But the sight in front of him remained - a familiar face he hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime. 

Hange was sitting a little distance away from him, crossed-legged in the grass, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with a dandelion. A soft light surrounded her, casting a gentle glow on the serene moment before his eyes. She seemed to sense his gaze and looked up, and when their eyes finally met, time seemed to stand still.

A soft smile appeared on her lips, and she dropped the dandelion. “Look who’s finally here. I've been waiting for you.” She unfolded her legs and knelt down next to him, her knees almost brushing his elbow. 

“Hange?” he gasped, her name a sweet sound to his ears. He quickly shifted into a sitting position, afraid to break eye contact for fear she might disappear.

She chuckled and cocked her head. “Yeah, it’s me. Time works differently here, that's why I don't look all wrinkled and worn out.” 

Levi allowed himself a moment to take in her face. She looked young and full of life. Her skin was smooth and unscarred, her hair open and falling over her shoulders in gentle waves, and she was looking at him with a pair of chestnut brown eyes. He raised his hand to his right cheek and ran his fingertips over it - there were no scars.

“You're right; injuries and imperfections don’t exist up here. No pain, no illness. That’s why I’m not wearing any glasses,” she explained with a grin. She slowly lifted her hand to his face, pausing over his right eye before finally running her fingers over the spot where she had once stitched him up. It was only with the feeling of her skin against his that he truly understood she was actually there, and that after so many years apart, they were finally reunited.

In that moment, it didn't matter to him that his feelings were probably written all over his face. He might make a fool of himself, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that she was there, that he was there, and that they were given a second chance. Together. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. 

“I missed you too.” Her hand gently caressed his face - a simple touch, but it was enough to set his heart on fire. A single tear rolled down his cheek, then another, and she wiped them away with the back of her fingers. 

He gave in to the overwhelming urge and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her shoulder. Her hands moved reassuringly over his back, and then, finally, she pulled him into a warm embrace. His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist as he returned the gesture, drawing her as close as possible.

There was one thing, though, that he still needed to do. He had already spent half his life regretting not having dared to take the first step. But now he was given a second chance, and he was determined to make it right. Carefully, he pulled back just enough to look her straight in the eyes, their foreheads still pressed together. Shaky fingers reached for her cheek, and he gently brushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. 

Hange seemed to sense what he had in mind, and her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t pull back. Her eyes flickered from his lips up to his eyes again, and anticipation coiled in his stomach.

Levi wanted to say something, to tell her how he felt, but the words caught in his throat. He had never been good with words, and it seemed that even in a place like this he couldn’t find the right ones to express everything he wanted to say. “Hange, I..."

“I know. Me too,” she whispered softly, not even letting him struggle to find the right words. He let out a huff of air, and the corners of his lips turned up just a little. 

His heart was pounding very fast when he finally reached for her head, burying his fingers deep in her hair, but there was no turning back now. He leaned in, closing the small gap between them, and gently pressed his lips to hers. 

The warmth that rushed through his body at that touch was overwhelming, but it also felt incredibly good. Everything about the kiss felt right - how her soft lips moved against his as she returned the kiss, how her hands rested on his chest, one directly over his pounding heart, and how her fingers were buried in his hair as she deepened the kiss, gently scratching the back of his neck. Kissing her was both exhilarating and thrilling, and in that moment, he had never felt so profoundly loved.

What he had intended to be just one kiss turned into several, and when they finally pulled away, both were breathing heavily, their cheeks flushed but smiles wide. 

“I should’ve done this sooner,” he murmured, gently tracing her jawline with his thumb.

“Oh, definitely,” Hange chuckled, playfully nudging his nose with hers. “But I don’t care. Now we have an eternity to make up for everything.” With those words, she leaned in again and drew him into another kiss.

[dracocheesecake]

What do you think Kai would do with a protective s/o? Like, does the all supreme warlord really need protection? Not really. Is she on his power level/fighting skill? Absolutely not, the thought’s nearly laughable (or at least, probably laughable to Kai anyways). But if anyone so much as poses half a threat to the bull, is she going to start going off into as much a war mode as she can muster to defend him? Yea, without a second thought.

I just think its funny, it’s like having a guard dog but you’re a navy seal and the guard dog in question is just like a very feisty chihuahua.

Oh my goodness this is a hilarious/adorable thought. Especially if we're going with Spirit Warrior Kai- an immortal- and a mortal s/o it becomes even more so. X'D Kai would definitely find it amusing andadorable, to say the least.

Now if we're going with warlord mortal Kai, then it's still an incredibly hilarious situation. Oogway cracking jokes about Kai's little "bodyguard". Kai would probably give her the title "lapdog", or "gnat". I can just imagine they're in a meeting with another general- a loose ally of sorts- and when the conversation gets more heated she starts hurling threats and insults the other general's way, while Kai's leaning back smirking the entire time. "You might want to be nicer to me. I could sic her on you."

She'll probably try to take care of whatever cuts and scrapes he accumulates, too, all while scolding him for being stupid...

No, no, hold it-drabble incoming:

"Do you think you're immortal?" She snapped, cleaning what many would have thought a small scratch on the bull's hide (especially the bull himself), but to her was a wound as severe as anything. Kai's ear twitched in her direction, and then he looked over his shoulder at her.

"What answer would make you more angry?" He asked, smirking.

She slapped his back, and he chuffed in amusement.

"Stop being stupid! What if you're wounded even worse next time?"

Kai shrugged, undoing some of her work- she was no healer, and the peeling bandages showed her painful efforts- vain in attempt, but not sentiment.

"No one has managed it so far."

She snorted in disgust, and the noise buried the worried sob that had actually been building; his arrogance was a danger, not only to his soldiers but his physical being. He really did think he was immortal. Still, for his sake she held herself together, focusing on her work.

She patched up the rest of the cuts and patted his back again. "Now go get some rest. You'll need it if you're going to lead the march tomorrow. We'll be crossing enemy lines, soon."

Kai rolled his eyes. "As if I need a wetnurse," he grumbled. There were notes of affection in his tone, though, poking through the exasperation, and despite his objections he obeyed.

She waited for his breath to even out, and then she reached forward and brushed her fingertips against one of the scars tracing across his ribs. Then another one, on his chest- and there!- A nick on his throat she had missed.

Kai was an excellent fighter, he was right, he didn't need her protection- but she thought about all the ways he could be hurt, about how his own carelessness could kill him, and tears welled in her eyes, knowing she could only do so little to protect him. One of Kai's hands reached up, clasping around her wrist, and she quickly blinked her tears away. She perked up as his eyes opened and steeled her voice.

"Sorry," she said, "I was just checking these scratches. I didn't mean to wake you."

Kai watched her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then his grip and gaze softened.

"...Does it bother you that much?" He asked.

She couldn't contain herself anymore. That spark-bright rage that had been known to jump to General Kai's defense the moment anyone even thought to cast him a ill glance now turned against him. Hot tears, now flooding over the dam of her restraint, poured down her cheeks.

"Of course!" She cried, "Do you know how hard it is, watching you march out to battle every day, you being as stupid and arrogant as you are, when I can't do anything to protect you? Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be so weak?"

She may have barked much more such things at him, half unintelligible through her rageful sobs; she couldn't remember. She couldn't even remember exactly when he had taken her in his arms, or when she had finally lost her breath. All she knew was that she was now sobbing straight into his chest.

Kai just held her for a long while, and then he sighed, shrugging. "I told you that it's hard to care for me. Just ask Oogway."

That only made her more angry, and she sobbed even more. Kai must have realized his mistake, because he then continued, his tone turning slightly more apologetic, urgently so:

"-Not that I don't care! I'm not that stupid, or ungrateful...It's just...It's- you're only-"

She glared up at him, and Kai groaned, cursing, probably loud enough for the occupants of the nearest circle of tents to have heard it and woken from their sleep.

"I'm not trying to- I mean, I just- I don't...Dammit."

Kai held her closer, so much closer that it almost squeezed the breath from her, but then his grip relaxed. He snorted and then released her- but only to cup her face in his hands. His shoulders hunched somewhat, his attempt to make eye-contact on her level.

"I get it, you care about me, for some reason-stupid choice, really- and trying to look after me makes you feel better...but you're only a gnat."

He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Even so...thank you. For everything...And I will try to be more careful, if it means you won't go into hysterics and scare away all of me and Oogway's allies, or yell at me after every battle."

And then that smirk returned, though a little less mean-spirited than before; but she understood his meaning. Her tears dried, and she smiled a little. Then she reached forward and nipped at him, making him grin and lean away.

"You better!" She snapped, "Or else I'll do more than yell at you!- And you know General Hayou had it coming!"

Kai raised his brows. "He just sneezed in my direction."

"He could have made you sick! He deserved to get chewed out."

Kai snorted in amusement and leaned back onto his cot, pillowing his head on his hands. "I don't get sick. Besides, if it ever came to an actual fight, I think I can handle him."

"He's a crocodile almost twice your size, you arrogant cow!- See, this is why you need me!"

"What? To nibble the ankles of all my enemies?"

"Shut up and get some sleep!"

"You know- maybe we should put you on the front lines tomorrow, instead- you could glare at Fenhua's army, and they'll probably take off running. Would save us a lot of trouble."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "If they know what's good for them, they'll take one look at you and take off running- knowing that I'm right behind you, and knowing what I'll do if they even touch a single strand of your fur."

"What? Nibble their ankles? So scary!"

"And worse."

Kai laughed, finally settling himself down and closing his eyes. "I don't doubt it."