#but - perhaps because I believe in excellence and not despite of it -

[why-bless-your-heart]

My mom sent me a watercolor she just did and I’m going a little crazy over it, tbh.

[celesterayel]

the it couple | luke castellan

request: I’m not really sure what qualifies as a request but could you write a Luke x reader where they are like the camp it couple? 🫶🫶

summary: common knowledge is how irrevocably in love luke castellan is with you.

"you know i adore you, i'm crazier for you than i was at sixteen lost in a film scene" - t.s.

w.c. : 702

warning(s) : none

pairing : luke castellan x reader

the campers of camp half blood don't quite remember how or when it had happened. It just always was: you and Luke Castellan, that is. where you went, he followed. the shadow to your guide and you the balm to his sorrow. annabeth used to whisper to the younger children–the ones who had been taken to camp far too young and therefore had little knowledge of love–that you and Luke Castellan were soulmates: seamlessly bound to one another. 

you yourself had never believed in fate despite the fact that you had met them–old bitter hags. you preferred to believe that life was not set in stone, unbreaking and withered to a timeline. it perhaps led to your brash attitude and ‘ride or die’ mentality but your mannerisms only made luke castellan fall in love with you all the more. some things were just beyond the gods' control. you and luke were one of those things.

you had first arrived at camp a decade ago, where you were then claimed by hades. of course news of you spread like wildfire: you were gorgeous, your talent with your bo staff was unmatched, and your father was one of the three–strong power ran through your blood and you showed it everyday during training. but that wasn’t exactly what caught the attention of everyone, rather the fact that the popular gaze of a certain brown-eyed boy always strayed to you. when you laughed, he smiled. where you went, he strayed. you were magnet and he was never far away.

you both tipped toed around one another, constantly drifting toward the other. playful banter slipped between you two and those around you wondered when you would finally just get together. the first time you guys finally breached the delicate line between more than ‘obviously pining friends’ was after an exciting rivalry game.

despite the strategic planning of annabeth–who clearly eyed the tension between the two of you–and the excellent swordsmanship, house ares had won the game because of you. You had been the one to distract luke castellan after clarisse had forced you to use your charms. it was fun to see the cute blush adorn his cheeks when you approached the head of the Hermes House.

“so, does this mean you agree to go out with me?” he breathed out, hands twirling his sword as he was once again bested by you in capturing the flag.

you laughed out, “i was just waiting for you to ask, castellan.”

no sooner after you had begun dating did the infamy of you two reach an all high around camp. how could it not? 

you two were the all anyone could talk about–the best of the best.

luke castellan was already the best swordsman at camp; a prodigy in the making. his brown curls and dimples only made him more popular among the girls and young teens. he was one of the highest placed leaders around camp; one of the few that clarisse actually respected and the one that annabeth regarded most. 

you were a gem in the rough: bold and brash at times, but calculating and quick-witted. you were the one to turn to when those around camp felt alone, always ready to take care of others and offer words of wisdom. you were a living definition of rules being broken and your power only highlighted the height of your placement around camp. 

when you two walked by, the eyes of the others strayed. newcomers learned of your names before they learned what exactly camp half blood was. 

when you threw your head back and laughed, people watched as Luke curled his lips in pride at being the one behind your laughter. when he sat round the fire and sang songs with the campers, you sat right beside him; head laying on his shoulder and hoping the moment would never end. he willingly allowed himself to lose camp games if only by your hand, time and time again.

yes, you were the it couple of camp half blood but none of that mattered, when he was the one for you.

[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

Knowing Pen lied to him was truly Colin's nightmare come true in many ways, because of his past experience, but it's deeper because he actually truly loves Pen and she wouldn't lie to him because she's Pen, and Pen is special, but the the more you watch, the heartbreak shapes more clearly. Colin's expressions and his questions, the many times he's asked Penelope if she's sure of her feelings, if she regrets getting engaged, if she doesn't return his feelings for now...everytime Colin notices she has something to tell him, that he can feel it, he's expecting her to say she doesn't love him, that he indeed is not enough on his own, not worthy. When she's 'sick' and he wants to be near her..."perhaps she's trying to keep me at distance and is regretting", he's so unsure. Her confession at the church, that follows him once again asking her, telling "if you'll still have me?" and clearly bracing himself for some type of rejection, gives him a bit of peace, he starts to believe and is so giddy. At the Mondrichs ball, he's so happy when she tells him he's worthy. It breaks my heart for what's to come. His world came crashing down, because if she lied about that, if she - even if deep down he knows it's true, and that's why it hurts more, because she sees him negatively, she knows his mask and what's hiding - said those things about him in her Column, then she likely doesn't love him, not really, not in the way he loves her. It's hammering in his head: "Why would she love me?, and then, everything that happens make it worse, because - to him - he doesn't seem to be able to show to her his value, to prove to her he deserves love, because she seems to not need him, he's unable to help her in an effective manner and he feels like a failure as her husband, unsure of himself and mistrustful of her loving him. That's why Pen's words to him at Francesca's wedding makes me so emotional. I am in love with her words, how she tells him her needs and how his love is important to her on its own, and how can he show her that love the best/the best way to show it, what she doesn't need, what he doesn't need to do, that he actually excels at loving her when he simply loves her. It's in his special smiles to her, in their little jokes together, it's in the way he made love to her, in the way he gazes at her, how he makes her feel beautiful, in the way he dances with her, how happy it makes them to be together, how they can be silly together, how he kisses and holds her. It's curious because Penelope doesn't seem to doubt his love is there anymore, their dynamic here has shifted ( until ep5, she was also very insecure) , despite their issues, have you notice that? She just wants him to allow himself to show, she wants him to want to love her, she knows it's there, she wants him to act on his love and show her, in the many ways he's so perfect in showing her, so that she can show him back and make him feel loved too. Her offering the annulment was about protecting him and his family and a way to tell him: You don't have to keep on loving me, to be by my side, if i don't make you happy with my love, if you don't want to, if you are scared, in pain. But of course he wants to. He'll always want to and seeing her being so brave, makes him brave too, brave to let himself believe, to accept and let his heart melt away the protections he built with his hurt, makes him understand, deep inside of him, she loves him, that brilliant woman loves him and her light, as he said, will never hurt him, it was never meant to hurt him, instead it will always brighten up his path. She exposed herself out of love, for herself, for him, for his family and he exposed all his feelings right back to her, his insecurities and his love, he finally felt with certain how much he is loved, and it's every bit as much as he loves her. And he knows how vast that is.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 011 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. getting drunk. physical violence.

notes. @sunasbabie bullied me into updating so here it is. alsoo the start of suna’s downfall arc???

wc. 11.8k

series masterlist 

[ ELEVEN ] I care, I care, I care like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin’, hidden in plain sight. ooh I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life. I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear

Rintaro had known from a very young age he was different.

He had brothers, quite a number of them, and yet even when everyone had their own maids and butlers, Rintaro stuck out like a sore thumb. For one, they were strictly not allowed to call him by his name. He was never Rintaro – always His Highness or Crown Prince. He was never allowed to play with his brothers, either, despite being close in age to most of them. Instead, he stood watching from the windows of his study as they frolicked and lived like normal boys. They attended school, played sports, made friends – the normal way of living, even for Princes. But Rintaro wasn’t like that. Her Majesty had different expectations for him. That because he was the only son of the King and Queen, he simply had to be better than the rest.

No, he had to be the best, and he believed it at some point.

Until Her Majesty announced it was about time he learned some ‘proper socializing’ into society. She’d enrolled him in the same private academy as his brothers, got chauffeured to and fro, and was expected to give nothing but the best of grades when he returned. It sounded simple enough – study, excel, and prepare himself for the throne.

No one had warned him that high school came with other unexpected surprises, one that came in the form of a brown eyed beauty he’d been eyeing since his first day.

Her name was Iris – top of the class, all long, lean legs, and a mop of long, wavy hair. It was hard not to notice her. She was popular, in the way that everyone asked her for her notes, and you could trust her to whisper the correct answer when you’d been called to recite in the middle of the class. An academic overachiever, a teacher’s pet – they all had some sort of name for her. A stickler for the rules, too, always appropriately dressed and speaking in polite, clipped tones. She spoke in a manner elders would love, and Rintaro found that fact rather endearing. He wasn’t a great reader of people, but he could tell one thing: Iris was not her true self.

Her smile might be respectful, but something about the way her lips twitched when being told what to do gave him an idea that perhaps she wasn’t as obedient as she made herself to be. And she was always helping others, putting others before herself, but she never did it looking satisfied.

Rather, it seemed that her actions always stemmed from one thing: obligation.

Iris was not who she is because it was her, down to her nature, but because she felt she had to be. It was such a quality Rintaro resonated with. To deny oneself, and to put duty and order first. They both walked with stiffness in their shoulders, with the weight of the world on their heads. They were simply too young to be caring about such. And Rintaro found it unfair – how they’d been deprived of their right to normalcy and had a future they never even wanted shoved down their throats. He couldn’t speak entirely for her, of course.

They had entirely different backgrounds – with Iris as a foreign scholar, who had to work twice as hard to prove she was worthy as any local, and then there was Rintaro, who couldn’t really tell which parts of him were himself, or fabricated by the throne.

They were both young people who lied to themselves. And strangely enough, he found comfort in that. He found comfort in her. He felt less alone when she was around, and she’d definitely made her presence known. Whether it be slipping notes into his desk and walking away without a word, or sharing her milkbread with him during lunch – which he found hilarious, yet cute – or when she simply made the effort to get to know him.

Not the Crown Prince, but Rintaro.

She began to ask things about himself that he’d never thought of before. Like what his favorite food was – he blanked out, because he wasn’t supposed to be picky with food, so he just ate anything. Or what his favorite game was, and sometimes, she’d even asked him to teach her, even if bringing cell phones in class were prohibited.

She made him feel like a real person. She didn’t treat him specially; she didn’t swoon or fall to her feet when he entered a room. She spoke to him normally, treated him like a friend when no one would dare call him as such.

To her, he was just Rintaro. He could just be. And before he’d realized it, he began to look for her – in the hallways, watching her talk to her friends, or being curious on what snacks she brought so he could buy some for her next time, or intentionally trying to get partnered with her on any project.

But he hadn’t fallen for her.

Not until that day they’d rain poured over them unexpectedly, and they retreated under the nearest tree. Class had long been dismissed, and pretty much everyone had left – save for the two of them due to a late tutoring session. Rintaro struggled with English, but Iris was great at everything. And it was also a good excuse to spend more time together.

“You know, you’re different from what I expected,” Iris spoke, tilting her head up to catch some raindrops falling from the leaves with the tip of her finger. “When they said the Crown Prince was going to attend class, I figured you would be more… uptight. Strict. Or, you know, perhaps more arrogant than your brother.”

Rintaro fought the urge what she thought of him now. He’d become curious about it lately, unhealthily so. He wanted her to like him, to think positively of him – to be more than just ‘handsome’ or ‘charming’ or ‘regal.’ Because he most definitely wasn’t regal around her. He could be more himself, which is why he slouched, learned to smoke, longed for a tattoo, and even learned how to curse. Because he wasn’t Crown Prince Rintaro. He was just a normal high school student, Rin. Rin who stood under a tree while rain poured heavily against the pavement, next to a pretty girl who wore strawberry flavored chapstick and introduced him to a world he never imagined he could be part of.

If she had said he was regal, and well-mannered, he would’ve taken offense. But he didn’t ask, turning his gaze away from the way Iris leaned back against the damp tree and pulled out a cigarette. Even the way she smoked had him fascinated because it meant as a sign of trust to him.

The good, perfect student Iris was no longer perfect around him. She trusted him enough to let her guard down, and reveal her flaws. She had no need to impress him. In return, it made him want to impress her by mimicking her habits – even if he would’ve never dared doing them before.

“I have a lot of arrogant brothers. Which one are you talking about?”

“The ridiculously tall and talkative brunette in our year.”

“Tooru,” he said, gladly accepting when she offered him a stick. He didn’t light it though, because he was on his way home and didn’t want to reek of smoke. Well, if he was to be completely honest, he hated smoking. He didn’t like the way it burned his throat and made it itchy. But Iris smoked often, and she revealed more about herself each time she did, so he joined her. Everything he did was for her.

“Iris, why do you speak so casually to me?”

She shrugged and puffed out a smoky breath. “You just looked lonely. And everyone treats you like you’re fragile – always stumbling over their words or being excessively polite. I can tell it makes you uncomfortable, so… But if you truly mind, I can stick to the formalities. I just thought you might want someone to treat you like a normal person.”

“No, I-I don’t mind,” he reassured, “I like that you speak to me normally.”

“So, friends?”

He chuckled at that, and he didn’t stop her when she took out her lighter and lit her cigarette for him. He supposed one couldn’t hurt. “We have been friends for months now.”

“I know,” she beamed, “I’m just waiting to be invited over to your fancy Palace for tea parties.”

“I don’t even like tea.”

“Shame. I would’ve killed for some expensive drinks.”

And so their unexpected friendship began until they were practically attached to the hip. Wherever Iris went, Rintaro followed. She’d started calling him ‘Rin’ too, and Rin had to hide how much he liked it. He blushed madly each time he did, and it didn’t help that Iris had become more physically comfortable with him – locking arms together when they walked in the hallway, absentmindedly brushing his bangs back during their tutoring sessions, or laying on his lap when she had a book to read as they hid in the corner of the library. Each touch of her skin against his sent heat to his groin. It embarrassed him, because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his ‘friend’ like that, but could you blame him? He was a growing teenager. He wasn’t immune to a pretty girl’s subtle touches.

“You know, you can make it less obvious that you’re staring at the scholar.”

Glancing away from Iris playing volleyball with her friends, Rintaro glared at his brother. He shared classes with Tooru, but otherwise barely spoke to him. Tooru was too loud and confident; a little flashy for his liking. He also basked in the attention he received from the girls, shamelessly flirting with them and getting their hopes up.

Rintaro thought he was an ass.

“Shut up.”

“Well, well, can you believe that? I believe the Crown Prince just uttered a vulgar phrase that would surely displease Her Majesty. I wonder if she’ll ground you tonight for being such a naughty Prince.”

Rintaro glared at him, gesturing to Tooru’s childhood friend lurking in the corner. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like reject that poor girl showering you with gifts again?”

Tooru sighed, and upon seeing Maiko’s face light up when he looked her way, he bid his farewell. “Don’t remind me.”

His brother suddenly disappeared. He almost felt bad for Maiko, the heiress from the Rai Clan. She grew up having multiple play dates with Tooru, and they’d been close all the way to middle school when she grew a crush on him – a crush nearly bordering on obsession. When she invited him over to play with her new puppy around the ninth grade, Tooru was met with a ten feet portrait of him in her bedroom. Tooru hadn’t spoken to her ever since. But the poor girl was too innocent to understand his rejections, and she kept following him like a lost puppy.

Not that Rintaro was concerned. Neither was his brother concerned with him, anyway, so they stayed out of each other’s way until they graduated.

Sometimes, Rintaro still wished he never graduated at all. Maybe Iris wouldn’t have disappeared, then. She didn’t have a phone, so they couldn’t keep in contact, but even if she did have a phone, Rintaro wouldn’t be allowed to be casually conversing with ‘commoners.’ Her Majesty would hate it. And he wasn’t certain where she went. Perhaps university, but last he’d heard, Iris was occupied with dealing with some family matters, and Rintaro stopped prying. Her family was one of the things Iris never spoke of. But from what little he knew, she only had a loving mother who did her very best to raise her alone.

Rintaro would’ve never expected that when they saw each other again, they would run into one another at the Palace, of all places. “Iris?” he couldn’t believe his eyes. Had he missed her so much he was beginning to hallucinate? “I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

Iris looked like a deer caught in headlights.

He almost couldn’t recognize her. It’d been years since he last saw her and spoke with her, but she seemed entirely different now. She’d gone back to speaking in those forced, clipped tones, her posture perfect, and her smile a little stiff for it to be genuine. She’d been lying again to herself and to the world, but he couldn’t understand why. Rintaro still found it hard to believe that she stood in front of him, draped in lace dresses with the Royal emblem pinned to her right breast in the way royals did.

In the way he did.

“Your Highness,” she said, her tone sweet and airy, as she curtsied. Rintaro felt his stomach twist. This wasn’t the Iris he’d liked for so long. Iris didn’t speak sweetly, or said her words like she treaded on air and had that breathy, ridiculously feminine laugh. Iris’ voice was raspy from constant smoking, and when she spoke, it was always carefree. She never called him by his official title before, so why was she doing it now?

Rintaro couldn’t shake the feeling he was being betrayed.

“You mustn’t have been informed. I’m…”

“Do you serve the crown now?”

“No, no! Not quite in that way,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It was then he noticed the ring sitting on her finger. “I was married to your brother last night, my Prince.”

“Which brother?”

“Prince Kiyoomi.”

He felt like his world had been crushed.

He was never a hopeless romantic, but he was learning. She’d taught him what girls liked. And he… he thought she liked him, too. She must have, right? If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be staring at his lips when he talked. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t hold his hand and rub circles along his knuckles when they were alone together in the library. Or had he just fooled himself all this time? Was he really nothing but a friend to her?

Rintaro felt foolish all over again.

He felt like he was seven years old once more, holding back his tears while Her Majesty lashed at the backs of his thighs because he wasn’t able to memorize a clause from the Royal Acts and Commands. He heard the word ‘stupid, idiotic, slow,’ and ‘foolish’ resonating at the study room again, while his tutor shook his head in disappointment. Taking a step back, Rintaro released a shuddering breath. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Surely, she wouldn’t befriend him just to make a fool out of him, but if she did… she would pay. He was the Crown Prince. He would become King. He would punish her, humiliate her and put her in her place if she treated him cruelly – but nothing could have prepared him for Iris stepping forwards, eyes drooping with sultriness as her palms flattened against his chest.

Stepping on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.

“But I wish it had been you.”

When she kissed him for the first time, Rintaro knew one thing for certain – she had ruined him for anyone else.

Rintaro isn’t a man quick to anger, but he was getting there.

To leave him for a trip with another man was one thing, but to completely leave him on radio silence was another. A whole week you’ve been gone and not once had you texted. No calls, no voicemails, not even an e-mail. He felt like he had no wife, and quite frankly, your determination to pretend he didn’t exist was getting on his nerves. What had he done wrong, anyway? Hadn’t he been sweet to you before you left? He wasn’t going to deny he made mistakes, but he was putting effort into making it all better. He hadn’t spoken to Iris when you were around. He ignored her, and avoided her even when you weren’t in the same room. And he fucking hated it – because why did you make him feel like he was a cheater when he loved her first?

And now, you were messing with his head. He was certain you were.

Apart from some photographs the paparazzi took of you shopping with Kanami, or sharing lunch with her or having coffee dates, he hadn’t seen you with Kiyoomi. He hadn’t the smallest clue what you were doing. Were you sleeping well? Better without him, maybe? Did you miss him, too, or were you just glad to finally be away from him?

He was going insane with every passing second you didn’t speak to him.

“You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Iris’ voice flittering through the loud noise of the music snapped him back to the present. Right. He was at a party attended by celebrities and models, with liquor in red cups and suspicious leaves and powder being passed to one another – the type of parties a Crown Prince shouldn’t be seen at. But the twins had insisted, claiming he should enjoy himself and ‘do whatever the fuck he wants’ since he didn’t have a wife around to criticize him. He thought it was stupid. He didn’t want to do anything to upset you, but Iris wanted to come along out of boredom – Kiyoomi was away fulfilling their duties for them as mediator between two countries, so she had nothing better to do. Besides, Rintaro figured Iris had been itching for these environments. She’d played the docile and agreeable Princess role for several years now. She must be tired of it, and as soon as she saw the opportunity to let loose and be her true self, she wouldn’t dare let it pass.

And maybe his brothers were right. There was nothing wrong with just taking some time for himself. If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

However, he couldn’t convince himself he enjoyed this party he was in. People were making out at dark corners of the hall, and he was pretty sure there were illegal activities happening tonight. Iris didn’t bat an eye on it. The twins, too, seemed to be enjoying themselves as they flirted with a model he’d seen before, but couldn’t care enough to remember the name of.

“Sorry,” Rintaro said, “I just have a lot on my mind these days.”

“Is it her? You can’t stop looking at your phone.”

Grimacing, he offered her an apologetic smile. Iris didn’t look jealous, but then again, it was hard to tell under the dim lights, and not when she was hugging her fifth cup of whatever foul-smelling liquor she seemed to indulge in. But neither did he want to offend her by lying, so he slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and feigned disinterest. “She hasn’t texted or called since she left. I have no idea how she’s doing at all,” he glanced at her, “Has Kiyoomi texted you?”

“As if that would happen,” she chugged her drink and gestured to the doors. “Let’s go. I need some fresh air.”

They exited and walked all the way to the balcony. On their way there, Iris hugged his bicep and leant against him, causing the passing by hotel staff to eye them warily. But Iris couldn’t care less, and Rintaro leveled the staff with a warning glare. They should know better than to say anything. Tonight, the world was theirs. Iris was in his arms, as free as they could be, as free as he always hoped, and he swore he wasn’t going to think about you.

With the fresh air kissing his exposed skin, Rintaro immediately felt better. He wasn’t surrounded by the stench of alcohol anymore. He could breathe better here. Leaning against the railings, he and Iris overlooked the Kingdom of Inarizaki laying beneath their feet.

At one point in time, he promised to give all of this to the woman beside him. They’d talked about having children and raising them in the Palace. How they would make great monarchs, and they could finally be powerful while still being free. With them on top of the world, no one could tell them what to do. They could simply be themselves. But just a hundred times better, because Iris would be beside him and sharing the burden of the Crown.

At least, until Rintaro realized none of that felt right.

You were his wife. He didn’t want to share this Kingdom with anyone else but you, although there was a more worrisome voice whispering at the back of his head – Rintaro didn’t want to share you with this world. He wanted to hide you and keep you for himself. He didn’t want you anywhere Kiyoomi, or Tooru. You were his. He was yours. He’s your husband, and you his wife.

You should be the one here with him, and he should be there with you.

Did you feel the same way, too?

Iris lit up a cigarette. Before he could think better of it, he snatched one from her and she lit it up for him, just like she did when they were younger. Her brows rose at his sudden eagerness, “You haven’t smoked since you met her.”

“I didn’t want her to think I smelled.”

“What’s the change?” she teased, “No longer worried she’ll think you reek because you’re married?”

“I just need the distraction.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I’m just worried.” He gritted his teeth, not liking how all of this just felt�� wrong. Iris smelled too much of the old perfume she wore when they were teenagers, and it made him nostalgic in the worst kind of possible. Like recalling a childhood memory you thought was great at the time, but growing up completely changes your perspective on it. Rintaro hated it – how he tasted bitterness at something he once craved so much. Worse, he couldn’t keep lying to himself. He didn’t know where his heart was at yet, but something was different.

He desperately wanted to see you.

“I feel like… I feel like she’s going to leave me, Iris. Something’s changed.”

“You’ve changed, Rin,” she snapped, throwing her cigarette on the ground and stomping at it. Rintaro frowned; he’d seen her do it before when they were kids, but seeing her still do it now confirmed his theory: Iris still had her mean temper. She could never hide it even under silk dresses and velvet gloves. “You haven’t been the same since the honeymoon. I feel like we left behind the old you, and the one that came back is someone I barely know.”

Rintaro couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. She was right. He’d changed. He didn’t know why, or how, but maybe he was falling in love. Could he be? No… maybe he just missed you. Maybe he just hated the way you seemed so resigned and distant when you left.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could tell her, because Rintaro was too lost.

“Are you changing your mind about me?”

“No, no. Gods, I would never. I just – I’m confused, okay? She’s mad at me, and she just left. What if she never speaks to me again?”

“She will. She’s your wife.”

“You don’t even speak to your husband,” Rintaro argued, and Iris rolled her eyes. Once, he would’ve found her irritation appealing. But directed at him? He just felt like he was being looked down on.

“That’s different. You know, Rin, if you’ve changed your mind about me, it’s okay. I already knew before this most likely wouldn’t work out, and even if you did become King and legalized divorces, what would happen, then? I’ll be your concubine,” she sneered, as if the mere thought sickened her. “People would reduce me into nothing but a whore. I don’t want to be hated just because I wanted you.”

Rintaro pursed his lips. Sure, the title ‘concubine’ didn’t come with many good meanings. But it was all he could give her. He couldn’t imagine making her his wife. Iris had too much of a temper for that, and with all the pretending and acts she puts on, he didn’t trust her enough to treat his people right when she wielded enough power.

She wasn’t kind like you.

She wasn’t like you.

He knew all of this, had realized it just now, yet he couldn’t bring himself to just go back. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed in defeat. “I’ve already gone this far. It’s a little too late to tell me to change my mind, you know?”

“I’m just reminding you this was your choice, not mine. And don’t forget if you do legalize divorces, and Kiyoomi and I did separate, does that mean you’ll divorce her, too?”

He threw his hands up in the air, frustrated. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I’m not a whore, Rin. I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want to be just your sidepiece, your secret lover. I have been here with you before people even acknowledged your existence. I was here first. Don’t you think it’s unfair she gets to have you in all your glory and I can only have you in secret? Like what we feel for each other is something to be ashamed of,” tears pricked at her eyes, and Iris angrily wiped them away. Rintaro was frozen to his spot. He didn’t even feel like reaching to wipe them for her – his mind was just in a different place entirely. His exhaustion ran bone deep.

“If you want me to divorce Kiyoomi when you become King, you should divorce her too.”

“That wasn’t the plan. You said you were fine being a concubine–”

“It’s either me or her, Rin. Choose. Who will be your wife? Me or her?”

“You. It’s always going to be you.”

“Do you promise?”

“It’s just you!” he barked, surprising both himself and Iris. He’d never raised his tone with her before, yet there was no denying it – he was changing. Iris knew this, too, and Rintaro could tell by the wicked glint in her eye that she would use this against him.

Rintaro didn’t think twice before he slammed his lips to hers.

If she couldn’t be convinced with words, he would convince her with their bodies. It was how they communicated anyway – all arguments would always be resolved in the bedroom. They stumbled together back to his hotel room, lips only leaving one another’s for a brief moment to breathe, before they were clawing at each other’s clothes. She let out her rage on him by pushing him back to the bed, with her on top and ripping his shirt, uncaring of the remnants. When she kissed him, it was everything but sweet. He tasted nothing but hatred and pure anger as she shoved her tongue down his throat, and he choked, tightening his grip on her hips while she bounced.

They did not make love.

They simply shared their bodies for a lack of better things to say. He bruised her and fucked her hard enough the headboard slammed against the wall because he couldn’t say he missed you. She marked his skin with hickeys and claw marks down his back because she didn’t want to hear him say he missed you.

At talking, Rintaro and Iris lacked at.

But they spoke well enough with the violence of their bodies that by the end of the night, they both knew – Rintaro’s heart was no longer in the same room as them.

You took it with you from a thousand miles away.

Rintaro couldn’t sleep the entire night. Iris had passed out as soon as she’d satisfied herself, and after hogging the sheets all to herself, he’d given up on trying to sleep. It felt wrong to share the same bed with her, anyway. So he got up, showered, and scrolled on the latest news to look for you again. Still nothing – but apparently Itachiyama’s citizens were looking forward to you and Kiyoomi attending a movie’s premiere night.

He clutched his phone hard enough it shut off. Sighing, he leaned back against his seat on the couch, an arm draped around his arm. He’d gone past the borders of being pathetic. Now, he was just eager to see his wife again, but he had no way of communicating with you. So like the pathetic fool he was, he couldn’t stop himself from scrolling for hours when a rapid knocking banged down on his door. Frowning, he opened it, and was met with a shirtless Atsumu wrapped in nothing but a towel – his eyes bloodshot red, though he suspected, not from crying.

“‘Tsumu, what the fuck?” His brother reeked of alcohol and sex. Pinching his nose, he scanned the hallway for witnesses before opening his door wider. Atsumu scurried in without a word and plopped down on the seat, his knees bouncing repeatedly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I… I fucked up.”

“Yeah? What’s new about that?”

“No, I mean, I really fucked up,” he groaned, his head falling to his hands. Rintaro immediately felt bad about him, Walking forwards, he crossed his arm against his chest, encouraging his brother to continue. “Listen, the party was going great, and Yuki just looked even better in person. And she was fucking funny and so perfect, man.  I couldn’t help myself. But she was flirting with ‘Samu more and I got jealous so–”

“What did you do?”

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. He couldn’t look Rintaro in the eye, and the latter was growing more nervous by the second. “I may have made her drink more than she can handle… and pretended to be Osamu. So she’d sleep with me.”

“You are screwed.”

“I know, I know, but she’s going to wake up soon, and I don’t know what to do. I left the room, and–”

“Okay, calm down. Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Downstairs, eating breakfast.”

“You stay right here.”

Iris chose the wrong time to wake up. She must’ve heard Atsumu’s frantic ramblings and sat up from the bed, clutching the blanket to her naked chest. Upon seeing an equally nude Atsumu, she screeched, throwing the nearest pillow at him. “‘Tsumu, get out!” Atsumu fought back by throwing a smaller pillow her way. They began bickering like small children, and it was too early for any of this. He could feel a pounding at the back of his head already.

Tired. He was just tired.

“Iris, please, just – just stay here, the both of you, okay? I’ll be back.”

At least Rintaro had Atsumu’s mess to thank. He finally had a good enough excuse to not spend another moment in that suffocating room with her – or any of them. He’d wanted to leave hours before, but Iris wouldn’t have taken it well if she woke up without him. For now, though, Rintaro had to take on the role of a responsible older brother; something he’d never done before. Taking quick strides, he swung the door open when Atsumu called out for him.

“Wait. Rin!” Rintaro paused, raising a brow at his brother, whose face had been drained of color. “I’m sorry… I just… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”

Rintaro himself wasn’t convinced by his words. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of before that the Princes got their sexual needs satisfied without having been married. Save for a few like Wakatoshi, Keiji, Kita, and Tobio who all wanted to wait for marriage, he was a hundred percent certain his brothers had been with women before. This normally wasn’t a cause for concern. But Hiroda Yuki wasn’t just anyone. She was a model currently rising to fame, and not only was she inebriated during the act, but she’d been led to believe the man she took to bed with someone else. If she were to found out the truth, and decided to turn to the media to ruin his brothers, it’d be another issue for the throne. It didn’t affect Rintaro directly, but times were changing – people were growing restless the longer the crown sat without its King.

It was high time they chose a King, but a very few number of Princes hardly seemed eligible.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Ushijima was the best choice to be King. He was fair, disciplined, and followed the rules to a tee. He also had a happy, stable marriage with a respectable noble woman, and they already have a healthy son. There weren’t any arguments that Rintaro paled in comparison to him.

But that didn’t mean he would give up so easily.

He wanted the throne. He wanted everything.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he headed for the lobby in search of the darker haired twin. He’d think about the Crown another time. Ducking his head to hide his face, he nodded at any passing staff and hid behind corners. It was only a matter of time before Yuki woke up. That presented another problem – should they hide the truth from her and keep Atsumu safe, or tell her what had really happened and risk having Atsumu be kicked out of the Palace?

Fuck. Rintaro didn’t know what to do, but maybe Osamu would.

His brother sat at the hotel’s dining area, happily digging into his meal without a care in the world. Oh, how lucky he was to be so ignorant. Out of the twins, Osamu was the more mild-mannered one and got into less trouble, but it didn’t change the fact Osamu was often the instigator, and Atsumu the willing victim who played into his hands. The situation felt more complicated now because Rintaro was unsure. Had Osamu planned this all along? Had he known that Atsumu wanted to sleep with Yuki and left them to themselves just when the both were drunk out of their asses?

Too many questions, and he struggled to form a coherent thought. But if he were Kita, he’d have this resolved within a second.

If he were Kita, but he wasn’t. He was just plain Rintaro, who wasn’t particularly great at anything, yet had unfortunately been branded with an extravagant title he never deserved.

Pulling out a seat before him, he narrowed his eyes at his brother. It was still early in the morning, so they had enough privacy with only very few people having breakfast. No one paid them any attention as Rintaro leaned forward, his voice low and hushed.

“Where were you last night?”

“Good morning to you, too, dear brother,” quipped Osamu through a mouthful of waffles, “Lovely set of breakfast they serve here. You should try some.”

“‘Samu, I’m serious. Did you stay at the party last night?”

Osamu, the little ass, took his sweet time chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “No, I went home after ‘Tsumu went out with the model. I just came back to pick him up. I figured he’d be too drunk to drive home.”

Rintaro wanted to ask for more details. There had to be more to the story. The twins were both cunning when they wanted to be, although he doubted Osamu would do anything to intentionally harm his twin. It seemed possible, but he couldn’t be too careful. None of them could afford any defamation lest the people decided for themselves how uncontrollable and unruly the Princes are. Their father had already broken the people’s trust by having multiple sons with different women. They treaded on eggshells, even more so when Rintaro opened his mouth to speak, and was cut off by the crowd whispering around them.

He and Osamu froze. They could barely make out the words from their mumbling at this distance, but they were no fools. They could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on them. With their phones pulled out, they whispered amongst themselves and sent looks of disbelief towards the Princes. Rintaro’s heart raced as he made eye contact with his brother.

They both pulled out their phones and checked the latest news.

An article published just a few hours ago trended worldwide at number one. A photograph of Rin and Iris making love could be seen through a window, with the headline implying that they were secretly lovers all along. His heart dropped. He scrolled down to the comments, his fist turning white at the knuckles as he read them.

That’s disgusting! Wasn’t Prince Rintaro recently married? It seems like being a cheater runs in the blood, after all. He’s just like his daddy To think they did this while their spouses were away for official duty… unbelievable. Disappointed, but not surprised. Princess Iris always seemed like a skank. Never liked her. She came to give aid when there was a storm in our village once, and she kept complaining she was tired. Now she’s going around sleeping with other people’s husbands *laughing sticker* lol she sounds like a bitch Is this real?????????? This has to be fake. The Crown Prince loves his wife! Delete this post now! You’re in trouble once the Palace sees this!

Rintaro pocketed his phone. “We need to leave.”

He dragged Osamu by the arm, ignoring his brother’s complaints that he hadn’t eaten his berries yet. One glare shut him up. They had bigger things to worry about than some stupid fucking berries.

“Call Shinsuke. We need help.”

All four of them hid in Rintaro’s room until Kita arrived. It hadn’t been long, maybe less than an hour, but the wait was nerve-wracking. Thankfully, he’d brought a security team with them. The Princes were escorted out through the back doors and into their cars, although it was too late. Reporters and journalists were already swarming outside the hotel. Kita had stayed back to tell the hotel staff they were not allowed to speak of what they saw or heard during last night’s party under no circumstances. The Princes’ safety were their utmost priority. Everything would be dealt with accordingly. Just as they pulled out of the hotel’s parking, Atsumu informed Kita about Yuki, and the situation he left her in.

Shinsuke’s lips thinned. Already, he looked bone tired. Waving a hand, he dismissed his brothers and promised he’d take care of her once she woke up. For now, they had to stay low and keep out of the public’s eye until the situation died down.

“You all best behave when you get back,” Shinsuke warned, “Her Majesty is furious.”

Of that, he had no doubt. Her Majesty had been eerily quiet since everyone’s return from the honeymoon. But Suna knew his mother better than anyone; she wasn’t letting things pass by, she was only watching from the sidelines, waiting to see who would drop the ball first. And to no one’s surprise, it would be Rintaro.

Her Majesty was right. He couldn’t keep this secret affair with Iris forever.

One way or another, the truth would be revealed, and the truth itself would be his damnation.

None of them uttered a word as they sat next to each other in the car. Atsumu’s still bouncing his leg, causing the seat to shake, but Osamu could care less. He simply gazed out the window. Iris, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped crying, her shoulders shaking silently. Mascara ran down her face in streaks, her lipstick smudged and her torn dress doing very little to hide the love marks on her skin. Gods. Rintaro’s headache worsened. If they got out of the car and the paparazzi took even one photo of Iris in her post-sex state, they were done for.

Rintaro could kiss his precious Crown goodbye.

Walking back to the Palace was akin to walking to your own death.

The lobby was torn upside down. Calling it a mess would be an understatement. The Queen stood in the middle of the furniture she’d flipped and thrown, shards of broken glass all around them as she heaved. The pure image of rage – and he had been the cause. “Fools! Idiotic fools, all of you!” she screamed, stomping through the glass as she reached up to fist Iris’ hair.

“Ow, Your Majesty–”

Her Majesty scrunched her nose at the scent of smoke and alcohol coming off from her, further fuelling her anger. “And you! By the Gods, I knew marrying you into this family was a grave mistake, but you just keep making me regret I ever laid eyes on you, don’t you? You lowly, good-for-nothing whore.”

“Mother!”

“You do not get to speak!” she turned to him and harshly let go of Iris, causing her to stumble and fall onto the broken glass. Panicked, Rintaro reached out for her, but the Queen had caught his arm, reared hers back and landed a slap on his cheek. Rintaro was stunned – she’d been harsh and cruel, but she never laid a hand on him. “Do you have any idea what you did? The throne is all in shambles because of you! The Cabinet hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article came out, and I have all our lines busy with people demanding for answers! And you dare raise your voice at me? I told you, multiple times, that you need to stop with your trysts. How will you be King now that you’ve lost the people’s trust?”

“He will not become King,” announced a deep voice they knew all too-well. Like a demon that only showed up in your worst nightmares, Ushijima strutted inside the room, an air of authority and finality surrounding him. “I should be the King. Help me have the throne, and I will resolve all of this,” he studied them all – Atsumu with his guilt, Osamu who was too scared of the Queen to move a single muscle, Iris clutching her bloodied arm, and Suna with disappointment written all over his features. “Clearly, he is not fit to lead this country. He is still but a foolish, young man.”

Foolish.

Stupid.

Reckless.

He’s just like his father.

He’d be a failure as King – just. Like. His. Father.

So that was who he was then. A failure. He’d become the one thing he swore not to be. How would you look at him now? You always gazed upon him with stars in your eyes, like he was the best thing to ever happen in your life. No one had ever looked at him that way before – not his mother, not even Iris. In Iris’ eyes, he was simply… a boy. A boy with no knowledge and experience in this world, a boy who she felt she had to teach because he knew so little. Only you looked at him with adoration, and even that had been taken away. Or, no, he ruined it. Just as he was the reason you used to smile, he’d also become your greatest pain. And maybe, once you’d returned him and seen how the entire country and his whole family had hated him, you would see him for who he is too – nothing but a failure.

The good for nothing Prince.

He should have known. The Palace was no place for the likes of him. He should have just stopped trying so hard to be King. He should have never used Iris as an excuse to quell his insecurity. But was it truly a crime to want to feel like he was needed?

He didn’t know anymore. The only thing he knows now was that he needed to leave, and without another word, stepped out of the room.

“Rintaro! Where are you going?!”

He ignored his mother calling for him. Perhaps he should stop calling her that, too. She’d barely been a mother. She was more of a Queen, bending and breaking her back to His Majesty’s will. She loved the crown and the power it gave her more than anything, that she willingly sacrificed her dignity to keep her position. For many nights, Rintaro watched his mother leave their quarters crying, battered and bruised. It was confusing for a young boy like him. Weren’t mommies and daddies supposed to love one another? But the Queen would scold him for being awake past midnight, and rush him back to bed while she limped on her way. She never loved the King, and because he was his son, she never loved him, too.

Rintaro was nothing but another tool for Her Majesty to stay in power.

She could never become King and hold the Kingdom for herself, but he could. Wasn’t that why she kept him locked away for years and groomed him to take in his Father’s steps?

I kind of did, he thought sarcastically, I’m a horrible husband just like him.

When you arrived in Inarizaki, the country was in chaos. People flocked you from left and right when you and Kiyoomi left the plane, causing the older Prince to break his silence and scold the nosy reporters. Flabbergasted at his sudden outburst that seemed out of character; they lowered their cameras and gave you enough breathing space. The peace, however, did not last long. Her Majesty was furious beyond what one can imagine – akin to a dragon breathing fire down to anyone who dared come near her tower. The twins, who apparently started this fire and caused Rintaro to be the fuel, had been shut away in their rooms in fear of angering her. Iris, from what little you heard about her, was being ruthlessly flamed by the media. They’d called her all sorts of unkind things you would’ve never dared say out loud.

But for some reason, seeing their downfall did not give you any satisfaction.

Because at the end of the day, they were the people you and Kiyoomi returned to. You may walk down the same hallways in the Palace, but he would always be in Belleview Manor to look for her. And you were well on your way to search for the Crown Prince who walked out on his mother.

The guards took some time to find his location, but once they did, they did not hesitate in informing you. Everyone believed you were the only person he’d want to speak to right now. So you drove up to the mountains, where it was barren and cold, and you had to use a truck to survive the rocky terrain. Seriously, out of all the places he could be, he chose to wallow in misery at the top of the world – in the pouring rain, no less.

Boots muddied from the storm, you hopped out of your truck and opened an umbrella, clutching your coat tighter as you watched your husband from afar.

This mountain served as a border between Inarizaki and Itachiyama. From where you stood, you could see the two countries – Itachiyama with its rich nature, and Inarizaki with its towering Castles and bustling cities. Once a united nation, now split into two – all because of love. A tragic story, yet a realistic one. It only goes to show how powerful, and dangerous, love could be. You knew better than anyone that whatever made you happiest could also be your greatest demise.

And there was the said demise – crouching as he picked up pebbles and threw it off the mountain wall. He wore the same shirt as from the photograph; wrinkled and stained with lipstick. Even from this distance, you could smell her on him, and you wanted to laugh. Perhaps Kiyoomi was right – maybe they never loved each other. Maybe they were just lonely.

Extending the umbrella until your husband was shielded from the rain, you softened. Rintaro visibly froze when the rain stopped pelting against him. His wet hair stuck to his face, his shirt plastered on his skin.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his devastatingly handsome face: relief, worry, surprise.

You broke the silence first and crouched down next to him. When Rintaro stiffened, you smiled, showing him you were not here to be his enemy. “My Prince. You are a difficult man to find.”

“Princess,” he breathed out, and you realized the poor Prince was shivering. His face broke into that of despair upon seeing you. “I didn’t know you would be home so early.”

“I had some matters to attend to.”

“You saw the article,” he guessed, and you nodded. Rintaro then stood to his full height, and you followed, causing his head to bump into the umbrella since he was taller. For a moment, he crouched to fit in under the small space. But it was uncomfortable, and soon, he was gently taking the umbrella and holding it for the both of you – more for you, though, since rain still trailed down his back. “I’m sorry.”

“It was bound to happen,” shrugging, you gestured for him to take a walk with you. It was far from being the most scenic place to have a peaceful walk in, but it would do.

You two were silent for a moment. Rintaro seemed to have a thousand thoughts running through his head when you finally spoke.

“How are you?”

“Tired. And you?”

“I’ve had better days.”

Rintaro stole a cautious glance. “Are you mad at me?”

You chuckled, and the sound of it stupefied him. His eyes widened as if afraid, but truly, there was no need to be. You weren’t in the mood to argue with him. “Not really. I feel like I was mad at you a long time ago, and now I’m just… Numb to it all, I suppose,” you said, absentmindedly spinning the wedding ring you both wore. Such a simple jewelry, yet it symbolized so much more. When you spoke again, the rain had calmed down a little bit, but the cold had already seeped into both of your bones. “Marriage is difficult. You have to stay true to your vows, even when the times are challenging. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse. ‘Till death do us part,” you glanced up at him, taking in those handsome features you fell in love with – his hazel eyes, his soft lips you loved to kiss, and his face you often cradled in your palms. Even right now, you wanted to kiss him, if only to give comfort, but you had to know first –

“Do you intend on keeping your marriage vows, Your Highness?”

He averted his gaze. “I doubt our marriage is valid anymore. The country thinks I am a horrible husband to you.”

“It’s not like I’ve been the best wife myself,” you admitted, your chest aching as you remembered the Second Prince – his gentle smiles directed only at you, the castle ruins, his large palms holding you tenderly, and the crestfallen look on his face when you told him you had to look for your husband. Such a great man, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And Gods, you couldn’t help it. You cried. You mourned the love you could have had.

You grieved for the life you could have had, the person you could’ve become.

If it had been Kiyoomi, it would be so much easier. He would love you in the way you wanted. He would you close to his arms all night long because he wouldn’t want to let go. He would chase away those stupid chickens for you. He would hide you away from the rest of the world and given you a life of solitude and peace – it would’ve been simple, and it would’ve been perfect.

But Kiyoomi was already married, and so were you.

And you felt horrible because he was great, but then you’d become a horrible wife. You would be exactly like Rintaro if you had given into your desire and kissed him. Kiyoomi wasn’t yours. But was Rintaro? Your heart was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Why couldn’t it all just work out?

Why couldn’t it be him?

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you forced the thoughts of the curly-haired prince out of your head. “I wish I hated you, Rintaro. I wish… I wish I never met you. I wish you never danced with me at your brother’s ball. I wish you never courted me. I wish you never came into my life and changed everything. It would have been better to never have been loved, than to have loved and been betrayed.”

Rintaro stepped forward, his arm extending to wipe your tears for you but even he could tell you were refused. So he kept his distance, clutching the umbrella tighter as his voice broke. “I’m sorry. I really am. It just… I didn’t want for it happen. You were all I thought about. When you were gone and you didn’t call or texted once, I thought I was losing you. I wanted you back.”

You shook your head. “You cannot have everything you want. You know that.”

His face dropped.

“Are you going to make me choose, too?”

“No. I already know who you would choose,” and you did, yet your heart still ached for him, for your husband, the one thing you couldn’t have. Only you didn’t feel like laughing, not when Rintaro looked at you with just as much confliction. “Is it foolish of me that I still love you even after everything you’ve done?”

His lips curled the slightest bit. “A little, but I am the last man to judge you if you were foolish, which you aren’t.”

You laughed sardonically. “I love you, do you know that?”

“I know,” he mumbled.

Who knew two words alone could puncture one’s heart so much?

Looking away, you both remained silent until Rintaro dropped the question. “What will happen to us now? Divorce is unlikely, but I might be stripped off my titles. I don’t know. But I have a feeling I certainly won’t become King anymore.”

“Do you want to be?”

Rintaro thought about it. “I do. It’s all I’ve ever known to pursue.”

“Then stand tall, my Prince. A future King doesn’t bow down to anyone, not even his Queen, and most especially not when the world is against him. We can fix this. I can fix this. I can restore your glory, but I need you to place your full trust on me.”

The plan you formed in your head would be considered insane. Her Majesty would certainly be furious, but if this was the only way to leave Rintaro, you would do it. You would protect him. You would give him back his power, and once he’s had it all, you’ll remove yourself from his life. He cannot have everything that he wants – but if you could not have love, then you want power. Even for just a brief moment, you were determined.

You were going to ruin her.

The drive back to the Palace was silent. He’d agreed to whatever plan you had, regardless of what the outcome might be. He didn’t even know what you truly had in mind. He just trusted you wholeheartedly like you asked, and told you to do as you pleased. Right now, the Crown Prince was weak. His mind was far too disturbed to process anything correctly. You would take advantage of it, simply because his compliance would be the only thing to ensure your success.

He just needed to remain silent.

Claiming he was exhausted, Rintaro went ahead first. It’d be another night where you’d sleep separately, and you would both definitely be awake the whole time. Just as you rounded the corner, you saw a hunched figure resting against the wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for you for a while. Upon hearing your footsteps, Kiyoomi raised his head – his dark eyes vulnerable, almost if hoping you would be the same as you were yesterday.

You wanted to. Truly, you did.

But the person he’d been with in Itachiyama was someone else entirely. She was someone happier, someone who didn’t have a broken marriage to worry about. She was someone who could have loved him.

Now, you were the same Princess he’d always known – the one who could never choose him.

Kiyoomi nodded to himself. He must have realized everything by now. What happened in Itachiyama stayed in Itachiyama. Pushing his weight off the wall, he strode to you with a blank expression. His eyes had gone cold again.

“We will never speak again, will we?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out, “He needs me right now.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi had never sounded so defeated broke, and it broke your heart. It made you want to run into his arms, to tell him it could’ve been him if you met him first. But that would sound wrong, wouldn’t it? He had been first. He’d been the last dance; the destined lover. The fated one. But man’s willpower could be so strong it battled even destiny itself, and you were both nothing but a fragment of the could’ve been’s.

“Good luck, Princess, in all your endeavors,” and then, just when you thought he would kiss you as he leaned forward, you closed your eyes. Waited with bated breath.

But he never did.

Kiyoomi only kissed your cheek, and then his scent and his warmth disappeared sooner than you would like. When he walked away, you saw all the what if’s you had to let go of.

The dream life with Kiyoomi vanished into thin air.

Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you forced yourself to turn and never look back. Kiyoomi was surely doing the same. He’d come to peace with it eventually, the love he could’ve had, the marriage he should’ve had. Itachiyama was nothing but a fantasy anyway. He wasn’t a real farmer just as you weren’t someone he could call his. It was a story doomed from the beginning.

Numbness spread all throughout your body. You’d been too drained to cry further, too exhausted to regret what you’d just done. The voice in your mind, the one who craved Kiyoomi like man needed air, had been eerily silent, too. It was if she, too, knew there was no point chasing after something that didn’t want to be chased in the first place.

All you could do was close your eyes and push the image of Kiyoomi’s smile out of your head.

He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

After what seemed like hours, you finally arrived at your shared quarters. The same room you left your husband in, and quite possibly the same room he slept with his mistress while you were gone.

You sighed. Opening the door, you were met by the sight of Rintaro pouring himself a drink. He’d already changed clothes – ones free of Iris’ lipstick and perfume. He looked fresh, much more composed than when he was a mess hours ago, yet he seemed… distant. Usually, he’d already perk up at you entering the room. But his face was devoid of any emotion as he poured wine into a second glass, deftly picking it up before downing it in one go. Your gaze fixated on the bobbing of his throat. How Iris’ lips kissed the column of his neck, how she’d whispered praises into his skin, how Rintaro allowed it all.

He slammed his empty glass down on the table. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the sides of it, his voice unnaturally low as he spoke. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“Why you weren’t mad after reading the article,” his knuckles turned white from when he tightened his grip. He took slow exhales as if to calm himself, his grip loosening before he snatched another glass.

Back straightened, Rintaro towered over you as he took slow, careful, deliberate steps – akin to a predator sneaking up on its prey. Your heart drummed in your chest, loud enough it could’ve echoed in the spacious chamber, but you stood your ground. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing his effect on you. Then, he stood in front of you – close enough you saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, the tipping of his head to the side as he narrowed his gaze at you. Inquisitively, suspiciously, like peeling away the layers of your skin to reveal your dirtiest secrets.

“Strange, don’t you think? Any sane wife who found out their husband was cheating on them would’ve screamed and kicked already. You didn’t do any of that.”

“I told you already. I’m too tired for any of that.”

“It could be that,” he raised his glass to your face, a portentous smirk dancing on his lips. “Or you could also be directing your affections to someone else.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise kept his gaze on you as he sipped his drink and taking his sweet sweet time. “I wouldn’t have slept with her if you didn’t leave. You know I despise Kiyoomi, yet you still went. You completely disregarded my feelings when I said I didn’t want you to go,” he grounded his teeth, jaw clenching from the effort of holding himself back. “Is it him, then? Are you choosing him over me?”

He sounded so serious in his accusations you almost believed it yourself. “Don’t be absurd, Rintaro.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I strike a chord?” he said in a sing-song manner, the smile dropping from his face when you kept your lips shut. “So the rumors were right. You went with him to get back at me.”

Your jaw dropped. Yes, you enjoyed the time with Kiyoomi. Yes, you wished you never left, and you were already regretting each minute you spent longer in this damned space with him. Yes, you thought about Kiyoomi in ways you shouldn’t have – and god forbid you nearly asked him to kiss you, but not once did you think about using his brother as a ploy.

You weren’t like him.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Rintaro fumed. He flung his empty glass across the room, the shattering sound muted by his yells. “Prove it to me, then!”

“Are you even hearing yourself? I’m not the one who cheated! Don’t you dare turn this around and make it seem like it was my fault.”

“But it was! If you didn’t go around fucking my brother behind my back, I would’ve stayed loyal to you! I would’ve waited until you returned! What, you thought I wouldn’t know what you were doing there with him? Doing fertility dances, sharing dinners with his mother like you’re his wife, lighting stupid fucking lanterns–” swinging your arm back, your palm connected with his cheek, a resounding slap rendering the Prince speechless. He stepped back, clutching his reddened cheeks as he stared at you in disbelief.

“That is enough. Utter one more word, and I will never speak to you again.”

“You aren’t even denying it,” he spat out, “Have you fallen for him?”

You were done. So done. You wouldn’t have any of this anymore. Sidestepping him, you walked past and away from your husband, heading for your bedroom where you planned on slamming the door in his face. You’d cry for hours there if you needed to – anything to have him leave you alone. But your husband was just as stubborn as he was determined, catching up to you with ease before catching your wrist. He spun you to face him, and you froze – he reeked of alcohol, his lips and cheeks painfully red, but his eyes.

You couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or keep you.

“Answer me!”

You fought against his grasp. He was stronger than you by all means; you struggled and kicked and pounded your fists on his chest, but Rintaro didn’t budge. He let you hit him however you pleased, demanding repeatedly to tell him he was wrong – how you wouldn’t choose his brother over him, how it’d be him – forever and always.

“I hate you!” you bellowed at his face, falling limp in his arms from all your fighting. “I wish I never married you – it should’ve been him! I should’ve married your brother!”

“That’s a lie!”

“Oh, don’t look so hurt now, Prince. You don’t even feel a sliver of what I do. Need I remind you that you constantly choose her over me, your wife? Why should I be loyal to you when you’re not even mine?”

“I am yours.”

“You’re hers, too,” you reminded him, your eyes glinting with mischief as you recalled Kiyoomi’s words. Just then, cruel laughter bubbled from your lips. Two could play this game, and you would be the winner. He wanted to hurt you? Fine. You could hurt him even more. “You know what’s laughable, Rin? The woman you’re fighting tooth and nail for doesn’t even want you.”

“Shut up!”

You laughed harder, practically shaking in his arms as you did. Taunting him, you nudged your nose with his, forcing him to look at you and feed on your wrath. “I’m right, aren’t I? She doesn’t like you. She’s merely using you for fame and pleasure because her husband isn’t attracted to her–” the breath was slammed out your throat. In mere seconds, Rintaro had shoved you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with such ferocity it burned you. Your eyes stung from your tears, the back of your skull beginning to throb. But Rintaro wasn’t done with you yet.

Pinning your wrists above your head, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like scotch and smelled faintly of her perfume. It made your stomach churn, and soon, you were groaning into his mouth, desperately trying to win in this battle of dominance. He was angry as you were frustrated, your lips molding against each other’s like swords clashing in a battle. He struck first, his kisses passionately bitter, but his taste addictingly sweet. You fought back against his hold, your breasts sliding down across his chest and you moaned – he groaned – tugging your bottom lip between his teeth until you couldn’t tell who the enemy was anymore. You shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t enjoy it, but his lips were as familiar as a sunny day and you were a woman in need of light in your life.

He’s repulsive, your mind argued.

But he’s mine, your heart decided. He was, and always will be, yours. He could have Iris for as long as he wanted, but it was you who’d taken his name. It was your ring on his finger, your face next to him in the royal portraits. You weren’t the shameful mistress – you were the rightful wife. You could have him as you pleased, ruin him to your delight. Break him into thousands of pieces only to pick him up again because he was yours, yours, yours.

Threading your fingers to his hair, you dragged him closer to you. Breathed him in, pawed at his shirt in a demand for him to take it off. He was more than willing to oblige, the two of you making quick work of his buttons in between messy, breathy kisses. Shirt discarded, he grabbed your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct – the next sequence of events like a movie you’d seen before.

Your clothes on the carpeted floor.

Rintaro on top of you, your fingers intertwined beside your head. His lips on your neck, bruises on your skin and the imprint of his hands on your hips. Your mewls right on his ear. The quivering of your thighs, the stain on the sheets – the day turning into night, from dusk until dawn. He thrusts deep, enough to have you inhaling sharply through your nose. And there it was – the unmistakable scent of a vanilla perfume you’ve never owned. It’s everywhere in the room now that your eyes opened, the hazy cloud of lust ebbing away. Iris’ perfume on your vanity area, a discarded pair of white lacy thongs that wasn’t yours peeking from under the closet, and her scent – her stupidly sweet, innocent scent – blanketing the silk of your sheets.

Slowly, your fingers detached from Suna as you turned to the sides, inhaling the sheets once more because it couldn’t be, right? Maybe you had it wrong. Rintaro wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t be so cruel. You never even shared this bed with him ever since you got married. You’ve never had him hold you close as you fall asleep, never had your head resting on his chest while you both waited for the next day. He was a cruel man, yes, but he wouldn’t dare do this to you. Not while you were gone, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t.

Yet there it was, the scent of a floral shampoo you couldn’t recognize on your pillows, and the faint smatters of vanilla and cinnamon lingered behind.

And when the damage is done, and your heart is more confused now than ever – Rintaro momentarily slumps before you, held up only by his arms, he realizes too late the tears stained on your cheeks.

“You brought her here.”

It wasn’t a question, not even an accusation. You spoke nothing but the truth, and Rintaro’s crestfallen face said it all. He’d brought her here, made love with her on your bed. Somehow, finding out that he’d fucked her in the one place you found solace in the Palace hurt more than knowing he fucked her everywhere else.

It was as if he’d stained you. Spat right at your face. Desecrated the one place you wished to hold him in, and rubbed it in your face that he couldn’t make love to you in your bed. But he could with her, because it was always going to be her, wasn’t it?

No matter how hard you tried, it was never going to be you.

Silence dawned on the room. There’s nothing but the rapid beating of your hearts, and the soft sniffles you muffle behind your first. He sees two things on your face that night: one of beauty, and one of regret. He dared himself to be brave, to wipe your tears with the pad of his thumb. The motion was oddly comforting, and for a moment – just a quick moment – you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. Leaning into the warmth of his palm, more tears dampened his skin. You were torn between asking him to stay, to hold you until it hurt less, and asking him to leave and give you a moment for yourself.

But Rintaro had already decided.

With a final kiss to your forehead, your husband crawled out of the bed. He glanced at you one last time before slipping his ring off, setting it on your bedside table, before quietly – and resolutely – leaving you behind.

[axelsagewrites]

Ragnar Lothbrok*Pet

Pairing: Ragnar x f!captured reader

Kinktober Day twenty-four: thigh riding/dry humping with Ragnar Lothbrok – after taking a Christian girl prisoner he decides to show you the pleasure a heathen can feel

Word count: 1491

Warnings: talks of religion, religious corruption, religious guilt, teasing, heavy flirting, mini crisis of faith ig, being ragnars pet/prisoner, making out, thigh riding, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

“She is a Christian,” Floki whispered in Ragnars ear as the pair studied the girl presented to them, “We should get rid of her, not drag her around with us. She will only slow us down,”

While Floki’s eyes bore into Ragnars skull the kings’ eyes lingered elsewhere. They had taken your village some days ago when one of his men found you hiding in the forest. The sight of you on your knees, even if it were to pray to a false god to survive, was enough to convince Ragnar.

“I should like to keep her,” he said, watching how your lips wrapped around the words you mumbled, “Untie her hands,” he commanded one of his men as Floki sighed.

“What is it with you and your Christian pets? At least keep her hands bound,” he tried to reason but Ragnar just shook his head. He knew you wouldn’t run.

A couple of weeks had passed of successful raiding and gold was beginning to pile up around him. Ragnar sat at the makeshift feast they had decided to throw after taking another village however his eyes were once again on the Christian girl who sat across from him. At first you used to flush under his gaze, a sight he enjoyed and often tried to tease out by whispering pretty words in your ear.

Ragnar leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “What are you thinking about?” he asked, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

“That I may sleep soon. The night is growing long,”

“That is an excellent idea. Perhaps I should join you,” he said, smirking at the way you began to stutter and flush, “Tell me something. Where you married before?”

You paused for a moment before answering, “No, why?”

Ragnar shook his head, “well I heard,” he said, leaning in closer and grinning as you did the same as his voice dropped to a whisper, “that it is only the married ones who get fucked,”

“I-well-I- yes it would be a sin otherwise,” you stuttered out, face growing hot as Ragnar poured himself another glass of wine. “I’m not even supposed to talk about…that,”

“Why not?”

“It is a sin,”

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head like a curious child.

The awkward smile worn on your lips made a real one grow on his face, “Because god said so,”

“Have you spoken to god,”

“Well, no,”

“Then how do you know?” a frustrated sigh left your lips that made Ragnars grin widen. He was getting to you and enjoying every moment of it. he leaned in closer once more, whispering for your sake more than anything,” Why would a god create something so beautiful then not let you appreciate its wonders?”

“It is a sin,” you clung to the excuse, realising you did not know why either.

The laugh that left his mouth however caught you off guard and your lips twitched, almost forming a smile at the smile on his face. That was until he spoke again, “Perhaps we should sin together one time,” he said, standing and grabbing his cup of wine. Before he could leave, he sauntered over to whisper one last thing in your ear, “And the idea of you falling apart on my cock is enough to make me believe in my god,”

A few more weeks had passed and soon you would be heading back with the raiders to their land. Despite still being wary of many of the men some, Ragnar specifically, had grown on you. “Where will I stay when you take me back with you?” you asked one night as you began to brush through your hair.

Ragnar glanced at you as he began to unlace his boots. While he had unbound your hands, he had insisted on keeping you in his tent, thankfully on your own bed, thought you wondered if this was for his entertainment or safety, “I will find somewhere for you,” he answered simply before reaching to pull his shirt over his head.

Despite seeing this sight many times, the way his muscles flexed, and his tattoos gleamed against his skin made a tingle shoot through your spine. “So, I won’t be a slave? Or is it a thrall you call them?”

Ragnar paused for a moment, his eyes scanning over you, “You need not worry little one. I will take care of you,”

A moment passed before you allowed yourself to smile, “Thank you Ragnar,” you said and a small smile crept onto his lips as he settled himself above his sheets, his eyes scanning over you.

“Come here,” he said, nervousness washing over you, “Trust me,”

You paused at first before standing from beneath your covers. Your underdress was the only thing to cover you now as you crossed the tent. Ragnar patted the spot beside him and cautiously you sat down, picking at your thumbs. His hand closed over yours, “You’ll make yourself bleed,” he said, and you just nodded as his eyes continued to study your face.

“Has anyone ever kissed you?” he whispered.

You swallowed before answering, “Once,” you said, tempted to pick at your skin but somehow resisting, “But I wasn’t very good at it,”

“Perhaps you should try again,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he moved to rest his forehead against yours.

“Perhaps you could teach me,” you whispered, a spark lighting in his eyes, “if I am to go back to your land perhaps it is time I Learned your ways,”

“All our ways?” he asked, his hand reaching over to run his fingers lightly up your thighs making you shiver, “Is that what you desire little one?”

“Would it be so wrong if I did?” you asked and the way your wide eyes gazed into his made Ragnars cock begin to harden.

His hand trailed slowly up your leg, torturously so until it arrived at your hip. You gasped when he grabbed it, pulling you over to straddle his thigh. “Ragnar- “you gasped, when he bent his leg up, propping you up on his strong thigh, “What are you doing?”

“Teaching,” his hands reached for your hair, pulling your lips down onto his. This was far different from the last time someone had kissed you. this was rough and needy and made whines leave your throat as one of his hands moved to your hips.

You couldn’t even question what he was doing before he began to move your hip, making you grind down onto his thigh. The way you whimpered made Ragnar wonder if Odin himself had blessed him. Ragnar guided your hips and soon your body took over, rubbing your clit against his strong thigh as his hand squeezed the flesh of your hips.

When he pulled his lips away yours chased after his making a chuckle leave them before he began to kiss down your jaw. “You don’t need to be quite little one,” he mumbled against your skin as a soft moan left your mouth, “No one will judge,”

His lips soon found the crook of your neck, kissing it in a way that made a knot in your stomach tighten. Since your hips now moved of their own accord his hands were free to travel up your frame, taking your tits in his hand and making you gasp as he squeezed them softly.

He felt his cock twitch at the feeling of the Hardened buds beneath your shift. His fingertips trailed slowly around your nipples at first, enjoying your needy whines before he finally began to roll them between his fingers.

“Oh god,” you moaned as he pinched them gently, but your words just made him want you more and groan against your skin.

It didn’t take long for a tight feeling to spread across your body, “What is happening to me?” you asked but it came out as more of a whine.

“Enjoy it little one,” Ragnar said, his lips moving to kiss your check, “Let yourself let go,” he said before your lips slammed onto his even catching yourself by surprise. Your moans allowed him to slip his tongue in, the kiss becoming messier and more desperate as you grinded against his thigh.

He felt your body jerk and Ragnar smirked into the kiss knowing what was about to happen. Your lips broke apart only for your head to fall in the crook of his shoulder, “Oh god,” you began to moan again before you felt your peak wash over you like a tidal wave.

sensing your body tensing and hips slowly Ragnar reached for your hips, moving them for you so he could watch you ride out your peak on his thigh. Curses left your lips before you finally slumped into his chest. Ragnar let out a small chuckle, letting his leg lay flat and holding you against his chest. Ragnar had defiantly made the right decision he thought.

[silkscream]

once bitten, twice shy

megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k (i cannot write anything under 2k to save my life)

ੈ✩ tags: emotionally constipated megumi, tsundere basically, friends to lovers, a lil angst, not actually unrequited love, pining, alcohol, typical yuuji nobara antics

ੈ✩ a/n: this is not xmas themed despite the title BUT it does end up taking place on satoru's birthday for plot reasons. megumi fushiguro your intimacy issues bewitch me mind body and soul.....

megumi does not know what to do with his feelings.

he’s never been the type to be particularly in touch with them — he didn’t remember his parents enough to blame them for whatever avoidant attachment he’d accustomed himself to. or maybe, that was the exact cause of said attachment style. gojo taking him in when he was a child didn’t help either — the man also refused to be very vulnerable around him, merely acting as a benefactor and a nuisance at best.

and while he was closest to tsumiki, he’d still built up a wall around himself that she couldn’t get through, and she knew it. she couldn’t break through it in his pre-teen years, and certainly not his teenage years when he was taking out his aggression on his classmates. he would ignore her soothing words and resent her kindness. perhaps he’d taken after toji in that way. constantly fending for himself for the sake of survival. always convinced that he was doomed to be alone.

and then there was you.

he’d met you first at jujutsu tech before any of the other students could. after sparring with maki, he’d been dismissed to shoko’s office. he’d opened the door that september day and was immediately met with your wide eyes, your searing cursed energy. gojo had found another stray.

shoko had made him your first experiment and you excelled. his injuries were healed within minutes. if anything, he felt better than he had in months — after battling insomnia and panic attacks, he felt… calm. like his brain was cleansed and that he had nothing to stress about. (until the next time gojo had gotten on his nerves.)

your introduction to his class was nothing extravagant despite gojo’s theatrics. megumi couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you after that — during practice battles, lectures, or lunch. he was always hyperaware of your presence. he blamed it on your cursed energy.

he hates how enthusiastic yuuji is about you, how yuuji tells him about how he manages to get you alone even though you often keep to yourself, and how he thinks you’re so fucking pretty, and that you’d agreed to watch the human earthworm movies with him. (megumi had refused when yuuji asked.)

he stews in that anger quietly because he’d rather die than let anyone know. nobara knows better, of course. she teases him about it and brings up jealousy.

why should megumi ever be jealous of yuuji? the boy was a freak accident in human form, with no inherent technique. who fucking cares that he can make you laugh without any effort?

it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t. because you have no direct effect on megumi and you don’t distract him during school. he doesn’t cling onto the memory of your hands on his skin. he doesn’t wish for the feeling again. of course not.

he tells this to yuuji and nobara, too. there’s one day where nobara goes too far — she teases him about setting up a date, that you rave about him, that he’s definitely your type. megumi doesn’t believe a word of it, especially because you’re probably more comfortable with yuuji. he doesn’t care to date because it would hold him back. he’s too focused on his training, on being the best, because he’s determined to follow in gojo’s shadow even if he won’t admit it. he could be the second strongest. he could be the most reliable.

it comes out in all the wrong ways. he’s more irritable than usual, so he yells at nobara instead of seething in hushed tones. he rants about how he does’t need someone by his side, certainly not you, whose only benefit is to heal superficial injuries and not much else. how your combat skills are poor, how easily you get beat when you spar on the field. how compared to him, you’re weak, so you’re of no use.

unfortunately, you hear him. every thought on his mind that tumbles out of his stupid mouth, his tone spewing wrath. you know that megumi is a moody person, but you’d never think him to be mean.

you pretend you’re just passing by, but from the faces nobara and yuuji are making, megumi already senses your presence. the color drains from his face, cobalt eyes wide.

“i’m — i’m sorry, i didn’t mean —“

“it’s okay, fushiguro,” you say softly. even after that shitshow, you’re still fucking smiling. it puts a sinking feeling in megumi’s stomach.

“ah, i got an extra pack of mochi and thought you guys would like it.”

you hand over a small bag and megumi takes it wordlessly.

“that’s so sweet,” yuuji beams, attempting to deflect. “hey, i was just looking for you. do you happen to have those jujutsu history notes? kugisaki spilled a soda on mine.”

“you knocked it over!” nobara protests.

“you put it on top of my stuff!”

you take your notebook out of your bag and hand it to yuuji graciously, avoiding megumi’s gaze and making up an excuse to see all of them later.

apparently, “later” means a week after. megumi sees you in class, and while he attempts to walk you to the dining hall or invite you to hang out, you bolt out the door before catching anyone’s attention. he has to find out how you are from fucking yuuji, who somehow gets to see you around the dorms every other day.

“i think she just likes to keep to herself, s’all,” yuuji says. he can sense megumi’s anxiety just from being in the same room as him.

“but you see her all the time.”

“she’s been tutoring me a little. and we just like the same movies and stuff.”

yuuji shrugs casually. his nonchalance makes megumi’s blood boil, because of course he’s the one who gets to occupy all of your time. of course you’re probably most comfortable with him. he knows he shouldn’t be seething at the thought of you two together — it isn’t his right. but his jealousy is starting to get the best of him lately.

“are you guys together?” he blurts out.

“no?” yuuji furrows his brows. “if anything, i feel like nobara might be trying to make a move since she’s way nicer to her than she is to us. except i’m pretty sure she and maki have been going out lately.”

“maki?”

“dude, keep up!”

and when yuuji accuses of megumi having a crush again, the same way nobara did all those weeks ago before he made a fucking fool of himself, megumi shuts it down with a grimace and a blush. he’s merely concerned about your wellbeing is what it is. that’s what he’s able to muster up to yuuji, of course, who absolutely isn’t buying it based on his shit-eating grin.

it’s annoying, especially because yuuji can make you feel more comfortable, comfortable enough to hang with the whole trio, and the pink-haired bastard has to meddle like a little troll. bumping the two of you into each other like you’re in middle school. somehow, it worsens everything. not your dynamic, but megumi’s self-consciousness.

he was already so extremely aware of you, but now he’s convinced that some angel above has tied the red string between you both extra tight. megumi looks for you in every crowd, awaits your arrival every day in the classroom and at lunch, and it’s starting to feel pathetic — the lightness in his chest whenever you’re even so much as ten feet away. his heart even beats faster at the anticipation of your text in the group chat, for fuck’s sake.

and then there’s gojo’s birthday party, a surprise orchestrated by the four of you, despite megumi’s reluctance. you’re particularly more radiant than usual. maybe it’s the lighting. maybe it’s the dress you have on.

despite the amount of shots he’s been forced to take in the past hour (three), megumi is still sober enough to feel anxious around you. though, he thinks he might be drunk enough to be lost in your image, fixating on your collarbone and the way your hair falls in your face as you laugh at one of gojo’s stupid jokes. it’s when the two of you lock eyes that megumi feels out of it, because you smile at him. you fucking smile.

if the warmth of the liquor wasn’t currently raising heated blood to his head, he’d deny the sparks that came from the mere sight of your smile, but he was hopeless. you’re mesmerizing. dizzying. he doesn’t know what to do with his face, not when his cheeks are flushing red and his motor skills are slowing down. fuck, maybe he was a lightweight like gojo after all.

he’s clearly out of touch with reality, because the moment fades as soon as it comes. perhaps it wasn’t a moment at all. he watches you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your mouth moving slowly as you mingle with other classmates. he’s fucking fixated on your mouth — your lipstick tonight is a blush red with a shiny gloss reflecting light. megumi has only dreamed of what your lips would taste like once or twice. no more than that. he swears on it.

there’s brief eye contact between the two of you again for half a second. there’s a coy smile on your face as always before you slip out the back door of the house.

there are so many bottles around the place that no one will notice megumi taking an entire bottle of champagne for himself. he scowls at the taste, of sickeningly sweet pears — courtesy of gojo, probably. his head swims and thinks of you.

his momentary peace is rudely interrupted by the sound of nobara’s voice in his ear, asking for you.

“ijichi’s setting up karaoke!”

“there is no way in hell that i’m—”

“i don’t care what you do, emo, but i need her to do a duet!”

megumi heaves a sigh, making his way to the backyard where he finds you sitting on a tree stump. even with the dim fairy lights, he probably would’ve missed you if not for the cherried end of your cigarette.

“fushiguro-kun,” you nod at him.

“megumi,” he rasps. “just… megumi is fine.”

“oh, i get special privileges now? how come?”

there’s no mirth in your tone. you’re teasing him. he doesn’t answer your question.

(the mere act of you teasing him becomes an intimacy in itself — he had never thought that you would be comfortable enough to talk to him in jest. you’d maintained your distance from him fairly well.)

“didn’t know you smoked.”

“only when i drink,” you shrug. “ieiri-san doesn’t make much of an effort to hide her cigarettes, either. don’t tell on me, though.”

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

he doesn’t know where to look. luckily, you’re not looking at him, so he can settle his gaze on your mouth nursing the cigarette. plump. glossy under the moonlight.

megumi is not used to wanting. he had never asked gojo for anything during his adolescence, and refused any gesture of kindness from anyone. he was convinced since childhood that there was no point in desire because disappointment would be on the other end of it either way.

he’d like to be a monk about it. he could control himself and focus on his studies. never spare you a glance again that isn’t platonic. and then a cool december wind blows past the two of you, and he smells your amber perfume.

and when he turns his head, you’re looking at him, eyes bright.

“so… not enjoying the party?”

“i’m not really one for parties.”

“me neither,” you shrug. “that’s why i like to do my little ritual of escaping.”

“we have that in common.”

you hum, a noncommittal noise. you take another drag of your cigarette, which disintegrates slowly.

“what a pair, the two of us.”

megumi can’t pick up any sarcasm from your voice, though he assumes it. it makes his stomach drop even though the statement is harmless. the two of you. together. it makes endless futures bloom in his mind. maybe it’s the prosecco, but it almost makes him want to vomit. to think that he was even good enough to be beside you in your future.

you curse quietly when you pull your phone out of your jacket pocket to check the time, realizing it’s dead. megumi gives you a once-over. the jacket you’re wearing is all too familiar. like him, you’re not one to wear very many colors. but this jacket is bright red, varsity style, and oversized on you.

“is that itadori’s jacket?” megumi stammers.

“oh, yeah. i didn’t realize how cold it would be tonight.”

“oh.”

“why?” you give him a curious smile.

“nothing,” he coughs. “are… you two…”

you laugh and it’s like a song to him.

“i think he might be my best friend, s’all. why? you jealous?”

he looks at you again, head-on, your eyes still bright. brighter than fluorescents. there’s something in your irises that is meant to provoke him, but he’s dispensed of his usual cautious nature after he takes another gulp from the bottle.

“more than you can imagine,” he huffs.

“sorry?”

“’m not repeating that.”

“what, you’re not saying you’re like, into me, are you?” you exasperate.

megumi remains silent, cheeks flushed. he thinks that if his head could heat up any more, he’d end up with a migraine.

you breathe the tiniest gasp. if it wasn’t for how close megumi was to you, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“i kind of thought you hated me, you know,” you admit.

“i could never hate you. i don’t think anyone could.”

“you don’t have to pretend,” you sigh. he didn’t notice until now that your cigarette was finished, discarded onto the dirt with your boot to crush it into ash. “i— beyond the politeness, i get it. that i’m not your type or whatever. you don’t even have to be friends with me, fushiguro-kun.”

“megumi,” he emphasizes.

“megumi.”

“i’m not pretending. i… i really fucking like you,” he slurs. “it kind of scares me how much.”

“you’re drunk.”

“i am. i know you heard me say all that shit to kugisaki and itadori, but it’s because they put me on the spot and i was nervous. i don’t know how to… deal with feelings. honestly, if i wasn’t even a little drunk right now, i’d probably have left the party with my tail in between my legs and avoided you for the next fucking week, and you don’t deserve that. you deserve… everything.”

“even you?”

when did you get so close to him? if he sauntered just a few inches in your direction, he could touch your noses together. he can smell your perfume so deeply.

“it’s the other way around,” megumi breathes. “i don’t deserve you. not anything close to you.”

“what if i want you regardless?” your voice is just above a whisper. a prayer, a hymn. a wish to be blown out.

megumi swallows the lump in his throat. he blinks at you, dark indigo luminescent. the world slows down. he may owe it to the liquor and the wine, but he assumes it’s just your presence. your scent, the softness of your hair in between his fingers, your soft breaths.

“what do you want, megumi-kun?”

he remembers something gojo said. that to be a jujutsu sorcerer, he has to be selfish. he’s not sure if that philosophy applies to the situation at hand, but he’d be damned if he let you crawl into bed tonight without knowing how he truly felt about you. so, uncharacteristically, he takes a leap forward.

he unwinds the tension in his body and presses his lips to yours. it’s soft, chaste, innocent. something like a pause. he’s afraid to touch you, but you’ve already reeled him in with arms thrown around his shoulders, fingertips touching the softness of his black hair.

you bump your nose with his, shyly, and he kisses you open-mouthed. tongue in your mouth, meshing the taste of tobacco and prickly pear. the vanilla chapstick that he’d put on before he followed you out to the backyard.

he has one hand caressing your jaw and the other on your shoulder, thumb brushing over your collarbone in a way that makes your entire body shiver. you’re embarrassed at the pool of desire in between your legs.

megumi has never let himself be full of wanting, but at the moment, his veins are surging with it. it’s like a drug to him — your warmth, your scent, the saccharine taste of your mouth. your flesh is so soft, so pliable, from the way you dip towards the cavern of his lanky body, pressed against him chest to chest. letting his hand dig into the fat of your hip. fingertips grazing the skin underneath your shirt.

maybe it’s the liquor, but he’s feeling experimental — he tucks your bottom lip in between his teeth. pulls your hair ever so slightly. you mewl into his mouth quietly and he thinks that he’s never felt anything better than this. you’re wrapped up in all of him. you can quite literally feel the heat on his cheeks and both of you realize how aroused he is, his bulge prodding your thigh.

“fuck,” he whispers into your mouth, and he pulls away. only a few inches are separating you as he takes a moment to breathe. his eyes are blown out wide, black stretching across dark blue. both of you are stunned, panting, and the tension is more palpable than ever.

a rustling of grass makes both of you jump. when he turns, he sees yuuji and nobara staring with wide eyes.

“you owe me 7,000 yen,” yuuji deadpans to nobara.

“seriously, fushiguro? i didn’t think you had it in you!”

“i always had faith in you, fushiguro!” yuuji chimes.

while you giggle, megumi growls under his breath at the new intrusions of dumb and dumber.

“i personally thought you were way out of his league,” nobara tells you.

“eat shit.” megumi seethes with arms crossed, and despite his wrath, he resembles more of an angry kitten to you than any potential threat.

“sheesh, don’t summon a shikigami on them, megumi,” you tease with a pleased grin.

“i—” he stumbles over his words in frustration, grimacing. “what do the two of you want, anyway?”

“gojo-sensei got ijichi to sing doja cat.”

“oh, i’ve gotta see this,” you snort, grabbing megumi by the hand as you begin to usher the crew back inside. his heart leaps at the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his.

despite his inhibitions, megumi’s decided that he could get used to this.

[theghostkingisdead]

dpxdc - Neglected Child AU

As one of his first acts as Ghost King, Danny basically created ghost CPS. Mostly they help new spirits come to terms with the fact that they're dead, but situations like Danny's are a lot more common than the Observants had lead him to believe. People who come back from the dead or are exposed to large quantities of unstable ectoplasm often lead sad, short second lives. Either because they are unable to obtain the nutrients their new forms require, or because their communities turn against them in fear. This is a story about Jason Todd.

There was a lot Jazz loved about her job. She loved helping young ghosts find acceptance. She loved matching cases with foster Fraids. She loved meeting new people. She loved the rare excuse to travel dimensions. But some days, Jazz was intimately reminded of why this program was formed in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jazz looked up from her laptop. “Come in!”

Apple – the ghost of a dryad whose tree was chopped down two summers ago – poked her head in.

“Uh, Lady- I mean, Ms. Phan-, no,” Apple took a shuddering breath. Jazz smiled encouragingly. The girl had only been working here for a season, and already she was making excellent progress. “Ms. Jasmine, there’s a city spirit here to see you, uh, on behalf of a uh, potential client.”

“Thank you, Apple, you can send them in.” Jazz said.

Apple flushed green, closing the door with a sigh. Jazz guessed she had about two minutes before the impromptu meeting began. She used the time to sweep some papers off her desk and into a drawer. It had been some time since she’d had a walk-in like this. Jazz had a strict open doors policy when it came to her office, despite the technical fact that her door was often closed; it was just easier to focus that way! She had no idea why most ghosts preferred to submit claims by mail, really it was much better for them to speak with an officer in person.

Thirty years ago, Jazz would’ve had trouble describing the spirit that walked through the doors. Fifty years ago, even looking at it would’ve been painful. But Jasmine Duchess Phantom had been living in the Infinite Realms for almost eighty years now, and liminal senses reached out subconsciously, cataloging scents and colors that her mortal mind would have balked at.

The shape of a steel-colored skeleton peered out at her from a billowing cloud of grey smoke, which curled around its feet and seeped across the floor. Jazz tasted gunmetal and sugar, smelled stale urine and burned bread, felt desperation-fear-hunger-love crash violently against her. Like a cliff to a wave, Jazz stood her ground, letting herself be tested. This spirit was old and afraid; when it spoke, it spoke in a million overlapping voices.

“My apologies for barging in unannounced, Your Grace. I come before you with an issue of great import. One I have reason to believe our King may have a personal interest in.”

Jazz nodded, “My doors are always open, City Spirit. I’m always happy to help. But before I hear your petition, may I know who I am addressing?”

The skeleton did not move that she could see, but Jazz heard windchimes like chittering laughter.

“I am Gotham, Your Grace. My apologies for my rudeness. I have little reason to travel these days and am unaccustomed to necessary introductions.”

Jazz nodded, committing the name and its taste to memory. “No need to apologize, Gotham. Your situation is not unique amongst your kind. Have a seat,” Jazz gestured at the plush couch across from her desk. “What troubles you so, to bring you so far from home?”

There was more windchime tittering, and Jazz wondered if the spirit was laughing or just readjusting itself on a plane she could not see. A nervous tick, perhaps? Maybe she could send Apple for something to make Gotham feel more at ease. Bullet casings or chocolate chip cookies would be equally soothing to this entity, Jazz guessed.

Gotham folded into itself, form blurring slightly before reforming on the couch, leaned forward with elbows on knees. “Many years ago, a mortal man pledged himself to my service. I accepted him as a City Guard, my mortal Champion. This man has many children who have likewise pledged themselves to my protection.”

Jazz smothered the urge to interrupt. She loathed the idea of child Guards; the fact that this City Spirit was here now asking for help meant that this instance had gone just as well as it usually did.

Unaware of her internal judgement, Gotham continued. “The second child died and revived some seven years ago, I…” This time, the rattling sound emanating from Gotham shook the room with the force of a thunderclap. “You have to understand, I don’t claim kids as champions, so technically he was never even under my protection. And when he came back, he ran! I don’t have power outside the city, you know, so even if, well, it’s not like there was anything I could have done differently,”

Jazz was aware that she was frowning. She could only guess what her aura felt like to Gotham, whose smoky aura was rapidly thickening. A bird puffing itself up to look bigger. A cheap trick. If Jazz were in a more compassionate mood, she might have felt embarrassed at such a juvenile display from a spirit decades older than herself.

“You neglected a child, or-” she cut off Gotham before it could protest, “allowed a child to be neglected. For seven years. What changed? Why petition him now and not then?”

Gotham chittered, “Well, you see, he came back to me just over a year ago, retook his pledge and everything. And, well, things were rough, I thought the fraid was just readjusting itself, but, er-”

“Tell me.”

“Well, the problem is I don’t exactly know what the boy is anymore, but he’s more ghostly than not, and his fraid’s fully human. If this infighting between my Guards goes on for any longer, it’ll tear me apart. I figured The King might want to step in, considering this boy might be a halfa, maybe he could help him and the fraid get back to normal.”

Jazz grinned. “Rest assured, Gotham, The Crown will indeed be taking special interest in your case.” Words dripped from her lips, caustic even to her own ears. “Now, why don’t you go outside and give Apple the rest of the details. I have some visits to make.”

[mrpenguinpants]

Overdue Bills

— He knows your fake relationship with him was made purely for beneficial reasons. After everything was said and done, you both went your separate ways. So why does he keep coming back to you?

— Alhaitham, Ayato, and Kazuha

-> Part 1: Please go out with me for tax benefits! -> Not connected but can also be read: I refuse to fall in love out of spite [ TBA ] [Masterlist]

Does this feel rushed because it is. I assumed everyone wanted a continuation but I plan on writing another fic using the original prompt but for different characters. The titles have nothing to do with the fics but I really wanted to title this, we've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty.

Alhaitham

There's only so much Kaveh can handle before he hits a breaking point and this might be it. A few months ago he overheard the librarian ask a stranger how their boyfriend Alhaitham was doing, to which he nearly broke his neck in how fast he turned. From the long pause and the plain answer of, "he's fine", which Alhaitham most definitely isn't given how much work the sages are dumping onto their scribe, Kaveh came to the conclusion that you're another creepy admirer or an attention-seeking leech. While Kaveh wouldn't call Alhaitham something as close as a friend, the man at least deserved to know there was another deranged person spreading lies. He assumed Alhaitham would confront you, knock some sense into you, and that would be the end of it. But because Alhaitham operates on a level that's incomprehensible to Kaveh, instead you've both entered into a fake dating relationship that he honestly believes is a horrible idea. But Alhaitham is his roommate, not his friend, and he doesn't have the time or care to facilitate a non-existent love life. But lo and behold the next time he sees you, there's a silver-haired man is hovering nearby looking at you with the closest thing to love his stoic face can make. Things are only weirder when Kaveh brings the sight up to you, saying that you're both taking this fake dating in stride and he's honestly impressed at how Alhaitham really put his all into this performance. Only for you to look at him as if he's grown two heads. You and Alhaitham stopped dating weeks ago.

Alhaitham isn't stupid. There's only so much rationalization he can turn to and so many excuses he can make but at the end of the day, he has to admit that he never works better than he does sitting beside you. At first, he reasoned that it was because people didn't bother him as much and you knew how to be quiet. Perhaps that's why you've skyrocketed in his requirements of friendship despite the fact that you both weren't really friends. But then he couldn't sit alone without getting restless. There’s an empty space beside him that constantly makes itself aware in his subconscious. One that screams at him that he wants you to be there, not just because you can scare people away.

It's a slow realization from there starting with him comparing you and Kaveh. For as much as he and his senior argue back and forth almost every time they meet, Alhaitham considers Kaveh an excellent mirror to him that can push his thoughts to go further. But you're different. That realization turns into contemplation when you actually listen and take his advice. Every scholar is egotistical to some degree, there's a lot of pride to take into your research, and having your weeks of hard work be written off by a blunt statement gets people angry. Alhaitham would be the first to know, he's been on the receiving end of that anger multiple times. Yet when he points out a section in your thesis to be incorrect, you simply tilt your head thinking before agreeing he was right. Crumbling your paper, ready to start all over again without any fuss. Still water versus the wave that Kaveh is. While some would call that boring, he finds it charming.

The nail in the coffin is when he catches himself labeling the chair next to him as yours. He can't justify that one and he's suddenly confronted that he severely underestimated how much he's grown to like you. He originally agreed to the idea to keep his comfortable routine without any interruptions and your introduction would fix his issue of suitors but you've played your part so perfectly that he fell for it. He was tempted to stop talking to you altogether, cutting the deal off entirely and never speaking to you again. But you're not a saint and just as he realized his feelings, your thesis was done and you left abruptly before he had any time to prepare. A glaring empty spot mocking him. Only to come back with your stacks of books and a nervous smile that Alhaitham refuses to acknowledge makes his heart beat just the slightest bit quicker.

He knows you can hear the whispers that you and Alhaitham have gotten back together. Yet you haven't said anything and he politely chooses to not say anything either. The rumors certainly haven't stopped you from acting differently and he doesn't know if that's a good thing. He knows your language is touch but now he wants to be the one near you this time. That way the first person you’ll speak to is him. By now he’s fully aware of his feelings and how far they’ve developed for him to actually start feeling possessive. So the next time you lean against him to show him a particular paragraph of a book, he wraps a hand around your waist, disguising it as him shifting you to the side so he can get a better angle to read. Under his hand, he can feel how tense you become at the casual touch, how your eyes jump from him to the floor, before relaxing and continuing on.

In hindsight, he knows by all rational reasoning he should just confess to you and get it over and done with. But there's something exciting in the way you look at him with calculating eyes that he stares back at unflinching. He thinks of it as payback for you strolling into his carefully planned life and making a mess. He’s simply allowing himself to indulge in it. Now every time you greet him with a wave, he offers a smile. When you want to drag him somewhere by the cape, he slips his hand into yours stating you'll stretch the fabric too much. And when you need to whisper something in his ear? He'll practically be in your lap with how close he leans in even if there's no one else in the room. He knows eventually you'll catch on to what he's trying to do, what he's trying to say. You've been practicing for months sitting beside him. It's finally when he invites you to the pavilion that he can see the realization on your face that Alhaitham clearly doesn't consider you just a friend. The look of bewilderment goes back and forth with suspicion before finally settling into an amused huff with the smallest of smiles.

It's late enough into the day that he knows the only people lingering in the Akademiya are either passed-out students or scholars too wrapped up in their work. All consideration he's taken to make sure you're both uninterrupted for this moment. And what a moment it is. The pavilion itself is beautiful with its blue and green stained glass windows that reflect the evening sun. The yellow flowers swaying gently in the breeze add just enough color to not be irritating. Kaveh might need to retract his statement that Alhaitham doesn't know a thing about romance because it's painfully obvious what's about to happen.

"Any more and people might get the wrong idea you know," you say as you lean against the white wall. The look of confusion is gone from your eyes, replaced with mirth. It does not make him shudder.

"About what? The library is cramped with people and the pavilion is quiet," he says like it's an off-handed comment before turning around, leaning his weight against his elbows on the railing as he turns to the side to look at the view this specific pavilion provides. "Although I can understand where you might have drawn that conclusion. I can assure you nothing like that will happen. You're not my type."

He can physically feel you bristle even though he isn't looking at you before your footsteps come closer and closer until your form is right in front of him. He still refuses to look at you but he can tell the moment you see his poorly hidden smile. He hears you let out an amused huff before you bring your hands up and settle them against the railing as well. Only you've decided to cage him in between your arms and it makes him turn to you, raising a brow. He's already lost the moment he turned but the cheeky grin you have is worth it. You look really cute when you're smug.

"If I had any interest, it would have died a long time ago. You're the worst fake boyfriend I've ever had so I can't imagine how insufferable you'll be as a real one," you shake your head exasperated but there's a small entertained look that tugs at his heart. That you know what he knows and he knows what you know. A similar feeling of understanding that he's gotten so used to. One that lets him act in such an irrational way.

"You've had others?" he asks as his arm comes off the railing to settle around your waist. You don't push him away, easily following along.

"For such a pretty face you have such an awful personality," you sigh disappointed yet the arms that cage him move to settle around his neck, twirling the silver hair at the base of his neck as you lean closer until there isn't space between the two of you.

"Oh? So you think I'm pretty?" He tilts his chin slightly down, his lips brushing against yours.

"You must have selective hearing." With your faces so close, he can see the excitement in your eyes. He's sure that he is the same. So he ignores the pleased look on your face and leans in.

Ayato

Ultimately, he's just a passerby. He decided on a whim to go along with some absurd act because he thought the sheer dread and embarrassment on your face was amusing and he wanted to see more. By all accounts, your temporary date wasn't too bad. It felt a bit refreshing being with someone that looked like they rather throw themselves in the nearby sea than stand next to the refined Yashiro Commissioner. But otherwise, that's the end of your relationship. With a few words here and there, he managed to spin the absurd story into his favor and reign in the disaster your little stunt might have caused. He's grateful that you so easily play along with him. Not a single complaint about how he lies through his teeth that someone was bothering you so he extended his help so this individual would leave you alone. It makes both of you, mostly him, look good. How people rush to make sure you're okay while your expression flickers between guilt and embarrassment is far more entertaining than anything he originally planned during this outing. But at the end of the day, you have nothing to do with each other and he owes you nothing. Your presence is ultimately inconsequential in the stream that is his life. That is until one day your relationship changes to stupidity and heartfelt sincerity.

It starts off as a joke. Ayato tends to latch onto small things that give him a momentary break from his busy and stressed lifestyle and duties. Plus there's something lighthearted about this situation that he doesn't want to let go of just yet. Unfortunately for you, Ayato's newfound joy is sneaking up on you and sending you into an early grave. The first time it was an accident, you just happened to be easily jumpy, but the second time though? The resounding screech of terror never fails to make a smile appear on his face and you're convinced that he's a sadist. He doesn't even have to try that hard, his steps are silent even against the crooked stone path that he can waltz up right behind you. But his absolute favourite part is bending down and whispering what exactly his fiancee is so interested in. It always leads to embarrassing talks of you politely asking him to not refer to you with that title anymore that he swiftly blocks by mentioning that, wasn't it you who called him your fiancee first? You should take responsibility.

He thinks your reactions are cute even if you're a bit vulgar in language, although to him that just adds to the warped sense of charm he finds in you. Thoma nearly chokes on his own spit when Ayato perks up at something behind him, suddenly dropping the calm facade of the Yashiro Commissioner and something more genuine before calling out to a "fiancee". Thoma whips around to see a stranger speaking with Yoimiya before their eyes lift and lock with Ayato's and their expression immediately sour. He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone show such a disgusted expression and he can't help but wonder what his lord has done this time. Before Thoma can say anything the stranger picks up a firework ball and hurls it at his Lord who easily sidesteps the attack, the resounding death threats only making the blue-haired man laugh.

It's fun. You're fun to be around. The entire situation is silly and ridiculous and it feels nice. Ayato had to grow up too fast, become an adult too fast, and shoulder the burden meant for later years. Something as small as a nickname, an inside joke, something he can bring up to spite someone just for the fun of it is nice. Perhaps that's why he refuses to let go and finds himself returning to you.

It's all a joke. There's no way Ayato can actually take your hand in marriage. Not with your differences in status. You think that's the only reason people entertain the idea, why he even entertains the idea. To get a reaction out of you that he can relentlessly tease and it's all so stupid. That is until he receives a different reaction that leaves him lost and confused.

You stumble upon him in the aftermath of another one of his assassination attempts. He was perfectly fine, not even a speck of dust on his white coat yet you were nearly in hysteria. Panicked hiccups as you sob uncontrollably into his chest, your tears doing far more damage to dirtying his clothes than an attempt on his life. He tries his best to console you but you can't seem to stop the tears and as much as he values staying dignified, he's almost at his limit. Hand already poised to yank you off until he falters in both mind and body when you suddenly turn your head up and he sees the expression that you hid away in the lapels of his coat. The feeling of the annoyance of having to wash his coat flew out of his mind at the sight of your teary eyes and downturned lips. A small, very small, part of his heart beats just a bit faster. An even smaller part that was buried under the title of Yashiro Commissioner perks its head over someone who was crying for him. Even though you've both talked multiple times, you and he aren't close enough to be considered friends, at least in his eyes. Yet you're currently looking at him as if you're the one that's been attacked because of the simple fact that he could have been hurt. It's...strange.

He doesn't say anything as you usher him into your home to fix up whatever injuries you happened to have conjured in your mind. He's never stepped foot into your residence and he's honestly glad he hasn't because your home is...disheartening, to say the least. He thinks the estate has more life than what was supposedly something you called home. It's not that your place is poor, you're not sleeping on a slab of rock, but it's empty. Like you don't have anything at all. The only thing you seem to carry is your small pile of books. Worn but well taken care of. So he doesn't say anything as you fuss over him, doesn't say anything about the horrendous first aid kit you bring, and bids you farewell at the door of your home. You smile at him widely and tell him to take care of himself. But when he turns to leave, he risks one last peek at you, just in time to see you close your door. You aren't smiling anymore. He stops walking.

It starts to escalate from there. The following months of sudden change are so abrupt that he has no choice but to follow along. He wants to see every expression you have. If that isn't enough, he'll find new ones for you to make.

Ayato's first impression of you is charming but in a pitiful sort of way. You have to be an airhead, you must be considering your shared first meeting. How you didn't realize your mistake and went along with everything is beyond Ayato. You and Itto are almost on the same level of denseness but while Itto does everything with blind confidence that the situation has changed because of him, you are the opposite. Wandering into your own mess as you ignore all the warning signs until it's too late. But you're also honest and upfront, two traits that Ayato has come to value immensely. He finds you endearing, so much that it's starting to overfill his teacup. So with a silent smile, he asks a question.

"Why don't you become my fiancee?"

The noodle slips between your chopsticks, a loud unflattering splat against the table echoing through the silence as you stare at him slack-jawed. He begins to worry that he's accidentally sent you into a stroke because one of your eyes starts twitching.

"Huh? Are you being for real?" you ask deadpanned. He can't help but chuckle under his fingers before resting his chin on the palm of his hand. It feels nice to be able to rest his elbows against the table without someone reprimanding him for his lack of manners. He finds your dry reaction far cuter than the blushes and swoons from the ladies that the elders forced him to take out.

"Be my fiancee." he pauses before continuing as an afterthought. "For real this time."

You pick up your fallen noodle, chew, swallow, and then point your chopsticks at him. Not convinced in the slightest. "Even if you haven't picked out a fiancee you shouldn't joke about that."

"Really?" he fakes surprise, "Then how come you're on a date with me right now?"

You choke. He pushes his teacup towards you, who takes it and gulps down half of its contents in one go. The glass clinks loudly on the table when you put it down yet it doesn't distract him from the sheer disbelief on your face as your ears grow red. He thinks out of all of the expressions you've given him, he likes this one the most.

"This isn't-It's not," you attempt to say, spluttering the entire time that remnants of the tea you just drank wet your lips.

"Yes, it is. Why? Is it bad? Do you know enjoy being taken out to dinner? I can easily arrange for something else instead," He reached over with a napkin to wipe your face. It only serves to make you more embarrassed that he's treating you like a child as you push his hand away lest you combust on the spot. There's no immediate answer. He can't tell whether you're actually considering his offer, or if you're refraining from throwing your chopsticks at him.

"No thanks. If I've learned anything it's that you'll only torment me until I die. I'm starting to think I like you even less," you grumble, shoving more noodles into your mouth.

Ayato is a strange man so he doesn't wait for the water to spill, just tips the cup over and starts again. This time he waits for you to swallow before saying anything, he doesn't want you to choke again.

"That's unfortunate. I adore you, you know."

Kazuha

While his feelings and words were true, he resigns himself to the fact that your relationship was a one-and-done situation. Impulsiveness isn't one of his qualities but as he reflects on his time with you, he gets a bit flustered at how hard he fell. He had just met you and yet within the span of a couple weeks, you managed to fill out the empty parts of his heart. He tries to rationalize that it was just the timing. He had been on the run for so long, his thoughts always chained around Inazuma, and upholding his promise to his friend. But then you happened to crash into his life, quite literally, and everything slowed to a stop at that moment. Originally it was just to protect you from a clingy admirer but then you started asking about him. What his hobbies were, what kind of dreams he had, and whether or not he would like to learn how to fly. Every day and night sitting beside you on the crow's nest, the gentle sway of the waters rocking the boat, and the backdrop of noise down on the deck was the most serene Kazuha has ever felt since he left Inazuma. But all things must come to an end eventually and even though Kazuha knows that this might be the end, you look so hopefully at him that he can't help but try to push the end to tomorrow. He just needs to garner the strength to move.

Beidou asks if he's sure about his decision to leave the Crux and wander on his own. It's not nice to make you wait even though she knows you and when you say you'll wait, you're going to damn wait no matter how long it takes. But he reassures her that he's still not ready. As much as he wants to run over the water back to Liyue, he doesn't want to bring along conflicted and aimless feelings. But he will hurry, he's been running for so long, he can run a little further for something and someone for himself. It's a bit selfish but Beidou gives him an exasperated soft smile that lets him know it's not a bad thing. Although with each passing day Beidou's ship ports, it gets harder and harder for her to break the news that Kazuha is still not back. Beidou does her best to reassure you that Kazuha isn't stringing you along, she would have drowned him in the ocean if he was that low of a guy, but she can tell that with each visit your expression grows more and more distant. Watching how you're the first one to rush down the wooden bridges with a hopeful expression that one-day Kazuha might be there only to leave with a sad smile. It makes her want to track her problem child down and bring him back to you. Not that she has any idea where he wandered too.

He ends up in the forests of Sumeru. His keen sense of smell aids him as he treks through the wilderness until he meets a strange forest watcher and a girl in green. Their a bit of an odd pair but so is Kazuha and they become fast friends. Apparently, his calm demeanor is a breath of fresh air and it's enough that they don't pry into his history. Although there are moments when he can feel their eyes on him. Perhaps living in the forest has led them both to be aware of subtle changes far better than Kazuha can smell. It starts when they trek towards the small lakes and waterbeds to gather niloptala lotus for Tighnari that he sees it. An anemone flower. Soft white petals with a dark blue center sway in the breeze as he stands watching it move. It's Collei who approaches him and explains white anemone flowers, also known as windflowers, symbolize sincerity due to their delicate appearance. According to mythology, the anemone flower was created when Aphrodite's mortal lover, Adonis, was killed and from the spot where her tears fell to the ground, an anemone emerged. She says that he might enjoy that last bit of information to use as inspiration for his many haiku poems because he's looking at the flower as if he's fallen in love. Although she warns him that when fresh, all parts are poisonous.

When Inazuma finally calmed down and Thoma informed him that he was no longer a wanted man, it was the second time Kazuha could take a deep breath and relax. He was free from running and could focus on the future. He won't lie and say that his thoughts didn't stray back to you every night. He's been gone for months and he wonders if you still remember what he looks like. But now he has to ask himself the hard question if he's ready to see you. Unfortunately, he doesn't get to make that choice.

He sees you at Port Ormos by chance, speaking to a silver-haired man before you cut yourself off mid-sentence as your eyes lock onto his. Even with everything Kazuha has been through, he feels scared. He knew he would eventually return to you but now that you're here, is he not ready? Or is he scared? He knew that asking for you to wait was selfish, that one day he may return with your hand in someone else's. Maybe that's why you're all the way in Sumeru rather than the high mountains of Liyue. All these emotions reflect back to you and he can see it, your fists are trembling even as you gaze back at him with conviction and determination. The sun shines right behind you, creating a gold halo over your tousled hair. But it makes the shadows of your strained expression darker, your eyes gloss over your jaw tense, and everything about your posture screams please don't disappoint me Kazuha. Then it's gone. Your attention back to the silver hair man, pretending as if nothing happened. You'll wait until he's ready but you won't acknowledge him when he's not. And Kazuha. Kazuha runs away.

"There you are."

Kazuha looks up to see Tighnari sitting at the table facing the entrance that Kazuha has stumbled through. It's late into the night and because his heart has more room to bear, he feels guilty that Tighnari stayed up to make sure he returned. Before he can apologize Tighnari raises a hand to stop him, sighing before he gestures Kazuha to sit down. Fiddling with his pouch he takes something and slides it across to Kazuha. An Inazuma charm. The same one you gave him when he left.

"You dropped it when you were running through Port Ormos like you had stolen something. I had to convince Cyno that you weren't a thief but you're going to have to apologize to Collei for scaring her like that," he huffs as he settles back into his seat, watching at how Kazuha raises a wary hand to pick up the charm like it'll break under the slightest pressure. It makes Tighnari soften around the edges, the worried lines of his face smoothing out as he rests a hand on the samurai's shoulder. "Are you okay Kazuha?"

It only serves to bring a pained smile to the man's face, shaking his head. No. No, he's not alright. He hasn't felt "alright" in months. He's lived his life thinking that as long as his blade was by his side, he could continue moving. But now it feels like he's slowly dying. Poisoned from the core. He thought he would be able to approach this like he had always been. That he thought he understood what he was doing and trusted the wind to guide him. But now he's confronted with his accountability and he doesn't know what to do but run. Back into the silence of the forest until he can't run any further. Collapsing onto the cold ground as he heaves for another breath. Every moment up until now replays in his head, becoming more vivid no matter how long it's been until he can smell your fragrance. It was a similar feeling to when he lost his friend, this lingering pain. It's why he decided he needed to leave first. He always assumed he remembered because of guilt. Guilt that he asked you to wait, guilt that he wasn't the one that was ready, and guilt that even after all this time he hasn't entered the border of Liyue. Yet no matter how long he goes, this feeling of guilt only remains for you until he doesn't know if that's the correct emotion. If what remains in his heart truly isn't guilt, what is this emotion that keeps him looking back at his memories of you? He doesn't know. It's his first time feeling this way.

"You're in love Kazuha. That's it."

---

There's a sudden ruckus on the ship deck that has Beidou draw her head up, her letter to Ningguang momentarily paused as she listens carefully to what her crew is so noisy about. Their voices are muffled through the thick wooden walls of her office but it doesn't sound like they're in any danger. Either way as the Captain she should check out what everyone is so excited about. She shoulders her fur-lined shawl back on and slams the doors open.

"What's got you all so- Kazuha?!" Beidou nearly chokes midsentence to see her sentence when he spots that familiar white and red hair. Even though it's only been a few months, he looks so much older than she remembers. When he said he wanted to do some soul searching, she didn't think it would make him look so...mature. It's not that his outward appearance is any different, he's still got that adorable baby face, but the air around him is tranquil rather than still.

"Captain, it's good to see you again," Kazuha smiles and gives a small wave. His hand is free of bandages letting her see the electro burns that scar his skin. She politely doesn't let her eyes linger on them for long, that's all in the past anyways. So she grins ear to ear and yanks the poor man into a headlock and a giant slap on the back. Her official way her welcome a trusty companion back.

"About time lover boy, let's get you home."

---

Not me throwing canon personalities and good characterization out the window to push my smitten agenda.

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@genshins1mpact @creatorofstars @xoneaboveallx @timmyitsmeeee @raingoesboomboom @duhsies @thegayrubberducky @isa-solasun @afoxesgreed @yuuki4646 @angel-luv-04 @inlovewithwaffles @maddymints09 @moonssandstars

@tigerpriestess @endurablerose @ayakohana

[rcksmith]

Brick by Brick - Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Heyy, I wanted to request a Kaz Brekker x reader fic where y/n is Pekka Rollins' innocent and naive daughter, and she stumbles across Kaz when he breaks into Pekka's house. Kaz tells her to stay quiet and stuff and y/n obviously has no idea who Kaz is, only that he's handsome as fuck and she kinda falls in love with him despite the fact that he's literally robbing her father

Love, anon :3

P.S. I love your writing.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Thank you very much for your kindness and sorry for the delay. I love you. My loves, requests are open and I am banning Kaz's smut request rules. U can ask for anything in the original universe, without being in a UA. I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

------------

Ketterdam was not a good place. It wasn't safe, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't healthy. Every dark corner, every ghostly street, every edge whispering curses, was fulfilled the entire list of unholy sins and harbored monsters as horrible as the harbor rats on the coast. If the soil in that place was cursed, the people were demons.

Pekka Rollin’s knew this like he knew how to count kruger. He was one of those monsters. He taught profanity and stained the ground on which his feet walked with innocent blood. Pekka destroyed homes, hopes, kicked people's dreams and hit each one soul with his staff of damnation.

Each one.

Because of it that he kept his daughter under lock and key from the ugly world, far from that wretched city that he himself helped build the horrors and desolations. Maybe it was out of love, maybe it was out of sensitivity. Or maybe it was because you were the only healthy and intelligent heiress capable of leading his empire one day. You represent too many precious things for him to risk losing control over you. Maybe Pekka would never be able to love anything or anyone other than his own greed.

Whatever it was, he covered your eyes to Ketterdam. He decorated the blood-stained walls with sparkling pink and said to you that the smoke that covered the tops of Ketterdam's houses at night was Aladdin's magical fog, which pointed the way to a cave full of treasures, and not that it was the incinerated bodies of his enemies, nosy people and families who starved to death on their land. Pekka deceived you with pretty tales that the big mansion you lived in was because he would always give you the best, and not that it was bought with money stolen from honest people and that he liked to see in material forms the extent of his capabilities of evil. Like a trophy.

Rollin’s wove the ties around your limbs like a cursed puppet, and pulled your strings according to his unscrupulous interests of greed. For all of Ketterdam, Pekka was a demon of the worst kind. But for you, he was a bearded, loving father who made you see magic and romance in every corner of that city condemned by God.

The worst types of monsters were those who tricked and manipulated their children like pawns in a game of chess. But, again, perhaps Pekka wasn't capable of loving anything other than his own greed.  And, if the price for having an heir who agreed, trusted him for the rest of the life, who would follow in his footsteps and obey all his order, was to make you believe in his goodness, in the beauty of a life with him only to implant wonderful - and illusory -  memories in your childhood, so be it. After all, you were a girl, and in his view, girls were sentimental. So how would you go against him in the future, or not act according to his orders or not run his business as he wanted when he was too old, if you only had memories of him being an excellent and loving father? You will feel so guilty! You would fall under the weight of your own mind's arguments that everything he once did was to protect and give you the best, so your only obligation would be to be a good girl and return the favor by obeying your father's orders.

Loyalty.

Maybe, if you were someone else and this was a different story, you would have realized the hoax at 16 years old. Maybe you would have born with a strong, inquisitive and responsive personality. Maybe you would have developed that spark and fire that wouldn't let you lower your head to any man, that would make you stamp your foot on the ground, lift your chin with petulance and unravel the mysteries of that dark empire alone and take justice into your own hands.

But this was no different story. And you were just you.

You were born with a sweet aura and gentle personality. You liked butterflies and flowers since birth because their color and beauty attracted you and made you smile. Your romantic nature was not only accepted by your father, but encouraged and recharged every day - for his dark game. 

For 19 years you lived in the theatrical farce that Pekka created with monstrous hands, believing and agreeing with every story in your bubble. But the blame can never fall on the shoulders of the pure in heart, who blindly believed in words and stories just because it didn't have a single wave of malice or disbelief in the veins. One should never condemn the soul that was born naturally sweet and destined to be the breath of light that such a terrible world as Ketterdam needed. 

 You believed in love, fairy tales and pure honesty, and that was not a defect. The Herculean guilt should fall on the shoulders of the devil who abused the innocence of a girl for his greedy benefit.

In your perfect world manipulated and distorted by the unscrupulous Pekka, you blossomed like a dazzling lily in the middle of Plato's allegory of The Cave. You acted with honesty, patience and affection towards everyone who crossed your path: employees, cooks, gardeners, bakers, painters, stylists, delivery people, friends of your father.

You were, genuinely, a kind soul. Your interests were related to literature, cooking and painting, your heart vibrated with the sunset, with the first snowflake falling to the ground and how twilight seemed even more stunning in books when they portrayed a couple in love beneath it.

You always saw the poetic, lyrical, angelic side of life, with the eyes of an artist and a passionate soul, smelling mystery and romance in the air when others only smelled wet grass because of the rain.

And being like that was, perhaps, the reason for your downfall.

It was three o'clock in the morning on a Friday the thirteenth. A combination so full of superticities, curses, fears and prague. While some saw that day and time as a condemned and satanic sign, you saw it as something mystical, mysterious and enigmatic. And maybe that was your mistake. Maybe you should be careful about the things you think, the things you wish. Maybe three in the morning on a Friday really was the devil's time. Because as you crossed the hallway of the mansion's library, unable to sleep, you saw him.

Dressed in black like the darkness outside. Skin as white as the moon's glow. Hair personified as a raven's feathers. He seemed to belong to the mysteries and occultism of the world as sin belonged to hell. The huge Victorian window behind illuminated him like an apparition, a mirage, a nightmare…an erotic dream. Or like a demon.

You should have screamed. You should have ran away. You should have done something other than get stuck in that same place, anything other than feeling inside you squirms and something sinks into your belly like warm honey.

His eyes, as blue as the deadly waters of icy Fjerda, were fixed on you with as much intensity as the dangers of Shadow Fold. For a split second, a human emotion passed through those irises; surprise?

An inattentive observer would not have noticed such a tiny sign, but you lived 19 years analyzing every detail of life.

Would a demon have such a mundane emotion?

“Who are you?” Your voice came out like a breath in winter. 

Your concentration should have been on your dad book under that man's arm, but it wasn't.

A single thick, black eyebrow of his was arched, and only there were you able to run your eyes over the details of his appearance.

“Do you always ask questions for thieves?” His voice was like the scratching of sand on a stone, like a withered willow branch brushing against human skin.

That man, in his entirety, seemed to have come out of the dark romance books that you read hidden in your room in the early hours of the morning. You should have focused on the fact that he just called himself a thief, not the way your soul seemed to be shivering because of his voice.

“Or you´re just stupid?” the thief continued.

Kaz never made decisions based on fear. Only in despair. 

His analytical mind rewound every step of the years he spent investigating Pekka Rollin's; every detail, every day, every season, every strand of gray that appeared in Pekka's red hair. Where had Kaz gone wrong? Pekka had no children. And Kaz made no mistakes. Never. But the girl in front of him, too curious for her own good and common sense, had too similar traits to Pekka to be anything other than his daughter.

Desperation hit.

This made EVERYTHING infinitely more Herculaneum. Your existence meant that Pekka had many more secrets than the Kaz discovered in their constant meticulous investigation. You were a loophole, and that meant there could be others. Loopholes that Kaz had no idea about. Kaz Brekker felt naked, even though he was covered from toes to neck. Being without clothes wouldn't have bothered him any more than the damn fact that he hadn't come up with the perfect plan. He failed. And that disturbed him deeply.

Suddenly, that library seemed sneaky and questionable, even though Brekker had studied the layout of the mansion for months.

How the fuck did he didn't have the knowledge about that girl?!

A daughter meant many things. But being caught by his daughter created a LOT of problems. Problems involving Kaz Brekker on a gallows.

Fucking hell.

The Barril's bastard waited for a scream, for an accusation, waited for the guards to be alerted at any moment and…the silence was sepulcher. A silence so solemn that he heard the sound of his own blood running through his veins. None of his muscles relaxed, but the part of his brain that worked in despair was activated.

Or he could kill you. But a body would add an extreme problem and…

‘’Who are you?’’ Your voice was so feminine that for a second Kaz thought he had fallen backwards and landed in a bed of roses.

Which was bullshit. Because he never falls. And he had never touched a rose in his entire life

Were you really talking to the man who was robbing your house?! Where was your instinct?! Your common sense?! Your discernment?! And where, by the damned Saints, were you all these years?

“…you don’t look like a thief’ That voice again. That damn voice that made him think of roses he never touched.

Why didn't you shut up and run away?

“Have you seen enough thieves to know one?” Normally Kaz had higher control, but he couldn't hold back his whip tongue, which seemed somehow wanting to hurt you the same way he was being hurt.

That atypical creature blushed. You blushed! For the love of the saints! Who blushes face to face with imminent danger?! Were you stupid or just terribly naive?! And why did that sweet blush remind him once again of a rose?

Bloody hell, where have you been all these years?! Why didn't anyone tell him about you?!

“No’’ you replied like a little animal being caught biting the sofa “but common thieves wouldn’t have that much intelligence to be able to bypass the security of this entire mansion’’

You had a point. But why were you worried about arguing with a damn thief instead of running away?

“That's yet another reason why you should keep your mouth shut about what you're seeing here.” His voice dropped to deeper, more threatening tones. “Bypass security is not as difficult for me, just like hiding a body''

That should have scared you. It made you scared; but with less than it really should. He was threatening you with death, his voice as cold and hoarse as a grim reaper, his eyes as serious as prophecies of the apocalypse. So why you could only think that this about him was overwhelmingly enthralling?

Maybe it was because there was a lack of excitement in your life, maybe it was because you've read a lot of erotic books about mysterious men entering the towers at night and taking the girl away, or maybe it was because Pekka deprived you of the world so much that he left you unaware of the true gravitas of situations. Whatever it was, there was something that grounded you like the roots of ancient trees, something that made you want to look at that thief more closely. Perhaps you liked the danger... That nameless man represented a large part of all the danger of Ketterdam that was so diligently hidden from you for 19 years. He represented death. But he also represented the new, the mystery, the unknown. And you, romantic by nature, loved the occult and its secrets. That man came from a world of shadows, mists, risks, deaths. Where every night was full of adrenaline and every second was a fight to stay alive. He smelled like the ghostly five a.m. fog that you watched envelop the mansion every winter, that made your heart clench with the feeling that there was so much more to the world than you knew. Very quickly, Kaz - even though you didn't know his name yet - became everything you'd always wanted to know, but had always been deprived of.

Once again, you weren't a different person to know about Pekka's disgusting game, but you were romantic enough to feel your soul begging for adventure. Even if these adventures meant ruin. A downfall.

Did it only take one handsome, mistery man for you to throw all your comfort in life out the window and want to ruin yourself with him? Want to get lost with him? The same stranger who just threatened to kill you? Apparently, yes.

You took a step into the library, and Kaz stood firm on the ground, his blue eyes boring into yours like a shining knife. Brekker thought you were extremely naive. Who knew that damn Pekka Rollin's daughter would be so pure? He would bet the Crow Club on the certainty that, if Pekka saw you now, he would have a heart attack. The monster sure had kept you in a little pink bubble your entire life, given that you seemed to not have a single ounce of survival instinct left in you. And how would you have? You certainly didn't know what pain, loss, hunger, cruelty were. This was comical and irritating to Brekker. You were a daddy's little girl. But it was in these waters of thought that his ship hit one fact: you must be very valuable to Pekka. Because otherwise that idiot wouldn't have made so many efforts to hide you from the entire world. To hide the wrong eyes from you. Eyes like Kaz's.

A shiver ran through Brekker's body; a damn good chill, a note of music he'd been waiting to hear his whole life. Revenge.

Brick by brick.

Oh, how ironic fate was. The boy who lost everything at Pekka's hands, was face to face with what was everything for the man. Like a breaking violin string, you have become the most valuable item in all of Ketterdam to be stolen. The most valuable item for Kaz Brekker.

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if pulled by the devil's rope as he set the book down again. He had something else to take away.

Kaz advanced towards yoou. And suddenly, as fast as lightning that cuts through the darkness, everything in your vision turned black and you fell into the abyss of unconsciousness as something pressed against your nose and mouth.

[soullessdianthus]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐨 "𝐑𝐮𝐝𝐲" 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚

A/N: Just some glimpse of life with your husband Rudy. I want to be his little spoon so bad, I'm always cold during the night. (╯▽╰ )

Warnings: nothing just lil' smut at the end (gentle sex, lotus), generally fluff

✧°.  Definitely has a wife younger than him, because only recently he had begun thinking about settling down with someone. I personally believe that it wouldn’t be a person in their early twenties – someone who still studies and goes to parties. That would not feel right to Rudy, as he wants to start a family in the near future.

✧°.  But on the other hand, let’s think about him being with someone much younger, in their early twenties for example – someone more vulnerable and in his opinion naive even to engage with someone like him. Rudy would be probably more protective and dominant in the relationship, trying to keep an eye on you all the time. He would protect his pretty baby girl at all costs. <3

✧°.  He’s an absolute sweetheart and will take great care of you – spoiling his wife with massages, gifts or some romantic dates. He embraces love through the acts of service, quality time and words of affirmation. However, you cannot find a happier man on the planet than Rodolfo, when you wear clothes or jewelry he has picked out for you. 

The bathroom was filled with the scent of your flower body wash as the two of you were sitting in a tub filled with warm water and bubbles. Your back was leaning against Rudy’s chest, sitting between his legs. You had no idea how exactly the two of you managed to squeeze in there.  Rodolfo’s fingers were rubbing the scalp of your head, causing you to keep your eyes closed, taking in the relaxation with your husband. It felt so nice, you almost fell asleep right there in the tub.  ━ Do you feel better, amor? To which you only hummed, drowning in the pleasant feeling spreading through your head that was aching for the whole day. Perhaps it was his magic touch working wonders. 

✧°.  He will show you off each time Alejandro visits him. Rudy encourages you to sit on your husband’s lap and spend some time with his best friend. His hands will hold firmly, but hot harshly onto your thighs or hips – this is how he shows his possessiveness over you. <3

✧°.  Rodolfo is an excellent cook so therefore you often spend time in the kitchen together. Additionally, eating meals with each other is very important to Mr. Parra. I think he really likes to hum while doing house chores.

✧°.  I can see him with a wife that has a feisty temperament that constantly worries about him and sets the ground rules he willingly follows – like eastern europeans, hispanics or latinas. Because our boy Rudy is the calmest man on planet Earth, he could calm you down better than anyone. 

✧°.  If somehow he managed to piss you off, you wouldn’t let him brush it off or keep silent, oh no.

One time when Alejandro came by your house to pick up Rudy, he saw (and heard) the two of you arguing (rather you scolding him loudly), which doesn’t happen often, he was slightly taken aback. A colonel of Los Vaqueros wouldn’t even try getting under your skin. Ever.  ━ Cristo, how do you tame her? She’s a spitfire, hermano. ━ Alejandro asked, when his best friend got in the passenger seat.  ━ In bedroom. When she cools off a little.  Your husband’s reply made Alejandro smirk stupidly, before he shook his head. But Rodolfo was absolutely serious at that moment – he meant it. 

✧°.  Rudy could be a real tease and despite the common misconception about him being almost too soft and cautious during sex – your husband was able to fuck you to sleep or until you were breathless and sweaty underneath him. 

He just returned home from the base. The clock hanging on the living room wall pointed at 1:27 in the morning. Mierda, he was supposed to be back earlier, but the meeting was prolonged.  Rodolfo took off his gray jacket and shoes, before slowly making his way towards your shared bedroom. The room was illuminated only by the night lamp on his side of the bed – you must have left it on for him to find the way to bed. Oh, but you really didn’t have to. He would always find the way back to the love of his life.  You were sleeping peacefully between the sheets, wearing a nightgown he had recently bought you – it was his favorite color. The hem of the dress rolled up over your hip, exposing some flushed skin and underwear.  Rudy knew he shouldn’t do what he was about to, but the mere sight of his beloved, pretty wife splayed like this seemed to be too good to be true. Each time the intimacy felt like it was your first time together, exciting him like a teenage boy in love.  He removed his clothes and kneeled on the mattress beside you. His fingers traced the outline of your arm, ribcage, waistline and then your displayed hip. His thumb and pointing finger slid beneath the elastic of your panties and slowly pulled it upwards, detaching it from your skin. Only when the material got really tight and taunted, he released the band of your underwear. A sudden sting on your skin, caused you to wake up with a loud gasp.  But your husband was right there, leaning above your sleepy form, already placing kisses all over your face, neck and shoulder.  ━ Rudy. ━ You purred through the sleepy haze, slowly turning on your back to face him. ━ Lamento llegar tarde, cariño [sp.: Sorry, I’m late, darling].  His strong hands slipped under your shoulders and lifted you off the mattress. You let him maneuver yourself until he placed you in his lap, sitting in a lotus position.  You wrapped your hands around his neck, thumb caressing his occiput.  ━ I missed you.  ━ I know, I’m sorry, baby. But I’m here now. ━ The sergeant clung to your mouth like a leech and forced his tongue inside. The wet and warm sensation sent an electrifying desire pooled in your stomach. You moaned into his mouth, eagerly rolling your hips against his, searching for some friction. Rodolfo moved your panties to the side, before slowly sinking his hardened length in. A sudden stretch made you whimper and straighten your spine in his hold. Yet, you felt safe, he would never hurt you or cross your boundaries. His hands run up your ribs, until his thumbs could caress the curves of your breasts. Rudy shushed you, before slowly thrusting into you with steady pace. You looked at him through the shaky movements that caused you to rise and fall onto him.  Despite the fastened heartbeat and heavy breathing, an overwhelming sense of home and belonging washed over you. As long as you were in his arms, you were being loved and kept safe.  The arms of your loving husband.

[b1rds3ye]

Task Force 141 but it's Battlefield's Bad Company - a unit of disgraced soldiers who are valued no higher than cannon fodder but who are also too skilled to simply get the boot. Despite being thrown at the most devastating threats, they are low on resources and lack respect from the rest of the military. No one bothers learning their names, they're not expected to last more than a week. But a small unit of them always manage to pull through.

Captain John Price says he only took up Bad Company because he was given an offer of early retirement if he survived leading the dredges of the military. In truth, he's gone off the books one too many times, his last mission had him temporarily A.W.O.L. as he pursued what he believed was right. If the military can't silence him with retirement, they'll silence him with Bad Company where they'll throw every mission under the sun at him until he inevitably falls. He doesn't comment on how his last official mission went, but if you ever bring up General Shepherd he says he has a special bullet reserved for that bastard.

No one knows exactly why Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley got into Bad Company, he doesn't say. In fact, no one knows shit about him. All anyone knows is that he's a damn good soldier, the longest lasting in Bad Company - he transferred even earlier than Price. Simon says he willingly transferred here because he thrives with the freedom and informality compared to the standard military and no one dares comment on how utterly unhinged that sounds. Still, his personality seems to fit the story; he's not afraid to go off the beaten path to reach the mission objective which seems to have taken out everyone but him.

Sergeant Johnny "Soap" MacTavish is just a menace, but a crafty one which is a problem for the military. He enjoys being demolitions expert and one day got too bored and a little too curious. Destroying physical objects would be too obvious but he may or may not have infected the military system with a virus to see what sort of information he could extract. He learnt the hard and very expensive way that he has a knack for hacking. Perhaps that's why they transferred him to Bad Company, with trash-quality guns, outdated tech and precisely negative ammo, there's not much destruction he can wreak. Well, that was likely the thought process but Johnny's always loved a challenge.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick was framed - he presumes. He excels in all the drills, his performance is promising, he follows all the orders, and yet he's here. What he doesn't know is that he doesn't have the personality superiors desire. He questions too much, he's far too open minded, he can't be molded like other soldiers. He's stubborn - they transferred him because he filed one too many complaints of inefficient directives that could be boiled down into polite military speak of "screw you and your orders, I have a better way (P.S. may your tea always be lukewarm)". He's annoyed the big bad men at the round-table and now he's paying the price. Fortunately, those are the traits that thrive in Bad Company and the exact traits that prompted Price to take him under his wing.

And that just leaves you, the newest member on the brink of promotion to sergeant until you were transferred into Bad Company. You're jittery, you've heard of the nightmare that is Bad Company, how it contains the worst of the worst (and yes you are aware that it apparently includes you now). When you step off the helicopter, you repeat your simple goal - to survive this one mission with Bad Company so that you can go back to your squadron and get your damn promotion.

But as the mission progresses you find yourself getting closer to all the members of Bad Company. You look back fondly at the memory of Price forcing the rest of you to run back into gunfire to retrieve his stupid bucket hat, the same hat he plops on your head if you're ever too on edge. You can only feel thankful for Ghost's unconventional medical advice - you have to give it to him, this discount Bear Grylls has saved your life more times than you can count. You look forward to the new creative ways Soap will blow up an enemy cache, or watch as Gaz hilariously tries to mimic your direct superiors with an overly high-pitched voice as Price begrudgingly talks to them over comms.

And that's when you realise that there will be a day where the mission is inevitably over. And instead of looking forward to your transfer back, you find yourself wanting to risk your life every day with your beloved bunch of military misfits, the group of you against the rest of the world, than whatever stuffy perks come with being sergeant.

Call of Duty Masterlist

[techramonic]

An Interview with Galina Roslyakova: Vlad’s personal life according to his mother

A year after the shooting, BAZA, a Russian news outlet, interviewed Vlad’s mother Galina Roslyakova. Here are several details she had disclosed about her son:

He was gifted in drawing and engineering, however was an average student.

When he was younger, Vlad attended a kindergarten in Kerch with a chess focus. His mother considered him as a normal child who had an interest in drawing. He had hobbies such as architectural modeling, construction, and designing. He had a particular fascination with airplane models that he would try to configure by himself, although his father would occasionally help.

He then continued to paint throughout his life and excelled at it, Galina believes he inherited this skill from his father, Igor. Vlad mostly expressed an interest in drawing domestic animals and portraits of people. He focused a lot on the details.and drew rather thoroughly. Unfortunately, she has none of his drawings left to reminisce.

In school, he was “statistically average”. He studied for at least three to five hours and was in the middle line of poor to excelling. He didn't dislike nor have an interest in school and had no specific goal yet. According to Galina, “Not all dreams can be realized.” So in a pragmatic sense, his parents tried to instill something that would have perhaps helped him by trying to search for something suitable for his life and future. She had also described Vlad to be somewhat confused or unsure of himself:

“You can show a different side of yourself. You can realize yourself somewhere else. And this period of transition from school to college was somehow unconscious. A lot depends on how this might turn out. Every person's views and values ​​change. Children must realize during this period that they are growing up primarily for themselves. He understood that he was not quite a child and not quite an adult.”

Vlad did not finish highschool and went straight to college, explaining why he was 18 during his 4th year.

Galina and Igor saw no point in enrolling him into 10th and 11th grade because it was unclear to them that he would graduate at all, seeing that his academic performance was mediocre at best. During his transition from highschool to college, Galina recalled it to be a stressful experience, “just like any other transition”, she says. She had attended all parent meetings and recalled that teachers would often describe her son to be socially inept. He was not keen on socializing but she figured this must have been his way of coping with his adaptation, since it was a contrasting environment to what he was used to.

“I went to all parent meetings. At the beginning of the training they were carried out. I talked with curators and other teachers. There was a phrase that he was not very sociable . Not all people are open and ready to communicate with others. At that time it was a period of adaptation. Everyone tolerates it differently, but I wouldn’t say that he had a difficult time with it.”

More on relationships, since their house was located in a residential area not far from other neighbors who lived nearby, Vlad easily could communicate with a few neighborhood kids whom his mother considered to be his “friends”. Rather, they were his classmates. 

“I think Vlad chose exactly those friends who suited him according to his views and interests at that period of his life when he was at school. He also played Minecraft. Well, of course, communication there is no longer only with classmates.”

Vlad still kept in contact with his father despite his mother's wishes to not be so in touch.

Technically, Vlad's parents were not officially divorced. Igor’s traumatic brain injury which subsequently led to the development of a mental illness was seen by Galina as a danger toward her and her son if they continued to live together. Coupled with the fact that he developed a dependency on alcohol, she had figured out that she had to make the resolution to move out with her son to protect their well-being. Despite this, Galina mentions that even with their separation, Vlad still communicated with his father, since it is a relationship not within her control. At first, Vlad was offended but as he grew, he began to contemplate the idea of his mother’s decision. He continued to communicate with his father as he grew older.

“With age, he made his own decision. He begins to make his choice whether he should communicate with his father. What will this give him and does he need it? That is, he could decide for himself. That is, in this regard, I gave him freedom of choice.”

He would often go to the garage together on weekends, which developed Vlad's interest in technology and personal interests like motorcycles, which he would’ve liked to study. Vlad then on became a major in the course: installation, commissioning and operation of electrical equipment of industrial and civil buildings.

Signs of isolation and depression were under the radar since he barely communicated.

Apart from the detail that teachers have said he was rather not very sociable, closer to the third year he already became withdrawn and kept to himself. He would often divert this topic of his behavior as his ‘right to privacy’ whenever asked, so no further questions would ensue. He was silent most of the time, got ready to go to class straight away and sat in his room ("another office") to scroll through his phone. He was quiet, didn't talk about himself that much, which led her to not anticipate the events that would unfold soon after. However, she said that she could sense a slight change in him, since he became more private. She did respect his boundaries however, since she saw it as his right to personal space. 

“Well, slightly, so to speak. Because, in principle, many people reach such a period and age, and so, in communicating with their friends who have children of this age, many children tend to have, so to speak, personal space. Personal life, this is how the period begins. You know, like “I have the right to personal space, ‘I have the right to privacy.’ Within reason, because we live together in the same apartment”

Did he need more attention? Galina expresses that although she didn't primarily focus on him at all times, she did care for him and paid attention. She tried to make him talk and actively made efforts to communicate with him to get him to open up more about himself, however to no avail. So, in an outward perspective, everything seemed rather normal for her, and with the lack of properly established and structured communication, it was difficult to see through her son. After all, you cannot properly fit in puzzle pieces when there are no pieces provided to arrange.

It was difficult for her to speculate about the topic of whether or not he was depressed, nor did she anticipate that somehow he felt abandoned because he would often just sweep things under the rug. The signs didn’t manifest in any way in everyday life because again, he was very secretive and rarely talked about himself in conversations at home, so things easily fell out of notice and undetected.

“What percentage of love do children want to receive from us? Do we feel this as parents? Or if they tell us, let’s say: 'Well, at the technical school there were difficult tasks and classes, I’m so tired that I don’t want to communicate.' And you are trying to do everything to make contact with him. The children say: 'Well, I don’t want to now.' You won't really force him too much... But you still have to try to do it. Basically, I tried to do all this. What provoked it, I can’t say anything. For me, all this still remains a big, big secret as a mother. I cannot put together logic and specific pieces of the puzzle for myself. Therefore, everything remains like this.”

Vlad's online presence was monitored until the age of 14.

Galina had monitored his online access until he was around the ages of 13 to 14. After the age of 16, this period however stopped because of the gap between parents and their children's familiarity with devices and the technologicaĺ world. So, she stopped keeping track. 

“I wished in my heart that somewhere they had slowed him down.”

She was unaware of his online presence in crime communities since 2016. According to her, at home he only sat and played minecraft,

“I didn't see this. If a person really wants to hide something... Maybe he did it sometimes, but not in my presence. At home he sat and played Minecraft. He talked there with one, then with another, then boys, then girls - they all communicate with each other there, laugh. There were different emotions, there was laughter.”

She was aware that he went to study firearms in the summer.

Vlad shared a common interest with his father with firearms. He also said he would join the army. Galina speculated that this might be due to the benefits, since the income of military salaries was fairly high. Vlad earned an internship at a plant prior to this, and it was good news for her but in reality, Vlad's perspective was that he did not generally take a liking to the place.

According to him, “I talked to the people who work there, I don’t see much prospects in income and in general my place in this.”

During the summer, he then began to study firearms through the internet and via the Internet, register with government services, and collect documents. She was against this act because she saw no purpose to this, however, she couldn't stop him. He excused this by saying he had an interest in hunting. Though she initially thought that he had given up on this prospect and moved on, since these documents were rather complex and difficult to complete, he then went on to successfully buy a gun after passing the exams and receiving his license. 

She hadn't known of this, of course, since it was reported that he hid his gun in an abandoned warehouse to avoid speculations from her.

Here's the article, if you want to read more:

https://baza.io/posts/1b2005f5-d53e-4380-989d-b6f846cd6aab

[fallenclan]

okay so my crazy list of who I think the fourth cat could be and the likelihood (or at least my opinion of their likelihood) that they are the fourth cat:

-ryepaw, 2/10: she's honeysong's apprentice, ambitious, and fascinated by prophecies, so a lot of people have been thinking that it'll be her. however, I believe she's a red herring. she's had very little plot relevance currently and her traits can just as easily be interpreted as basic interests instead of plot points. idk I just don't see it happening.

-flamefall, 7.5/10: okay you guys have to hear me out. a lot of people are very suspicious of flamefall, but I think there's a very good chance he does a heel-face turn here. the three little pigs edit shows that ravenstar's three most trusted followers are levi, sleepydawn, and patchback. notably, flamefall is absent from this group despite being ravenstar's first apprentice AND the cat who reminded cherrystar of the omen that made ravenstar deputy in the first place. flamefall is also stated to be a highly insecure cat who cares a lot about what ravenstar thinks of him. but perhaps now that he's been supplanted as ravenstar's main lackey, he's starting to realize that he doesn't need ravenstar's approval, and as a result, he's noticing the shady things that ravenstar has made him do... I think that even if he isn't the fourth cat, he's going to pull an ivypool and act as a spy for the Eldritch Horrors Gang (TM).

-littleleaf, 6/10: this one is mainly for the spicy drama, because holy shit imagine. however, littleleaf himself has no reason to be suspicious of ravenstar currently, so it depends on how the plot shakes out.

-cloudtuft, 5/10: this one is a 50/50 because it depends on how the pondcloud situation shakes out imo. like littleleaf, cloudtuft currently has no reason to be suspicious of ravenstar, but if ravenstar were to find out about pondcloud, he would certainly punish pondshine in revenge, which would definetely push cloudtuft over the edge.

-mistlefrost, 3/10: the only cat in fallenclan so far who has actively spoken out against ravenstar, earning himself a scar on the neck as a "reward". I think he has too little plot relevance to actually be the fourth cat, but I do think he would be one of the most enthusiastic supporters of the Eldritch Horrors Gang.

-canarywish, 9/10: out of all of the cats in the clan, I think canarywish is the most likely to be the fourth cat. she's ravenstar's niece and his second apprentice, which would make the drama extra delicious. but aside from that, she's probably the biggest example within the clan of a living cat that was personally traumatized by ravenstar. she tried so hard to help that loner, and ravenstar did nothing about it. she's clearly still traumatized by the event as seen by her expression when she was made a warrior. she loves her uncle, but she definitely knows what he's capable of. I think she would be more than willing to join the Eldritch Horrors Gang to help save the clan from her uncle... and perhaps save her uncle from himself...

thanks for coming to my ted talk guys LOL

-🦝

EXCELLENT analysis... all i can say is that its entirely possible some of this might happen :) more than one thing even

[doodlegirl1998]

You know what I just realized? You actually CAN make the argument that Bakugou looked down on Uraraka for being a girl.

Momo got first in the quirk apprehension test, beating both Bakugou and Todoroki. And Bakugou... Doesn't react at all. He never even acknowledges her the entire story, despite her beating him in everything that isn't combat related.

(She also read him for absolute filth after the battle trials like the queen she is👑)

He doesn't see Momo as a legitimate threat, even though before her loss at the Sports Festival she absolutely would have been one.

Now, you can also make the argument that it's because her quirk doesn't have the raw power that his and Todoroki's do. That's fair. But I find it hard to believe that Bakugou is this pariah who doesn't notice or care about gender. It took Uraraka not only catching him off guard, but him being told straight-up that Izuku (a boy) had nothing to do with her strategy to even admit she isn't weak.

In other words, I'm so sure he's more likely to find a guy threatening than a girl

Hi @sapphic-agent 👋,

You make an excellent point.

Bakugou not acknowledging the queen (👑) Momo with an OP quirk like Creation, not challenging her in the same way he does Todoroki, truly says something when she is the one with the most brains and most multi-faceted threatening quirk in the class.

Perhaps it's that she's not confident? But he still yells at her and calls her "Ponytail", and...nothing about her quirk?

From Bakugou. The guy whose nicknames are about quirks or the lack thereof? "Deku?" (Izuku) "Half and Half" "IcyHot" - (Todoroki.)

Or defining characteristics?

"Shitty hair" (Kirishima) "Dunce face" (Kaminari.)

You get the point.

Bakugou looks over Momo when a smart person or someone who is "oh so feminist" wouldn't.

Bakugou also puts higher value on outwardly flashy powerful quirks (like Todoroki's.)

And Bakugou assumes Uraraka's good strategy had come from Izuku (a boy) as if it is so impossible that a girl can come up with good strategy by herself 🙄. (A supposed feminist icon, right there everyone...😒)

TLDR - Bakugou absolutely views girls as lesser in some respects, and thank you for pointing this out.

Just like he views flasher more outwardly powerful quirks as better while ignoring those that are quietly powerful.

[mixelation]

oh yeah i wrote this last night

“No,” Shisui said, flatly. “Absolutely not.”

He still maintained his proper at ease pose, feet apart and arms folded behind his back. It was a stark contrast to his rather blatant words. 

“I recognize you have a very… strong interpersonal relationship,” Minato said carefully. “But like all our shinobi, Tori knows how to behave professionally when on missions.”

“With all due respect,” Shisui replied, “if she wasn’t a problem, you could hand her to any other captain.”

Minato’s lips thinned. He had wasted so many years believing Tori was the most personable member of Team 4, and now look what he and Kushina had allowed her to become. Now that he needed to temporarily pull a fuinjutsu master for ANBU, it was becoming clear she’d somehow ended up on the shit list of several key ANBU members. She was as bad as Itachi in terms of reputation, except she had to clout within ANBU to command respect. 

He could just put Kushina on this mission, but her personality was wildly unsuited for ANBU. Tori was theoretically a much better pick. She could be incredibly discreet when she wanted to be. 

Shisui’s dark eyes watched him, waiting for a reply. Unlike any member of Team 4, Shisui was not openly judging him for his decisions, or the fact that he’d just let Tori piss off half of ANBU and done nothing to intervene. 

“Uchiha Itachi recommended you,” Minato said finally. “He believes your skills would complement, and that despite your differences, you would be able to read each other well, despite never having run a mission together.”

He could tell Shisui was fighting hard to not react, like a good ANBU. 

“Perhaps Itachi should captain this mission then,” Shisui said finally. “They have an excellent mission record together.”

“You know I can’t assign them together,” Minato replied. 

In theory, he could, because he could do whatever he wanted as Hokage. But now that they were dating, he didn’t want to throw them together into a high-stakes mission until after they’d had some trainings on workplace romances and run a few easier missions together, if they wanted to explore that. Romantic feelings and missions could be a disaster for both the mission and the relationship. 

(Kushina would be so upset if they broke up.)

Shisui took a deep breath. 

“If you force this,” Shisui said, steely eyed, “I will consider resigning from ANBU.”

Wow, Minato thought. He hadn’t thought they’d disliked each other this much. 

“I will take your opinion into consideration,” Minato said, and then dismissed him. 

Minato distracted himself with some more mission assignments for an hour, but he inevitably came back around to the Tori problem. 

The unfortunate truth of the situation was that he did have to build an ANBU team around her, rather than carefully pull the best agents from a range of different candidates. 

The mission was a rare invitation from the Water Country Daimyo. He wanted a certain political enemy eliminated, but all three of Kiri’s own attempts to assassinate the mark had failed, because the mark had somehow turned his home into a maze of fuinjutsu barriers and traps. So the Daimyo wanted Konoha to infiltrate, kill only the mark and his two partners, and also not leave any evidence a foreign ninja had done this so he didn’t have to explain anything to the Mizukage. 

The fuuinjutsu requirement, along with baseline ANBU requirements, meant literally only Kushina and Tori could reliably do this, and Kushina was horrible at being subtle. 

Could he maybe move the mission out of ANBU and widen his pool of other teammates…? No, it really had to be ANBU. 

What if he just did the mission?

Kakashi walked into the office to find Minato with both hands in his hair, glaring at the current ANBU roster. ANBU Jaguar would be perfect for this, actually, except Tori had brought Jaguar to Book Club the time Bounty Hunter Kakuzu had inexplicably shown up. 

“Have you also been speaking to genin?” Kakashi asked, dropping a folder onto Minato’s desk. 

Minato stared up at him helplessly. That was right; he’d asked for the newest Jounin Sensei to turn in their six month report on their genin teams in a tad early so they could discuss entering them in the Chunin Exams this round. 

Team 7 must have really done a whammy on Kakashi if he was the first to turn his in. 

“ANBU is sort of like speaking to children,” Minato said, and Kakashi dropped into a seat across from him to listen to him whine. 

“Just make Itachi deal with her,” Kakashi said when Minato finished. “Or are you afraid their relationship will turn them into a vortex of toxic behavior likes of which ANBU has never seen?”

“Something like that,” Minato replied. He absently picked up a pen and jotted down a note to himself to tell them they had to do workplace romance training so he never had to deal with this again. 

Then Minato said, “I really thought Shisui was a good fit. They’re not friendly, but they’re civil at Book Club.”

“Ah, it’s because Shisui is intimately aware she’s a manipulative little monster,” Kakashi said. He settled back further in his chair and crossed his legs. “He used to get weird about having to work with Itachi too.”

Minato sighed and tapped his fingers on the desk. He should have a conversation with Tori about being more pleasant. Except if he used that wording both she and, more importantly, Kushina would yell at him about being anti-feminist because… something something women were expected to be kind and gentle where men weren’t. 

He just wanted her to not use her teammates as psych experiments… 

“Hey,” Minato said, eyeing Kakashi up and down. “Do you want a break from your genin?”

Kakashi, currently fiddling with a pen, froze. 

“It’ll only be a couple weeks,” Minato said. “I’ll stick them with someone else and tell them it’s an evaluation for candidacy to the Chunin Exam.”

Kakshi looked less than convinced. 

“I of course enjoy my cute little ninja sibling,” Kakashi said very slowly. “But only in my personal time. When there’s other people to point her at.”

Minato could force the issue and just assign Kakashi to the mission. But he was trying so hard to get people to get along on their own. That was his philosophy as Hokage. 

Of course, sometimes people just didn’t want to get along, and then he had to use other tactics. 

“I’ll get you Jiraiya’s current manuscript,” Minato offered. “And just think: it’ll be really, really funny.”

Kakashi looked more considering. 

xXx

Tori stared down at the mask on the desk. Her eyes rose, meeting MInato’s. They had a certain dewey quality to them that almost made him feel bad.

“Why would you do this to me?” Tori asked, sounding betrayed. 

“Wow,” Kakashi said, putting a hand on a hip. He was a nostalgic sight, in full ANBU uniform again. “Usually people are overjoyed to work with me.”

Tori made a face like she didn’t believe this. 

“It’s just like any other mission,” Minato assured her. “Just with a couple extra rules.”

Tori reached hesitantly for the mask.

“If you make me ANBU Songbird,” she said, turning it over in her hands, “I am going missing-nin.”

“So,” Minato said blandly, “a stricter behavior code is part of your temporary ANBU assignment–”

“Maa, it’s a Nightingale,” Kakashi interrupted, completely undermining Minato lecture on how he should technically give Tori several demerits and send her off to a psych eval for her joke. “Which I believe is a songbird. Suborder Passeri, right?”

Kakashi had definitely looked this up beforehand, specifically for this. 

“Why would you do this to me?” Tori repeated. 

“I was being sensitive,” Minato defended. “You went on for a very long time about your ancestor Nightingale, and it was available.”

Tori stared at him, clearly confused. 

“The statistician?” he tried. 

“Florence Nightingale?” Tori said, sounding mildly scandalized. “She’s not my ancestor!”

Minato could have sworn Deidara had referred to this Nightingale person as “one of Tori’s people” to explain the strange given name. Maybe he hadn’t meant she was part of Tori’s family after all…?

“No one gets to choose their own mask,” Minato said, backtracking. “I try to allow people to turn down temp ANBU assignments, but we really don’t have anyone else with the required skillset.”

Tori scowled down at the mask some more. Minato would at least hear her out, if she decided to give an actual argument for not wanting to run an ANBU mission, but she didn’t offer one up. 

“Maa, I’ll try to fill the rest of the team with people you haven’t personally harassed,” Kakashi said. “Although that’s not a long list…”

Tori held the mask up to her face experimentally, then pulled it away. 

“Do you sterilize these between uses?” she asked. 

“Yes, of course,” Minato said. “But, um, that one’s been in storage for years. I’d clean it again.”

“Don’t worry, my cute little sister,” Kakashi drawled, “I will teach you in the way of mask hygiene.”

Tori shot Minato another pained, betrayed look. 

“He means that as your captain, he’ll brief you on how this works,” Minato said. He almost reassured Tori that Kakashi really was one of their best. But she already knew that. 

Kakashi swung an arm around her shoulder and walked her out, listing tips for cleaning her mask and borrowed armor as he went. 

Minato watched them go with conflicting emotions. Kakashi and Tori… made each other behave worse, in public. It was heartwarming when he looked at them as young people he’d mentored: their mutual interests brought each other out of their shells and they enjoyed each other’s company. It was also kind of a nightmare when he thought of them as soldiers under his command. He trusted both of them to reel it in once the mission started, but Tori’s orientation would almost definitely end with more names on the list of ANBU Tori had personally harassed. 

Ah well. It would be character building for whoever they ended up harassing.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So far I count 3 ranking shinigami who didn't start off human (Gin, Komamura, Kenpachi). How common is this? (I'm guessing sort of rare, because if it was common more people would be clocking Gin as nonhuman rather than the creepiest human in the room) And are Komamura's (and his adopted parent's) attempts at hiding it normal for nonhumans? Wait - is *Yoruichi* 100% human?

Its a lot more common in AEIWAM than in canon, and Komamura is in for more than a few surprises once his helmet comes off.

****

"Um. Komamura-Taicho?" A small voice asked from the door.

Sajin looked up- it was early in the afternoon, and the paperwork had slowed down for the first time since Tousen-

-Since the Ryoka incident some three weeks ago. Peering around the doorway was one of the newer recruits to the Seventh Division-

"Miss Fubuki?" He asked. It was a point of pride to have the name of every member of his division memorized within a month of their recruitment, and she had been here some years.

"Yessir!" she snapped to attention, stepping into the doorway. She was a darling thing, with large blue eyes and white hair befitting her name. "Er, Sorry to interrupt, but, um-" She fidgeted with the clipboard she was holding.

"It's alright." he said, putting his pen down and sitting up a bit to face her. "Despite recent changes to my appearance, I do not bite."

She blinked at him for a moment, then grinned, relieved. "My apologies sir- I- I don't think you ever *would*, sir. Captain Zaraki, perhaps but- sorry, that was very rude of me."

"No, he absolutely does, but I believe he considers it a sign of affection." Sajin nodded, and she giggled. "What was it you needed?"

"Well, ah. It is about your um-" she gestured at her own face. "-Lieutenant Hisagi asked for help with this month's newsletter and I- well, I thought lots of people would have questions about you, and I actually couldn't find much about the history or legal standing of... non-human people? in the archives, so, if it's not too invasive, um. Would you be willing to do an interview, of sorts? Less about yourself, really, so much as um. People like you?" She babbled, not quite looking at him, but holding her ground. She was nervous but she seemed more awkward than frightened. A good sign, perhaps?

He considered this for a moment, looking at the clock on his desk. "How long would this take?" he frowned.

"Oh! Um, well, I wrote up like, 20 questions- you don't have to answer all of them, but I figured that would be enough, and- well, I've never actually interviewed anyone before." She considered. "Not more than half an hour, probably?"

"Yes, I think I have the time. I need to be at an appointment at 3:30, but no pressing matters before then." he nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat opposite his desk.

"Oh! thank you sir!" She beamed and sat down, a cool breeze floating through the door after her and Sajin hand to slap down a paper that attempted to flutter off his desk. "Ah- early fall breezes." She nodded.

"Autumn can't come soon enough. Summer is difficult when you wear a fur coat you can't take off." he sighed.

Fubuki looked up at him, then quickly jotted it down on her notepad.

"You have excellent shorthand." he noted.

"Oh! Thank you! I learned it when I was working up North with the central 46's survey team." She smiled. "Um, well, first question, which- well, I know it's not strictly my business, or anyone else's for that matter but, ah- What ARE you, actually?"

"I believe there are a great many introductory primers on different types of animal in the Seiretei library, mostly in the children's section." Sajin teased and Fubuki giggled. "But I understand. There are a great many rumors and some clarification may be in order. I am from a very ancient clan of Beastfolk from the mountains of the east 80th district. There are many types of Beastfolk, but all share some combination of human and animal anatomical features, along with the intellect of men, or better."

"-and your family is.. dogs?" Fubuki asked.

"Wolves." He corrected, and watched her cross out a word and replace it with decided firmness. "Thank you for comprehending the difference."

"I ah, grew up in... not-people wolf country." She nodded. "That does make me extremely sure you don't bite, actually. I lived out in sheep country and never got chased by wolves while minding the herd but the neighbor's dogs were constantly after the lambs."

"Out near Nemuro then?" he asked,the name of a far northeastern district.

"Y-yeah!" She sputtered, taken aback. "-Not relatives of yours?"

"No, but it is where the Court Guard gets the mutton for it's rations from." he nodded.

"Right." She nodded, "So, are there a lot of Beastfolk?"

"Not quite so many as there are humans in soul society, but yes, a great many. There aren't cities per se, because most of us move with the seasons, but there are places where SOMEONE is always passing through, and permanent structures have been established." he explained.

Fubuki nodded. "-And does the soul society have, like? Treaties with these people? Or are we just not in contact that often?"

"Oh no, we have several standing peace treaties with the Beastfolk. It's how I came to meet Yamamoto-sotaicho, actually-" He laughed quietly.

Fubuki looked up, curious. "We do? I swear I went through the entire xenobiology section..."

"-They're in the archives under Resource Management and Clan Politics." He explained. "The most recent one was the Bo River Border Treaty in 1552, which forbid any industrial practice by anyone from Soul Society to occur east of River Bo. Several of the clans had designs on clear-cutting the old-growth forest there for profit, despite it being home to a great many Beastfolk and minor Kami. The captain-general's interest was originally more in preventing the clans from accumulating the kind of wealth that would allow them to establish armies or operating 'company towns' or other chicanery so far from court guard. I was asked by The Forest Guard to act as a negotiator because I had a good reputation with the humans in the east from working as a priest, but perhaps more because I was one of the few people that ah, actually spoke human."

"Wait, wait, wait-" Fubuki interrupted, scribbling as fast as she could. "One- you used to be a priest?"

"I still am, if needed." Sajin smiled. "I specialize in exorcisms and ritual purification so it wasn't much of a jump for me to become a Shinigami, especially after the captain-general asked me to come and gave me a letter of recommendation."

"Huh. I applied here as soon as I was old enough and could afford to, so all I ever did was odd jobs before this. I guess it never occurred to me that some people might have had whole careers before becoming Shinigami." Fubuki considered, writing. "Second- that was like, half a millennium ago? How old are you?"

Sajin cocked his head at her, smirking.

"Sorry! I know, you're not supposed to ask people that I just- I don't know, I thought you couldn't be much more than 200 at most for some reason, but if you were already a priest 500 years ago-?"

Sajin laughed. "I'll take it as a compliment then- I'm Seven Hundred and Twelve."

Fubuki blinked. "...You're almost as old as Ukitake-taicho?"

"Oh, he'll love to hear that- he's almost Nine Hundred" Sajin grinned, affectionately teasing the young thing.

Fubuki frowned, eyes darting around as she tried to do some mental math. "Er. If I can ask something potentially offensive?"

Sajin nodded.

"...How old is that in Wolfman years?"

Sajin somewhat literally barked a laugh.

"I mean- well, there's calendar age and life age for shinigami and Ukitake-taicho is Eight Hundred Eighty-Nine, yeah, but he's also like, in his mid-forties? What's er, what's Seven hudred twelve in Wolfman life age? Is it like Shinigami where people age at different rates and you're way older than most wolfmen or everyone ages differently or are you guys all multi-centurians or -?" Fubuki babbled, trying to clarify, another cold gust coming in through the window and scattering papers, interrupting her.

"No, no- I understand, it's just very funny." Sajin smiled as he picked up the top of his inbox from the floor. "-Weird, the forecast said it was supposed to be hot and sunny all week but I wonder if we're getting rain?" he muttered.

"I- I wouldn't know." Fubuki muttered, hiding behind her clipboard. "I always forget to check the weather."

"Don't worry about it- before I tell you, if Ukitake is in his Mid-forties, how old do you think I am in the same relative Life Age?"

"Um..." Fubuki studied him for a moment. "...40? 42?"

Sajin chuckled.

"I'm way off, aren't I?" She groaned.

"You share the same good judgement as the captain-general, if it makes you feel better. I was... two hundred sixty-three when we met, and even though I was quite young, I was already taller than Yamamoto-Sama, and for the first few hours we knew each other, he'd only heard me translating his words into Wolf for the Beastfolk- most of the languages are mutually intelligible, to a degree- and not my Human voice. "The meeting was attacked by Private Forces hired by several of the interests of the logging and mining corporations, and of the noble houses, and we were forced to fight back- Not knowing any better, I was sure The Forest God would be well-protected and able to fend for themselves, but the humans looked very small, so... I put myself between the attackers and Yamamoto-Sama." He sighed, deeply embarrassed.

Fubuki failed to stifle a laugh.

"In hindsight, that was ridiculous! Like a mouse defending a bear from a bug! But, it apparently impressed him and he very generously offered me a full scholarship to Shinigami Academy, both as an act of peace between Soul Society and Beastfolk, and because he liked 'the cut of your jib'." Sajin said. "...I'm still not entirely sure what a Jib is or how you cut it."

"Wow!" Fubuki perked up, writing as fast as she could. "...But you didn't- er. I also looked you up in the archives before coming in- But you didn't enter for another three centuries?"

"Ah. You see, you and the captain-general misjudged my age in the same fashion. As I had to explain to him then, I couldn't join the academy because-" Sajin nodded solemnly, clearing his throat and scaling his voice up a few octaves like it had been back then "-In human years, I'm only ten."

Fubuki snorted loudly, buckling over her clipboard and laughing hysterically. "What?" She yelped between giggles.

"I'm only 22 in Human Life Age now!" Sajin protested, mock-offended and Fubuki laughed even harder.

"Oh no! Oh no!" She gasped. "I said forty because you seem really calm and mature, but you're actually REALLY calm and-"

Something small and hard clattered to the floor and rolled under the desk and Fubuki abruptly went silent.

"Miss Fubuki?" he asked.

"I. I dropped my pen." She sputtered, crouching down from her seat and searching for it.

"...The pen behind your ear?" Sajin asked, leaning over to peer down at her.

"Oh, uh, that's a spare but I don't want to lose this one-" She said, voice shaking now.

"I think it rolled under here-" Sajin said, pushing his chair back and looking in the footwell of his desk. "-Hm? What's this?" he muttered, reaching down and picking the strange object up.

It looked almost like a small pearl, except it was perfectly spherical and translucent, nacreous colors shimmering deep into the smooth stone. "What a lovely thing this is..." He muttered, turning it over. "Did you lose an earring or something?" He said, offering it back to Fubuki-

She looked awful.

All the blood had drained from her face, and her expression was one of dire terror, eyes fixed on the small stone in his fingers.

"...Is there something you want to tell me, Miss Fubuki?" Sajin asked, voice gentle. -and his other hand on Tenken's hilt.

"What's the actual legal status of Nonhuman Persons in Seireitei?" She asked, slowly looking up at him, face gaunt.

Sajin regarded her for a long moment before lightly dropping the shimmering stone in his pen tray and sitting back, shoulders down and hackles low. "The law makes no distinction between human and non-human persons. If someone has a Soul Security Number, they're a citizen of Soul Society, and therefore entitled to the same protections and expected to follow the same regulations as everyone else."

She stared at him for a long time, lip trembling, and then back at the stone. "You're sure?" She asked, voice barely a whisper.

"I am entirely certain. I was present at the writing of those laws, which were amended after the River Bo treaty." He nodded.

"-but you hid your appearance for so long?" she asked, trembling in her seat.

Sajin looked out the window, a gesture of nonaggression. "I was not afraid at first, especially after meeting Yamamoto-sama, and to tell the truth, I was never frightened of humans harming me- but as I grew up and reached my adult height and lost the puppyfat, humans began to avoid me. "Less than twenty years after I met the general, I was trying to help a woman caught in a river current and when she saw me swimming toward her, she swam deeper into the current, rather than let me get close. It was a near thing, but after I managed to catch her arm, she screamed bloody murder the whole way back to shore and sprinted away from me as soon as she felt solid ground." he explained. "It... hurt. To see someone so frightened of me, and I took to keeping my face hidden so I could move about without accidentally terrorizing people."

Fubuki peeked up at him, not writing anything down, arms wrapped around herself. "...and? Since you stopped wearing your helmet?"

"...Everyone has been so kind. A few awkward questions at worst, but someone went through the snack cabinet and removed all the raisins and grapes, and someone else got rid of that wretched weathervane on the roof with the shriek I don't think most humans can hear." He smiled, a little sad. "I feel foolish, that I did not trust my friends and colleagues, who trained with me, who swore to die with me, and who trust me to lead them- I am sorry I didn't trust them sooner."

Fubuki nodded slowly, still ashen, eyes still fixed on the glittering stone.

"...but I am strong. Physically intimidating. An Apex Predator. People in general would prefer to avoid such confrontation, but that is not the case for all- What did you call us?" he asked.

Fubuki looked up at him, shaking. "N-nonhuman persons, sir."

"-for all of us." Sajin smiled gently.

Fubuki nodded, silent.

"...You're from Nemuro, right?" he asked. "Beautiful country up there- and cold- it's high in the mountains and in the north-most corner of the eastern districts. How long have you been with the Seventh Division, Miss Fubuki?"

"Three and a half years, sir. Straight out of the academy." She croaked, voice raw and frightened.

Sajin nodded. "Three and a half years here, six at the academy, and it probably took you several months to travel from Nemuro to Seireitei."

"Yes, sir."

"About ten years ago, there was a terrible case the tenth division had to handle in the living world." he said, deliberately not looking at Fubuki. "A human gangster had managed to kidnap an Ice Apparition somehow, and had imprisoned and tortured her for the purpose of creating Hiruseki Stones, which are the solidified tears of an Ice Apparition."

Fubuki shuddered, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she finally gathered the words together. "...Yukina is my first cousin, sir."

Sajin nodded, giving her space to speak.

"...when she got home alive, we were all so relieved, but- Oh gods. The things he did to her. And men are no better on this side of death- you know what they were going to do to Mononoke Forest! So- so- So I figured, the closer I am to danger, the farther I might be from harm? Nobody never think to look in the court guard for another Ice Apparition, we're all out on frozen mountaintops, not working in the building next door!" she laughed, high and terrified.

"It's- Everyone here is so kind, and- and- and- it's like you say, we trained together, we fight together, we die together but- but you're never really quite sure, are you? What's going to happen, when the cat gets out of the bag?" She grimaced up at him, before returning her gaze to the stone.

"I- I was devastated, when Aizen- you know. But the next day, when Lieutenant Iba came in with the news and told everyone to get rid of the grapes and the weathervane and oil the door to the storage closet- I was. I was so stunned and- and- I had this crazy idea that it'd be alright. It'd be alright if everyone knew. It would be okay to laugh for real at jokes or to come to work if I have hayfever making my eyes run or- or to just have a damn cry like everyone else in the division did that day." She continued, teeth bared like a fox in a snare.

"Is it?" She asked, blinking up at him, the rims of her eyes bright red. "Is it going to be okay, sir?"

Slowly, Sajin sat up and delicately picked up the Hiruseki stone.

Fubuki watched him, shaking.

Carefully, he set it in the middle of the blotter on his desk, put his thumb over it,

-And crushed it into a fine dust.

"I promise, it will all be alright, Miss Fubuki." He said offering her an open hand as he swept the dust off his desk like it were common lint.

She slowly reached up, fingertips delicately touching his, before suddenly bolting out of her chair and hiding her face in his shoulder, sobbing.

"I'm Sorry!" She wailed between wet, ugly sobs. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry-"

"There is nothing to apologize for." Sajin sighed, gently embracing the girl, letting her hide her face in the fur of his neck as she crumpled against him, crying like a child. He could feel the fur under her getting coated in something wet, then cold and hard- the nacreous coating of Hiruseki stone coalescing on his chest.

"Uh. Sir?" Iba asked, sticking his head in the door.

"Its alright." he nodded. "Miss Fubuki has been very brave and a crisis averted."

"...cool?" Iba nodded, still puzzled. "Does she want a juice box or something?"

"Miss Fubuki?" he asked, peering down at her. Her face was red and eyes bloodshot but the horrible terror was gone.

"Um. Yes. Please? Thank you?" She mumbled, standing up and about to wipe her eyes off on her sleeve when Sajin stopped her and handed her a handkerchief instead.

Iba clicked his tongue and pointed a finger gun at them before vanishing back down the hall.

"...You realize that thing was probably worth more than the entire Kuchiki fortune, right?" she giggled from behind the handkerchief., still shaking.

"Then I will need to come up with more embarrassing stories from my youth when the next Widows and Orphans fundraiser comes around." he shrugged.

Fubuki sob-giggled from behind the handkerchief.

"I say that entirely in jest. You are under no obligation to provide any form of fundraising, least of all by that means." He explained, tone serious again. "-nor do you need to tell anyone, until you want to. Nobody will hear it from me."

"Thank you sir." Fubuki sighed, finally pulling the cloth away, trying to fold it, and making it snap instead. "Oh, for fuckssake- I'll get it clean somehow sir-"

"Keep it." He smiled and she finally managed to give him a weak grin back. "...If I may make a request for you to take under consideration though?"

"Yes, sir?" Fubuki asked, perking up a bit.

"Mrs. Oyashiro is scheduled to retire in a few weeks, and I will have an opening for a new secretary." Sajin explained, sitting back and fiddling with a pen. "Relatedly, you seem to possess a strong sense of operational security, and take excellent shorthand. Even more importantly-"

Komamura leaned back in his chair, pointing to a tree in the courtyard visible through his window, upon which a large thermometer hung. "-As you can see, it is a disgustingly hot Nintey-Four degrees outside and probably similarly humid, but your mere presence here has lowered the temperature in my office to a very pleasant Fifty-Eight degrees."

"Ah." Fubuki snickered, genuine this time. "Summer is hard when you're wearing a fur coat you can't take off?"

"You understand me exactly." He nodded.

"I'll put my application in, Sir." She bowed.

"Thank you. I also look forward to reading your interview."

"Oh!" She straightened up, and grabbed the clipboard. "Um, yeah, I think I have enough but, well, one last question?"

"Yes?" Sajin asked, ear cocked.

"...If you weren't afraid of people, and you grew to trust that people wouldn't be afraid of you- what was the hardest part of keeping your identity concealed?"

Sajin stared into the distance, thinking for a moment.

"Actually? Not making a million canine-related jokes a minute." he smirked. "-Pup's out of the bag though!"

"Oh no," groaned Fubuki, grinning.