#i can’t explain it except he’s hot and he gets even hotter every time he shows up

[hellish-heart-ships]

Loguetown Buggy breed me challenge

[shawnxstyles]

man-handled

DATE: DECEMBER 4, 2023

summary: you get a little caught up in your boyfriend’s muscly arms and can’t help but imagine what it would be like if he man-handled you.

request: i thought it was but i guess not??

words: 5.1k

warning: SMUT (f- receiving (multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, throat-fucking), m- receiving (oral), slight daddy/sir kink, degrading, name-calling, dirty talk), language, and probably the shittiest ending ever

note: i’m so tired y’all

mafia!tom x reader

–

You weren’t usually like this. You weren’t known for being so horny to the point where you can’t think straight. You were known to be quiet, shy, and even a little innocent. But sometimes Tom brought out the worst in you. But you learned to like that side of you. The secret, dark, and dirty side that only Tom could unveil from you. Watching you unfold and come undone–no pun intended–gave Tom a deep sense of growing pride.

Every day he made it more obvious that he was the only one and that there would never be anyone else for you.

What was causing you to act so strange was a new obsession for you. You had been with Tom intimately numerous times, but he never failed to pleasure you immensely. You two have explored each other’s bodies inside and out, yet your mind still found things to obsess over. Currently, it was his arms.

His arms.

They were usually covered with different brand-name suits, all varying from gray to black. The sleeves always wrapped around his biceps snuggly, hinting at only some of his bulkiness. Usually, the sight of him in his suits when he left for work had you thinking about how hot he looked overall. But as you watched him leave this morning, your eyes couldn’t stop fixating on the packed muscle you knew was hiding under the black suit’s sleeves.

You’re not sure, but you think this newest obsession started last night by complete accident. That accident being Tom’s overwhelming dominance and control when he was fucking you.

Although you were on the quieter and more innocent side, it amazed both Tom and you that you were secretly fucked in the head just like him. You hadn’t even known it until you stumbled upon Tom. Sometimes, you think that he molded you to indulge in his kinks and fantasies, but he’s never forced you to do anything. If anything, it’s always you shyly asking him to do something more when a dirty thought pops into your head. He always makes sure to degrade yet praise you in the most addicting and twisted way.

Last night, while you and Tom were simply watching a movie, things got heated (it was never just going to be a movie). Tom had gotten home early and just wanted to relax. But the makeout between you two got hotter and you both got needier. When you moved yourself to his lap, gently rocking into him, his strong hands forced you to stay still. You remembered the bruises present on his knuckles and wondered if they still hurt when he squeezed your hips. You whined into his mouth before he picked you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder as you squealed.

“Always so greedy.”

Tom has picked you up and threw you over his shoulder before. Maybe the other times he was gentler about it, afraid to hurt his little princess even if you were completely okay with it. But that night, he didn’t seem to give a fuck. He had a difficult day at work, the evidence clear on his wounded hands, so maybe he took some of that aggressive out on you. After he had brought you upstairs, you were extremely drenched as his bulky arms tossed you on the bed.

But after that, he apologized for being so rough. He explained how he had a tough day and he was sorry for taking it out on you. It resulted in long, sweet, loving sex that you adored all the time because you got to see the part of him that no one sees. Just like that secret part in you that only he sees. Except, you weren’t yearning for his softness after being man-handled. No, you were looking to be fucked. Hard. You wanted it rough, messy, degrading, and straight sinful. The nastiest scenes flooded your mind through the night, hoping that you could relive one of them with Tom. As he fucked slow into you last night, your eyes couldn’t remove themselves from his bulging arms holding himself over his head. You watched as the muscles would work and his veins would pop out when he did a push-up, and it had you clenching around him pathetically.

What were you going to tell him when he came home?

For the rest of the day, you wandered around the house needily. You cleaned, you read, you reorganized, but nothing distracted you enough from your fucked-up thoughts and the pulse between your legs. One part of you felt ashamed for hiding it from Tom, but the other half of you didn’t care. It felt like you had your own little secret that no one knew. But then again, you really wanted to tell him because you wanted to see the results. And feel them…

When it was late into the evening, seemingly later than when Tom usually returns, you sighed to yourself. You brought yourself to bed, too worn out from your own desires nagging you down all day. If only Tom didn’t have a rule about touching yourself while he was gone, you would have been able to handle your dirty situation all by yourself. But no, Tom had to be insanely controlling and sexy about everything, just making your situation even harder to deal with. Just as your bare feet slip into the comforter, you hear the hefty front door open. Your head shoots up, instantly on high alert of Tom’s arrival. Just when you thought your body was relaxing, the sound of his approaching footsteps seem to heighten your hormone levels, veering away from homeostasis once again.

Tom peeks his head through the ajar bedroom door, body hunching over the door handle. He doesn’t say a word until he realizes that you are in fact awake, opening the door wider. He skulks closer to you, his body bulky and stoic just how you remembered it being this morning when he left. His hands at his sides had those infamous cuts and bruises that you always wrapped with bandages. He never wanted you to, you demanded that you do. Your heart pounds as your tummy tickles, wishing he could read your mind and just handle you the way you want him to with those bruised knuckles.

“Missed you today, Princess,” his thick hand rose to caress the hair on your head. You feel yourself lean into his touch, yearning it always no matter how intense or soft. You always craved to just feel him.

“Missed you too, Daddy. So much,” your hand reaches up and encloses around his wrist, squeezing softly. His hand gently pulls away as he sits beside you on the bed, and you nearly whimper at the loss of contact.

“What d’you do today?” Tom asked simply and softly, genuinely curious about your day. But finally with him next to you, your mind has gotten all fuzzy, and you feel like you’ve forgotten every word you’ve known. Your eyes haven’t drifted away from his arm since he pulled away from you, mind encompasses in the way he moves.

“I cleaned. I reorganized the shelves in your office. Oh, and I read too…”

Tom tried to listen to your dull list of activities, but he couldn’t help but notice how distracted you seemed. Maybe you were tired from all the chore-like things you did. But your eyes weren’t blinking as they started at his chest, clearly hazy with something. Something familiar.

“Yeah? And what did you read?”

“Um… I don’t remember,” your head started to tilt to the side as you licked your lips, lost in whatever thought was clouding your mind currently. Tom’s mouth curved just the slightest bit up at the airheaded state of you, wondering if you could be anymore adorable. The fact that you didn’t remember what you read, knowing you love reading, is what stood out to Tom the most. Something was obviously off, Tom just couldn’t figure it out yet.

“How was work? Do you need me to patch you up?”

“Work was stressful. People don’t listen and then ask why m’so harsh. And idiots like to go behind m’back and take stuff from me,” Your eyes fall onto his wounded hands.

“S’not nice…”

“Not nice at all, huh?” Tom reaches up to caress your face ever-so gently, not wanting to touch you too much with his open cuts.

“Come on. Let me fix you up. Please?”

Now, how could Tom ever say no to you?

–

Sometimes, Tom could be stubborn. Like right now, where he refused to sit down while you tended to his wounds because he’s saying that it won’t take long enough to sit. You want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you don’t want him to see your attitude and punish you later. Or maybe you do…

He had his suit jacket off now and just his crisp, white buttoned shirt rolled up to the elbows. The skin that was untouched was smooth under your delicate touch, but his scars and fresh cuts, which were most likely old ones reopened, were rugged. You dabbled light pressure as you wiped away dry blood with the wet cloth, not afraid of hurting him because he barely blinks when he punches someone. He surely wasn’t phased by his girl cleaning up his damages like a little puppy trying to lick themselves better. That’s exactly what your touch felt like—little puppy licks and gentle pawing.

And when you applied the cooling ointment, his pain was eased, but he doesn’t think it was from the cream. No, he is a firm believer that you are his medicine. Your words, your touch, your soul was healing. Although he was your opposite in every way and he hurt people for a living while you mended people’s aches with your mere presence, he could never hurt you. Never.

So, when you’re all finished wrapping his hands with that rough cloth that’s an excuse for a bandage (it was all he had stored), he’s shocked by your blunt statement. You were rarely blatant about anything, especially when it had to do with sexual situations.

“Why did you apologize to me last night?” You just threw your words at him, hoping he caught them. He didn’t know that when you were fixing him up you were ogling his arms like a child in a toy store during the Christmas season. His veins were green, constant exploitation of work causing them to pop out more. He looked delicious and it made you crave him more than ever. Even more with his ripped up hands. You wanted the roughness and pain and the power to be instilled on you. You wanted him to take his particularly hard day out on you. Tom blinked, silently leading you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He tried to recall exactly when he apologized to you, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Clearly, work had gotten to his head too much.

“I don’t remember what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, darling,” Without a thought, he begins unbuttoning his shirt with his bandaged hands. He looked like something of a fancy man mixed with an underground boxer. Not the type of fancy that shows off his money, but the type that’s humble and real and works hard for what he wants. A man who made himself. And that’s exactly who Tom is; someone who built himself.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you’re under the spotlight. But you took a breath. “Last night, when we were having… sex… you apologized for being really rough.”

He flatly hums, indicating that you need to continue while he buttons his shirt. You could just faint from his sculpted, stony beauty that was hidden behind a few buttons and fabric. Unlike his knuckles, his skin was smooth and untouched besides his scattered tattoos. He had faint scars that you could barely see unless you were looking really hard (which in your case maybe you were). His build and figure used to intimidate you, but now, you’re just awed.

“Well… I kind of liked when you were rough…” Your words dragged out, especially as your head tilted down to face your lap in embarrassment. “You’ve never really been like that before and it caught me off guard, but in a really good way! I didn’t realize I wanted something like that until… yeah.” You weren’t embarrassed that you were attracted to your own boyfriend’s man-handling, but by the fact that you had to admit that to get what you wanted. Sometimes, you wish he could just read your mind, but life wasn’t a movie or a book, even if it felt like that from time to time with the life you live. Dating a mafia man was insane to visualize–those things only really happened in books. Or so you thought.

“You did?” You softly hummed, nodding your head. You could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest. You didn’t think Tom would reject you. That’s not why your heart was beating faster than its usual tempo. You were anticipated and your organ couldn’t help but be thrilled at what was to come. “You liked when I took my day out on you? Liked when I was a little mean?”

You crossed your ankles that had been hanging off the bed, biting your lip. You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, because you got slightly dizzy from the movement along with your amped hormones. You had that beat in your chest, but you also had that throbbing pulse in your lower body that has been aching since you watched him leave earlier that day. In the most Tom-way possible, he stalks over to you, torso bare while his trousers remain on. He’s slow and calculated, and it makes you even more anxious. When your eyes finally look up at him, he’s glaring down at you with blown-out pupils, a darkness swirling with the brown color of his irises.

He’s close to you now, inches away from touching you. But he doesn’t. You hear the clink of his belt loosening around his waist before it’s adoring his hand. His quick movements cause the leather to slap your bicep, making you gasp, but what he doesn’t do is apologize. You’re not sure if what he did was purposeful. Did he want to startle you and show you how rough he really could be? You never lingered too long on the idea of him using a belt on you, but if Tom was going to be man-handling you more often, then the thought would probably be more recurring. Tom shrugs off his pants as if they’re a bother, and by the large bulge outlined in his briefs, it seems as if they really are.

You hadn’t even realized you were licking your lips until Tom’s hand came up around your throat, thumb pulling it out. He tucks his thumb into your mouth, gripping it tightly.

“Drooling over m’cock and I’m not even fully undressed yet,” he removes his thumb before lightly tapping your cheek. “On your knees. Need to fill that filthy mouth.”

The devil on your shoulder wants to be a brat and not listen to him, but you’ve been craving this all day. If Tom knew what you wanted–which he did–his punishment to you would just be not giving it to you. And that’s not your ideal plan at the moment. So, you slide off the edge of the bed and onto the floor at his feet. The first thing he does is spread your thighs open with his ankle.

“You don’t get to squeeze y’pretty little thighs together while sucking me off. That’s rude, pet. Get as wet as you want, but if you close y’legs, you’re not comin’ tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Your hands were waiting anxiously by your sides, clawing at the skin on your thighs. Your pussy was already clenching around its own wetness, unable to close due to his new limit.

“It talks,” his tone was sinister and demeaning. The kind that would make someone’s eyes twitch and hands fist in an argument out of irritation. But his works were fueling some type of sick need inside of you that needed to be sedated, and this seemed to be the only way to do it. And you didn’t mind it one bit. You fucking loved it. “Who knew such a slut would be so obedient?”

You knew better than to respond to that rhetorical question. Instead, you patiently wait for his smirk to rise in cocky pride before he finally slips off his briefs. Like every time you’ve seen his cock, it’s pretty. You didn’t know they were supposed to look so yummy and dream-like. He was smooth with inklings of hair scattered down at the base and his tip was a cute coral color that grew an angry red when he was hard. From the looks of it, he was pretty hard. His tip was leaking that delicious pre-cum you were dying to taste, even if you’ve had it thousands of times before. Having to sit and stare at his glory without touching was some type of punishment, you think.

His hand latches onto the base and the other grips the back of your head. He pushes you closer, tapping your cheek with his tip. You suck in a breath, readying to take him.

“You know what to do if it’s too much. And it will be.”

Tom shoves his cock into mouth once you’re open wide enough. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size or explore his prick like he usually does. This time he’s quick and harsh like he’s trying to beat some type of record. But he’s still just as calculated as he always is, and you know he’s not just going to come fast because he can. Most men do that all the time when they want to get off briskly, but Tom wasn’t like that. He liked to take his time and appreciate the moment, edging you both just a little to make it a little fun. He always edged himself more though, forcing orgasms out of you before you would even touch him.

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, trying to grasp the pleasure he is holding from you. Hands clawing at his meaty thighs until your nails break the skin barrier. Moans attempt to escape your mouth, but are instantly shoved right back down your throat from his thick cock. Tom drills into you with no mercy, causing saliva to cascade down your chin in long strings. The muscles in your jaw ache from their open stance, begging for a break that you would never get. If it was too much you could easily tap his thigh a few times and it would all be over, but that’s exactly what you don’t want. You love that he came home after a stressful day and you could make him feel better. You didn’t want your limitations to restrict his maximum abilities when you secretly wanted more to begin with.

“Look at you letting me fuck this throat. This whiny, little throat and your filthy mouth. Always so fuckin’ needy for it,” his grip on your hair intensified, stilling your head from any movements you might subconsciously make. You’re not surprised when the tears finally start to leak from your eyes, rolling down your face in wavering streams rather than small rivulets. “I’m so big I made you a crybaby. That good, sweetheart?”

There were no words that were able to leave your stuffed mouth, only rumbles of moans that vibrated around his cock so dirtily that his head was falling back. Deep, guttural groans emitted from his rough throat, his movements never faulting. Even when you feel the tip of him twitching in the back of your mouth, he doesn't stop.

“Take it. I’m going to come and you’re going to take it. All you wanted was to be a storage for my cum, right?” Tom’s words were cruel and degrading, but they were the exact thing that got you off. Your stomach churned in lust, feeling a bit neglected, yet pleasured by him fucking your mouth.

He was going all out tonight and you didn’t want anything less. Tom didn’t even give you a warning about when he was coming, he just wanted you to take it. And who were you to defy him? When ropes of his much-needed release fired from his prick, you made sure to swallow every drop. He slowly removes himself from your mouth as your jaw aches immensely. Saliva and cum were lathered around your chin, coating your lips with the taste of him. Your hand lifts up to massage your jaw as you look up at the flames of lust in Tom’s eyes. You notice that there’s slight hesitation; he wants to default back into a caring lover rather than a dominant one. But even with the soreness in your jaw, you manage a smirk to let him know that you’re fine. You’re more than fine, and you’re more than ready to continue the rest of the night. You know that it will be your turn soon too at some point, right? That throat-fuck was torture for your sopping cunt. You’re mind-dizzyingly horny.

“What’s the matter? Your lip is all trembling and wet,” You didn’t even notice him stuff his prick back into his pants because you were so mesmerized by the taste left on your tongue and the ache in your jaw. He leans down, nearly level with you on the floor, but still hovering over your head. “Just like your pussy I bet, hm?”

Your entire body shivered from his words as if a frozen wind cascaded through the bedroom, but at the same time, your skin has never burned so fiery. His hands were quick to fit under your arms, lifting you up to your feet. When your thighs met again, they squeezed tightly to rid the incessant throbbing between them. You knew you were just soaking wet too–the kind that reached all the way to your bum once Tom laid you flat on your back. The kind that would drip onto the bed sheets if you were positioned on all fours with your rear up in the air. Tom loved to do every which way with you, but he was keen on watching your scrunched-up face relax once you came. The way your nose would wrinkle and eyebrows furrow, mouth just wide enough to slip a finger or two through. Which, of course, Tom would take advantage of. But right now, he wanted to taste you.

It had been such a long day, full of busyness and rage-work. He didn’t mind having to punch a face or two daily, especially when they wronged him significantly because then he got to do more than just a punch. The only part he hated was seeing your face in the aftermath. When he’d come home, he would see you all delighted to see him back and well, just for your expression to drop in concern at his wounds. Whether it was his hands (it was usually his hands), arms, chest, or even his face, you were relentless about fixing him up. Tom’s resistance was nothing to you, so eventually, he would just sigh and let you aid him. You had something of a magic touch because only you could make Tom feel better. Nothing like the doctors he had occasionally visited as a child or even his mother’s kisses. And now, his knuckles may be bruised and may be bandaged, but that would never stop him from taking care of his girl. Especially when his girl got all shy about wanting to be man-handled. He thought you were the most adorable thing really.

Usually, Tom would gently lay you back on the comforter and make sure you had a pillow underneath your head. This time, he didn’t even hesitate to throw your willing body like a ragdoll on the bed. The gasp you let out was practically a moan. His invasive, manly hands shredded your bottoms down your legs without a care in the world. You’ve never seen him so aggressive with you, but God, if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. You had been craving this type of fucking, and now that you have it, well, you might just pass out from how good it’s all going to feel.

“This slutty little pussy,” he growls, thumb circling your throbbing clit. He can feel the way it swells underneath his rough touches, and he can hear the way your breath gets caught in your throat. You were always so delicate to him, like you would break if he held you too hard. But while you were soft, you were also strong, which is why Tom was able to treat you like this and you wouldn’t shatter like thin glass. “So weepy and wet. Who knew you were such a cock whore, hm? Or is it just for me?”

“You. Only you.”

Tom knew it was only for him. And of course, you knew it was only for him. No one has ever gotten you as wet as Tom has, and no one has pleasured you nearly as much. He strived to satisfy you until you begged him to stop, which no one had ever come close to doing. Every past partner you’ve been with always had to use lubricants because they couldn’t make you wet enough. You were always ashamed and embarrassed, but then you realized that’s how they should feel. Their performances are minuscule and rubbish; compared to Tom’s, they don’t stand a chance. But you didn’t bother with those past “lovers” anymore, because you had your one and only right in front of you. Or more like right in between your legs with his head on your thigh.

“Right. I’m feeling a bit hungry. You’ll let me eat, won’t you?” He widens your legs, forcing them to spread so you can’t suffocate him with your thighs. Lewd whines spill from your mouth as his breath hits your pussy, warm and close. “Oh, wait, I’m making the decisions.”

His lips lock onto your clit, sucking on the nub. You don’t conceal the moans that instantaneously begin to slip out of you like a mantra. He changes his rhythm, going firm and fast, and then slow and calculated. It was addicting, and it left you clawing at the bed sheets and curling your toes. His tongue swirls through your folds, collecting your juices and prodding inside of you.

No man has eaten you like Tom has. When they did it, they did it as if it was a chore. Tom does it as if it’s a reward.

He cherishes you, honors your body with his hands and mouth while also showing you who’s in control. It’s these things that make you utterly obsessed with him, thinking about him for twenty-four hours even when you see him at the start and end of every day. You were obsessed with the way his tongue was licking into you, desperate to consume every drop of your wetness until you were drained. His thumb returned to its home on your clit, pressing and holding as it throbbed beneath his finger. Your head spun as if you were drunk on a carousel, but it wasn’t nausea you were feeling. No, it was the ecstasy of pleasure building up inside of you as you approached your high.

“S-so close. Fuck—”

A slap to your inner thigh caused you to squeak into the heated air. Tom never cared when you cussed before, but the fact that he did now was another little turn-on that just got added to the list. Seriously, what was wrong with you?

His mouth popped off of you, thumb never letting up on your clit. He cleanly slides his middle finger through your slick folds, easily curling it inside of you. Even with his wounded and wrapped hands, his thrusts are flawless and perfectly paced. The sandy texture of the bandage occasionally itches your inner thigh, adding a delicious stimulation to your skin. As he pumps his digits inside of you, you are aware of the muscles in his arms flexing, which makes you clutch tightly around him.

“Oh, what’s got you so tight?” You groan at his words, not responding clearly. “Don’t be a brat.

“Your a-arms,” You can’t help but moan as he curls his fingers inside of you again.

“Yeah?” he hovers his body over you now, one arm supporting his bulky weight right beside your head. It was exactly like how you had remembered it and you didn’t even have to tell him. His bicep was next to your head, pulsing and working to keep him up right. You could feel and hear him grin and grunt every time you squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You’re the filthiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. The way you’re taking my fingers I just know you’re wishing it’s m’cock.”

Your skin was on fire. Your hair was a mess. Your head was going to evaporate into a cloud of lust. And your body was an oozing waterfall. That’s the only way to describe how you felt.

His transitions are natural and effortless as if he could do it with his eyes closed because he’s mapped your body out so well. But no matter how many times you’re with him, you’re still withering beneath him, shaking until your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. He tilts his head, licking his lips before whispering in your ear deeply.

“Since you’ve been crying for it all day, come. Go ahead. Soak my fingers. Soak the fuckin’ sheets.”

You topple over your orgasm into a pool of pleasure, indeed soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you. As your body becomes hypersensitive, you wiggle away from his touch, only for him to hold you in place. He snatches your hips, stills them roughly with a press of his bandaged hands.

“I’m not done here, sweetheart. For this one, I want you to be as quiet as possible. Can you do that? Or are you inclined to let the neighborhood know who is making y’come this many times?”

Tom was incessant about making you come a magnitude of ways that night, all with specific rules. One with no touching, one with no moving, one with no moaning. It was a rollercoaster of crying and orgasms. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but you’ve never felt more refreshed and satisfied.

You were so tired that when Tom left to begin your aftercare, you had passed out on the messy bed sheets.

—

i rushed the ending so much, but i felt bad that i’ve posted in so long and i’m just so busy that i never have time to write anymore

taglist:

@motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @rugbeat3000 @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @theslayerofthevampires @breaxthing @eatshitanddiee @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[rebrandedbard]

3 for Jaskier×Geralt please

3. “Please, don’t leave.”

tw: heat stroke

wc: 1706

Rain Rain Go Away

Geralt takes on a contract to resolve tensions between an angry nymph and the farmers who insulted her. Jaskier doesn’t do well in the heatwave she sends in retribution. Light angst ensues as Geralt learns why Jaskier hid his struggle.

-

Above them, the sun blistered. Geralt had walked astride Jaskier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled above his elbows. Though he ran hotter than humans, his body adjusted well to heat, and a bit of sweat went a long way to keeping him cool. As usual, Jaskier had elected to accompany him. He carried with him only his notebook, tucked in the hem of his trousers. This contract required no fighting and Geralt had been happy enough to leave his armour behind at the inn. Despite his initial reservations, he knew it would have been more uncomfortable to wear it in this weather, and if things took a wrong turn, his signs would be enough for such a simple confrontation. The humans hadn’t angered anything particularly powerful.

“Can this heatwave really be the work of a nymph?” Jaskier quietly complained. He tugged at the front of his shirt, fanning air inside. The hair stuck to his forehead was almost black, being so saturated with sweat. The bottom of his shirt had long come untucked and hung loose around him. He was talking to himself, the words breathy. Even now he was beginning to lag behind.

“They complained of the rain,” Geralt replied. “She sent it as a blessing for their crops. Until I can make their apology formally known, this is how things will be.”

Jaskier grunted and said no more. His feet dragged on the dirt path. Now and then he took a deeper breath and paused, braced on his knees. He would then compensate by jogging up to Geralt, though in a matter of minutes he would fall behind again.

The third time, Geralt turned back and said, “You’re slowing me down.”

“Nonsense!” Jaskier said, perking up performatively. He straightened his back and fluttered a careless hand in the air. “You just keep pace and I’ll catch up when I catch up. In the past you’ve made your position perfectly clear on the subject—you don’t have to wait for me. Besides, it can’t be much farther. Then again, ah, how far is it to this nymph’s hideout exactly?”

“It’s there,” Geralt said. He pointed to a small grove beyond the last farmer’s field.

Jaskier slumped, following his finger. “That’s … not so very far. Except that it is. Quite far. I thought you said that was the last hill just now and here we are, about to climb another. I may walk everywhere we go but—phew!” He paused to pant. Talking only seemed to make his face redder with effort. He sighed and sat in the dirt, head lolling forward. “Fuck, Geralt. It’s bloody hot. I’ll get blisters in this heat.”

“Go back and wait it out.”

“It’ll be twice as long going back as going forward. Besides, I doubt the nymph is keeping her grove as hot as the village. My blood would boil in the deepest basement there, but the grove … it’s probably … very cool.” He groaned and lay back on the ground, one arm over his eyes. “Damn heat. Can barely—well, you know. The thing I do.”

He flapped a hand above his head like a little mouth, opening and closing.

“Talk?” Geralt surmised.

Jaskier pointed a finger at him. “That, yes, thank you.”

Geralt sighed and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come on. We’ll be there in ten minutes if you keep walking.”

“Right. I’m up. I’m—oh.” He wobbled on his feet, pitching forward. Geralt caught him with one arm, but found he needed two to keep Jaskier upright, taking the full weight of him. Jaskier groped at his shoulder, his eyes unfocused. “Stood too quickly,” he said. “Just give me a moment, I’ll … I’m alright.”

He pulled out of Geralt’s arms and marched deliberately forward, following the path downhill. He made it two steps before swaying once more and stumbling to his knees. The momentum carried him and he rolled sideways, sliding on his back in the dust.

“Jaskier!” Geralt rushed down the hill and held him upright. He could hear his heart racing unnaturally. “Jaskier, how long have you been pushing yourself?”

Jaskier looked at him, confused. He patted his ear, brow furrowed as he focused. “I can’t hear you,” he whispered. He looked at Geralt in alarm, patting his ear still. “I—I can’t … can’t hear … what … ” His eyes lost focus once more, then his eyes rolled back and he went slack.

“Jas—Jaskier? Hey!” Geralt snapped in front of his face, but Jaskier made no response. “Fuck,” he hissed. He ought to have been more concerned when Jaskier stopped talking before. He scooped Jaskier up, draped over his shoulders, and hurried along the road. They needed to get somewhere cool fast. He only hoped Jaskier would be right about the grove.

“Idiot complains about a pebble between his toes but never thinks to take off his boot,” Geralt grumbled. Jaskier wasn’t the most pragmatic when it came to problem solving, preferring vocalization to action. “Now he keeps his mouth shut. Still doesn’t take off the boot.”

It was a struggle to jog without jostling Jaskier. He made for an awkward bulk, tipping Geralt’s balance on a few steps. Geralt had carried him before, but it was always a surprise to him how much more Jaskier weighed than expected. He was no easy burden.

It troubled Geralt that Jaskier had not taken steps to keep himself cool, or even to give any hint of his condition. He’d never been one to suffer in silence. Surely he would have noticed that something was wrong; he could not be so blind to his own circumstances.

When he reached the grove, he was relieved to find it was cool. He carried Jaskier into the center and set him under the dark shadow of a tree to keep him out of the sun. Carefully, he stripped him of his shirt and trousers. To help him cool off, Geralt wet the hem of Jaskier’s shirt with his water-skin and dabbed it on his face and chest, letting the air do the rest. Tilting Jaskier’s head back, he poured water down his throat, then left the remainder with him, just beside his hand.

The nymph found Geralt not long after he started his search. It was just as well that Jaskier had fainted, for he likely would have fainted had he been awake to learn that the nymph recognized him. She had heard his songs from the men who passed through her grove, humming and singing on their way to work, and from the children who sat in its shade. It happened that she was quite the fan of his music, and she was horrified that he’d become a consequential victim of her ire.

As the hot winds died down, the clouds were once more permitted to gather. The sun was hidden away and a light drizzle rained down over them. She wove Jaskier a fan of grass and twig, tending to him until his skin returned to its usual color. Geralt sat with her and made the apology as promised, though she’d long forgotten her anger in her distress over the famed bard. She lingered until he had sufficiently cooled, then went to inspect the villagers’ fields.

By the end of the hour, Jaskier began to stir. Geralt helped him sit up against the tree and would not allow him to try his feet. He passed him the water-skin, made him drink, and folded the shirt behind his head to keep him off the bark. When he was sure Jaskier had recovered enough, it was time for his scolding.

“What did you think you were doing?” Geralt quietly demanded. He saw the way Jaskier started and adjusted his voice. He sighed and took to folding Jaskier’s trousers more neatly, keeping his eyes lowered, giving him space. “If you were struggling, you should have said.”

Jaskier twisted the cork of the water-skin nervously. “I … didn’t want to be left behind,” he replied. His voice was weak, no more than a huff of air with each word. “I thought if I just kept going, I would learn to adjust. I would just get used to it. And I did, up to a point.”

“Why would you think—” but Geralt stopped himself. Jaskier had every right to believe it. Geralt had threatened to leave him behind if he ever lagged behind when they first met. Jaskier had been slow at the start, and over the years he had adjusted well to life on the road. Until now, he’d kept up. But Geralt had never slowed down.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” Jaskier concluded.

Geralt placed the trousers in Jaskier’s lap. The movement startled Jaskier and he seemed to notice for the first time where he was, and under what circumstances. While he struggled with mixed feelings toward his current state of modesty, Geralt switched the empty water-skin with a second. He picked up the fan and waved it between them.

“You’ll always be a burden,” Geralt said. He handed Jaskier the fan and leaned over to adjust the shirt behind his head before it could slip down. “You’re a burden,” he explained, “but I don’t mind carrying you. You’re not so heavy. And even if you were, I’d … if you were, I’d adjust.” Though it was not as eloquent as the feeling he meant, it was the best Geralt could do to say it.

Jaskier stared at him in astonishment, the water-skin limp in his hands. Geralt opened it for him, helped him to drink it, then made him lie down once more. The contract was complete, but Jaskier needed rest still.

Geralt retrieved the empty water-skin and turned. A river ran nearby, and Jaskier would need more water when he rose. But as he turned to stand, Jaskier caught his arm. He looked up at Geralt with uncertainty in his eyes.

“Please, don’t leave,” he whispered.

And Geralt sat down once more. He put a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll stay, Jaskier.” He would always stay, as long as Jaskier asked it of him.

-

Send me drabble prompts!

[dickwheelie]

Uhm, I don't know if you're still taking requests, of course you can just, not do it, but I was thinking, maybe jon touching star!Martins face littered with stars for the first time? 👉👈

this is based on @flamingfinch's and @tired-dummy's star!Martin au which you can find more of on their blogs :) I loooove writing about this dude so this was a great request to get, thank you Teo and I hope you enjoy!

_____________

Most of the time, Martin looks at least passably human. Perhaps he takes up a little more space in a room than he should, perhaps the air around him glows with a barely perceptible aura, and perhaps his skin is just a little too hot to the touch. Most people overlook these things, choosing not to question them or simply unable to notice them at all.

Jon is different. From the moment they met, Jon knew Martin was something otherworldly, though he wasn't yet sure what. When Martin told him he was an ancient being who crafted stars and arranged galaxies, Jon wasn't even necessarily surprised. It explained Martin's strange amber glow, his perfectly white eyes, and how impossibly large he seemed, even when he was at his six-foot human height.

Neither of them know, even after months of being together, why Jon can perceive Martin so clearly, as he does. Jon is grateful for it, because it was what brought the two of them together. He doesn't like to think about a world in which Jon had just let Martin pass him on the street, completely unaware of his otherworldly beauty, and the magnificent heart that lay underneath.

Jon thought he had seen all that there was to see of Martin's true form, until today.

They're sitting out on the back porch of Jon's tiny cottage, stargazing, as they always do on clear nights. Jon loves listening to Martin talk about the stars; he points each of them out and tells Jon their true name, and a story about them. Martin remembers them all, even the smallest, most distant ones. Some of the furthest stars have already died, their light reaching earth millions of years late, and when Martin speaks about them it is as though he is looking at a photograph of an old friend. He has moved Jon to tears more than once.

That night is more joyful. Martin is telling Jon about two stars in Orion's belt, young troublemakers who were best friends and completely incorrigible. "I kept trying to separate them," he says, "but they'd have none of it. They loved each other too much."

"What did you do?" Jon asks.

Martin shrugs. "In the end, I let them be. They orbit each other now. They're a little older, a little wiser. They've stopped causing so much trouble, but they love each other just as much."

Together they stare up at the stars in silence. Out here, in the countryside, there's not an inch of sky that isn't full of them.

"Do you miss them?" Jon says after a few moments. "The ones that are still up there, I mean. Do you wish you could be up there with them again, all the time?"

Martin looks at him, sensing the unspoken question in Jon's words. "I like being down here with you, Jon. You're as precious to me as any star. I'd never trade this life for that one." He smiles at him. "And I know you'd never ask me to."

That much, at least, was true. Whenever Martin had to leave to complete his starbound duties, Jon missed him, yes, but never resented it. He'd often use his telescope at night to try to see if he could spot Martin making new stars, but Martin had the whole universe to travel through, and he was so rarely working anywhere near the Milky Way.

He always came back, though. Jon is no longer as surprised by this as he was in the beginning, but sometimes his heart still leaps in his chest when he sees Martin's amber glow pouring through the gap under his front door.

"That's very sweet, Martin," Jon says coyly. "But you didn't answer my question. Do you ever miss them?"

Martin stares up at the endless expanse of stars. Jon can see they're reflected in his eyes, their usual white glow replaced with an inky black pool of tiny lights.

"All the time," he says.

As Martin stares up at the night sky, something in his face changes. Not his expression; his face itself. Jon blinks, thinking it might be an optical illusion, but no--there are tiny, glowing silver lights appearing across Martin's face, dotting it like freckles.

Jon sits up, leaning across the bench they share to get a closer look, and when Martin turns his head to look at him, the pattern of the lights on his face changes, mirroring the pattern of the stars behind Jon, a perfect projection of the sky. Jon gasps, and Martin gives him a puzzled look. "What is it?"

"Martin," Jon says breathlessly, reaching out towards his face but not touching it, "your face is covered with stars."

It's one of the most beautiful things Jon's ever seen. Martin's face, already lovely, is incandescent as it glows with pinpricks of starlight, peppering his cheeks and nose and forehead and lips, and Jon has been privileged to see Martin as he truly is, but he's never seen anything like this. Never before has Martin appeared so entirely other, so completely, obviously inhuman. Jon can't look away. He never wants to, ever again. He wants to reach out and touch, to run his fingers through the stars mapped out on Martin's cheeks, to kiss them from his lips, but he doesn't move forward.

"Oh," Martin says, realizing what Jon is seeing, "I'm sorry, I didn't know I was doing that. I can make them go away, give me a moment--"

"No," Jon says, his hand darting out to hold Martin's, as though that might stop him, "no, Martin, they're--you look--"

Jon stutters, not knowing how to describe to Martin how little he wants him to hide his stars away again. Martin quirks an eyebrow at him, perhaps a little confused, but thankfully the stars remain.

"Please don't get rid of them. Just . . . let me just . . ." Jon leans in close to Martin's face, examining the stars as they wink and move, ever so slightly, across it, as though alive. Which, Jon supposes, in a way they sort of are. Looking closely, he thinks he can see galaxies slowly turning at the corners of Martin's eyes, in the divot of his lips. Tentatively, as though they were fish in a pond that might dart away, Jon reaches out and places his fingertips on Martin's cheek. The stars don't move under his touch, but Martin shivers slightly, causing the projection to wobble. Jon quickly moves his hand away and glances up into Martin's eyes. "Is this alright? I'm sorry, I should have asked before."

"I . . . yes. Yes, it's alright," Martin says, quietly, staring down at him with wide, starry eyes.

Jon places his fingers once again on Martin's cheek, then traces a line down to his chin. Martin's face is warm, but the stars are just slightly hotter, sparking under Jon's fingertips. He places his other hand gently on Martin's other cheek, swipes a thumb across his nose, as though to scatter stars across it, though of course they don't move. Jon traces the patterns of stars that have gathered on the hills of Martin's lips, and then slowly, giving Martin the chance to pull away, he leans in to kiss them.

Martin does not pull away, and in the moment before he deepens the kiss Jon can feel every pinprick of every star that adorns Martin's lips, as though he is kissing each one in turn. Jon closes his eyes against the divine beauty of it all, the wonder that lies across his lover's face that Jon is able to touch, however briefly or distantly. Some of the stars under his hands and lips are gone, will never exist again except in memory, and some have only just been born a millennia ago, and all are important, and have been loved.

Then, as though strings have been cut, Martin surges forward and captures Jon in a searing embrace, kissing him so deeply that for a moment Jon half-believes he might walk away from this with stars of his own dancing over his lips. Jon does not let go of Martin's face, his palms against his jaw and thumbs stroking across his cheeks and under his closed eyes, feeling the stars dance across his skin as the two of them push and pull against one another. Behind Jon's eyelids there is the silver glow of a million stars less than a breath away.

When they part, breathless and clinging, Jon still does not open his eyes. He just presses his cheek to Martin's, feels the stars moving beneath it in time with his breaths. He turns and presses a kiss to it, then another, and another. Martin holds him so closely, a hand gently running through his hair.

"I love you," Martin says, softly. "As much as any star."

Jon laughs a watery laugh. "I know." When he finally opens his eyes again, he can see that Martin's face has dimmed back to its usual form, though his eyes are still dark and full of stars. Jon knows he could look up and see the same image in the night sky above, but he gazes into Martin's eyes instead. "I love you, too, Martin." He pauses, then smiles into those boundless, reflected depths. "As much as any star."

[fanmoose12]

Hello would you mind writing vets as a music band? And that fans suspect the “normal” relationship of head vocal Levi and bassist Hange? Sorry if my english isn’t writing properly at all.

Mikasa invites him to a No Name concert.

And it's like- whatever, right? Who cares? Jean certainly doesn't.

So what if the girl of his dreams asks him out on a date? It's not like he has been daydreaming about it for the past two years. So what if she offers to see his favorite band in the whole world? He doesn't even like them much. Sure, he knows all their songs by heart but- he doesn't listen to them that often. Only twice or thrice each day. And it's not like his closet hides an insane amount of their merchandise. That is between Jean, his closet and his mother.

He isn't nervous, he doesn't care about the upcoming date. At all. Most certainly, he doesn't spend literal days, obsessing over his outfit. And he obviously doesn't pester Sasha and Connie with questions on how to style his hair.

Most importantly, he doesn't imagine how it would feel to hold Mikasa's hand or maybe even go for a hug or a kiss-

Jean tries not to think about it, his heart starts to beat to fast, when he does, but when he doesn't think about Mikasa, he starts thinking about No Name and the little, tinie tiny fact that he's going to see them in person. That he's going to meet them and maybe even shake their hand, because Mikasa being the gorgeous goddess she is, got them tickets with access to a backstage. It didn't require any kind of effort from her side, since the famed, spectacularly, dreamy Levi Ackerman is Mikasa's cousin, but- Jean doesn't remember sharing his No Name obsession with Mikasa, for obvious reasons - he doesn't want to think that he likes her just because she's Levi Ackerman's cousin, Mikasa is great not because she's an Ackerman, but because she's Mikasa, but- but Jean is so, so grateful that he'll have the chance to see No Name in all their glory.

Of course, he is not at all nervous about meeting his favorite band in person. No, no, he doesn't lose sleep over it, his palms don't turn clammy. Sometimes he feels like he'll combust from anticipation, but he's fine, completely fine.

He just can't wait until that fated day will come.

---

When that day rolls around at last, Jean is cool. He's cool, calm, serene.

His hand is greasy from all the times he touched his slicked back hair, and he can't stop tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket, but- but he's cool.

The band that is currently playing isn't that bad - not nearly as talented and awesome, and hot as No Name, but still good. The crowd is bigger than Jean is comfortable with, but today it works in his favor because it prompts Mikasa to hold his hand. Maybe, he'll get that kiss after all. If he continues keeping his cool.

That proves to be just a little harder task when Mikasa announces that they reached the backstage.

Jean can't help it - he gawks around helplessly.

This is it, this is a place where miracles happen, where stars lounge and rest.

This is the place where he'll meet No Name.

Jean can't imagine how this meeting will transpire. Will they like him? Will they agree to make a photo? Will they give him an autograph? Will they think that he's a weirdo who is too obsessed with their music?

All of the above? None of the above?

Jean doesn't know.

There are so many things he wants to say. There are so many things he wants to ask - how can they play with those bandages on? How do they never trip during performances? What is their favorite song to play? What do they do in their free time? What is their favorite food? Are the rumors about Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe-

Okay, no, he probably shouldn't ask that last question, no matter how much he wants to know the answer. And he wants to, so, so much.

The thing is- there are many rumors about No Name. It's not surprising, they are young, famous and extremely hot. These rumors usually exclude the drummer, Mike Zacharias, who is already engaged with a very pretty blonde lady, their stylist. Although, there are some fans who speculate that the engagement is not true, and Mike actually dates their producer, one Erwin Smith, but- Jean usually ignores that type of fans, branding them as freaks.

Now, as far as everyone is aware, nor Levi Ackerman, neither Hange Zoe are involved in any kind of romantic relationships, and that's- that's where the juicy stuff begins.

There aren't many rumors about Hange - some say she's involved with Pieck, the band's make-up artist. Or their manager, Moblit Berner. Or an indie artist, Onyakopon. But that's where the list ends.

Levi Ackerman, however, oh he has a far longer list of lovers. Petra Ral, for example, a rising pop-star - young, talented and so pretty that it hurts. Or Erwin, although on that subject rumors wary - some say that Erwin is the one who got Levi in showbiz, some say that Erwin is his sugar daddy, some say that they're already engaged and even married. The rumors are as varied as they're wrong, in Jean's opinion. Most rumors about Levi are like that. There are even talks about his involvement with Yeager brothers - with the front man of the rival band, Zeke, and Jean's and Mikasa's classmate, Eren. Jean doesn't understand where these rumors even come from, as far as he's aware, Levi hates them both. But- but rumors still exist.

As stupid as they are.

Now, Jean has a different opinion, one that he spends nights defending in chats and forums. Yes, Levi Ackerman has a lover. And no, it's not Petra Ral, Erwin Smith or any of the Yeager brothers. It's Hange Zoe, No Name's bassist.

There are many reasons why he thinks so. Firstly, they are always together. And by always, Jean means always. In photoshoots they stand side by side, during performances they lean against each other, on all kinds of photos - from after-parties to official events, they always touch each other in some way. And that's not all. They spend their vacations together, they hang out at movies, restaurants, museums, their respective instagrams are full of the other's candid photos. And it's a known fact that they share an apartment. Honestly, how much more obvious it can get? Also Jean is pretty sure that one of the songs written by Levi is about Hange, and he has an entire essay, explaining why he's right. He prays to every saint known that Mikasa will never find it. He doesn't want his almost girlfriend to find out just how invested he is in the romantic life of her famous cousin.

As they walk further and further into the magical territory of the backstage, Jean tries to think of something cool to say, something laid-back and easy like 'hey, what's up, guys? I've listened to the couple of your songs, you're not that bad...'

Yes, he decides. That's a good way to start. A cool way to start.

And Jean is cool. And calm.

And- oh my god, there they are, the three of them, already in their costumes, just without the signature bandages. They look even cooler in person. They look even hotter and-

Mikasa squeezes his hand.

"If my asshole cousin says something awful, I'll punch him in the face for you."

God, that is so sweet. So Mikasa. He wouldn't be opposed to anyone getting a punch from her except- her gorgeous cousin. His pretty face should be protected at all costs.

However, as they approach, the face that charmed millions transforms, turning into a quite nasty scowl.

"So that's him?" Levi Ackerman asks (Jean's sick brain, even in that moment, can't help but note that Hange Zoe is standing right behind her band member, a hand laying on his shoulder). "That's the guy you're going crazy about?"

"Yes," Mikasa answers, and suddenly the air grows stiff. "Do you have a problem with that?"

The lines around Levi's mouth harden, and Jean tries to focus on Hange Zoe, while his mind prepares for something not at all pretty, but- Hange is smiling - not smirking, smiling. That is a good sign, right?

"Don't mind the Ackermans," she stage whispers to Jean. "Levi was actually very excited about meeting you."

Right now it's hard to imagine that dark (and still so handsome) face in the expression of excitement, but. Hange knows him a lot more, right?

"Oh and by the way," she giggles, and at the back of his mind Jean wonders if that's how angels sound like. "I'm Hange."

He almost blurts out 'I know' but- that'd be creepy? Or not? He can't decide so settles on a simple nod.

"Jean," he says, taking the offered hand in his. With his hand that isn't holding Mikasa's (they're holding hands, wow!), he shakes Hange's. It's unexpectedly calloused. But still warm and gentle. Not as nice as Mikasa's but... somewhere very close.

"And that is the one and only Levi Ackerman," Hange continues, gesturing to the man in question. "He only looks so scary. But actually," she winks and lowers her voice. "He's the biggest softie you'll ever meet."

The biggest softie Jean has ever met, practically snarls, baring his teeth. But the hand on his shoulder tightens and he instantly relaxes, scoffing in annoyance. Oh, so that's who Hange Zoe is? The one who tames the beast?

"You're not as revolting as her other dates," Levi says. Jean is pretty sure that it was meant as a compliment. "But if you dare to-"

"Oi," Mikasa's face becomes as stormy as her cousin's. "He won't."

"And even if he does," Hange smiles, so handsome and a little scary. "Mikasa knows what to do."

Jean gulps. He has seen Mikasa train that one time. He was very impressed, and a little bit scared. Also a lot aroused.

He knows with ironclad certainty that should Mikasa kick him... his face may not survive it.

"Hange, Levi," a gruff voice behind them calls. Jean lifts his eyes, mouth opening in shock as he sees him in the flash - the third member of Non Name, Mike Zacharius himself. In person... he is even more enormous than on photos. His shoulders are twice as wide as Jean's, and next to Hange and Levi, he looks almost like a giant. "We're starting in five."

"Oh!" Hange covers her mouth with a palm. "I haven't checked my guitar yet. Let's hurry, shorty!"

Hange dashes away instantly, Levi sighs and trudges after her. Mikasa tugs at Jean's hand as well, whispering that they need to go to their places.

Jean nods, absentmindedly, because right in that moment, at the other side of the room he sees Hange and Levi exchange a playful, quick but undeniably a kiss.

Triumph courses through him, firing him up. He knew that he was right, those fuckers from twitter can eat his shit.

Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman are truly dating.

He wants to know more, wants to ask Mikasa to spare the juicy details, but for now-

For now, Jean has to take care of his date as well.

He interlaces their fingers, and, keeping Hange's words in mind - Ackermans are not as scary as they look - he leans in to press a kiss to Mikasa's cheek and whispers,

"You look fantastic."

Ever so slightly, but Mikasa blushes. It's the best moment of the evening so far.

And, hopefully, there will be more of that.

[kyloswarstars]

ROOMMATES • Part 3

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.9k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

Still sleeping on only a mattress slowly took its toll on your back. You woke up at least three times a night. Twice because of your back and once because of some knocking against the wall. Every time that happened, it was in another rhythm how knuckles tried to keep you from sleeping.

For a while you observed how the morning sunshine dipped your room in a warm orange. Dust particles were dancing through the air and made their way to the floor. There was something about waking up to the sun on weekday mornings you never were able to enjoy during your semesters. Summer break was perfect for that.

That comforting silence didn’t last forever, though. Low knocking echoed from the other side of the room. You turned your body to face it. That rhythm was new. Different than those in the middle of the night. You paid attention.

Short, long. Short, long, long. Short, long. Long, short, long. Short. Short, short, long, long, short, short.

AWAKE?

You blankly stared at the wall and couldn’t believe it. During your childhood you had done the weirdest things, such as learning the morse code, to keep you occupied. Had Eric done that too? Or did he use a chart to knock you with little messages out of your sleep?

You didn’t care. You just wanted some little more peace before getting up. So you responded.

Short, short, short. Short, short, short, short. Short, short, long. Long. Short, short, long. Short, long, long, short.

There was a small laughter to be heard from the other side of the wall but then it stayed quiet.

Even though Eric’s teasing was quiet disturbing, you still rather lived here than back with your ex. You could somehow handle Eric whereas you never really knew what to expect from your ex after breaking up with him. After all it had not been the funniest of times.

You grabbed the nearest shorts and rummaged through the pockets to find a paper. Hilbert’s ninth problem. You focused on that. Until you heard Eric’s door making that cracking open sound. His foot steps trailed to the kitchen and when the coffee machine made its ‚PING‘ to signal it was ready to brew, you got up yourself and out of your room.

Eric didn’t say ‚good morning‘ so neither did you.

Reaching out for the shelf to grab a cup, you once again didn’t reach it. He leaned over, almost right into you with his bare chest – why did he never wear shirts in the mornings? – and grabbed two cups from the shelf. Eric placed them right next to the coffee machine and then turned, crossed his arms and just stared at you.

First, his intense eyes locked with yours. There was no way you could possibly guess what he was thinking with the harsh face he was wearing. Eric’s slightly pinched eyes made you lose some of your self esteem, though. His unapologetic stares weren’t that new to you, but only wearing your sleeping attire, a tank top and some sleeping shorts, made you feel insecure when his glance diverted to the rest of your body. You crossed your arms to have some little cover at least.

„Where’s everyone at?“ You asked, trying to fill that damn awkward silence. The apartment was empty, with all of the doors open.

„Don’t know.“

Another ‚PING‘ chimed. You walked around Eric, since he was still occupied with weirdly staring into your face, and poured some coffee into a cup. You hesitated to put back the pot into the machine and actually poured coffee into the second cup as well. Then you quickly grabbed your cup and went out to sit on the balcony. Gladly, you noticed him leaving for his room.

A morning coffee, a refreshing shower and an after shower coffee later, you continued with the study. You finally had found a way to properly lock the bathroom from the inside. The trick was to just drag your chair across the hallway and slam it under the door handle. That worked just fine. Unpleasant was, though, that there was not much that had to be done for the study today. No new data yet, still you tried to blindly swim around the model and work on some problems you weren’t able to solve yet. Free time wasn’t your favorite thing to have during summer break, especially not this summer break. You were still a little peeved that your friends had just abandoned you on the day of you moving. So meeting up with them wasn’t on your to do list for this summer.

Neither was visiting your parents since they were living out of state. You didn’t really want to head down to the hell the Florida Keys were in summer. It would be even hotter than here in Chicago. None of your hobbies sounded appealing enough to you today and all your roommates were gone. Except for one.

The only thing on your to do list was to buy a new bed frame.

„Shouldn’t you be out and do something instead of constantly crouching over your desk?“ Again, he leaned in the doorframe and you didn’t know for how long Eric was already there.

„Can’t,“ you were actually tracking down a possible solution and couldn’t be bothered to concentrate on anywhere else than your calculations.

„What is it that’s so important?“ It was the first time he entered your room. You noticed him move out of the corner of your eye and sensed him coming to a stop right next to you. He must’ve checked your computer screen and the papers in front of you. You couldn’t really care, though. Whenever one of those problem-solving-trains hit, you just physically couldn’t stop yourself. „Is that professor Matthews’ study?“

„Yep,“ you mumbled.

„I heard about it, tried to get in but that didn’t work out.“ His voice had a tone you had never heard before. „What’s your part in it?“ Was it honest interest?

„I’m responsible, with others of course, for the mathematical model. But please shut up for a few second okay? I’m almost done.“ You tried to talk and still follow your train of thoughts. „Just need to get it out of the brain.“

Eric stayed surprisingly silent while your hand was still moving around your desk, fishing for various papers and scribbling onto them in the illegible handwriting of yours.

You threw the pencil away, once you were mainly done with bringing the theory on paper. „So what do you wanna know?“ You asked and turned around in the same moment. That Eric had kneeled down next to you had escaped your attention. You blinked at him, his face only a couple of inches away. That this proximity suddenly slowed up your pulse confused you. He was too close. Way too close. You leaned back in your chair and swallowed.

Eric on the other hand didn’t seem to be uncomfortable at all. „How did you get in?“

„They asked, actually.“

„They asked?“ His eyebrows raised themselves to the top of Willis Tower.

„Yes.“ You replied, a little unsure of why that would be so odd. Back during high school there was this hype your teachers made about your mathematical skills. But that wasn’t reason for you to think that you were some wunderkind like Einstein or something. You just liked math. Like some people actually did. Not many, but those in your major all had similar experiences during their childhood and school time. So of course, when they had asked you to join the study, you accepted.

Eric let himself sink against the wall next to your makeshift desk. It was the first time you ever saw something like true recognition radiating off of him. And he didn’t hide it. He wanted to know more. He questioned a lot about the study and your part in it. He was interested in how math helped with a clinical study and it slowly dawned on you why he might’ve taken all those classes of yours. Those were all about adapting math in a way to help solve social orientated problems.

After having to compete with him for the upper hand in those stupid debates, you were a little gleeful that it was you who took part in professor Matthews’ study.

This conversation was everything but a discussion. And you found that it could be really enjoyable to have a decent talk with him. You even offered to put in a good word for him at the next meeting with the staff. No clue where this came from, though.

„Hey, Eric?“ The two of you had changed from your room to the dining table because of the close-by coffee refuels. „Would you do me a favor?“

He was currently getting the freshly brewed pot and nodded to the empty cup in your hands so he could refill it. You handed it to him. „What kind of favor?“

„I need a car,“ you stated, instantly noticing the disdain on his face. „Only for a couple of hours. Not long.“

Eric shook his head. „I’m not lending my car.“ He returned the hot cup and sat down across from you. „I can drive you, though,“ Eric added.

That took you by surprise. „Oh.“ You hadn’t thought he would give his car to you in the first place anyway. Wondering where this kindness suddenly came from left you without an answer. But you decided to accept it. „Okay.“

/////

Eric’s mission was to try every single bed in the furniture store. You tried to explain it didn’t really matter anyways since you already had a mattress. He insisted on still laying down and pulled you along with him. „A new bed,“ he said, „must meet many requirements. Not only the coziness factor of the mattress.“ His voice was a whisper next to you. That low rasp in it drew your attention to his full lips, perfectly framed by the stubble he rarely cared to shave.

Finding yourself laying in a bed next to Eric, even if it was in a furniture store and on full public display, weirdly quickened your pulse again. The way his fingers randomly touched your thigh made you nervous. He probably didn’t even notice, or cared, that his hand was in contact with the bare skin below your shorts. Still, it let your insecurities flame up again. Laying next to a perfectly built and defined man like him brought back memories you rather wanted to escape.

„That’s not the one,“ you quickly stated and rolled out of bed. There was no paper in your pockets this time, and it wasn’t the right place anyway, to distract your brain with. Instead you concentrated on the multiple bed frames. It was a tough task – nothing really suited your taste.

„How about that one, Y/N?“ Eric had been shouting through the whole store. You turned and saw him laying in a child’s bed – car shape.

The view of his legs sticking out on the bed end, because he was simply too tall for it, made you laugh out loud. You couldn’t hold it back nor lower the volume. By the time you reached him, he had joined in on the banter. Next to the car shaped bed was a pink unicorn one. He sat on it and said you could have his bed, he would buy this one. Your laughter increased.

„You think I wouldn’t buy it?“

You shook your head, biting back the laughter.

Eric got up and looked around for a salesman. When he spotted one, he raised his hand to wave him over but you were quick to grab his hand and pull it down. „Stop it!“ For a moment too long you held onto his hand. It caused both of you to look down at your hands like they weren’t attached to your arms and had a mind to themselves. Then your eyes slowly moved up to Eric’s and locked with them. Both of you probably tried to find a reason as to why your hands were still holding onto each other. When Eric’s fingers tried to intertwine with yours, you suddenly realised that you were holding. his. hand.

You instantly let it go like you burned yourself and went back to search for a bed frame. The urge to get out of here made you choose a random but simple bed frame. The salesman Eric had wanted to wave over was now at your side to take your order.

You went with him to the check out desk, Eric quietly following the two of you, and paid for your new bed. The salesman printed out some papers, stapled them together and handed them over. „The pick up station is three blocks down the street.“ He pointed to the left of the exit.

„Thank you.“ Grabbing the papers, you headed to leave, Eric ahead of you and holding the door open.

„Have fun with the new bed,“ the salesman inappropriately winked at the two of you on your way out. When your brain processed his remark, a heat in your face rose. To your luck, Eric was walking in front of you to his car and you tried to make the heat go away by fanning your face with the papers. You didn’t understand why all of this made you feel so… weird.

The short ride to the warehouse was silent. Even with the radio on. Eric waited in the car when it came to a stop on the lot. You got out to turn in the papers and get the bed.

The sun was blazing down while you waited for the employee to return with the package. You caught Eric staring in your direction but with the sunglasses on you couldn’t see what possibly was going on his brain. But to be fair, you couldn’t even pinpoint that when he wasn’t wearing sunglasses.

„Here you go.“ A trolley with two big packages was pushed next to you. If that would fit into Eric’s muscle car? You weren’t so sure about that.

As you turned around to wave at him, he was already at your side. Was he a cat? Or why was he always able to sneak up so quietly?

He probably saw the concern on your face because he just said ‚we got this’ and pushed the trolley over to his car. Eric suggested to remove the packaging so you could play Tetris and fit everything in. That worked pretty well and you were soon ready to head home.

It was Eric who tried to remove that awkward mood between you. He just started chatting about a new group of penguins in the zoo. That he usually went there once a week since the entrance was free and that he did it to stay grounded in stressful times. A while ago he adopted a penguin called Smartie. Him being so open about something not study related was surprising but even more surprising was that he basically invited you to join him some time to go and see the new ‚kids‘ as he called them.

Back home you carried all parts of the bed up to the third story. Eric left to find a proper parking space for his car and you started on building up the bed frame. The instruction must’ve been somewhere attached to the packaging you left at the warehouse because you couldn’t find it. That wasn’t too much a problem, though. Studying the parts you had for a second, you figured out a plan and already started putting pieces together when you noticed Eric, silently of course, appearing in your doorframe.

„I’ll help you,“ he offered. It didn’t sound much like an offer, though. More like a fact.

It didn’t take long with his help to build up the bed, place in the slatted frame and lift the mattress on top of it. You didn’t really have a plan where to put the bed but for some reason Eric convinced you to position it at the exact same spot your mattress had laid before.

„Thank you for your help.“ You sat down on your new bed and checked if it didn’t break with the first contact. It didn’t.

Eric’s lips parted and he wanted to say something. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he wanted to say something else when everything that came out was a sharp ‚Sure‘.

Before you could ask him if he’d like a beer, just to be polite after him helping you all day, he made a beeline for his room. And stayed there.

/////

He didn’t come out for dinner and you decided you didn’t care. When you finally crashed that night, after having multiple board game showdowns with Will, you instantly knew that you’d sleep well. The bed was super comfy. Eric had been right, the mattress only didn’t do the thing, everything had to match up.

You didn’t even check your phone anymore, your eyes too heavy to stay open.

A gentle knock came from the other side of the wall. You turned to it and listened.

Long, long, short. Long, short. GN. Good night? Those two knocked letters brought a faint smile to your lips you couldn’t fight. You returned the same knocks and fell asleep. Smiling.

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih

Wanna get tagged too for future updates? Lemme know 🖤

[darkmindsotome]

Icy Interrogation

Title: Icy Interrogation

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing:  Kazuomi Shido x MC

Word count: 2,998

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary:  A sudden trip with no explanation triggers a game of unmasking that becomes hotter than the weather.

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #10: Ice Cube Cool Down | Ice Cream Cool Down

---

It was a lazy day and I found myself still temporarily “homeless” and staying at Raven. When everything had happened, Kazuomi stepped up and offered me a job and a roof over my head. I was really grateful to him. Not just with the offer but knowing that I would have lost another part of myself in the line of duty without him.

As ludicrous as it sounded, he was my safe place I could run to and know I would be accepted. The man topping the world's blacklists as the number one bad guy. The man who at any moment could once more be my target. It was his loving arms always reaching out for me, willing to hold me. Me as I am, not who I was for work. Plain old Mc. It was a joy I had never experienced before in any other relationship. He was his own brand of dangerous persuasion and I continue to fall fast and hard for it every time.

Since becoming a couple, he had helped me remember the me who I was before all the lies, aliases and espionage. He comforted me when I didn’t even know I needed it and accepted me no matter how I was acting. The love and kindness of this man was an absolute truth he hid well behind his usual playboy mask. That’s not to say he was an Angel, if anything he was a Devil at times. Still, better the Devil you know right?

Raven in England was different to Raven in New York or Tokyo. It was still a grand luxury hotel but there was something a bit more reserved about it. I giggled imagining how that sat with Mr Dramatic. A man famed the world over for his extravagance and love of all things opulent.

I had been rushed onto a private jet in the early hours of the morning in New York only to wake up in an airfield in England nearly seven hours later. All my repeated requests for my boyfriend to explain why I was here were met with evasive answers. In typical Kazuomi fashion, he would not reveal any secrets, if I wanted to know I would have to uncover the answers myself. Well, game on.

When I was pondering how I would get him to crack the door to the penthouse opened, the man in question strolling inside. The dark green bags in his hand had the words Harrods picked out clearly on them in gold. He vanished into the kitchen and reappeared empty-handed moments later with a big grin on his face.

“Welcome back.” I adjusted myself on the sofa dropping the magazine I had been idly perusing on the coffee table. The ice in my glass clinked against the tumbler where a final mouthful of fruit juice remained waiting to be drunk.

“What no third degree?” Kazuomi practically purred. He was really in a very happy mood which made me even more suspicious. Seriously what was this guy up to?

“What would be the point? You already made it very clear you intend on telling me nothing. I’m not in the habit of wasting my time on a blisteringly hot day.” I shrugged pretending my curiosity was not reaching its limits.

Kazuomi was watching me intently. My little act was no doubt doing nothing to hide anything from him. Damn him and his observational superpowers. It was easy to tell that he was wanting me to bite. Take the bait and play along with his little games. ever since my questioning on the plane he had this playful look in his eyes.

The heat of the summer here was different to that from back home and I was feeling sluggish. It was so hot even the locals had dubbed the weather “unseasonal” and I had found a bit of solace in a light cotton dress.

“Fair point.” He agreed with me smiling that Cheshire cat grin. I was just about to reach for my glass to finish the last of my drink when he took it for himself. I watched as the minted apple juice was drained over his lips and slid down his throat. “Ah, that’s the stuff.”

“Hey!”

“Yes?” He kept hold of the glass in his hand-balancing it on the back of the sofa we were sharing. The look on his face was far from guilty if anything it was yet another taunt to get me to play with him. A silent request I was already planning on fulfilling.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.”

“Am I? I can’t wait to see what my Goddess has in mind for retribution.”

That cocky grin on his face was as irritating as it was sexy. Well, the game had officially started so I guess now it's time to play. His successful theft of my drink had given me an idea.

I moved over to his side careful to push my breast against his arm and let him see them taking a new form as they pressed into him. He was observant enough to have seen from the second he walked in that I wasn't in a full set of lingerie. Trailing my hand over his leg from his knee to the top of his thigh, I made sure to brush a little too close to his cock. He relaxed back into the sofa. Both arms now stretched out over the seat he looked like the epitome of a lion surveying the savannah.

“Mm don’t tell me my girl has been bored waiting for me?” That same playful happy purr rippled through the room. This time instead of spiking my curiosity it made my heartbeat speed up.

“You left me all alone again without a single word as to when you’d be back and with only glossy magazines to keep me company.” I whined a little as I played the part he wanted. I wasn’t so new at these little games that I would not know my own role.

Reading my target was something that kept me alive on missions. It was what made our games together so much fun. Both of us competing to unmask the other. To get the other to surrender and declare a winner. It was a little amusing that it normally “officially” ended in a draw between us even if Kazuomi was really the winner in all honesty.

“A disastrous oversight on my part. How ever would you like me to make it up to you?” On cue, he made the first play. He was matching my mock whine with fake placation in his voice. Moving his hips so my hand brushed harder where he wanted it to.

“Well, you could tell me why we are here. I thought you had work in New York to attend too.” I pulled my hand away preventing his move and brought it up to his cheek. Brushing my thumb over his lips as I looked into his eyes. He took the pad of my thumb between his lips biting down onto it before answering.

“Somethings are more important and can’t wait.”

“What things?” I tried pressing for a real answer knowing how futile it was. His eyes were locked on me in that stubbornly defiant manner he had where he was not going to give up anything until he was ready.

“All will be revealed in due time.” The grin on his face spread wider. He was certainly enjoying this.

I gave up simply stroking him and decided to straddle him instead. The sight of him trapped under me was always a thrill and not one I always had. Kazuomi was the type to enjoy what he called a perfect view. It only happened for as long as he would allow it before I was usually flipped over and he ended up on top.

Our bedroom activities were always a flurry of motion and give and take. The endless competition between us to come out on top. This kind of contest that carried throughout our relationship and into sex left us both craving more. Right now, I was looking for something he had, the key to the secret emergency trip to England that in his mind couldn’t wait.

My fingers undid his shirt while he remained very calm and collected, his arms still locked over the back of the sofa. The only part of him moving except for the growing bulge under my thighs was his eyes. They were roaming over me taking in every detail and mapping every curve.

After uncovering his broad bare chest, I dipped my hand down and relieved him of his belt. Leaning forward I covered his lips with mine. His tongue lapped at my lower lip before pushing past and ravishing my mouth. The remnants of mint and apple on his tongue dissolved inside me as the heat between us rose.

The arms that had been holding back were wrapping around me tight like a snake. The cold glass in his hand pressed into the dip of my spine causing me to groan into his mouth. If I wasn’t careful, he was going to steal all of my rational thoughts and I would forget about my self-imposed mission.

Reaching behind I took the empty glass from his hand. After breaking out of our lip lock I poured one of the melting ice cubes into my mouth. The devilish smirk on his face was still plastered there. He had never once tried to hide how he loved his kinky little games and I was always willing to play along.

I reached up and pulled a fist full of his reddish-brown hair exposing his neck to me. Dragging the ice in my mouth over that pulsating artery and feeling him moaning under me was like I was charged with an electrical current. His hands settled on my ass rubbing his thumbs over the top of the elastic on my panties through my dress. I pushed his hands away pinning one on either side of him and brought my mouth lower.

The water from the melting ice escaped my lips running across his muscles. That broad chest becoming something of a salacious slip and slide. I tracked the flow to his own waistband and slid my weight from his lap to rest my head over his now rock hard desire.

He hissed as I pulled it free from the confines of his pants exposing enough to do what I planned and no more. The hiss became an almost instant grunt as he bucked his hips against me when I slid the ice along his shaft. Rolling it and my tongue around that throbbing head and back down again. He hated to be in clothes at times like this and I was taking a little satisfaction in his discomfort. Karma is a bitch, isn’t it?

Ice melted now I wrapped my mouth around his cock bobbing my head alternating fast and slow. I was taking full advantage of the chill in my mouth before it had time to fade, seeking peeks at him from between his thighs. Each time I looked up I saw that dark and powerful look waiting for me. The one that didn’t just threaten to eat me up but promised to. I felt my own passions stirring more and was a little thankful when he freed his hands and pulled me off his cock back up into his lap.

“Is that another of your little spy tricks?” He was rushing to free me from my dress. His fingers fumbling with the buttons.

“You know I never sleep with someone when I’m working.” I reminded him of the facts, rolling my hips against him before whispering in his ear. “It’s all me.” He shuddered when I took the lobe of his ear in my mouth and gave it a little tug. Our little game was only just beginning.

“What a bad girl you are.” He chuckled pulling me to him so he could clamp down on my collar bone. A sting of pain later and I had a fresh very visible mark for the world to see. It was childish and as much as I would complain later about it I also loved the idea that he wants me so badly he felt compelled to do it. “I always knew you were my kind of woman.”

His fingers now given up with undoing my dress properly slipped into the gaps between them and tugged hard. The sound of fabric ripping and popped buttons hitting the floor like a rainmaker only served to create the music to our mood. His trousers and my panties were yet more fallen victims to our passions.

Shimming to the edge of the sofa he wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted us both off the seat. I didn’t complain about the dress I knew it would only be met with “I’ll get you a new one” later. What did make me confused was we weren’t moving towards the bedroom at all.

“Mhm… where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Kazuomi walked into the brightly lit space that was the kitchen. Instead of putting me down on the floor, he sat my ass on the cold hard countertop. The polished marble was beautiful and smooth but damn it was freezing.

He bent down and rummaged around in the freezer for a second before pulling out a small tub with a very familiar logo.

“Is that Lady Borden?”

“A completely new and exclusive flavour. It was released today.” He smiled pulling the paper cap from the carton and then dipping his fingers into the frozen treat. He brought it to my mouth and bit his lips as I slid my tongue over his digits chasing that luxurious creamy delight.

I was so absorbed in not letting the ice cream on his fingers go to waste that it took a few seconds for what he had just said to sink in. Lady Borden was known to produce limited flavours in different countries all over the world. They were exclusive to the place so it was not a massive shock that one would be done in England, but it was released today?

“H-hang on. Are you telling me you put work on hold and flew from one side of the Atlantic to the other JUST to get this?” I snatched the carton from his hand and looked at the pale green container. Luxury Early Grey Tea flavour ice cream. I’d been so into what we were doing I didn’t even taste it.

“Naturally. I know you’re a superfan too and the chance to get my hands on the first tubs of this was too much to pass up.” He took the pot back with one hand and used his other to push me lower onto the marble. “And now I also get to have my favourite dessert on the best plate in the house.”

I felt ridiculous laying on a countertop but I knew that feeling wasn’t going to be in my mind very long. I shivered as he took a scoop of the ice cream out once more on his fingers and drew a line on me from my belly button to my clavicle.

“It’s cold.” I squirmed. Kazuomi dipped down and dragged his tongue along the line he had just painted. Instead of going right to the top, he stopped at my chest. Taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before moving to the other side.

“I’ll warm you up.” His breath over my flushed skin was hotter than anything else in the room.

“It’s all sticky.” I arched against him his trail of kisses and gentle nips with his teeth continued as he lazily painted me with more of the ice cream.  

“I’ll be sure to clean it all up and lick you nice and clean.” He vanished from my peripheral vision. I felt his heat move away leaving me laid out for all to see. His “plate”.

The ice cream was melting fast running in ticklish rivers over me and one that he had placed low down was working its way towards my core. I didn’t have time to look to see where my bad boy boyfriend had gone. With a slap on the counter from his hands, he pounced, his face buried between my thighs as he pinned me in place with his arms and tongue. All strength in my body vanished as it tried to focus on him and his targeted attacks.

“Ah! Kazuomi!” I wasn’t just arching I was sure I had probably contorted into a pretzel at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving me. His mouth was always so talented and the things he did with his fingers? My mind was getting foggy trying to keep up with him.

I was so close and if history told me anything he wasn’t far behind. I was lost in his eyes when he stood back up. The gleam of my own juices lingering on his lips as he licked them clean. With one hand on my hip and the other dragging one of my legs to his shoulder, he positioned me well enough to tell me what was happening next.

Hanging partly off the edge and stretched out in a way that meant he had full control I saw sparks the second he entered me.

“Ngh… Mc.”

The sounds of us joined together echoed in the bright space of the kitchen. The ice cream on my skin adding a new scent between us as our heat soared higher than the weather outside.

I said before Karma was a bitch. The games we had as we had our unmasking sessions added to that knowledge. Right now though as we both lost ourselves in the moment for the first of many times today I really couldn’t bring myself to be angry with them.

---

[britishassistant]

The Villainous Paranoiac Just Wants An Uneventful Holiday (Part 1)

This is not how you wanted to spend your break.

The school was supposed to be empty. Everyone except the Octavinelle trio was supposed to be gone.

Not to say you don’t enjoy your friends’ company but. No magic-using people means no magic-spewing overblots.

You were looking forward to just bringing the fairies their firewood and working on your winter homework while taking the first opportunity in a good long while to unwind with Grim and the ghosts. No investigations to worry about, no weird dreams to get worked up over, no overblots to frantically try and survive.

You wanted a break.

This? Marching 10km into the desert with the rest of Scarabia dorm for the third day in a row due to their leader’s looming psychotic breakdown? This is not a break.

Although...

There’s definetely something rotten in Scarabia dorm, you think to yourself as you watch Viper-senpai hand out skeins of water. Kalim-senpai had no problem using his unique magic yesterday, and yet today he acted like Grim had mortally insulted him when he asked for a repeat performance.

If the outburst had been after two or three other instances of Kalim-senpai using Oasis Maker and receiving what he felt were insufficient thanks for it, then his current attitude would make a little more sense. But taking umbrage after using it just once? And being universally praised by everyone else the rest of the day for it?

It doesn’t add up.

Even deranged behavior has some sort of internal logic to it, as Rosehearts-senpai and the Rules of the Queen of Hearts have taught you. Even with how nonsensical all 810 rules are, it’s rare to find a scenario where one rule actually conflicts with another— all of them usually work smoothly in tandem with the goal of having an orderly unbirthday party in mind.

Even if they do violate most forms of dignity and common sense.

Kalim-senpai’s behavior though? It’s erratic without rhyme or reason, bouncing from nice to mean and back again seemingly as he enters and exits a room. He insists you and Grim stay and participate in this asinine “training”, despite the fact that you both belong to a different dorm, and are technically rivals to Scarabia in Magift and exams.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s almost like he’s trying to imitate Rosehearts-senpai before his overblot—and doing poorly at it.

And with how much Viper-senpai has been invoking parallels between the current situation and what happened back then...

The smartphone Crowley gave you is a cold, heavy weight in your pocket. Its charge ran out yesterday, which is unsurprising given how many times you dialed and redialed the dumb bird headmaster’s number only to be met with his voicemail. You can probably recite that stupid message by heart now. You’ve heard nothing from Ace and Deuce either.

One thing is clear; no one’s going to help you out of this mess but you.

“Kalim-senpai?” You brace yourself as you step towards him. “Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly question me about?” He barks, glaring down at you haughtily.

“Well, I was just wondering, what’s the point of all this?” You fight to keep your nerve as his posture stiffens. “I don’t mean any disrespect, none at all, but you do want everyone to do better in Magift and exams, don’t you? I was hoping you could explain to me how the parades and defensive magic training are supposed to do that. I apologize for my ignorance, I’m nowhere near as smart as you, but could you please tell me why we don’t just practice Magift and brush up on the class material inst—”

Your head’s ringing.

You think you hear faint yelling, though it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far away.

Your cheek aches.

Numbness blooming into a sharp stinging throb that feels like it’s growing with every second that passes, burning hotter than the sun above you.

You cautiously poke your tongue against your teeth, but none feel loose, thank the Seven.

Damn, the desperate, near-hysterical thought flits through your head. Even a pampered rich boy like him has strength behind his hits, huh?

The rest of you is just trying to process what the Hell just happened.

“How. Dare. You?!”

Asim-sama looms over you, red eyes burning with fury.

It’s a fight to keep yourself from curling into a terrified ball under his gaze, tucking into yourself as though seeing less of you would abate the anger, the shouting, the hurt, like you used to when you were a child.

“You dare to question my methods, my leadership of this dorm?! You? A sniveling street rat leeching off my hospitality?! Do you know who I am?!” He rages. “I am Kalim al-Asim! I am the Head of this dorm! I don’t have to explain ANYTHING, justify ANYTHING to the likes of you!!”

You knew, you knew you were pushing your luck when you first asked, but you thought it would just be yelling, like it was before. You can handle yelling, nothing Asim-sama can say could ever be worse than what you’ve already heard.

You didn’t think he’d hit you.

You didn’t think he’d hit you.

You didn’t think—

“DON'T YOU TOUCH MY MINION, FGNAH!”

Your arm whips out almost on instinct.

You jolt forward slightly as Grim collides with it, hissing and spitting like he really was an irate cat, the flames in his ears flaring brightly enough that some detached part of you is worried about getting burned.

The other Scarabia students are reaching for their magic pens.

“Lemme at ‘im! Lemme at ‘im!!” Your friend howls, fighting to get past you. “Forget butt on fire, I’ll BURN IT TO A CRISP FOR HURTING MY MINION!! I'LL STEAL EVERYTHING YOU HAVE AND SELL IT FOR LUXURY TUNA!! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR CROSSING THE GREAT GRIM—”

“No, Grim.”

Your friend halts in his flailing to stare uncomprehendingly at you. “But Yuu—!”

“It was my fault.” You say, trying to keep as much emotion out of your voice as possible. Tears and trembling only show weakness, only make them worse. “Asim-sama was just correcting me. He was right to do so. I shouldn’t have questioned him. I overstepped my bounds.”

Asim-sama sniffs. “At least you know your place. Be glad I don’t punish you anymore than this.”

“What?! He slapped you for asking a question, you can’t possibly believe—” You gather Grim into your arms and hug him close. You quietly thank the Great Seven you at least have him, trying to hide the quiver in your limbs by burying your face in his fur.

But that’s exactly why you can’t let him do this. It’s just the two of you, you can’t win against an entire dorm of wizards like you did against the ghosts. Maybe if Ace and Deuce and Jack were here...but it’s just you. You need to protect your friend in the only way you can. “We can’t win this. Please, Grim.”

You feel him grumble, then a paw carefully pushes at your forehead. “Hrm...I’ll show mercy for now, so geroff already. It’s too hot for you to keep hugging me like this, I’m cooking here fgnah.”

Despite saying so, he settles onto your shoulder, tail smacking your arm as it flicks irritably.

“If you’ll excuse me, Asim-sama.” You duck your head slightly. “I will remove myself from your sight and head back early as penance for my behavior. Once again, my deepest apologies for insulting you.”

Asim-sama gives you a curt, dismissive nod.

You turn and make your way through the crowd of Scarabia students, snatches of muttered conversations floating to your ears.

“How could he—?”

“Just for a question?”

“Isn’t that going too far...?”

“Unforgivable...”

“Prefect.” Viper-senpai takes you by the shoulder, turning you to face him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You reply monotonously, eyes on the sand below you. “Just...just need to be by myself for a bit.”

His lips purse and you can feel him study your face. He presses a full water skein into your hands. “Take this. Even if it’s not as cold as I’d like, it should help with the swelling some. Plus you need to stay hydrated out there.”

“Thank you, Viper-senpai.” You nod, keeping your eyes down.

“And Prefect?” He squeezes your shoulder, voice lowering only a fraction. “I am truly sorry about this. All of this. It will not happen again, you have my word.”

It would’ve been a nice apology, had you not caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face.

You nod, making sure not to outwardly react to that or to the way the whispers of the other Scarabia students turn from the condemnation of their dorm head to the exaltation of the vice dorm head. You begin following the tracks in the sand back to the main dorm.

The sun beats down on your back as you take a swig from the skein and pass it to Grim to drink from. He’s still grumbling about how you should’ve let him recreate his rampage at the entrance ceremony.

For your part, the distance and good company have let you pull yourself out of that headspace enough that you can try and look back objectively on what happened.

Your mind keeps circling back around to one question: why did Asim-senpai hit you?

Based on your interactions before this, Asim-senpai doesn’t seem to be the type to resort to physical violence as a first response, or even a last one. Which means something in your question likely backed him into a corner enough that the normally pacifistic dorm head felt lashing out physically was the only way to get you to stop.

...Like the fact that he couldn’t answer it?

Even when screaming abuse at you, his ultimate response was that he wouldn’t explain himself to you. Is that because he didn’t want to? Or because he couldn’t? Does Asim-senpai himself not know the reasons behind his own actions? But how can someone act without knowing or meaning to, without being under the influence somehow?

Under the influence.

People acted without knowing or meaning to thanks to being under the influence of Buchie-senpai’s Unique Magic during the Magift incident. But he went home, you saw him leave, so what...?

You pull out your notebook, flipping through the pages with sweaty hands until you get to your records of the testimonies from the incident. You scan through the testimonies from Scarabia students, hoping to find something, anything—

Oh.

Oh.

“Motherfucker.” You hiss, staring at the page in dismay. You are an idiot. You are the biggest idiot, you make Deuce look like a genuis, how could you forget about this?? It was only the key testimony that helped pinpoint Buchie-senpai and Savannahclaw as the culprits behind the injuries. And it explains so much— why you kept agreeing to stay here despite wanting to go back to Ramshackle so desperately, almost like your mouth was speaking without your consent.

“Minion?” Grim asks, pushing the water skein back onto you. “What’s wrong?”

You snap your notebook shut and slide it back into your pocket, taking another fortifying swig from the skein. “Grim? Think we can get back soon enough to work on the escape route in our room before the others arrive back for lunch?”

“If we pick up the pace a bit, yeah.” He hops back onto your shoulder. “But what’s the rush? We have all night tonight to work on it.”

“Let’s just say the sooner we can get out of here, the better.” You mutter, cogs and gears turning in your head as a tentative plan begins to form.

This is not how you wanted to spend your winter break.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH18

I commented recently after GoS aired that canon Alya was on her way up, but MDCSPR Alya was on her way down. Consider this the beginning of the end for her for a while. 

Previous     First      Next     AO3

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Chapter 18: You Are In Love

“Good evening, m’lady! You’re looking radiant as ever tonight,” Chat Noir called. His boots clanked against the roof, and he tucked his staff into his belt as he approached the love of his life.

Ladybug stood on the edge, the lights from the city reflecting in her dark hair. Her eyes sparkled when she turned to him, and his heart fluttered. There was no contest—Ladybug was the most beautiful girl in the world, and his heart would always belong to her. She flicked his bell with the playful smile that made him melt.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” she asked.

“Only when you fall in love with me.” He grinned. “Or if you kiss me.”

She looked up at him through long, fluttery lashes. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

His heart took off into a sprint as Ladybug wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up on her toes. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, savoring those few moments of bliss while they lasted. Nothing else mattered—just his lips on hers. The girl of his dreams was kissing him, and he wanted to stay locked in her embrace forever.

“Adrien,” she sighed his name when they pulled away, lingering close.

Her bright blue eyes found his, soft fingertips trailing down his arms. A light breeze blew through the garden, and Marinette smiled up at him.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” she asked.

He answered by leaning in, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Her lips were soft and warm, and they kissed him back eagerly. Their hearts beat in time together, passionately entwined. There was no one to interrupt them here. The invisible force that drew him to Marinette bound him tightly, and he wasn’t letting go. He didn’t want to.

Marinette was beautiful and kind, and Adrien wanted to stay in the garden with her forever. His Marinette. The girl he’d always protect, no matter how far he fell to do it. He’d never thought about it before, but holding her this close felt right. She felt right. Marinette had seared her name onto his heart the day they met, binding them together forever. They were always meant to be.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, “Marinette.”

A clap of thunder boomed, and Adrien shot upright in bed, heart pounding. What once was a small flame now blazed wildly, burning his chest, his cheeks, his head. Marinette. Marinette was…

People don’t sneak off into the garden to kiss their friends, Adrikins.

Adrien touched his lips, still tingling from his dream. It felt so real. He’d kissed Marinette, not Ladybug. It was never Ladybug. From the moment their lips touched, it was always Marinette. The pounding of his heart, the fire burning through his chest, was all from Marinette.

Kicking off the blankets, he stumbled into his bathroom and flicked on the faucet. His cheeks were bright red and hot to the touch. Everything was too hot. He splashed cold water on his face, but the flames were too big to extinguish now. His heart refused to slow the cadence ravaging his veins.

I love you.

Sparks shot up his arms, numbing his fingers. He said it to Marinette. It had all felt so right in his dream. Now his heart had been stirred so violently in the waking world that not even he could control it. He could still feel the pressure of her lips on his, the warmth of her breath on his tongue. It had all felt real…

Outside the storm raged, the downpour beating against the windows too loud for him to make sense of his racing thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to drown out the noise, but it was no use. His heart and his mind were at war, and Adrien was caught in the crossfire.

Has another lady finally stolen your heart?

He didn’t call her m’lady. When he saw Ladybug that evening, he didn’t call her cute names or tell her she was beautiful. His heart didn’t burn when she called him kitty. Not like it did now. His head was spinning.

He gripped the countertop until his knuckles turned white. The eyes staring back at him in the mirror buzzed with the electricity spreading across every inch of his skin. Lightning flashed, and the sparks vanished. His racing thoughts skidded to a halt, and the air in the room hung still and quiet. Adrien held his breath.

In the silence, his heartbeat echoed in his ears in a deafening chorus, and when the thunder finally came, all of the tension came crashing down, threatening to crush Adrien under the weight. His head had gone quiet, but his heart was loud, beating to a new rhythm. No, not new. It was old and familiar, a song that had been playing the whole time, too quietly for him to notice. Marinette’s rhythm.

He and Marinette hadn’t kissed in the garden, but Adrien wished they did. If Chloe hadn’t interrupted, then he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have kissed her again and again and again. Marinette. His first friend. The girl he’d go to hell for. The girl he couldn’t stop chasing, and now he knew why. She’d stolen his heart and run away, and this time he was going to steal hers back.

♪♫♪ willow ♪♫♪

Marinette skipped down the stairs to the bakery the next morning, lips pursed. News about Gabrielle had spread rapidly, and everyone at school knew now. Macy and Eliott texted Marinette the moment she got home from the party. Gabrielle told her not to worry, that Marinette shouldn’t care about her, and she was right. It wasn’t like they were friends, and after everything Gabrielle had done, Marinette should be happy like everyone else. But she wasn’t.

Maybe she was stupid. Or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. Tikki was right after all—Marinette couldn’t stop helping people.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her mom greeted.

“Morning.” Marinette stooped to kiss her cheek.

“Did you have fun at the movies last night with your new friends?” her dad asked.

“Yeah,” she said unconvincingly, biting her lip.

“Well, it takes time to adjust to a new school, and we’re happy you’ve already made some new friends. They’re welcome here anytime, okay?” Her mom lifted her chin, and Marinette offered her a smile.

“Thanks, Maman. I’ll see you tonight.” Marinette waved over her shoulder.

The sky was still gray from the late-night storm, casting a dreary haze over the city—a true testament to her mood. Droplets dripped from the overhang onto her blazer, and she brushed them off with a sigh.

Everything would be fine. If she tried hard enough, she could introduce Gabrielle to her group, convince her to be nicer to everyone, and they could all be friends. She’d helped Martin, Eliott, and Macy a lot since she met them. She could do the same for Gabrielle.

“Ya know.” She jumped at a familiar voice. “I think I’m starting to like the uniform.” Adrien leaned through the open window of his silver car, dreamy as ever.

“That makes one of us.” A smile curled on her lips.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” She gave him a look. “Okay, it’s pretty bad, but if it makes you feel better, I think you look cute in anything.”

She faltered, cheeks burning hotter than the bakery oven. Adrien thought she was cute! He’d almost kissed her. Twice. And now he was calling her cute! Dreams really did come true.

“I- well, it’s not- I mean, I’m not nearly as cute as you,” she stammered.

Nailed it.

“True, I am the cutest teen in Paris. At least, that’s what all the tabloids say.” He flashed her his best model smolder. “But if you look as cute as you did last night all the time, you might just give me a run for my money.”

He noticed! Chloe sat between them on the ride home and refused to let him walk her in, so Marinette worried that he didn’t get to see how cute she looked. Lisette needed to teach her how to work that kind of magic all the time.

“Well, after Chloe hosed us down, I had a little help getting cleaned up,” she said.

Adrien’s bodyguard cleared his throat from the driver’s seat, and Adrien flashed her an apologetic wince.

“Guess it’s time to go. I’ve got a full schedule this week, so I wanted to see you at least a little bit,” he said. “Let’s hang out when I’m free again.”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, and Adrien smiled.

“See you later, Marinette.”

“Yeah, see you.”

♪♫♪ Ain’t It Fun ♪♫♪

Things were as bad as Marinette expected at school. Everyone was elated about Gabrielle, and Marinette’s friends were no exception.

“I can’t believe she’s really broke. What did her face look like when everyone at the party found out?” Macy chattered before class.

“Yeah, how did you get invited to Lisette’s party, Marinette?” Eliott asked.

Marinette squirmed in her seat. “I-” She flicked her gaze over to Gabrielle, sitting in the back of the room. “I went with some old friends.”

“Oh! Chloe, right? I heard she helped Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat an akuma as Queen Bee again. It must be so awesome being friends with a superhero!” Macy said, and Marinette didn’t have the energy to correct her. “But more importantly, word on the street is you and Adrien came in soaking wet from the garden. Wanna explain yourself?”

Marinette’s heart skipped. She’d been hoping the Gabrielle news would be enough to distract people from that detail. Remembering the warmth of his breath so close to her lips sent her mind into a tizzy. Then there was this morning…

“We went for a walk in the garden, and the sprinklers turned on,” Marinette said as if it were no big deal, even though it was probably the biggest deal of her life.

“Then why is your face so red, hmm?” Eliott smirked.

“I- we- nothing happened!” Marinette insisted, but when her friends seem unconvinced, she diverted their attention. “Want to hear something horrific that happened? After I got cleaned up from the sprinkler-incident, I ran into Thomas, and he kind of hit on me.”

“Ugh!”

“Gross!” Macy and Eliott both recoiled.

“He is such a scuzzbag. Please tell me you told him off.” Macy groaned.

“Well, I started to, but then Gabrielle interrupted, and they started arguing, then Thomas told everyone Gabrielle’s secret, and yeah,” Marinette said.

“Serves her right. If Thomas wasn’t just as awful, I’d commend him for taking interest in you. You’re definitely a step up from Gabrielle,” Eliott said.

“I dunno… Don’t you guys feel at least a little bad for her?” Marinette winced, and Eliott and Macy looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“Absolutely not. It’s going to be a lot quieter around here without her bossing everyone around,” Macy said.

“Yeah, she got what was coming to her.” Eliott agreed.

“Well, she was terrible and mean, but maybe if we showed her a little kindness, she could change,” Marinette said. When Macy and Eliott stared at her again, she faced forward with a sigh. “Never mind.”

“Look, Marinette, we love you, and it’s super sweet that you want to help everyone. Seriously, you’re an angel, but Gabrielle is a demon. She’s run this school ever since she set foot in it, and now her kingdom has crumbled. Those of us who have been enslaved by her tyranny are enjoying our newfound freedom,” Eliott said. “I mean, if that mean girl who stole all of your friends from your old school got exposed tomorrow, wouldn’t you be happy?”

He had a point. If it were Lila, Marinette would be over the moon. She couldn’t blame them for celebrating, and even though Gabrielle tormented everyone for the past three years, Marinette couldn’t help feeling like she wasn’t all bad.

If she had learned anything since leaving her old school, it was that people could change. People she thought were trustworthy could become strangers overnight, and people she never thought possible could become her most trusted allies. But maybe they were right. Maybe Gabrielle was a lost cause, and Marinette should just let her go. Things would be easier that way.

“Yeah, I guess…” Marinette mumbled as Mr. Mercier called for everyone to find their seats.

Marinette didn’t bring Gabrielle up again for the rest of the day. Her friends weren’t going to forgive her any time soon, and truthfully, she shouldn’t have expected them to. Gabrielle Burton was their Chloe Bourgeois wrapped in Lila Rossi. The reigning queen of their nightmares was now reduced to a powerless shell of her former glory, and peace had been restored to the kingdom at last. If someone told Ladybug on her first day that she would willingly give Chloe Bourgeois a Miraculous to fight beside her, she would have thought they were crazy. Healing would take time, but just because they weren’t ready to forgive, didn’t mean Marinette couldn’t help on her own.

Gabrielle was by her locker at the end of the day, having waited until everyone left to change into her work apron. She bristled when Marinette approached.

“What do you want?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Marinette said. “Everyone else was so mean to you, and I just thought after everything that you could use a friend.”

“Of course they were mean. In case you’ve forgotten, I haven’t exactly been nice to them in the past either.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Don’t risk your reputation for me.”

“You did.” Marinette nodded. “But there’s no one around now.”

Gabrielle eyed her, perplexed. “Why do you care so much?”

It was a question Marinette had been asking herself all day, and looking at Gabrielle now, she finally knew the answer.

“When I left my old school, I was afraid I’d lost all of my friends, and I felt so empty inside,” she said. “But then I met my new friends, and I knew that everything would be okay. They helped me find my footing when I felt like my world was crumbling, so I want to be that for you.”

“You’re stubborn, Marinette. I’ll give you that.” Gabrielle leaned against her locker with a smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Do you want to take the subway together?” Marinette offered.

“Fine.” Gabrielle shut her locker, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She averted her gaze as they walked, cheeks pink, but a small smile tugged the corners of her lips. Gabrielle may have a complicated past, but maybe with the right influence, she could learn to be nice after all. Sometimes all a person needed was the right friend and to know that they weren’t alone.

♪♫♪ crushcrushcrush ♪♫♪

Alya descended the stairs to the courtyard slowly, her stomach churning in knots. When Malin showed up, Alya thought Ladybug picked new allies for all of the Miraculouses. After all, she and Nino knew each other’s identities, and everyone knew Chloe’s identity. So why did Queen Bee get to fight by Ladybug’s side again? What had Alya done to deserve being replaced that Chloe hadn’t? None of it made any sense.

Lila and Ladybug had never met before, and truthfully, I don’t think they really even like each other.

Was it all because of Lila? If Adrien and Marinette’s stories were true, then Ladybug would know if she was a liar. Had Alya ruined her chances of wearing a Miraculous by aligning herself with Lila? It was the only thing that made sense, but Alya couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She needed answers.

Alya vaguely remembered Adrien’s fencing schedule from helping Marinette with her hopeless confession schemes. She almost missed those days. Things were a lot simpler back then. If she remembered correctly, Adrien should have been finishing his private lessons, which would put him in the locker room.

Alya hurried to the double doors across the courtyard. At first she thought she’d missed him, but voices mumbled several rows down. Alya crept in quietly to get a better listen.

“Are you sure these questions will get her to spill the tea?” Chloe.

“Yeah, all we have to do is get her to agree to it,” Adrien said.

What were they up to? Sure, everyone knew that Chloe and Adrien were friends since childhood, but on most days ‘friends’ was a generous exaggeration. As far as Alya knew, Adrien could hardly stand Chloe, so why were they talking now? Ducking behind the next row up from theirs, Alya held her breath and listened.

“Lila isn’t going to know what hit her after our interview with Ladybug goes live. She is so done for,” Chloe said darkly.

“I’m not doing this to ruin Lila’s reputation-”

“I know, I know.” Chloe groaned. “I can’t believe you’re going through all this effort to trick a superhero into exposing Lila for Little Miss Nobody.”

What?

“Her name is Marinette, and I know you miss her too, Chloe,” Adrien said.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’ve actually got feelings for her—I might barf. It’s bad enough I had to chase you two out of the garden last night,” Chloe groaned. “Let’s just get rid of Lila, then you can go play the hero for Dupain-Cheng, and I can get back to being the reigning queen at this school.”

“We’ll try to signal Ladybug tomorrow afternoon. After that, no one will ever trust Lila again,” Adrien said.

“You and I make such a good team, Adrikins. We should ruin lives together more often,” Chloe said.

“I don’t plan to make a habit of it.”

The locker door slammed, and Alya scrambled to the end of the row, diving behind a cart of basketballs. Her heart hammered, blood pounding in her ears. She waited until the courtyard doors shut and the room fell quiet to move.

Chloe and Adrien were working together to get back at Lila for Marinette! She’d been right not to trust him. All this time she thought Adrien was a good guy, but she should have known better. No nice person could be friends with Chloe Bourgeois for so long. Ugh, that girl made Alya so sick! How could anyone be that cruel? And Ladybug actually trusted her over Rena Rouge? After everything Alya had done to prove herself. Chloe was the most selfish, bratty, conniving person Alya had ever met! Why did Ladybug ever trust her? Unless…

Unless she didn’t.

What if Chloe was manipulating Ladybug too? She said they were going to trick her into exposing Lila, so what if she tricked her into giving her back her Miraculous? Chloe was very good at getting what she wanted, and it wasn’t beneath her to ruin someone’s life just for stealing attention away from her. But why would Adrien and Marinette help her?

Alya’s head was spinning. What was the truth? Was all of this a long con set up by Marinette, and Adrien and Chloe were just the pawns? Why would she do that? None of it made sense. Why did they all hate Lila so much?

One thing was for sure: she needed to warn Ladybug about that interview. If Chloe was manipulating her, then Alya needed to put a stop to it. Maybe then she could prove to Ladybug that she was still worthy of being a hero. But she needed to hurry.

Her fingers dialed quickly, and Lila answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I just overheard Adrien and Chloe talking. We don’t have a lot of time. We need to call Ladybug. Now.”

[ibelongtowrath]

Come Closer - Satan x Reader (Obey Me!)

Happy birthday Satan! I wanted to write something as my little gift to him. So please have my alternate ending to his UR+ Devilgram story. Contains slight spoilers for Satan’s UR+ Devilgram story, “Caves Require Caution”. Pairing: Satan x F!Reader Word Count: ~4.2k Tags/Warnings: 18+/NSFW, hair pulling / oral sex / face-fucking / vaginal sex / rough sex / slight degradation

There’s sunlight. 

You never thought you would see the sun in the Devildom. You shake your head slightly, reminding yourself that it’s just magic, but it doesn’t matter. The warmth, the light kissing your skin as the tide laps gently at your feet, the ocean breeze rolling off the waves and caressing your face: you take it all in, savoring every single moment. Your arms open wide, eager to embrace the siren song of the sea, calling to you; you hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

“Come. We’re almost there,” Satan beckons, waving you closer to him.

“Um…,” you hesitate, looking back towards the distant shore, suddenly feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Would you prefer to be back there with the rest of my brothers, playing swimming games for hours?” Satan asks, though his tone suggests he is teasing. “Mammon hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for even a split second since we arrived. I am thoroughly surprised he has not taken to running for the hills, calling your name when he notices you’re gone.”

 Your eyes land upon the other six demons, happily shouting at each other and swimming; everyone except for Lucifer, that is, who stands with his arms crossed, shaking his head. Unable to help but laugh at the scene, you chuckle, smiling as you turn your attention back to the handsome blonde demon leading you towards what appears to be a hidden cave just off the shore. Waves lap gently nearby the entrance, the sand wet this far up indicating high tide is drawing near, but neither you nor he appears to notice.

The distraction of his brothers let Satan to get ahead of you, almost at the entrance to the cave, and your eyes slide to the taut, well-defined muscles of his back, his strong shoulder blades standing out and flexing slightly as he moves with purpose. It was the first time you had ever seen the demon, who always had his nose in a book, in only a swimsuit, and you had been as surprised as everyone else to discover what he had been so carefully hiding under that sweater and ill-fitting jacket that he refused to wear properly. 

Satan’s body had proven difficult to take your eyes off of, and he noticed the way your gaze lingered; his gaze, too, had lingered on your own body, taking in the curve of your waist and your hips, and the way your breasts bounced when you ran into the ocean. Deciding he wants you alone with him, he invited you to explore a small cavern he had discovered the last time he visited Diavolo’s magic beach eons ago, ecstatic to hear your lovely voice and beautiful head nodding in agreement.

Mind returning to the present moment, and as though he can feel your gaze upon him, Satan turns around then, flashing you a cheeky grin. Your face grows furiously hot, and not because the sun is relentlessly beating down upon you. Gesturing you closer, you pick up your pace, eager to see what he has planned for you. The pounding of your heart in your chest increases just a bit as you approach him and look carefully around before standing at the mouth of the cave.

“No need to worry,” Satan reassures you, sensing your unease. “It is perfectly safe. I have been here before. I explored it a few hundred years ago, when Diavolo created this beach.”

“If you say so,” you answer, hesitantly, feeling a bit doubtful as you peer into the darkened cave. 

Thankfully, some sunlight pours in, adding just enough light in the cave to be able to navigate through. Satan places a hand on your back, guiding you into the cavern; the gesture means to serve as a comforting touch, but instead makes you start in surprise, goosebumps darting across the expanse of your skin. He chuckles, taking his hand off of you.

“Feeling a little cold?” Satan teases with a wink.

The rush of blood to your cheeks causes your face to grow ever hotter, and you swear that if you start to blush even harder, you might just burst into flames. He chuckles softly once more, reaching for your hand to gently guide you forward into the cave, to bring you to the secret nook he had discovered all those years ago. Almost reluctantly, you follow the demon further in, turning back to the mouth of the cave one final time before heading deeper inside. The air grows a bit colder, more damp; the sand beneath your feet moist, making impressions of your footprints with each step.

Eventually - you’re unsure of exactly how much time later - Satan lets go of your hand, letting it drop to your side. He turns to face you, enthusiastically grinning; his face so full of glee, he looks slightly boyish, and you can’t help but to feel your face stretch into a happy smile of your own, his excitement contagious.

“Isn’t this great?” Satan asks you, taking both your hands in his.

“Um...yes?” you reply, smiling softly. “If you think it’s great, then I do too.”

“Glad to hear so,” he laughs.  Giving you a twirl before letting both of your hands go, Satan smiles softly at you.

“I discovered this little hideaway in this cave when Diavolo first created this beach hundreds of years ago, to get away from Lucifer,” Satan explains, gesturing around.

He points to a large rock jutting out from the far south wall. “It even comes with a reading nook. Absolutely perfect!”

“But you didn’t bring any books with you, did you?” you hear yourself tease. Resisting the urge to clap your hand over your mouth at your slight brazenness, you look up at Satan, flashing him a sheepish smile instead.

“This is true,” he agrees, “I don’t have any of my favorite tomes to keep myself occupied for the moment… but I suppose I do have an adorable kitten I can play with.”

He winks. Oh, fuck. The blush returns, strong as ever, and you find yourself surprised to not be bursting into flames on the spot.

“I-I suppose so,” comes your stammering voice in reply, bringing a hand up to cup your own cheek. It’s furiously hot, almost feverishly so. Your heart begins to race in your chest at the potential implication behind his words, and you pray that he can’t hear how hard it pounds beneath your rib cage above the gentle lull of the waves lapping near the entrance.

Satan tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his cheeky grin returning. His hand moves to cup your cheek, and the beat of your heart increases tenfold, as though someone is behind the wheel, revving the engine while in park. He, too, feels the beating of his own heart grow faster with each moment as his jewel-toned gaze moves to lock into yours, your beautiful face in his hand. His thumb moves to stroke your bottom lift softly, featherlight, barely touching the skin as he swallows.

“I’m happy to spend time alone with you, MC,” Satan murmurs, “away from all of my brothers. You look beautiful in that swimsuit.”

“I-I’m glad too,” you agree. “A-and, you look amazing as well. Wow. I-”

“-didn’t expect the bookworm to be so fit?” he finishes for you, his voice lilting in a tease. “I do work out, you know. Perhaps, we simply need to get to know each other more.”

“Yes, perhaps.”

Your eyes study his, the beautiful jade irises, the same color as the tropical ocean surrounding you outside, dare you to get lost in them. The temptation is raw, real, as you find yourself begin to give in, simply unable to look away. Satan finds himself in the same predicament, not wanting to tear his eyes away from yours, or your beautiful features: the curve of your cheek, the soft fullness of your lips, the enchanting shine of your eyes. Suddenly, he moves his gaze back towards the entrance of the cave, and your head turns, following his eyes to see where he is looking. The cavern suddenly feels cooler, a bit darker, and your eyes widen in fear.

“Kitten…,” Satan begins, trailing off. “I think our exit has been blocked.”

“Blocked?” You repeat the word in surprise. Satan shakes his head as he strokes your hair again, pulling you closer to him.

“It appears as though the tide has come in,” he explains. “High tide has reached the cave, and the entrance is blocked by water. It shouldn’t reach us in here, so we should be safe. However…”

“Yes?”

“The tides ebb and flow in six-hour cycles. That means we will be unable to exit from the cave until it is the low tide cycle, in about six hours or so.”

“Six hours?” If your eyes widen any further, they may just pop right out of your head. Six hours alone with Satan? It is difficult to tell whether your body sings with excitement or anticipation...or perhaps both.

“Six hours, just about,” Satan repeats. “We will be safe, not to worry. However, I worry about you, kitten. I don’t want you getting cold, and you are hardly wearing anything.”

Reaching for your hand, he laces his fingers through yours, leading you to the structure by the wall and gesturing for you to sit. You follow, sitting on the cool rock; Satan sits next to you, bare thigh to bare thigh. A shiver runs down your spine at his touch, feeling his body so close to yours, more goosebumps erupting down your arms and legs. He frowns as you shudder, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling your body in towards his.

“Sharing body heat is a good solution to keep you warm,” he explains. “Lay your head on my shoulder. Relax. I will keep you safe.”

Resting your hands in your lap, you lay your head on Satan’s shoulder, surprised at how soft his skin feels, the closeness of him and the intimacy of the gesture soothing your nerves and racing heart. He moves his hand closer by your neck, stroking your hair softly.

“Your skin is warm, kitten,” he murmurs. “Your heart is beating faster. Are you, perhaps, nervous?”

You lift your head to meet his eyes, and he notices the hesitant shine glinting in the fading light of the sun. Moving his hand from your hair, Satan places a few fingers under your chin, gently lifting your face to look up at his. He studies your lips, so full, so soft, so enticing; unable to stop himself, he finds his eyelids fluttering, moving his head closer to yours, pausing, his lips now mere inches from your own.

“Kitten…,” he breathes.

Satan crashes his lips against yours. His kiss is soft at first, just barely pressing against your own, as if testing the waters. He pulls back before kissing you again, a bit firmer, holding the kiss for a few seconds. When they leave yours, you find yourself hungry for more, aching to feel him as much as possible. You hook an arm behind his head, threading your fingers into his soft blonde locks, pulling his head down to yours. Your kiss is more fervent than his, a bit more lustful; mouth slightly open, and he can feel the desire burning behind it, his own twisting through his veins as he kisses you back. His tongue meets yours in a desirous dance, massaging the muscles over one another as your lips continue to bruise against his.

“Fuck, Kitten,” Satan murmurs against your skin.

Biting your bottom lip as he pulls away, the demon stands before you, pulling you to stand with him. His mouth finds yours in just mere seconds, backing you slowly against the wall, the space between your bodies nonexistent. Your leg hooks around his waist, and he groans, placing one hand behind your neck as the other traces softly along your thigh before moving to your hip, gripping you tightly. A moan escapes your lips into his, heart slamming into your chest, the driver pushing the pedal to the metal as the race begins.

“Fuck,” Satan curses once more, pressing himself ever closer. 

His cock twitches beneath his bathing suit, the hardened member straining against the constricting fabric, his desire more than obvious, pressed against the soft skin of your thigh. He groans louder, not bothering to conceal the way he feels, mind clouding over with thoughts of spreading your legs and ramming into you without abandon, chasing his release. The hand gripping your hip trails slowly upward, traveling along the generous curve of your waist, his movements graceful like a skilled cartographer outlining the sensual map of your body. Fingers slip under the band of your bikini top, gliding slowly over the soft mound of your breast. 

A wanton gasp falls from your lips onto his, and he grins, finally but reluctantly pulling his mouth from yours to rest at the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting into the sensitive skin there and sucking on it, eager to leave a mark. Again, you shudder at the touch, your moan more lewd this time, more sensual, and Satan can’t get enough. How badly he wants to hear you sing for him, coaxing those delicious sounds out of you as he gives in to satiate the hunger growing within, between your hips and his own. He knows you feel the fire too, the way your head drops back when he squeezes your breast, rolling the hardened bud of your nipple between his thumb and his forefinger.

“I was mistaken,” Satan purrs against your skin. “It appears I don’t have an adorable kitten with me. Quite the opposite. It appears as though I have a very naughty kitten on my hands. Isn’t that right?”

The demon continues to grope your breast, savoring your lewd cry of pleasure that rings out against the stillness of the cave in response.

“My, my, pet. If you moan any louder, and I’m going to think you want to be found before we get to enjoy our time alone.”

Removing his hand from your breast, Satan trails it down your body, slowly, tantalizing. You bring your head forward as your chest rises and falls rapidly, your breaths panting, fueled by unadulterated want and need. Your body teems with sensual desire, and you can feel the wetness between your legs, soaking into the flimsy fabric of your bathing suit bottoms. Satan’s hand travels down the expanse of your torso, gliding over your abdomen, causing you to inhale sharply. Every nerve ending in your body is alight with electricity, and each trace of his touch sparks against your skin, making you want more and more.

What feels like eons later, though in actuality is a mere few seconds stretched across the delicate flow of time, his hand stops just above the drawstring bottoms strung low on your hips. A dark grin twists his handsome features into a teasing look, drinking in the way you look at him, as though you may burst at any second. 

“Such a good pet,” Satan purrs, gripping the back of your neck just a little tighter. “I can see just how badly you want me, with that look on your face. If only I could freeze it forever, it’s so fucking sexy.”

Savoring the moment just a little while longer, his hand slips beneath the waistband, teasing at the delicate skin there as another lust-filled gasp falls from your lips. His fingers move further down, and he moans loudly, unable to stop himself as he feels your abundant wetness, all for him. He rubs at your clit, the wet, swollen bundle of nerves practically begging for his touch. Your hand drops from his hair to his back, raking your nails down the taut muscle of his shoulder blades as your head drops forward, moaning into his neck. Smirking, he slides two fingers inside your core, pumping and curling them slowly, wanting to drive you absolutely wild.

“I knew you wanted me as soon as I caught you staring back on the beach,” Satan says breathily, his voice thick and dripping with lust, filled with honey. “Rest assured, I want you just as badly, my sweet kitten.”

Satan moves his hand from your neck to find your own, bringing it to the front of his swim trunks where his cock continues to strain against them. He pulls his other hand from between your legs, and you release a needy whine at the loss, aching to feel him inside you. Stepping back, his cheeky grin returns as he gestures to his bathing suit.

“Won’t you be a good girl, kitten, and take these off for me?” he prompts, beckoning you towards him.

“Yes, of course,” you hear yourself say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Excellent.”

Standing from the rock, you sink to your knees in the sand before him. Your hands reach to the waistband of his swim trunks, dipping your fingers just underneath before pulling them down slowly. His cock is finally freed, and you eye it hungrily, just barely stopping yourself from leaning forward to take him into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing around him as he slams into the back of your throat…

“What’s the matter, kitten?” Satan prods, looking down at you. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he’s more than happy to indulge.

“So hungry, so needy for my cock, hm?” he continues. “Naughty thing. Here I was, trying to keep you warm until the tide recedes… but you’re just a needy little slut, simply salivating at the chance for me to fuck you as soon as an opportunity is presented to you. I’m more than happy to oblige, pet, but first… show me you deserve my cock.”

Wrapping his fingers into your hair, Satan yanks on it, forcing your head up to look at his. His free hand moves to his cock, wrapping around it and stroking himself as he pulls your head closer, resting the tip against your lips.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, groaning as he watches you comply. “Good girl.”

Pleased with your obedience, Satan pats your head, stroking your hair a few times before plunging his cock deep into the back of your throat, and hard. The sudden intrusion causes the muscles of your throat to protest, causing you to gag, tears running down your face. His grip on your hair tightens, snapping his hips into your face at a relentless pace, head dropping back in pleasure at the feeling of his cock slamming deep into your mouth, your head moving in perfect tandem with the frenzied rhythm of his thrusts.

“Oh, fuck, kitten,” he husks, barely suppressing a groan of pleasure. 

Satan continues his movements for a little while longer before pulling himself out of your mouth slowly, panting heavily. You feel yourself gasping, inhaling sharply, running your tongue over your reddened, swollen lips, dampened with saliva. Using his grip on your hair, he yanks you up to standing, pulling you in for a deep kiss, dancing his tongue with yours.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, tracing his thumb over your lip. “Now…”

His hands move to untie the strings of your bottoms, letting them drop to the ground.

“Keep being a good girl for me, kitten, and turn around,” Satan instructs.

Nodding, you obey his command, turning around slowly. He presses against you, chest to your back, teasing his cock at your slick entrance. Your body aches for him, practically quivering in anticipation. Grabbing both of your wrists, he raises them above you, effectively forcing you to bend over as he slides his cock into you, moaning as he settles into your constricting warmth.

“Fuck, kitten,” Satan moans. “You’re so hot, wet, and tight for me. I can feel you throbbing. Your tight little pussy is just begging for my cock to stretch your aching hole, isn’t it?”

Not bothering to wait for your response, he snaps his hips into you without warning, setting a fast, frenzied pace. His free hand reaches up towards your shoulder, and he digs his nails into your skin, raking them down harshly, leaving angry red scratches in their wake. A high-pitched pleasurable cry, practically bordering on an absolute scream of pleasure, tears from your throat, pushing your hips back against his to match his cadence, the sound of skin smacking against skin echoing throughout the cavern. Satan growls at the sounds, savoring the way your body sings for him, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he leans over you.

“Such a noisy thing, aren��t you?” he rumbles into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin as you shudder. “Do you want them to find us?”

“N-no, I-” you start to cry out in response, finding your words cut off as Satan yanks your hair roughly, forcing your head to turn as your eyes meet his.

“No? To me, kitten, it appears as though you’d enjoy being found, being fucked into like this, your slutty little body being used as my own personal cocksleeve.”

Satan nips your ear, bringing his free hand to press two fingers at your lips.

“Open your mouth and suck,” he commands. “Perhaps that will keep you quiet.”

Obediently, your mouth opens, taking in his fingers eagerly. Your moans and gasps of pleasure are muted as your tongue runs over his fingers, licking them up and down, closing your mouth around them and moving your head over them.

“That’s a good girl,” Satan purrs.

Thrusts growing more frenzied by the second, a growl sounds from deep within his chest; louder this time, teeming with twisted, carnal desire as he furiously chases his release. Eager to coax out your own, he loosens his hold on your hair, sliding his hand down between your legs to rub your slick, swollen clit, eliciting a delicious, muted moan. Satan rubs faster, his mouth finding purchase on your neck, sinking his teeth in, pounding into you harder and harder.

“A-ah! Mmph!”

Your cries nearly push Satan over the edge, and he ruts into you desperately, his release drawing nearer with each passing second. You can feel the telltale tightening of your pelvic muscles around his cock, signaling your oncoming release, and his moans grow louder, more high-pitched, not bothering to attempt to conceal his own sounds of pleasure. 

“I changed my mind, kitten. I want to hear you positively scream for me as I bring you to places of ecstasy, your cries of pleasure drawing the attention of all my brothers,” he growls. “Perhaps they will walk in as I am still fucking you, and we can show them just whose pet you are as they listen to my name falling helplessly from your lips in the throes of release. Mine.”

Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he raises the arm back, bringing a hand down sharply to smack your ass. The loud crack of your skin rings out against the still quiet of the cavern, save for the sinful sounds of hips snapping into hips, skin against skin; hissing in pain as the sting of the smack burns into your skin, you turn your head to look at Satan, meeting his gaze as you begin to speak.

“Yes, I will,” you breathe. “I will scream your name until my throat protests, and I cannot any longer…”

“Good girl.”

Satan’s praising words come out as a hungry snarl, so close to release, the fire pooling low in his stomach, between his hips. Rubbing your clit harder, faster, he moves faster still, animalistic in the way he continues to thrust into you, so close.

“Cum for me, my pretty little sex kitten,” Satan rumbles.

As though on command, your orgasm washes over you in waves of pleasure. Your body shudders, head dropping back as a loud scream tears from your throat, the two syllables of his name falling endlessly from your lips, digging your nails into the palms of your hands. 

Satan drops his head back, moaning loudly, relishing the sounds of your screams slicing through the tranquil air surrounding you. His own release finds him as your walls grip his cock perfectly, growling into your ear one final time as he fills you with his seed, pumping into you until the feeling begins to ebb, the sun beginning to sink under the horizon behind you as hazy twilight fills the cavern.

Pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Satan releases your wrists from his grip, chest heaving as he pants heavily against your back. He rises slowly, straightening himself, pulling you up gently with him and wrapping his arms around your waist. Kissing your cheek, he grins, still panting.

“Well, fuck, kitten,” Satan breathes. “Perhaps I’ll have to sneak you away from my brothers more often. Now, let’s get dressed, in case someone did hear and plans to come rescue us.”

Moving to reach for his swim trunks discarded a few feet away, a phone ringing shrilly suddenly rings out. Your eyes widen, watching Satan reach into the pocket of his bathing suit to pull out his D.D.D., Mammon’s name flashing across the screen.

“You had your phone this whole time?” you ask incredulously.

“Sometimes, even a demon as intelligent as me forgets things, especially in the company of such a beautiful, naughty little kitten,” Satan answers simply, shrugging his shoulders with a sheepish grin.

Sliding his thumb across the screen to answer Mammon’s call, Satan brings it up to his ear, grinning and winking at you as he pulls his bathing suit up over his hips.

“Mammon? Yes, MC and I are in the cavern, stuck in high tide…”

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 2 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 3 / 4 / 5 

_____________________________________________________

~Nesta~

The day after meeting my fiancé, I drop Alexei off at the plane, tell him goodbye, and drive further down the tarmac to where Cassian’s waiting in a completely different private plane.

Very environmentally conscious, our lifestyle

The stairs are unfolded, so after making sure my luggage is transferred over, I head inside.

Cassian’s waiting, sipping bourbon despite the fact that it’s nine in the morning.

He’s dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black long sleeve t-shirt that makes the tattoos on his hands and knuckles seem even more pronounced. He seems more comfortable now than yesterday.

Like he’s not trying to fit into the mold of a respectable gentleman in a suit.

He looks over as my heels click against the floor, eyes dragging up my legs, pausing at my chest, and scanning my face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t know what else to say.

My lips twitch as I slide into the seat across from him, staying silent for now to throw him off.

As expected, he shifts in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable.

Then, like he realizes what I’m doing, he narrows his eyes. “You realize that a woman who just sits there, looks pretty, and doesn’t argue is pretty much a man’s dream, right?”

A smile tugs at my lips, but I sigh like I’m not the least bit amused. “Good morning, Cassian.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to determine the proper response for such a ground-breaking conversation opener.

He finally decides on: “You don’t have an accent.”

“Not when I speak English.”

Alexei, the hypocritical bastard, said English should sound like English and Russian should sound like Russian.

“Do you speak any other languages?” he asks, apparently not having looked in my file. He’s probably trying to figure out if his secret conversations with his fellow countrymen are safe.

“I speak Italian, since that’s what you really want to know.”

He grins, playful light in his eyes. “I think I’d like to hear that.”

An amused laugh escapes me at that, but I give him what he wants as I murmur, “Sono sicuro che lo faresti.” I’m sure you would.

His eyes seem to darken, and I roll my eyes. Men.

“I speak a little Russian, but not much,” he tells me. Considering I, unlike him, I did my homework, I already knew that.

Done with this conversation, I close my eyes and attempt to sleep. A plan that goes out the window when Cassian says confidently, “I usually only speak Italian when I fuck.”

I know he’s trying to feel me out, get a rise out of me, so I keep my voice completely deadpan as I reply, “Interesting. I tend to choose French.”

He laughs, face splitting into a humongous, goofy-looking grin. “Now that, I can’t wait to hear.”

Ah, yes. Because the idea I won’t sleep with him is unthinkable.

To me, too, but at least I’m not an asshole about it. Time to humble him a bit.

I feign like I’m not attracted to him in the slightest as I make a show of looking him over. “I never said you would, tupitsa.”

Before he can respond to me calling him a dumbass, I close my eyes and go to sleep.

~Cassian~

My fiancé passes out in a matter of seconds. It’s a little impressive, honestly. One second she’s teasing me with the thought of French whispers under silk sheets, the next she’s dead to the world.

I, unfortunately, am stuck on the first part.

Fuck, she’s hot.

It’s an effortless sort of beauty, considering she isn’t wearing makeup and her hair appears to be naturally blonde and straight.

Regardless, she looks like she just stepped off a runway.

Delicate bone structure, fierce eyes, full lips that sounded so good saying my name it took me a moment to formulate a response.

Distracting curves, sweeping hips, long legs that are currently crossed and allowing the slightest hint of lace at the top of her stocking to show.

My dick takes notice of that site, and I remind the greedy bastard she’s a Russian--an enemy--but he doesn’t seem to care. Nope, he wants me to peel those stockings down. With my teeth.

What’s somehow hotter than even her choice of legwear is the fact that she isn’t doing it on purpose. She’s completely relaxed, asleep for God’s sake, not trying to seduce me.

I grit my teeth and look out the window.

Like every other time I fly, I get restless after about ten minutes. I pull out my phone and make sure everything’s ready for when we land, work on my laptop for a bit, stare at Nesta sleeping for a longer bit, and pace the aisle like a caged lion when I start to feel like a creep.

Because I’ve been dealing with administrative shit like getting engaged, it’s been a while since I’ve done something to quell the rush in my blood.

Business, surprisingly, is boring when an army of hateful Russians isn’t trying to kill you all the time. I haven’t fought in days, haven’t shot my gun in longer.

I send Ricardo a text and have him set up a fight for tonight, but even the thought of the coming violence does nothing to help me calm down.

By the time we land, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of this plane.

Nesta wakes up when the wheels touch down, stretching and looking annoyingly well rested.

As the plane taxis, I tell her, “I have to work tonight.”

It’s a lie, and she cocks her eyebrow like she knows it. But she doesn’t call me on it, doesn’t even seem that interested. “I already requested a separate car.”

My brows furrow because I hate being predictable, but I keep my mouth shut.

Nesta stands as the stairs drop open, straightening her dress and pulling it down over the lacey top of her stockings that are now right in front of my face.

Before I even realize what she’s about, there’s a sharp smack to the bottom of my chin that forces my head up. She tsks, shaking her head teasingly.

“What was that for?” I ask, even though I already know.

She grabs her bag, and I follow as she walks down to the tarmac. “Somnophilia.”

I take a second to look up what the hell that is, laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes when I find the definition. Nesta shakes her head, small smile on those distracting lips, and walks to her waiting driver.

“I’ll see you at home, wife,” I call, not able to resist.

She just flips me the bird over her shoulder, making me laugh again.

Like I said, not what I was expecting.

~Nesta~

Things with Cassian are going... well, I guess.

He has the emotional maturity of a seventeen year old boy, but he isn’t terrible. As long as he stays out of my way, I dare say this marriage might work.

He’ll go about his business, I’ll go about mine, and we’ll avoid each other for happily ever after just like the fairytales say.

I shake my head as Maxim, one of the first New York transplants, navigates us through the city and to Sera. I’ve visited all my clubs at least once, and I have to admit, this one is by far my favorite.

As it should be.

The other three I run in New York were all my father’s originally. Built by a man, for the entertainment of men, I have to say they aren’t places I’d visit myself.

But I built Sera from the ground up, and while it’s designed to appeal to both men and women, men are--for the first time in history--not the priority.

The building it’s located in is a skyscraper, one I rent out to different businesses that don’t need an entire place to themselves. The ground floor is a bank, one that discretely cleans Russian money and makes us more through interest.

All in all, an unremarkable location to the public eye.

But every night, after normal banking hours have long passed, a select number of guests are invited to Sera--a speakeasy-type burlesque club with a hidden entrance in the secondary vault of the bank.

It’s secret, exclusive, and private as hell.

When we get to the bank, I enter the passcode on the side door--changed nightly--and walk through the silent lobby to the back room where the bouncer sits on a wooden stool.

“Privet, boss,” the burly man greets, sweeping the door open and ushering me through with a meaty hand. “Man in the back is asking for the owner.”

I nod and step inside, the door immediately closing behind me.

It’s the perfect level of crowded; enough people that no one stands out but not packed to the point of misery. By design, of course.

Everything seems to be the same as when I visited a few months ago except for the changed flooring I had installed last week. The tables and booths in the back are full of people captivated by the jazz singer on stage, a woman I discovered while walking to a business meeting in Paris.

Her cigarette-roughened voice had pulled me in, much like it does the audience now, and I’d offered her a job on the spot.

One of the bartenders, an ex-con who was locked up for stealing insulin for his diabetic daughter, smiles at me and slides me a tumblr of vodka as I make my way over.

“Good to see you,” Dima greets warmly. “How long are you here for?”

“Permanently.”

His eyebrows shoot up, which makes sense, considering the engagement hasn’t been announced properly. We’re apparently having a party of some kind in two weeks to celebrate the big news.

“I’ll explain later,” I tell him, noticing a group of people approaching the bar.

He nods, and I slip away towards the back corner where a roped-off set of stairs lead down to the basement below.

Like usual, there’s a private poker game happening in the main room of the bottom floor, and I stop to make say a few hellos but eventually move on to the hallway containing offices for some of the management.

The soldier stationed at the door to mine nods in acknowledgement, then tells me a whale’s inside.

My brows raise at the idea of a big-time investor coming to see me at this hour, but I shrug and walk in, shoulders back and face blank. I learned a long time ago to never let my emotions play out on my face.

The man waiting inside looks to be in his forties, richer than sin, and cold. Mafia, undoubtedly. His dark eyes rake over me, and he asks in a tone I don’t appreciate, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Nesta Orlov. You requested to speak to me?”

His bushy brows pinch together. “No, I want to speak to the owner.”

“One and the same.”

“I was told Cassian Azara is the owner.”

My jaw clenches at the thought that we’ve been engaged for less than two days and people already assume my shit is his. “By who?” I ask, remembering our upcoming nuptials aren’t even public news yet.

“My Capo.”

That gets my attention.

Rhysand’s telling people my club is Cassian’s? Why?

Something isn’t right.

I might not know the Italian boss, but I’ve heard he’s straightforward. Ruthless but honest. So why would he lie?

A little voice inside my head whispers, What if he isn’t?

Mind whirling, I turn to the man and smile politely even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing. “Would you mind giving me a moment? If you go upstairs, our bartender will get you anything you want, on the house.”

He shrugs and leaves, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I go to my desk and pull up the electronic copy of our marriage contract.

Like I thought, nothing’s amiss.

I read this shit thoroughly enough to know exactly what I was getting into, and in case I missed anything, I had my private lawyer scan over it.

But that little voice, that gut feeling, refuses to go away. So I grab my bag and look through the physical copy, dread unfurling when I notice an extra page tucked in the middle.

It’s a prenup.

One I’ve never seen.

And there, smack dab in the middle, is a line declaring the deed to Sera the property of Cassian Azara.

A rough breath forces its way out of me, and for a second, I’m so angry, so blind with rage, I can’t hardly think. What the hell is going on?

I force myself to think through this, to rationalize what I’m seeing.

Replaying the moment in the Capo’s office, I realize the switch between the original and this version of the contract must’ve happened prior. I was only in there a few minutes and had the papers in my hand the whole time.

Which means...

Alexei picks up on the first ring, like he was waiting for the call. “Da.”

“What the hell have you done?”

He sighs. “What needed doing.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I wasn’t the one who started a goddamn war with the Italians, and yet I’m the one who’s paying all the prices. I’m marrying the bastard, for fuck’s sake. Give him one of your clubs.”

His tone hardens. “He didn’t want anything else.”

“I don’t give a shit! This place is my property. It isn’t yours to give away.” I take a deep breath and try to quiet the rushing in my veins. “That idiot will run it into the ground.”

There’s a long moment, and I swear he sounds a little guilty as he says calmly, “He has more than a few businesses of his own, Nesta. It will be fine.”

I pinch my lips together to keep from cursing the man who raised me.

“If you read the document,” he says, a strange note to his voice. “You’ll notice there are a number of clauses.”

My eyes scan to the bottom of the page, and I read as Alexei continues. “He is permitted from selling, unless to you. The investors have the option to vote him out at any time. And if he is unfaithful to you or ends the engagement for whatever reason, Sera is returned to you in full.”

All the violence, all the rage, seems to dim. Just a little.

This is so like Alexei; in fact, it was one of his first lessons to me.

Give someone the illusion of winning, and they’ll sign anything you want them to.

I read through the clauses again, lips twitching. “Let me get this straight. If I can prove Cassian Azara--notorious playboy of New York--is cheating on me, the club is mine? And if the board at Sera votes him out, he can’t fight it?”

I can practically hear my father’s smile. “Da.”

“Or if I drive him crazy and he ends the engagement?”

“Da.”

Sounds easy enough. I drive Alexei absolutely insane and have never had a long-term relationship. I’ll have him running for the hills in no time.

One thing doesn’t make sense, though. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t sign. It’s still a risk, even with the clauses” He takes a deep breath. “I never told you, but we were losing the war in New York. We would’ve lasted another year, and then we would’ve lost the city.”

“Alexei-”

“I need this alliance to hold, Volchonok,” he says. “And either of you calling off the engagement or divorcing the other is grounds for the war to start back up.”

“So you’re saying I still need to marry him.”

He gruffs a confirmation, and my brain whirls as it thinks of a new plan.

My options are down to three: have him sell to me, prove he’s cheating, or get the board to vote him out.

“One more thing. You only have until the wedding. Once you’re married, the only way to get your property back is if he signs the deed to you.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, moving my timeline up by a factor of a hundred. Checking the calendar proves what I already know: I have less than thirty days to somehow convince one of the most notoriously stubborn men in the world to give me a multi-million dollar company.

Easy.

“I’m... sorry. For lying.”

I’m so shocked he just apologized--something he’s never done in my twenty-five years of life--it takes me a moment to respond and tell him he’s forgiven. “Ty proshchen, otets.”

I disconnect the call and swivel around in the chair, a smile pulling on my lips.

I’m going to drive him fucking crazy. All while I make him fall in love with me.

Oh, Cassian. I almost feel sorry for you.

_______________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

[harrywritingsbyme]

it’s sooo hot where i live right now and it’s also really hot in my house, so could you maybe do something where the reader faints from the heat? like heatstroke or something??

Too Hot

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: I Combined the two! I HAD to make this a Sugar daddy/boyfriend!Harry fic. It’s fluffy with a tinge of angst bc why not. The ending is ‘eh’...so don't judge me. Enjoy🙃

Harry loved to do any and everything for you. He’d buy you the entire world if he could. He just loved doing things for you. He knows how hard you work, plus you never ask him for anything besides his love and support. So spoiling you would always be a priority for him. He absolutely adored seeing your face light up when he bought you something that you’d been eyeing or something that he just knew you’d like. There was no sight in this world that he loved more than seeing you, the woman he loves happy. He planned on doing everything he could to keep that smile on your face. And Harry was able to do just about everything to successfully do that. That is, except for one thing. 

Despite all of the presents he’s bought you and the love and affection he showered you with, he still couldn’t get you to move in with him. 

You loved Harry more than you could ever explain to anyone. You were constantly thanking your lucky stars for not only having such an amazing boyfriend, but also for just having an amazing person like him in your life at all. Even though you didn’t care about all the presents, you weren’t going to deny the fact that you did enjoy them. You absolutely loved the way Harry spoiled you and made you feel like a princess. Who wouldn’t love that?! Despite this being the case, you still couldn’t manage to allow yourself to take him up on his offer to move in with him. You loved the way he spoiled you with love and presents, but moving in was an entirely different ballgame for you. You felt like you should be taking care of yourself and anything Harry gave you should just be extra. For some reason, when you thought about living with him, you felt like you were incapable or inadequate when it came to taking care of yourself. With this being said, every time Harry’d ask or bring it up to you, you’d sweetly say “one day”. 

You knew that without a doubt you and Harry would live together in the future. What you didn’t know was that one day, would actually be today. 

It was the hottest day of the year so far where you lived and as if it was right on time, the air conditioner in your apartment broke the night before. This meant that your place was going to become an oven and you had no choice but to live in it. You were taking all of the necessary measures to stay cool. You were wearing minimal and cool clothes, you kept your cold water near you at all times, the blinds and curtains were closed to keep the sun out, and the fan was on the highest setting. Even though you were doing all these things, it didn’t stop your body from shutting down. You were able to get through the morning but once noon hit, your apartment only got hotter and more uncomfortable. The heat was just too much for you and before you knew it, you were out for the count.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone and passed out in your apartment for long. Yesterday Harry had promised you that he’d come over and spend the day with you after he got out of the meetings he had scheduled for today. After walking down the long hallway, which was just another reason why Harry wanted you to move in with Him, he finally makes it to your apartment. Normally after one or two knocks you’d be opening the door and greeting Harry with a kiss. After a few more knocks and still no response, Harry fishes into his pocket for his keys and uses the key you’d given him and he lets himself in. As soon as he opens the door, he’s enveloped in the overwhelming heat from your apartment. When he steps inside, he only gets hotter. But the heat was the last thing he was worrying about when he saw you slumped over on the couch with the fan directly on you. When he sees you like this, his mind goes straight to the worst case scenario. 

Harry knew that you and heat didn’t mix well at all. There were countless times where he needed to keep a close eye on you whenever you two were out and about when it was beyond hot outside. You’d only fainted once in the past, and he was right there to take care of you. Now, Harry didn’t know how long you’d been like this and he was absolutely terrified. 

Harry immediately drops the paper bag that held the lunch he brought for you both and rushes right over to you. He brings two fingers up to your neck to check your pulse and in that moment, Harry breathed for the first time since he stepped inside. The absolute worse case scenario that was running around in his head finally stops when he feels a pulse. The only thing he had to do next was get you up and awake. For the next 20 minuets, Harry runs around your apartment to get you situated so that when you come back to you’re nice and comfortable. He makes sure that the damp washcloth he has draped across your forehead is cool at all times, and that the makeshift icepacks he made are in all the right places. Once you’re all taken care of in bed, Harry leaves out of your room to take care of the food he brought you earlier.

When you finally begin to come back to, you immediately notice a change in your surroundings and your mind goes straight to Harry. You could hear him moving around somewhere in your apartment, so you decide to get up and check on him. But that plan is immediately scrapped, when you feel a massive headache crash over you as you move to sit up.

“Harry” You call out to him, even though your mouth was beyond dry and your throat was a bit scratchy. After a few more calls out to him, you finally hear his footsteps coming in the direction of your bedroom. 

“Hey baby.” Harry coos softly, coming into the bedroom with a tray of essentials in hand. He comes around to your side of the bed and he places the tray on your bedside table before sitting on the edge next to your legs. “How y’feeling?” 

“I have a crazy headache.” You grumble to him. “What happened?” You ask him, trying to figure out why you were waking up with a massive headache, and why Harry was taking on the role of nurse. 

“The heat was too much for you and you passed out on the couch.” Harry explains, reaching over to grab a pain reliever for your headache. 

“How long was I out?” You sigh, taking the pill from Harry. Before answering, Harry helps you sit up so that you can take the pill with water. 

“When I got here, you were passed out on the couch.” Harry explains further, holding you and the glass of water up. 

“The AC went out last night.” You tell him, laying back against the pillows when when you’re done with the water. 

“I don’t want to tell you that I told you so, especially now” Harry begins, placing the glass of water back onto the tray. “But…this wouldn’t have happened if you just moved in with me.” Harry says matter of factly.

“Harry” you sigh, digging your head back into the pillow. 

“I know this isn’t the best time to have this conversation, but I just need to know. If you don’t want to that’s fine, but I just need an answer.” At first you were frustrated with the idea of having this conversation. But seeing the look of worry, mixed with dejection was making you feel even worse than you were already feeling. To see Harry worried about you and your health, to now showing a feeling of being turned down was the worse sight in the world.

“Babe” you sigh, reaching out to grab his hand. “It’s not that I don’t want to move in with you, it’s just that-“ before you even continue, you have to pause for a second. Even though you weren’t in the right frame of mind to talk about things right now, you did owe it to Harry to at least give him an answer.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, just tell me how you feel.” He reminds you, squeezing your hand in his. 

“It’s just that you already do so much for me as it is, and moving in with you makes me feel like I can’t take care of myself. It’s like I work hard and I still need someones help.” You explain lowly to him. 

“Babe, the little bit that I do for you is nowhere near what you deserve. You work extremely hard and I completely understand why you feel like you should be taking care of yourself. But, at the end of the day, I love you, I want to make you happy, and I just want to spend every moment I possibly can with you. Especially after today.” By the end, Harry was on the verge of tears. Seeing you so fragile and not being able to do anything about it was really getting to him. He also hated not being able to take care of you the way he wanted to, and the way you deserved. 

“I know you’re gonna cry, and if you do then I’m gonna lose it.” You pout up at him. After hearing his side, you realized that yes your feelings may have been valid, but moving in together would make Harry happy, and that’s the only thing that mattered to you. And it’s not like you were moving in with a complete stranger. You were moving in with Harry, the absolute love of your life.

“You really scared me today baby.” Harry sighs in disbelief. 

“I’m so sorry baby.” 

“S’not your fault that you have a shitty air conditioning unit.” Harry jokes. 

“And I wouldn’t have to worry about that if I just moved in with you already.” You repeat his words as you sit up against your headboard. In this short amount of time, you managed to make your mind up that you were indeed going to take Harry up on his offer and move in with him. Now you just wanted to lighten the mood a little bit and mess with him.  

“What’s it going to take for you to move in with me?” He asks you. His time was filled with amusement and frustration at the fight you were putting up against this. You’d given him a hard time before, but never like this. 

“You buying me that pretty necklace I showed you.” You bargain. You figured you might as well try to get something else out of the deal. 

To Harry though, this was a yes to his proposal. You could have said that you wanted an island and he would have emptied his bank accounts to do it. And with Harry, that was far from an over exaggeration. 

“De-“ before he can even agree, you quickly interject to make sure he knows exactly what you want.

“The diamond one.” You clarify. When Harry hears you say this, he couldn’t help but laugh. Even though you didn’t ask for much, you surely knew what you wanted.

“I’ll buy you the entire store if it means that my baby’ll be living with me.” Harry says excitedly. He stands up and straddles your body so that he’s on top of you and he begins to shower you with little kisses. After a few more minuets of kisses and laughs between you and Harry, the both of you were out of breath. 

“I love you.” You whisper up to him with a soft smile, and reaching up to push back the curls that had fallen in his face. 

“I love you more baby.” Harry sighs back Happily, bringing his head down to press another kiss to your lips. “On an unrelated note, am I your sugar daddy?” 

“Way to ruin the mood sir.” You laugh at the random question.

“No I’m being serious.” Harry chuckles, trying to start up the conversation again. “I mean, you already call me daddy in the bedroom. And I buy you pretty things.” Harry rations. 

“When you get me that pretty necklace, are you gonna make me suck you off to say thank you?” You tease. 

“I mean, I’m not gonna force you, nor oppose it the way some people like to oppose things.” He says pointedly with a smirk. “But it would be nice though.”

“I like being your girlfriend though.” You pout up at him.

“You’ll still be my girlfriend obviously. I think I just want the title. Y’know?”

“No, I really don’t know. But I do love you, and if it makes you happy, I guess you can be my sugar daddy. Just know that you’re a weirdo.” You agree, even though you had no idea where this was coming from. 

“You said yes to two things in one day?! Is this because you’re getting a pretty necklace outta me?” Harry asks “suspiciously”.

“Maybe” You reply with a smirk. 

“Well I think that this daddy deserves some sugar.” Harry replies smoothly. When he says this, all you could do was laugh hysterically.

“Okay, two things. One, never say that again because that was really weird. Two, I’d me more than willing to give you some “sugar”, but we need to go to your place and do it because it’s hot in here, you being on top of me only makes me hotter, and I’m not trying to pass out again.”

“Fine” Harry concedes, making sure to give you a serious pout before falling onto the bed next to you. 

Even though passing out wasn’t the most ideal way to have a breakthrough, it did end up working out in you and Harry’s benefit. 

Masterlist

[thickenmyblood]

It’s interesting because, like, Laurent being conventionally attractive is a pretty integral part of his character? Just because he’s got people fawning over him and being creepy all the time and it’s interesting to think about how it would affect his defensiveness and stuff if he was just, like… average? And tbh if he wasn’t blond and gorgeous I feel like Nik at least would like him a lot better just bc he wouldn’t be like… Damen’s making bad decisions bc he’s horny

Also in terms of Damen only respecting jocks I literally cannot get over the fact that he spends a good half of book one shitting on Ancel and the other pets for being pretty and useless and then straight up gets raped by him and then two scenes later sees him fire dancing and thinks “huh, this guy has a useful skill after all” and smiles on-screen for the first time because he’s genuinely happy the guy got the interest of the regent like seriously Damen I love you but wtf

I'm sorry. I have thoughts. Again.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about this and she told me, basically, that if Laurent wasn't pretty and/or didn't know how to fight, Capri wouldn't be Capri. It'd be a completely different story (although we all agree that it's not just Laurent's skill with a sword that draws Damen in. It's the fact that he starts to see Laurent as someone who's committed to his people, his men, etc.)

I think "being pretty but singed" is an actual trope, as in, many people enjoy writing/reading about someone who is beautiful on the outside but has dark secrets, an ugly past, whatever. Which is interesting to think about. It's also interesting how sometimes we will take a character who is explicitly described as undesirable and ugly and turn them into a hotter version of themselves. I do that with Govart, especially when I'm reading.

Sadly, I disagree a bit on the Nik part. I think Nik's character sometimes is read and interpreted as some sort of comedic relief, much like Nicaise (the fork scene in Book 1, for example). By this point, we all know there is a difference between canon and fanon, and so some characters become caricatures that can be quite the opposite of what they were meant to signify in the original text. I believe—once again, my opinion, just a way to interpret things, nothing else—that Nik's dislike for Laurent runs deeper than the fact that he thinks Damen is being a horny idiot.

Nikandros is a slave owner. He's the Kyros of Delpha, which we all know used to be Delfeur and belonged to Vere. He underestimates Laurent's abilities again and again, and when Laurent proves himself he has to do so in the Akielon way (so, fool Akielon guards, win the Okton—which I'm not even going to try and explain because I don't even get it myself. I really don't). Nikandros doesn't share Damen's journey as a slave, doesn't know what it's like to be at the mercy of another man simply by a twist of fate, doesn't know that slavery is not as fancy and nice as Damen described it in Book 1. Nikandros is Damen pre-journey, unchanged except for the grief of losing his friend. Not that I think Damen has turned into the Virgin Mary towards the end, but whatever.

My biggest issue with Nikandros as a character is that his whole development and "arch" happens in the third book, which is to me the worst book in the trilogy, full of things that make 0 sense, full of contradictions that not even fandom can "fix" without starting a headcanon war of epic proportions. All I can say is that I think Nikandros hates Veretians (dislikes them strongly? considers them militarily inferior? also, morally dubious?) and I refuse to believe after KR he was suddenly okay with slavery being abolished, became best pals with Laurent, and never had a shitty thing to say about Vere again.

Not only does Nikandros have all this prejudice against Veretians (which we can say he sort of overlooked that one time he was plotting with Laurent), but he's also the only person in the trilogy besides Jord that tells Damen things exactly how they are. I think Nikandros' concerns are very, very valid. You can't just build a cute palace on the border, get married without heirs, and unite two countries that have hated each other for many years. . . and not expect any sort of retaliation, uprising, mutiny, etc. It's simply stupid. But then, Pacat writes that that's exactly what happened. So. . . I don't even know where I was going with this.

Also, Nikandros probably doesn't give a fuck about helping Laurent get his kingdom back. Nikandros wants Kastor's head on a spike and for things to go back to how they were, so he can go back to Delpha and eat olives with bread while a hot slave fans him.

Damen only respecting jocks + the thoughts he has on pets and people, in general, are the two reasons why he's a good character when he's depicted as flawed. He has flaws. He judges people harshly and wrongly. He makes assumptions. He lies to himself. Giving him flaws isn't making him OOC. In canon, Damen is deeply flawed, just like Laurent is. I don't know when Lamen became the symbol for all that is good and pure, when really they're both. . . fucked up. Every couple in Captive Prince is fucked up. Jord and Aimeric? Jord is one creepy fuck. Aimeric is basically raping himself (at least in the very beginning, we can debate the rest). Anyone and Erasmus? Fucked. Up. Like, every version of Erasmus with someone ends horribly. Erasmus and Torveld are gross (objectively, because Erasmus is a SLAVE even though Pacat really tried to say 'Torveld is not like the rest of the slave owners, he's different'). Erasmus and Damen are gross because again, power imbalance, also Erasmus' feelings towards Prince Damianos are worthy of a good old therapy session. Erasmus and Kallias? I have thoughts but this is way too long. Erasmus and Govart? Rapey rape. I think the least fucked up couple is Berencel, BUT it can be argued that they're not part of the trilogy. We only meet Ancel in the short stories, so I don't know. Plenty of people haven't read Pet.

My final thoughts on this are that had Laurent been ugly as fuck, it would have taken Damen 400k words to fall in love with him. And if he was ugly AND not blonde. . . 650k.

[tickly-trashcan]

Dazai’s Curiousity {Dazushi}

A/N: I got impatient with posting lol. I haven’t written for Dazushi in a while, thanks for the prompt anon! I adore these two (as i do with many other ships fdjksn) and I love to write for them! I love how playful Dazai can get Atsushi really flustered sometimes, which is what I tried to do more of in this. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Atsushi’s been acting strange, and after making a certain discovery about him, Dazai intends to find out why Atsushi’s been acting the way he has.

Word Count: 1.7k (under the cut)

Dazai frowned as he watched Atsushi. He hadn’t known the young man for very long, but he could tell there was something on his mind. Every time he looked over at him to see Atsushi glancing at him, Atsushi would quickly turn his head, faint red on his cheeks. He would also quickly walk away saying he was busy whenever Dazai invited him to hang out after work. Yes, something was definitely going on.

Dazai creeped up behind Atsushi as he was filing some papers, slowly slinking behind him as Atsushi remained completely unaware of his presence.

“Atsushi!” Dazai finally pounced on Atsushi, grabbing his shoulders as the younger man practically screamed, his papers flying everywhere as he dropped his stapler.

He turned quickly, blushing hard as he glared at Dazai, who only stuck out his tongue playfully.

“Dazai! That wasn’t funny!” He whined, turning his head back to look at the mess of papers. He also looked around the office, seeing everyone staring at him, and quickly covered his face with his hands, letting out a low, embarrassed whine.

Dazai snickered, sitting on the desk as he picked up a few of the papers and glancing at them. Noticing that it was only boring paperwork, Dazai dropped it again, the paper landing on Atsushi’s head as he picked up the papers that were scattered across the floor.

He picked it off his head and tapped the papers against his desk, fixing them up as he refused to make eye contact with Dazai.

Dazai pouted, leaning so that he ended up in Atsushi’s peripheral vision as he whined.

“A-tsu-shi~”

Atsushi’s face went slightly pink at the mention of his name, but he firmly held his pokerface otherwise, eyebrows furrowed as he stapled the papers together.

“Atsushi~”

Atsushi quickly glanced at Dazai before darting his gaze back to the papers, which he quickly picked up and carried over to Kunikida, Dazai following Atsushi. Dazai threw himself on Atsushi, whining his name as Atsushi jumped out of his skin, shrieking again.

“Dazai!” Atsushi hissed, going to push Dazai off, Dazai now latching his hands on Atsushi’s hips as he fell to the floor, still clinging to Atsushi as he held his head against his leg.

“Waah, I’m your superior and you have no more respect for me! I’m totally crestfallen!”

“Don’t use big words, you oaf,” Kunikida said, highly annoyed at Dazai as Atsushi started giggling, pushing at Dazai’s hands that were squeezing his hips for dear life as he held onto the younger man.

“D-Dahahazai! Let go!” Atsushi giggled, writhing around as he tried to push Dazai off of him. Dazai looked up at him, slightly confused. He pressed his cheek further into Atsushi’s thigh, letting go of his hips.

“Do you find this situation funny, Nakajima?” Kunikida glared, and Atsushi quickly yelped, shaking his head.

“N-No sir!”

“Then why were you laughing, Atsushi?” Dazai pondered, reaching his hands back up to Atsushi’s hips, Atsushi quickly grabbing his wrists as his face flushed bright red, looking up at Kunikida.

He tried to muster a please-help-me-out look, but Kunikida didn’t seem to pick up on it, instead leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“I’m also curious… Please explain.”

Atsushi gulped, looking down at a now devious looking Dazai, whose grin only made Atsushi blush more. This was absolutely the worst situation!

Not only was his crush (that he was desperately trying to hide) holding onto him, but he was also accidentally tickling him! There was no way he could explain that and not get away with Dazai tickling him for real, he knew Dazai too well. He’d have to come up with some good fib…

“J-Junichiro told me a funny joke earlier, I was just remembering it! Right, Junichiro?” Atsushi said desperately, looking over at the red-headed Agency member as Tanizaki looked at him confused.

“I don’t remember telling you a joke…” He said honestly. Shit! He shouldn’t have banked on Tanizaki, he was too honest to help him out of this situation.

“I think,” Dazai said, wiggling his hands out of Atsushi’s grasp as they traveled back up to his hips and squeezing them, making Atsushi squeak. “Our little tiger boy is ticklish.”

Atsushi was done for. There was no escaping it now. He was going to be tickled to death in front of the entire office, that or die of embarrassment first. There was nothing he could do except hope that Dazai would go easy on him.

Kunikida scoffed. “Like you aren’t, Dazai. Get back to work please.”

Dazai pouted but did as he was told, skipping over to his desk and rolling around in his chair as if nothing had ever happened. Atsushi stood there, completely dumbfounded… Had he gotten away with it?

He slowly, cautiously slinked back to his desk, sitting down and watching Dazai carefully. As he watched him, he started to stare, taking in all of the features of the taller man. His dark hair, his chocolate eyes… 

“You’re staring at me, Atsushi,” Dazai said, not even looking at Atsushi. Atsushi blushed, quickly turning his attention back to his computer, typing furiously in an attempt to look busy. Dazai chuckled, and turned his attention back to the paper airplane he was making out of his paperwork, about to send flying over to Kunikida.

The rest of the day passed by without any hiccups, nothing big happened and everyone was able to finish their work as per usual. Atsushi sighed in relief at the end of the day as he finished up his paperwork, nothing bad had happened.

It was just him and Dazai who remained in the office, and Dazai was dozing off instead of doing his work as Atsushi went to go wake him. He stopped though, staring again into Dazai’s peaceful resting face. He felt his face grow hot, and his heart started leading him instead of his brain as he leaned forward, closer and closer to Dazai’s face…

“Atsushi, what are you doing?”

Atsushi immediately jumped back as Dazai woke up with a start, grinning as he watched Atsushi’s face go bright red, quickly covering his face to hide his embarrassment.

“S-Sorry! I- You- It-”

Dazai chuckled, standing up and walking over to Atsushi, grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands away from his face as Atsushi stared at him, biting his lip in embarrassment.

“You’ve piqued my curiosity now, Atsushi. You’ve been acting weird all week, and I wanna know why,” Dazai said, leaning closer to Atsushi, their noses almost touching as Atsushi blushed harder, leaning his head back slightly. “And I think I know just how to get it out of you.”

Before Atsushi could react, Dazai’s hands started dancing up Atsushi’s sides, tickling him. Atsushi slapped a hand over his mouth and pushed at Dazai’s chest. Dazai wrapped an arm around Atsushi, pulling him in closer as his other hand continued to wiggle up and down Atsushi’s side, Atsushi holding his breath now.

He was so close! Not only that, he was tickling him! This day couldn’t get any worse for Atsushi as his face felt hotter than it ever had, even the tips of his ears burning as Dazai grinned.

“Why are you holding back? Laugh!”

As Dazai said that, the floodgates opened, and Atsushi’s hand immediately came off of his face and went to pushing at Dazai as he laughed loudly, shaking his head around.

“There we go! And remember, I’ll stop as soon as you tell me what’s going on!” Dazai said, now scribbling his fingers up Atsushi’s ribs.

“NAHAHaahahahaha, Dazahahahai! I cahahahahan’t!”

“Can’t what? Can’t tell me? Then it’s gonna be a long night for you Atsushi.”

“NohohohoHOHOHO!!”

Atsushi’s laughter escalated when Dazai started kneading his hip, making him throw his head back as he laughed, knees buckling as he fell against Dazai, too overcome with the tickling to be embarrassed at this point.

“Stahahahahahap! STAHAHAHAP!” Atsushi begged through his laughter, squirming around slightly as he buried his face in Dazai’s shoulder, Dazai now using both hands to tickle Atsushi’s hips as he squealed, laughing harder than before.

“Hmm, not yet~”

Dazai dug his hands under Atsushi’s arms, making him shriek as Atsushi finally regained the strength in his legs, standing up and pushing Dazai away from him, trying to get away, still giggling breathlessly.

He almost made it out of the Agency when Dazai scooped him up again, lowering him to the floor as Atsushi kicked and flailed, whining.

“Noooooo!”

“Yeeeeees!” Dazai teased, drilling his fingers into Atsushi’s hipbones as he straddled him, Atsushi throwing his head back as he screamed with laughter, throwing his head back.

“Just tell me, Atsushi! It’s not that hard!”

Well, it was that hard when Dazai was tickling him to pieces! Atsushi struggled, trying to think of anything that would help him get out of this situation. He came up with an idea, though it was a long shot, and could ruin everything between him and Dazai…

He figured it was better than dying laughing at the hands of Dazai, so he quickly propped himself up on his elbows, grabbing Dazai’s cheeks. Dazai stopped tickling Atsushi for a moment and looked at him, right before Atsushi pressed his lips against Dazai’s.

Dazai was a bit taken aback at first, but figured this was why Atsushi had been acting so weird around him. Funny, if he had just hold him right off the bat Dazai could’ve said he felt the same…

Atsushi finally pulled away, blushing furiously before reality set in. He squeaked and quickly let go of Dazai’s cheeks, slapping his own several times before apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it! I just- I wanted you to stop, I didn’t know how-”

He was cut off by Dazai kissing him once more, Atsushi’s eyes wide as he was the one now taken by surprise. Dazai leaned back, smiling as Atsushi floundered for words, Dazai chuckled.

“I take it you feel the same?”

Atsushi stared at Dazai, completely dumbfounded as he nodded slowly. Dazai grinned, ruffling Atsushi’s hair.

“Good. Now let’s get you up,” Dazai said, getting off Atsushi and helping him up onto wobbly legs, Atsushi staring at Dazai in disbelief.

“D-Do you actually like me?” Atsushi asked.

Dazai nodded, kissing Atsushi’s cheek, Atsushi immediately covering his face in embarrassment again as Dazai laughed.

“You should’ve just told me, then I wouldn’t have had to tickle you so much.”

Atsushi whined. “I didn’t have much of a choice, you didn’t give me any time to answer!”

Dazai chuckled. “I guess I didn’t.”

Atsushi pouted, bumping Dazai with his shoulder as Dazai laughed. They really were perfect for each other…

[sweetestlamb]

Caged Bird

Summary: “I should let him go right?” 

Author’s note: Finally back with another chapter, this one was a bit harder for me than the other chapters because writer’s block was a bish and I kept second guessing myself. I erased so many things and I don’t know if I am even proud of this anymore or if it’s any good LOL but I spent all day writing it so I guess I should post it. I’m not losing motivation but life was beating on my door and I feel like this wasn’t as fleshed out as I wanted it to be but I don’t have the time to flesh it out more and I really didn’t want to go another week without writing, it makes me anxious to leave them unattended for so long.  So if you like anything about this let a girl now. 

“You told him?” Sujin glances over at Su-ah from her place on her bed, her phone idle on the bed, she’s trying not to text a certain someone too much but that is proving easier said then done with him messaging her without any discretion or care about appearances. 

Jukyeong looks knowingly at her phone with a soft smile and she hides the small square too embarrassed even though they hadn’t been talking about anything inappropriate, he was teasing her that she wore his sweaters more than he did these days and asking her if she wanted to go shopping with him so she could pick out exactly which sweater she wanted to steal borrow. She rolls her eyes at the dramatic message, she didn’t take that many of his sweaters, he was just overexaggerating as he was wont to do. She folds the sleeve of her borrowed(thank you very much) sweater over her hands and pointedly avoids looking at the vibrating device. 

She has self control. 

But a second vibration makes her flaunter for a minute, wondering if he’s saying something important he hardly ever double texts these days. She reaches for the phone gasping when it’s suddenly snatched out of her reach. 

“Hey-!” her voice trails off bashfully at the glower on Su-ah’s pretty face, that’s her take no shit face, damn. She sits up straighter giving the girl all her attention lest she become more agitated and try to read the messages, that would be too unsettling. They had both already commented on her recent oversized sweaters, coyly trying to get her to admit to who they truly belonged to. She ignored their teasing and jut her nose in the air each time, they already knew and she refused to give them the satisfaction of saying it out loud. 

“Focus on us for one minute. Your boyfriend can wait.” Su-ah states firmly putting her phone on the small desk behind her and she sputters at the comment, red hot flush barreling down her entire body like a wildfire. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” She denies vehemently, cheeks burning hotter from the nonplussed looks she receives from her two closest friends, Su-ah looks utterly unimpressed and Jukyeong can barely contain the smile spreading on her full lips, she opens her mouth to argue harder needing to smother the jolt of pure bliss that surfaced in her belly at the other girl’s bold proclamation but the words get firmly lodged in her throat. 

His hands tightly wound around hers, his thumb gently caressing the rough skin of her scarred knuckles. The way she didn’t want to pull away or hide from him, he was looking at her, truly seeing her and instead of fear something warmer spread through her veins. 

Those lips on her forehead, the softest sweetest kiss she had ever received in her life. Nobody had ever held her like she was something precious before but that was how he pressed her to his wide chest, her head nuzzled into his fragrant neck as she drowned in his intoxicating scent nervous to breathe him in too much lest she get lost in his spell. 

The deep rumble of his voice as he called her “baby”, she had always rolled her eyes hearing couples use such supercilious nicknames with each other, what was the point? Why did being in a couple have to mean that you lost your name and essentially a piece of your identity? It was stupid and childish and she wanted nothing to do with such a transgression, or so she had believed. 

Until the moment he called her princess. 

What started out as a tease had transformed into something bigger than she had ever expected, she hated it or so she told herself. But when he called her Sujin in the park she felt like a part of her was missing, she wasn’t just Sujin to him anymore. In that moment she had a grand realization she wasn’t losing herself like she had initially thought but rather gaining another layer, she would always be Sujin and that was enough but she could also be his princess, his baby.  

When had she turned into such a sap? This was all his fault. 

“Hello? Sujin? Are you even listening to me? Hey! Are you seriously fantasizing about your boyfriend right now?” She jumps at Su-ah’s loud voice, slapping a frantic hand over her mouth and looking around as if people will materialize out of thin air. 

“Can you stop saying that word, Suho might hear you!” She stage whispers and Su-ah raises a thin eyebrow at her shoving her hand away. 

“Why are you so red? Did something happen between you two, you can’t hide anything from us! What happened to “we’re just friends”? She blushes redder at Su-ah’s quotation marks and Jukyeong leans forward excitedly, “Have things changed? Did you tell him how you feel? Oh my god, did you guys...kiss?!”

Su-ah stills at Jukyeong’s question before vibrating violently in her seat and grabbing her shoulders shaking her back and forth, “Sujin did you lose your lip virginity? Did you let him deflower you?!” 

Sitting stunned and wide eyed, she stares at her friends expectant faces wondering how the conversation became derailed so quickly? She had invited them both over to explain the Baekyung situation and her conversation with Suho’s father but somehow Seojun had become the star of the night. 

“Are you crazy why would you call it that?” She immediately realizes her mistake when both girls turn to look at each other and simultaneously shriek, “She didn’t deny it!,” and she watches in horror as they jump up and starting dancing around the room, then she groans and tugs the hood of the sweater over her head pulling the drawstrings so she is cocooned in the fabric as they start singing off key, “Sujin kissed Seojun! Sujin kissed Seojun!” 

Instinctively she grabs a fluffy pillow and flings it across the room in a perfect arch before it lands with a soft thud on Jukyeong’s head, time stops as they all stare at each other and then it’s a flurry as the girl picks up the pillow launching it back and that is how Sujin gets involved in her first ever pillow fight. There are pillows flying every which way and Su-ah and Jukyeong gang up on her, shoving her into the bed and playfully smacking her on her stomach and back as she curls up in a ball body shaking from her laughter. 

“Tell us everything and we’ll stop hitting you.” Su-ah promises and she shakes her head in refusal, seconds later she feels a grazing on her sides and she knows what’s coming so she tries to draw away but her means of escape are thwarted by Jukyeong grabbing her by the shoulders and pressing her harder into the bed. 

“Su-ah please don’t. This is evil, I thought we were friends.” She pleads staring up at both with beguiling eyes and for a minute she thinks her puppy eyes have succeeded as both release her, but then she feels a barrage of hands on her side and laughter is forcefully pulled from her body as she twitches in a fit, twisting and turning from the hands but to no avail. She feels tears pooling in her eyes from the sensation and this is how Suho finds them, tangled up and breathless from laughter and he stares at them in shock. 

“When you guys are done...doing this can you please respond to Seojun? He thinks you suddenly got into an accident or got kidnapped because you stopped responding to him.” 

Su-ah turns to her with a look of triumph on her mischievous face, “That sounds like boyfriend behavior to me.” 

Suho doesn’t reply except for a twitch in his lip before he slides the door closed behind him, giving them privacy again. 

She tries not to rush to her phone but her eyes find their eye over to the device all the way across the room, maybe if she runs really quickly she can make it past the two girls and lock herself in the bathroom? 

“I know that look. Whatever crazy plot you’re cooking up is unnecessary, you can have your phone back. I know you two hate to be apart,” Su-ah teases leaning over and then handing her the phone, she stares at it worried that accepting it will be admittance to Su-ah’s claims she hesitates to take it. 

Su-ah takes the choice away from her when she places the phone in her outreached hands, “Don’t keep him waiting.” She holds the phone flat in her palms looking up at both her friends, they have identical smiles on their faces and warmth blossoms in her belly. 

She’s happy, this is what happiness feels like. 

But she’s also overwhelming nervous, she has never done this before, never had someone who made her feel this way. Was it supposed to be this terrifying? Putting the phone down resolutely she turns to her best friends needing their advice. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” She admits, feeling small and more than a little bit lost. Instantly she is squished in the middle as they both come to sit by her sandwiching her in between them, twin arms thrown over her shoulders. 

“We know you’re scared but he likes you, everyone can see that. When you’re in a room together it’s like he doesn’t see anyone else, you are always his focal point.” Jukyeong whispers softly placing her head on her shoulder and she wants to deny that but too many images flash in her mind of him doing just that, him dropping everything and racing to her even in the beginning when she had been a mess and constantly pushed him away. Intimate moments at lunch where his eyes hardly leave her as he ardently watches her eat the food that he had prepared just for her, despite countless girls watching him and squealing his name in the distance. 

Everyone had eyes for him, but he only had eyes for....her. 

“What if all of this becomes too much for him and he wants someone normal? Someone who doesn’t have all my baggage? Being with me must get exhausting.” She’s still talking about Seojun but a small piece of her is also directing this statement to them, was being her friend as exhausting? Did they ever consider just abandoning her and finding someone who didn’t have such tiresome issues? 

“You still don’t understand do you?” 

She turns towards Su-ah who blinks wet eyes at her and suddenly her eyes feel moist too. 

“Understand what?” 

“How much you mean to us. All of us. Nobody could ever replace you, we don’t care about your baggage, we want to help you carry it all.” 

She blinks and stares straight ahead, scared of breaking apart. 

Is that how Seojun felt too? Was she worth the trouble to him too? 

When had her life ever been so simple?

They all jump when her phone vibrates again and this time she doesn’t hesitate immediately picking it up, expecting to see another message from the boy in question but instead a new number appears. She stares blankly at first before suddenly recognizing the number. 

“Who’s that?” Su-ah questions, staring at her phone with pursed lips and she swipes the message open. 

Dinner tonight? 

It feels strange to see that message beneath Seojun’s and she finds herself closing it without responding and opening Seojun’s plethora of messages instead. 

I was just joking you can steal all my sweaters. 

Are you still there?

Princess?

Can you answer me so I know you’re alive? 

He is so dramatic, she doesn’t message him for ten minutes and he’s already thinking the worst but then she remembers all the times he has found her helpless and trembling in the rain and his fear makes more sense. Smiling in understanding she finally replies, I’m okay you worrywart. Su-ah and Jukyeong are here, I got distracted. 

ignoring social norm he responds to her immediately not the least bit concerned with appearing too invested. 

Don’t scare me like that. I was about to come over. 

“Sujin are you sure Seojun is okay with you going on dates with Baekyung, that’s who text you right?” Her head snaps up at the question, she bites her lip in consideration. 

“He said he understood. He knows I’m only doing it to help him. But tonight is the last time.” 

She shouldn’t be concerning herself with anyone else’s problems, hers were enough on their own. But she couldn’t help it, the other boy was going through the same ordeal as her and she saw herself in his cold numb eyes, he was existing instead of living. She knew what that felt like. She understood him all too well. 

“Why does he need your help?” Jukyeong asks innocently and she stills before shaking her head, “It’s not my story to tell.” 

They don’t ask anymore questions and she’s grateful for that. 

She has to get ready for her date, she can’t help but wish it was with someone else. She doesn’t even want to call it a date, now that she has someone that she wants to do this all with. 

She looks beautiful, she always does and he wonders if he might have genuinely liked her if they met under different circumstances? He had never learned what it meant to care for someone, too busy trying to survive but she understood him, they had so much in common. He didn’t like her-his heart wasn’t capable of such emotions he was convinced- but he felt a certain kinship that he’d never felt before with anyone else, maybe they were meant to met each other. 

Could she be his destiny? 

“I need to talk to you.” He stares at her across the table looking effortlessly elegant and he takes a sip of his water, something akin to dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Talk then,” he answers gruffier than he intended but he can see the apology on her face and his vicious side is making an appearance in anticipation of whatever she wants to say to him. She stares at him for a long time and he wonders if she is second guessing or simply searching for the right words, annoyance surges in the wake of her hesitation he is not some child who needs sugared words or placation. “Just say it already,” he says snarkily and her eyes harden at his harsh tone, that’s more like it he hates to be pitied. 

“This is our last...gathering. I can’t help you anymore. I am doing something about my situation and I think you should too.” 

Rage builds up in his veins until he can see nothing but red, he thought he finally found someone who understood but here she was judging him and already abandoning him and all for what, some pretty boy idiot who would never understand what it meant to struggle? They were two sides of the same coin and nobody could ever truly love them, how could she not see that? At birth they had been deemed unlovable by their own parents and there was no way to undo that fate, it was best to just accept the hand they had been dealt. 

“Do you think he really likes you?” He asks meanly sneering at her with a curled lip, this reminds him too much of Dan-oh, of that stinging rejection and the way she wanted nothing to do with him- too lost in her fucking precious Haru-ah and he can’t stop the vicious words that are falling from his mouth, “You’re just a charity case to him. Like a sick puppy he found outside, he doesn’t like you he just feels sorry for you. It’s pathethic.” 

The words land exactly how he intended. 

She looks angry but that fades to consternation and then doubt builds in her eyes and he knows he was successful, he has planted a seed of doubt in her mind and that will only manifest bigger and bigger until she cracks under the pressure.  

“You’re wrong.” She states but she doesn’t sound certain, he can hear the question at the end and he smiles mentally. He almost feels bad but then the image of the other boy smiling with his perfect family flashes in his mind and any guilt he feels melts away. Why should he have it all when he, Baekyung had nothing? 

“I’m not. You’re just a phase for him, he probably think he’s being nice pretending to like you. I’ve seen all those girls around him, why would he want someone whose weak broken and whose parents don't even want her? Don’t be naïve, it’s beneath you Sujin. People like us need to know our place.” 

He stifles the little voice in the back of his mind that questions why he’s pushing away someone who only wants to be free, why did she get to escape the prison that they both had been locked in for so many years? Why couldn’t she just accept that they didn’t deserve anyone else and just be with him? Why was he always the last possible choice? 

She doesn’t say another word, opening her wallet and throwing down enough money to cover the meal that hasn’t even been brought out yet. The cold look she shoots his way stops him from saying anything, he can see the hurt in her eyes and it’s twisted but he feels a tinge of satisfaction at her expression. 

He watches her walk away feeling no better than his father, when had he become such a monster and why didn’t it scare him more? 

What did that say about him? 

The sound of the doorbell echoes through the spacious house and she wonders if it’s Sujin, and that mere possibility is enough to make her race to the door before her husband can make his way from his seclusion in his study. Most day he didn’t even bother coming out and when he did he didn’t even acknowledge her, it was heaven but it also left her guarded waiting from him to explode and hit her. It was like living in a landmine, she walked lightly as to not be heard. 

The face on the other side of the door completely shocks her. 

Lee Joo-Hun stands there, looking determined and she stares blankly at him. It has been months since their families have shared a meal together, she saw his visible discomfort every time her husband would berate her or Sujin. Many people showed discomfort but few did anything to help them, it was human nature after all. 

Better you than me. 

She forces a brittle smile to form on her face. Playing the role of happy wife easily, its a role she has been cultivating for years. 

“Oh. I didn’t know you had plans with my husband today. Come on in.” She notices that there is a certain unexplained tension in his shoulders but after only a moment’s pause he nods before stepping over the threshold, slipping off his expensive loafers and not bothering to put on the slippers they have placed for guest. Maybe he doesn’t plan to stay for long. 

“I’ll go get him,” she says softly wanting to do nothing of the sort, she has not been on his radar as of late and she had every intention to keep things that way but she can’t show this to their guest. Her husband would be livid if she did anything to harm his relationship with someone he saw as a beneficial business partner. She’s unprepared for the hand that stops her, tight around her wrist she has to force herself not to flinch at the sudden touch. 

When she looks back, his eyes are wide and they penetrate through her and she snatches her hand back a fear rippling through her at his stare, he’s looking right through her like she’s made of glass. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes and she smiles nervously waving him off, “I was just surprised you didn’t do anything wrong.” But he’s peering at her like he knows everything racing through her mind and she has to glance away, it’s all a bit too much and suddenly the study door opens and all the air is siphoned from the room as her husband exits the room, his face changing quickly when he notices that they have a guest, she knows that the rage that first appeared will make return once they are alone again. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that we had a guest?” The inquiry is said innocuously enough, he has long mastered repressing his rage in front of others but she can see the anger in his brows. 

Before she can answer, Joo-hun stands between them blocking her completely from her husband’s gaze. 

“Let’s talk.” Her husband raises a brow at the commanding tone and she can read him as easily as a book, he’s furious at being spoken to in such a tone but the other man doesn’t give him an opportunity to disobey because he’s already walking into the study. Her husband glares at her as if she is to blame before disappearing into the room and shutting the door in her face. 

Without a conscious thought she presses her ear against the door but the wood is solid and she can barely hear anything and she leans back about to admit defeat but then the voices raise becoming progressively louder and she hears her husband shout, tone bristling with fury, “How dare you threaten me in my own home!” and the loud booming voice of Joo-hun rings out, “You disgust me and I will do everything imaginable to make sure you end up where you belong.”

The temperature drops at those chilling words and she takes a step back at the sound of movement behind the door, once again coming face to face with the man.

His expression softens when he sees her but she can still see a glint of hardness beneath the surface. He had expressive eyes, they were part of the reason he had been such a celebrated actor. 

He knows. 

She’s certain now, he knows what a monster she is. 

If her husband deserves to suffer then so does she for everything she has done to her poor little girl, she was just as culpable if not more. If only she hadn’t been a coward and left when he first started hitting her, if only she had gone through with the abortion. She had selfishly brought a child into this world knowing that their life would be hell just like hers because she was scared to be alone. She wasn’t a mother, she wasn’t even fit to be called a human at this point and the look he gives her makes her feel like scum on the bottom of his shoe. 

“I’m leaving.” He announces walking back over to his shoes, and she had been right he wasn’t planning on staying long. 

A loud bang suddenly fills the empty void, her husbands scream are not too far behind as he flings books and whatever he can get his hands on into the walls. 

She knows what fate awaits her tonight. 

This is her punishment and it’s exactly what a stain like her deserves. 

She stares absently at the ground, the sound of the door knob turning reaching her ears and she knows that she’s going to be alone again. The door opens and she sighs, waiting to hear the door close knowing that in seconds she will be a whimpering mess on the ground. 

But the sound never comes, and she looks up to see what’s stopping him and his eyes are still hard but not as sharp. 

“Come with me.” 

She hears the word but the sentence does not compute and it takes a moment for her to process what he just said, her mind tells her that surely she heard him wrong. There’s no way he said what she thought he said. 

But then he reaches out a hand and she stares at his palm. 

“Why would you want to help me? I’m not a victim. I knew what he was doing, I knew everything and I did nothing. I am just as bad as him. She hates me too. I didn’t protect her.” 

It’s the truth, she lost the right of calling herself a victim as she watched her husband step on her seven year old daughter and her first thought was thank goodness it’s not me. That was the day the light left Sujin’s eyes but hope didn’t fade completely not yet, but each time her father hit her those huge eyes would look her way and each time her heart constricted but helplessness stopped her from acting. It took years but all that youthful hope was extinguished and she never heard that word again, “mother” it seemed fitting since she had never been a mother to the girl. 

“I don’t understand why you did what you did. But it’s not my place to judge, despite what you think you are a victim and I am done turning a blind eye. Staying here won’t help Sujin, she needs her mother.” 

Sujin needs her? That sounds laughable but then a distant conversation resurfaces in her memory and she feels frustrated tears welling in her eyes. 

“What does it mean to be a mother? I can’t answer that question for you but the fact that you’re asking that means you want to try, so do that. Try your best and apologize when you’re wrong. That’s all mothers can do.” 

The woman looked so fragile laying in the hospital bed but the strength of her words were undeniable, she didn’t know what made her visit she knew if her husband caught her there would be retribution but she couldn’t stay away. She didn’t even have an excuse and they simply stared at each other before the other woman smiled at her and motioned for her to sit on the chair, she had done so without question. 

There were flowers all over the room, both fresh and old. 

“Someone must really love you.” She had said and she watched jealously as a maternal smile graced her face, she could almost feel the motherly pride. 

“Sometimes my son gets carried away.” 

The boy on the motorcycle, she had thought he was just a delinquent but the amount of flowers in the room said otherwise.

That was ultimately what pushed her to ask the silly question: what does it mean to be a mother? 

She had never known, her own mother had treated her like a bargaining chip that would lead to the betterment of her own life, naming her fortune only to force her to have anything but that in her life. 

The woman had smiled delicately before answering her. 

The words swirled around like a tornado in her mind, she hadn’t expected such a simple answer. 

“Are you coming?” Joo-hun’s voice brings her back to reality and she thinks about Sujin and the day she was born and how small and vulnerable she looked laying in her arms as they both cried, wailing their hearts out. 

She hadn’t known what it meant to be a mother back then and she’s no closer to knowing now but she knows that she wants to try, Sujin might never forgive her for what she did and she wouldn’t blame her. But she still wanted to try, even if it took her whole life she would spend it trying to repent for all her sins. 

She takes one small step forward, the shackles that have been tightened around her body her whole life crumbling in the face of her renewed hope.  

I want to try. 

She isn’t wearing his sweater, it’s pitiful but that’s the first thing he notices when he sees Sujin in the morning, she’s walking alone and he can’t stop the joy that shoots through him at the observation it was never easy to see her arrive with the other boy despite knowing the truth. But today the encroacher is nowhere to be seen and he settles the kickstand of his motorcycle before rushing over to her, without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder but then he feels her body tighten at the unexpected touch, “Relax, it’s just me,” he whispers airily but to his disappointment her body becomes more rigid at his words. 

He immediately removes his arm, moving out of her personal space- not understanding what exactly is going on but still not wanting to be the source of her discomfort. 

He shifts apprehensively, already wrecking his brain to think of what he might have done to warrant such a bitter cold reception from her but coming up emptyhanded. So instead of trying to guess and create his own reasons, he asks her, “Are you okay? Did I do something?” 

He can tell she’s going to lie before she even opens her mouth, he watches the swarm of emotions play across her face before she settles on nonchalance, “No. I’m fine, you surprised me. I don’t want to upset your fangirls so I think it’s best if we avoid each other at school.” He stares at her in shock, wondering if this is the same girl who he held on the bench just days ago her lips soft on his cheek and her perfume filling his senses? 

“I already told you I don’t care about them. You already know that I only care about yo-” 

“Stop. I can’t do this right now I need space, I have to go.” She interrupts him and after a long gaze she stalks away and he wants to follow her, nothing she’s doing is making any sense not after everything they’ve been through. He’d given her everything he could offer and it still wasn’t enough, she was still walking away and he was tired of chasing her, if it was that easy to walk away from him time and time again then maybe he was fighting a losing battle. 

He turns around, walking the other direction. 

He misses the dark eyes that follow him over a small shoulder. He doesn’t look back. This time he chooses self-preservation. 

He doesn’t go to lunch, unable to bear the thought of sitting across from Sujin and pretending that he’s okay when he feels like a hollow fruit. So he escapes to the roof top and instant regret fills him as he remembers all those months ago when he had held the other on this very roof, it had been so different from their hug at the hospital and the hug in the rain. Those hugs were filled with what he thought was affection, but now he doesn’t really know. He can’t understand why she’s suddenly pushing him away again when he thought they had overcome all the barriers between them. 

Was it because of her father? Had she only kept him by her side because he had helped her but now that Suho and his father were on her side she realized that she no longer needed him? It pains him to imagine that this could be true but the thought rolls around in his thoughts until he starts to believe it, that has to be it. Was he that expendable to her? 

Clearly the answer was, yes. 

The rooftop door suddenly bangs open and he hates his heart for speeding up, as he turns around piteously hoping to see her. HIs heart plummets when he’s greeted by a smiling face that’s nowhere as beautiful as the one he hoped to see, he tries futilely to hide his disappointment with a smirk. 

He recognizes the girl as one of the people who have confessed to him in the past months, she wasn’t as nervous as the others but it had taken her a few minutes to stutter the words out and he had gently turned her down, he wasn’t cruel because he knew how terrifying it was liking someone and not knowing if it was reciprocated. 

She shuffles anxiously on her feet and he wonders how she knew he was up here. Sometimes the girls at school made him uneasy, their fixation with him wasn’t normal. 

He watches at she inhales deeply before looking at him with an unwavering gaze. 

“I know that you said that you liked someone else and I respect that. But I haven’t seen you dating anyone and I just like you so much you’re all I can think about and .....Cantyoujustgivemeachanceifshedoesntlikeyouback?” 

It takes an extra moment to decipher what she said with the rapid speed that she expels the words and he stares at her, her breathe coming out in short winded puffs like she just ran a marathon. 

He steps forward purposely, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before answering her, thoughts of Sujin’s sudden rejection permeating his mind. 

She walks away stunned by his reply and he doesn’t go down until the bell rings, he still isn’t prepared to be in the same room as Sujin but he can’t avoid her forever. 

The classroom is abuzz, he can hear excited voices as he walks down the hallway and he wonders what bit of gossip has their attention now, he slides the door open only to feel all eyes land on him. The class goes silent before suddenly he’s being bombarded with questions. 

“Is it true?” 

“Why her? I liked you before she did.” 

“Are you finally going to get a girlfriend? It’s not fair you shouldn’t only date one person oppa.” 

He ignores them all sliding into his seat and dropping his head onto the table, when they realize that he has no plans of answering their invasive prompts they go back to gossiping about him as if he’s not sitting right there. 

He rubs his temple, trying to stop the head ache he can feel forming but he knows that it’s already too late. 

The energy shifts in the room and without looking up he already knows why, he can hear the telltale clicks of her shoes on the floor. 

He hears Su-ah’s voice shortly after, “What are you all so excited about? Did something happen?” 

It’s vindictive but he wants them to hear the gossip so he finally looks up, eyes settled on Sujin who is already looking at him.

“Oh! Su-ah it’s the saddest news, Han Seojun is getting a girlfriend. He finally accepted a confession.” A girl whose name he doesn’t know wails as if her life is over and he watches the confusion morph on Su-ah’s face before he glances over at Sujin and she looks devastated and it suddenly he feels sick instead, what is he doing finding enjoyment in this? 

He can’t hold her gaze, he doesn’t know what the look on her face means and he doesn’t want to analyze it, he’s done doing this.   

“It’s just rumors.” Su-ah repeats this over and over like a mantra, but she can’t hear a word that the other girl is saying all she can think about is Seojun with someone else. She imagines him smiling and holding someone else, cradling their cheek as he kisses their forehead and wrapping them in his too big sweater while beaming down at them and it makes her rush to the bathroom, water scalding her hands before she can even think about what she’s doing. 

“Sujin no!” Jukyeong snatches her hand away from the too hot water and she only fights her for a moment before lets herself be pulled away, losing all her fight. 

“Calm down Sujin, talk to us. What happened between you two?” Su-ah asks firmly and gently and she can’t stop the diarrhea of words that explode from her mouth as she tells them everything, Baekyung and how much his words stuck in her mind and her doubts about Seojun and whether she could truly be loved by anyone much less someone as coveted as him. What right did she have to drag him down? 

He might like her now, think that he was aiding someone helpless but was that all this was? Was she just something to soothe his ego? 

“Do you really feel that way?”

She jumps at the harshness in Jukyeong’s tone, she has never heard the other girl talk like this before. She has never been anything but kind when speaking to her, the tone makes her head spin. 

“What?” She replies at a loss for words. 

“Do you really think that’s true? Do you believe the words you are saying right now?” Jukyeong presses harder and she stalls at her interrogation, not knowing what she thinks anymore she can barely trust her emotions- they change too quickly without her permission or consent. It makes her miss the days when she felt nothing, numbness overwriting all these pesky feelings. 

“I...I...I don’t know.” 

The silence drags on before she hears Jukyeong sigh heavily, “Then I think you should let him go.”

It’s the last thing she expects to hear especially from the ever optimistic girl and acid runs through her body at the mere suggestion. 

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t fair Sujin, you can’t play with someone like this. You can’t push him away and then get jealous when someone else shows interest, he’s not some toy that you can pick up whenever you see fit. He is a person, who really cares about you. If you still don’t know what you feel for him then maybe it’s best to let him go.” 

She turns to look at Su-ah hopeful that the other girl will say the opposite, will implore her to fight for Seojun. She’s crushed when she sees a similar look on Su-ah’s face. It’s a mix of exasperation and pity, she hates it. 

They both think that she should let Seojun go. 

She leaves the bathroom with nothing in her mind, walking aimlessly back to class taking her seat and robotically pulling out her notebook. She doesn’t hear one word that the teacher says for the rest of the time, her heartbeat wildly thumping in her chest. 

When class ends it takes Su-ah calling her name a few times to break her from her stupor. 

“It’s time to go home.” 

“Oh.” She starts to put her books away in her bag, dropping one when Seojun walks past her table without a sideways glance, it’s like they are strangers again and that makes her want to scream because this was all her fault. 

“Wait.” 

She can’t bring herself to speak the word aloud and he leaves, walking away from her just like she had this very morning. 

He’s already speeding off on his motorcycle when she gets outside and she sees a girl beaming at his back, surrounded by a group of girls who are congratulating her and telling her how jealous they are. 

That must be her, the lucky girl. 

The one that had replaced her so easily. She stomps away ignoring Su-ah and Jukyeong’s cries of her name. She knows she has no right, none at all but she does it anyway she has to know if this is really the end. 

That’s how she finds herself outside of his apartment, staring at his motorcycle the proof that he is here and not out with the girl from school, it makes the unease in her stomach unfurl slightly. Staring up at the looming building she tries to think of what she can say to him, she should listen to Jukyeong what she was doing wasn’t fair but she can’t lose him, she had undid all the good in one fleeting moment because she didn’t trust them. Baekyung had said the words but she was the one who chose to believe them, the one that let those words wedge a divide between them and for that she was solely to blame. 

Saying sorry wouldn’t nearly be enough, but that’s all she can think of as she pushes the door open and calls for the elevator. 

The ride has never felt that long all the other times she has visited his apartment, but today it feels like an eternity but when she reaches his floor it feels too soon and she’s not ready. 

Which is exactly why the universe gives her no warning and as the doors open she meets his eyes, he looks notably surprised to see her there and takes a step back in his shock. 

Once she recovers from her own shock, she takes in his attire he’s no longer wearing his uniform- dressed in all black from head to toe like a grim reaper and she wonders if grim reapers are supposed to be that hot, absently she steps out of the elevator before the doors can close between them. Her tongue feels huge in her mouth as she openly gapes at him. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Where are you going?”

Their questions collide and his gaze sharpens once he processes her words, she knows she has no right to question him about anything and his cold look echoes that very sentiment. 

He scoffs at her and tries to circumvent around her and she feels the floodgates opening up in the face of his blatant disregard, “I know you’re tired of hearing this but I’m sorry.” 

His expression barely changes, as he folds his arms peering down at her. 

“Okay.” 

He tries to walk around her once more and this time she’s the one to invade his personal space, gripping his elbow to stop him from walking away from her. She has an irrational fear that if he walks away that this will be her last chance, it makes her let down her guard fully terrified she’ll never get another opportunity. 

“I was scared, that once you realized that I was always going to be this broken you wouldn’t want me anymore. Even if he goes to jail I’m always going to be like this, a broken fucking mess and how can I ask anyone else to deal with that? How can I ask you to give up on having a normal relationship with someone who won’t need therapy for the rest of their lives? I should give you up, everyone is right. I don’t deserve you. I don’t.” 

Despite her rapid blinking a few stray tears escape her tight hold and she watches the wall he put up around his heart gradually start to stilt away as his eyes opens up in the face of her palpable dismay. 

“Sujin.”

“Please let me finish, if I don’t say it now I’m scared I never will.”

He stares at her before nodding slowly. 

She takes a deep breathe before continuing, “I’m not good girlfriend material, no don’t argue I’m not. I will doubt us all the time and I won’t always talk to you about my feelings because I’ve spent so many years ignoring them, I only spoke to you last time because it involved your family. I knew I couldn’t keep that from you but this didn’t seem as important. I should be able to handle it on my own, I’m not a baby. I’m too impulsive and selfish and a coward and....I shouldn’t burden anyone with dating me.”

It looks like it’s taking everything in him not to rebuttal, because when it really matters he always listens to her. 

“I know that I haven’t made this easy on you and I should have just let things be-let you be with someone normal, but I can’t and I know why, I’ve always known why but I was too scared to admit it. I can’t just be friends with you anymore.....I want more.” 

She can’t believe it but the words are now out in the universe, the ones that she has been thinking for months and swallowing every time he showed her how much he cared about her, and he looks taken back by her confession, she hadn’t planned on saying that when she showed up but now it feels stupid to keep it to herself, if she’s going to lose him then she might as well be honest, at least once in her life. 

“Can I speak now?” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ready to hear what he has to say, but it’s only right since he listened to her, taking a centering breathe she nods at his inquiry preparing herself for the worst. 

“You are selfish.” 

Her heart sinks at his words, that isn’t a good start and even though he is merely echoing her words it burns deeper to hear them from him. 

“And impulsive and so damn confusing, you’re hot and then you’re so damn cold and I’m only human Sujin I can’t just pick myself up after you push me away every time, I get hurt too.”

She tries not to bristle at his tone and the lack of nicknames, feeling her heart sink into her stomach now. 

“When that girl confessed to be do you want to know what I thought?” 

She blinks at the sudden change in topic and her immediate answer is no, she does not want to know at all but he doesn’t even give her a moment to reply before he’s answering his own question. 

“I thought she is so straightforward and this is so different, I don’t have to guess about her feelings she wears them on her sleeve, this is so much easier being with her would be so much easier.” 

Her first real confession and rejection all in one day. She has always been an overachiever and it’s only fitting that this would be no different, blinking harshly she forces the tears to stop she has no right to make him feel guilty, everything he said was right and she couldn’t blame him for choosing the path of least resistance. 

“Thank you. For everything, I really mean it.” She bows at him before turning around, she can’t stay here for another minute not knowing that he’s no longer hers and probably never was in the first place. 

It’s all too cruel. 

She presses the button, she should just take the stairs but this will buy her a few extra minutes with him, it’s pitiable but she wants to savor every remaining moments. 

The elevator arrives, gleaming metal doors sliding open and she steps inside ready to go home and cry her eyes out. 

But then a large hands wraps around her wrist and she’s suddenly tugged backwards her back slamming into his chest. 

“Where are you going? Did I say I was finished?” His voice is rough in her ears and she can feel the rapid beat of his heart through his skin, it amps up her own racing heart too scared to even hope but she feels brittle and unsteady his body is the only thing keeping her upright. 

“Dating someone else would be easier, but the thing is I don’t want easy. I’ve never wanted easy, I just wanted you in anyway that I could have you. So why are you trying to “set me free”? Fuck that self sacrificing bullshit, you said it yourself you’re selfish so hold on to me and don’t let me go, when you have doubts hold on to me tighter. I’m not some caged bird that you’ve imprisoned, I’m the guy who likes you and that’s not going to change because you pushed me away. Do you feel feel that? That’s fear. You’re scared to lose me. Good, remember this feeling and how much it makes your heart ache and hold on to me tighter.”

She hiccups at his words, tears pouring down her cheeks now and she finds herself turning in his arms before her brain can catch up, relief washing over her so profoundly she sways a little on her feet. 

He has a shit eating grinning on his face as he stares down at her. 

“You didn’t accept her confession.”

He rolls his eyes at the statement, pulling her closer although there is no space left between them. 

“No I turned her down again but some girls saw us come from the roof top together and they started spreading rumors anyway and I couldn’t be bothered to stop them.” 

She stares unimpressed at him, reading between his lines and feeling foolish because she fell right into his trap. 

“You knew it would make me jealous.” 

He shrugs noncommittedly, “I hoped it would help bring you to your senses.” 

Has she been brought to her senses, she’s not sure she feels crazier than before his words echoing in her brain and she’s moving before she even knows what her intentions are, his smile starts to slip away and he releases her and makes an apprehensive retreat backwards and she automatically follows him, he steps back, she steps forward, another step back and she steps forward again, they do this dance until he’s pressed against the wall with nowhere else to run. 

“Why are you running?” 

He blinks looking dazed and she takes that opportunity to move in closer, cradling his face in her hands before leaning her head forward until only an inch separates them, a scratching noise comes from the wall and when she glances down she can see his nails digging into the paint, she hums at the sight and the implications. 

She was clawing at his resolve.  

Skin vibrating like a livewire she gently pulls him down, until they are eye level and their breaths are curling in the miniscule space between them, those feline eyes are darting all over her face before they land on her lips, she sinks her hands deeper into his hair. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

She has to ask one last time, this all feels like a dream and she’s terrified of waking up and finding that she imagined this all. 

He doesn’t answer at first, too busy staring a hole through her face but she waits patiently, remembering all the times he had waited for her. 

“What?”

“Can I really keep you? Do you really want to be mine?” 

It’s so cheesy and sappy and all kinds of ridiculous, nothing that she ever imagined for herself because she never thought anyone would make her want to say these kind of sweet nothings but here they are- and there’s no turning back now she waits for his reply with bated breath and this time he barely pauses for a second instantly answering, “I’ve been yours this whole time. Are you mine though can you let me in?” 

When you have doubts, hold on to me tighter. 

She drags him the rest of the distance between them, her lips barely grazing his own and it’s crazy because her lips are already on his, soft flesh upon flesh but it takes a moment to realize that she’s actually kissing him, she is kissing Han Seojun. They are kissing. 

She has no idea what she’s doing and she leans onto her tiptoes pressing more firmly against his mouth, imitating the kisses she has seen on tv and from couples in the hallway at school twisting her head to find a better angle but something still feels wrong and it takes another moment to realize what’s wrong. 

He is frozen on the wall, completely still under her ministrations. 

And she immediately pulls away, apologetic and feeling bone deep shame. 

“I’m sorry! I had no right to spring that on you, you barely forgave me and I did that. It won’t happen again, I promise.” 

His eyes are glossy and his cheeks are so red and it’s almost too beautiful to look at, how was she not supposed to kiss him when he was looking like that?

“Don’t apologize, you just made my brain short circuit. Come here.”  

She blushes bright at his too honest admittance, feeling giddy from the power that she seems to have over him. She had been scared that her inexperience would be off-putting for him. 

He tugs her back, letting her body block him in against the wall and she gasps at the warmth of his body he’s so hot even through the layers of clothes separating them. Her breath hitches when he starts to lean back down and this time when their lips meet it feels like the universe has righted itself, the stars and the moon are aligned and something clicks inside her like a gear snapping into its rightful place. 

It’s a simple kiss, a mere press of lips to lips but it is perfect and sweet- nothing like what she imagined because her mind could never fathom something so ideal, the softness of his mouth on hers is enough to make her toes curl and when he wraps his arms around her waist, one hand tight on her back as he eliminates any space between them dragging her impossibly close, she sighs unable to contain her delight as a smile works its way across her lips. He chuckles into the soft press of their first kiss and she can’t help the answering giggle that she lets out, to anyone else they would look deranged but she doesn’t care, this was real. 

He breaks away only to pepper kisses all over her face- first her forehead then her cheeks, her nose and even her chin, all left warm in the wake-  and she blushes under his passionate and diligent attention before grabbing his face and kissing him harder on those plush red lips, hands tight on his hair as she tastes him for the first time. He’s intoxicating and she knows she can never go back to being just friends, not when his flavor is thick on her tongue and she knows what his moans taste like.

Not when his hands are bruising tight on her waist and his scent is coiling around her like a blanket that she never wants to be without. 

She was allowed to have this and she would relish every minute. 

He sits awkwardly on the couch with the woman he has only ever seen a handful of times, when his father had called him and asked for a favor he had never expected this. He had been completely flabbergasted to see the woman on his doorstep but stepped back to give her entrance, nonetheless. 

He knew that his father meant well, was hoping that the two would be able to reconcile like they had but he was forgetting how much they fought before getting to where they were now. It had been an arduous path to restoring their broken relationship and he feared that Sujin and her mother had differences that might be irreconcilable . 

She looks like Sujin, just more weathered and beaten down by life in her expensive clothes and jewelry none of it doing anything to hide the sadness that wafts off her in ebbs and waves. He tried calling the other girl several times but to no avail as he reached her voicemail over and over again, he knows that there is no way this can end well but he couldn’t kick the woman out either, not to be with that sadistic bastard. 

“I should go. She won’t be happy to see me.” She states matter of fact and he’s not a good enough liar to try to argue with her so he says nothing at all, staring at the floor in silence. 

Then the jiggle of keys reach his ears and they both sit taller, gazing at each other wild eyed as the door pushes open. 

Sujin looks blindingly happy, a wide smile stretched across her face and he contemplates throwing a blanket over the woman’s head to hide her- just so the girl can enjoy a few more seconds of happiness but it’s already too late, Sujin slips off her shoes putting on her slippers and walking over to him, her eyes are still on the ground and then she finally looks up and all the air is sucked out of the room. 

All of the joy and exuberance that had previously been imbedded in her pores dissipates and he sees a look so numb, it feels like he’s seeing the Sujin from months ago cold and shivering in Seojun’s arm, the one that didn’t want to live and saw her life as expendable. 

He wonders if he did the right thing? Would she ever forgive him for this? 

She doesn’t say a word, throwing the keys on the table and sprinting back to her shoes, haphazardly stuffing her feet back into them and shooting him one final look of betrayal that makes his blood turn to ice before she slams the door behind her, the sound so powerful the walls vibrate. 

“She hates me.” 

From that look on her face, her mother wasn’t the only one. 

[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 6)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death ~6800 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5 Read on AO3!  Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! -i reckon I don’t need the paste it again… but in short: this is a purely self-indulgent work which contains a lot of my own headcanons and whatnot. this chapter especially so! lots of talking and thinking - curious to see what you think!! THANKS FOR READING <3 Ikuro greeted him with a warm smile at the interrogation headquarters. "You produce results fast," he commented after Tobirama explained to him where his research had led him so far. They were sitting in the small office adjourning the holding cell block again. Tobirama could only muster a huff in response. "It is possible I'm being put under pressure by time." His tone was perfectly caustic again.

Ikuro, on the other hand, was entirely unfazed. Tobirama decided he appreciated that about the man; he never had been fond of fainthearted individuals. 

"I suggest we start with the least valuable prisoner," Ikuro then turned more serious, placing his broad hand on the table. "There is, after all, a chance this might backfire."

Tobirama nodded. A sensible thought. "That would be Akio." Then, he frowned. "However you noted he's broken already. Our goal is to gain information, too. All we'd confirm would be the drug wasn't lethal. And ascertain the bodily effects of this drug." As he spoke the words, he found the sensible approach - the logical one - didn’t sit too well with him.

Ikuro hummed affirmatively. "What do you suggest, Tobirama?", easily catching the uncertainty.

Tobirama crossed his arms. Frankly he had to ponder the question. There was merit in trying it in those who knew about the leash - but the danger of permanently harming or even killing them was there, too. However did they really know anything about the leash? Would they even relinquish their knowledge?

Had he reason to believe his drug could be considered  that  dangerous to not… take this risk?

He had no time. You had no time. "Let's try the strongest of them."

Ikuro's pale eyes lit up and flashed his teeth in a grin which otherwise might’ve let a shiver run down Tobirama’s spine. "That would be Zenji. The … polite fellow in the middle holding cell. You met him when you first came here."

Tobirama couldn’t have stopped the roll of his eyes even if he wanted to. He gave an exasperated groan. "Great. I’m thrilled to meet him again." That man would test his patience. Tobirama would refuse to guarantee for his safety.

Luckily, he wasn’t made to make any such promises. Ikuro rose to his feet, Tobirama followed suit. Before they set for the cells though, Tobirama explained his plan. Ikuro only nodded in agreement. An eerie kind of calm was settling over him when they finally entered the Stone shinobi’s cell block. It was not an unfamiliar feeling; rather a welcome kind of dissociation that had been well practiced in the warring states era. They all had, at some point, committed atrocious acts. Tobirama never looked back, his logic had been sound.

Just like this time. And what would follow here might be another ugly entry in a list of infamous cruelties - but another necessary one.

As they walked, he could feel the glances of the other prisoners on him as he passed them - and he spared none of them a single glance.

Once they stood in front of the cell, the lanky man’s eyes lit up in way too much delight. "How's the lady?", Zenji gloated immediately.

Tobirama ignored the question. If that was how he’d play it - he was ready. The ire burning under his skin was causing him to tremble almost still. A discussion, the man knew, might easily lead to bloodshed. And being riled up into beating up a chained up man was below Tobirama’s dignity. Although thinking about it provided some needed relief.

"Why are you keeping them like this?", he inquired quietly, hissing through clenched teeth, wondering about the fact all the cells were adjourned - what they did here, the others could hear.

Ikuro considered Tobirama with a thoughtful glance. "Additional pressure. They hear what we're doing to each of them on top of their own, ah, sessions."

Tobirama had guessed that was the reason.

He still felt like bloody murder. Rage like this - born from revenge - was a low motive, and Tobirama frankly despised himself for this. The only thing that mattered was whether one acted on their emotions or not, he knew. Yet he just had to remind himself of the fact that within less than a week, you'd run out of the despised drug  they had tethered you to. And that the man in front of him, Zenji, might know how to save your life.

All things were relative, after all.

Ikuro unlocked Zenji's cell. The man was chained up in the same fashion he had been before - no movement allowed except maybe a wiggle of his toes. The chains were suspended from the walls of the cell and over and over painted with various seals, a few of which Tobirama recognised. Chakra sealing seals mostly, as well as other, sinister uses.

They both stepped inside and Ikuro locked it again.

Zenji gave a haughty laugh. "Not gonna speak to me? Awh, come on. Maybe I'll give you a hint about the leash if you do." He wriggled his eyebrows almost suggestively. 

The blood was rushing in Tobirama's ear. His muscles were taut like a bow's string and it took every ounce of his willpower not to at least verbally jump at this man. Don’t, he chanted inwardly, don’t. Briefly, he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly as if to clear the berserk haze that wanted to settle over him.

Surprisingly, it worked somewhat.

Ikuro stepped to Zenji's side. "You're getting a treat, Zenji." A second later, his big hand had grabbed the back of his skull by his hair.

Tobirama stepped closer, procuring the vial from his pocket. 

Zenji laughed haughtily. "Ah, ah," his eyes were trained on the vial. "Trying to recreate the leash?"

Tobirama stood right in front of him then, glare icy while the rage inside burned ever hotter. His expression was perfectly neutral, he didn't even bat an eyelash. "I'm going to tether you to the leash, eventually." His voice was nonchalant despite the rage that wanted to eat him up. 

Zenji's eyes widened momentarily. Was there a hint of fear in them? But it was gone as soon as Tobirama thought he'd seen it. "You're gonna fail," the Stone shinobi spat, his smugness becoming caustic swiftly. "You can't ever hope to do that."

Tobirama tilted his head to the side, eyebrows rising slowly. "Why is that?", he asked, lazily, disinterested. Perhaps there  was  merit in trying to engage in a conversation with him, after all.

Zenji tried to whip his head from Ikuro's grasp, who just pulled harder at his scalp. "As if you'd be able to recreate it like that. You're fucking running out of leash and Y/n is gonna fucking die." His voice was dripping with hatred and no small amount of pleasure.

For just a second, Tobirama imagined ripping his throat out with his bare hands if just to ease the fury that was burning through every fiber of his body now; the gory picture helping momentarily not to  act  on it. Or at least verbally lash out. Still, he knew he’d despise himself for it - such an act was beneath him. The man was key to finding out how to save you. He had to keep telling himself in order to keep the white-hot rage crawling under his skin only. How he managed to retain his poker face was beyond him. Maybe the gruesome image did help.

He drew his lips into a condescending sneer. "I'm one of Konoha's most distinguished scientists. Don't think for a second I couldn't recreate anything your village came up with." His voice was dripping with arrogance. 

Zenji was retorting with a sneer of his own. Ikuro's lips were drawn in a fine smile. "You're fucking desperate is what you are," he snickered, "That drug is impossible to recreate. Too complicated." 

Tobirama gave only a lazy sigh and topped it off with an annoyed roll of his eyes. "Yes, I suppose for the likes of you that might be true." He leaned in a little. "I'm not  you  , though. Eventually, I will. And in the meanwhile, I'm going to test every single one of my experiments on you. You know," he mustered the man then a little as if he was nothing more than an object. "I'm wondering if you're actually afraid."

Zenji's eyelid twitched and he threw himself into the restraints binding him. Ikuro's grip was unrelenting, but he frowned slightly. "Afraid? Afraid?!  You can't even risk me!", his voice was shrill and his face became contorted by fury.

Interesting. Ikuro thought so too - his pale eyes had narrowed and stared at Tobirama intently.

Tobirama remained impassive, just swishing the vial back and forth with a leisure movement of his wrist. The truth was he was far from that. He wondered if beating on this man until he spilled the beans really wasn't an option. But he was so close. Zenji had already made a mistake, and Tobirama had caught onto it, of course. Still, he needed confirmation. "I don't see why." He knew better than to keep up with this kind of verbal wrestling. That would only yield power to the prisoner.

Still, the hint had been obvious.

Zenji clenched his jaw tightly now. He, too, seemed to have realised his mistake. 

A shrill voice floated over the corridor. The loony witch from the far end, Tobirama figured. "Zenji, you fucking idiot!" 

She did sound coherently pissed now.

Unluckily for Zenji, that was the confirmation he needed. Time to take a shot at the obvious target. Tobirama leaned back, genuinely smug now. Both eyebrows arched up, his tone as sweet as sugar. "You're the only one left who knows how to create the leash, hm?"

Zenji apparently decided to break through the figurative front then - his lips drew in a condescending sneer again. "Alright, smart science boy. Assuming you brought all of the remaining leash with you to this godforsaken village," he began in a tone that made Tobirama's neck hair stand up. "Your precious lady has had about seven days to live, give or take, since we got here."

Tobirama already wanted to beat his face into a pulp now - how he spoke of your life in a simple calculation; an unfortunately very correct one - it was maddening. His heartbeat thundered through his skull as his world was incinerated in white-hot ire; he could barely feel the pain in his jaw from how hard he bit down on his teeth.

Zenji continued. "Now I kinda lost feeling for time in this fucking cell, but it couldn't have been more than two. So how about this, Tobirama Senju - all I have to do is last a few more days and then my knowledge will be meaningless because-" he leaned forward, wearing a huge, fat grin, "- Y/n's gonna have left this world, screaming and writhing in agony."

Tobirama's heartbeat was through the roof now. His fists clenched so hard, the vial might break in them but he did not move an inch.

"Unless,... you put her out of her misery beforehand."

For the fraction of a second, eerie silence filled the cell.

Tobirama's fist shot out before Ikuro could even do so much as realise what was about to happen. A sickening crunch echoed through the cell as it made contact with Zenji's lower jaw, who howled in pain in response. 

"Tobirama!" Ikuro cautioned, pale eyes ablaze now. The situation was getting out of hand.

Tobirama almost didn't even register the warning. All he heard was the rhythm beating inside him as a fine tremor of fury shook him. His scarlet stare held him pinned, eyes ablaze - if looks could kill, Zenji would be dead now.

This man. How dared he. 

How dared he to insinuate- To even think Tobirama would- That he couldn’t-

Zenji spat blood before Tobirama's feet. "I'm gonna fucking relish telling you it all once she's dead," he repeated, blood trickling down his chin, but mien filled with hatred. "You're never gonna crack how the leash is made in five days!" He drew his lips into an ugly grin, marred by the blood blood of his split lip.

Tobirama's fist balled again to deliver another blow to his face, but Ikuro cleared his throat authoritatively. In an instant, Tobirama's free hand had grasped around Zenji's broken mandibular bone and forced it forward with a lot more pressure than necessary. He made sure to put extra force on the side he had punched, just to be safe. If Ikuro had cautioned him not to worsen the prisoner’s injury, Tobirama did not hear it. He didn’t care, either. Zenji should be grateful Tobirama didn’t punch him again.

The prisoner howled in pain as he was barely able to resist his mouth being forced open simply due to the injury, Ikuro supporting by tilting his head back now. "Time for your medicine," Tobirama announced in an ice cold tone as he poured the contents of the vial into Zenji's mouth.

In an attempt to gag or wheeze it right back out he already tried to constrict his pharyngeal muscles, but Tobirama had seized his cricoid and pressed down harshly enough to force him to swallow - or else he'd suffocate.

Which he did, just a moment later.

For good measure, Tobirama kept the pressure up a few seconds longer, however.

When he released him, Zenji wheezed. "Fuck you," he spat, but his pupils began to dilatate already.

"Start," Tobirama commanded Ikuro in a pressed tone, shaking from fury still, who nodded and rested his hand on Zenji's head in order to assault the man's mind.

Tobirama meanwhile went for his throat to monitor his body with his chakra - sadly, he really did need to keep him alive. Which was difficult, as his focus was still clouded by the rage - the maddening fury he’d chastise himself for later. 

The effects of his drug were - initially - comparable to the leash. The sensory overload of the brain worked the exact same way he had witnessed in you after indigestion - though now, it mingled with Ikuro's chakra, who was smothering him in what probably was a genjutsu or some other kind of mental assault. Tobirama couldn't help but marvel the expert level with which the man proceeded, comparing it to the brute force he had used on Akio. There was something to be learned here in the ways he didn't just smother him but let his chakra seep through every little crack of Zenji's mind, delivering mental stabs whenever he felt a crack in his mental fortress while coating him in a constant onslaught of pressure; a thick blanket of neverending slices at Zenji’s mind that made Tobirama shudder. It was much like watching a snake kill its prey - winding around the struggling victim tighter and tighter; the hopeless struggle of the despondent creature seemed to still as it starts to realise its demise while the snake viciously enjoys every drip of agony it can milk from it until finally, the unfortunate soul can no longer breathe.

Zenji's chakra on the other hand was sluggish - but not as subdued as Tobirama had hoped. The effect was there and the man definitely should feel his control over his chakra being significantly hampered, but it wasn't the same as Tobirama had seen in you. Stunted, yes, but not as frozen.

He was on the right path, after all.

Still, the screams Ikuro elicited from Zenji were music to Tobirama's ears. Just like the fact that physically, the man was fine. Tobirama flat out refused to heal the broken jaw, however. He didn't know how long the session lasted, but somewhere along the line, Zenji hat stilled. His head had tilted forward, the body limp. 

"Enough," Ikuro announced finally, frowning.

Tobirama gave the man another brief once-over to make sure he was fine - besides the abused mind - then he removed his hand from his throat. His head felt dizzy. The ache in his heart was as agonizing as ever now that the rage had subsided. Ikuro clicked his tongue and waved his hand for Tobirama to follow. They headed back to the office. This time, he didn't feel the gazes of the other prisoners on his back.

Interesting. 

Once in the office, Ikuro crossed his arms. "I don't think I need to explain-"

Tobirama cut him short with a wave of his hand. He didn't have time for a lecture. "I lost my composure. It won't happen again."

Ikuro stared back for a moment longer, then he walked to the desk. "Should I get the impression you're too emotionally biased to interrogate this man, someone else will have to conduct your experiments here."

"Understood." Like hell Tobirama would allow for that to happen.

Ikuro nodded, then folded his hands in front of him. "This was an interesting session nonetheless."

Tobirama crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Well, I'm glad you perceived it as such." He didn't cut back on the sarcasm. 

Ikuro exhaled a sigh. "We have ascertained that Zenji is the only one who knows how to create the leash. And when I tried to pry open his mind, I found your little experiment made him a lot more susceptible to my methods." A fine smile formed on his lips.

Tobirama frowned slightly. The compliment felt sour still - he remembered how this was what you had suffered, and how it hadn't been near what the leash could do. In fact, by the end of the session Zenji's chakra control had been almost normal again.

No withdrawal effect, either. 

"I did not break him still," Ikuro continued, "But I could take brief glimpses at the leash's creation, if I upped the pressure a lot."

That comment alone sent a jolt down Tobirama’s spine and he took a quick step forward. "Tell me."

"I'll show you," Ikuro held Tobirama's gaze with unwavering determination, and Tobirama stared back into the pale, turquoise eyes.

Then suddenly, he felt an image being pushed onto him - a genjutsu. Almost instinctively, he wanted to release it simply for the intrusion it caused - then he remembered what this was for. It was quite delicate anyway - fragments, loose images and echoes of sensations. Zenji's, Tobirama realised. He was holding a bottle filled with a clear substance. His chakra did something - a process that Tobirama could only guess at because every time he - Ikuro - tried to look closer, it was as if someone shoved him away. Still, there were some leads. Ways in which his chakra threaded through the liquid. Tiny - but something to go with - pieces of a puzzle. Where he still was missing about most parts of. It hinted at the utmost delicate process that seemed to be the creation of the leash - but it was proof. Proof that it truly was something of a chakra weaving process that created the leash.

"Release." Ikuro announced.

Tobirama's head was swimming again. A hand raked through his hair. 

This was a lead. He should feel excited. Hopeful. Eager to work on it. Yet his mind wouldn't push past the crushing sense of dissatisfaction with this experiment, his outburst - and worst of all, Zenji's promise.

I'm gonna fucking relish telling you it all once she's dead.

Five days. He just had five days left and all he had was a vague lead and an experiment with a lukewarm result at least.  Time  - he was running out of  time . His heart was thundering in his chest as his breaths came deeper than usual. He closed his eyes briefly. 

If only he had more time.

Giving up was not an option. He'd just work harder. He'd sacrifice who knew what to make this work.

He breathed in deeply to try and alleviate the budding agony and dread inside him. It didn't work well. The pain stabbed at his heart, the sorrow had gripped him again. Tobirama was sure that if he closed his eyes, he'd see your face - in sheer agony. 

Unless,... you put her out of her misery beforehand.

He swallowed the lump down his throat. It felt dry. The emotions that were swirling inside him were tiring him out; much like the days before, it was all too much. First the rage, and now the looming sense of doom and this utter despair he felt he couldn’t escape. He didn’t want to feel more, he couldn’t he was spent, but he did nonetheless, like a wound that couldn’t, wouldn’t stop bleeding. He was taking deep breaths against - against all this.

His gaze wandered to the clock. 

Damn. You should have been awake for quite some time now.

"I will be back as soon as I have synthesised my next experiment. This is a start." He bowed curtly to thank Ikuro, who nodded in reply. "I need to go. See you soon."

Then, the world around him lurched as he teleported straight to your room. 

________

 Your nightmare had been exceptionally vivid this time.

Not just a horrible patchwork of memories from the past few weeks but a concise, terribly real scenario. Every single bit of the memory had felt like as though you were back in the dreadful hideout for sure. The screams echoed off the wall as they carved your flesh like a sculpture, the pain a thousand times worse due to this damn drug. By the time it had ended, your tormentor had cut you apart.

But you wouldn't die.

You never died. 

The agony just never ended.

It all faded into a memory of pain supplied by your abused body. Eventually, the world was black. Then you slept.  And when you woke, it still was dark. 

With a sigh, you removed the blindfold from your eyes. Everything stayed dark. You forced yourself to take even breaths. 

This had been the third time you had taken the leash since you had been rescued.

How many more would follow?

Your breathing picked up. 

Dark. It was all too dark. 

Your eyes wandered to where you knew the window was, curtain drawn closed. You really had to tell Tobirama to keep that open if you now started to become afraid of darkness so much. Then again, that might lead to more questions. Questions you didn’t want to answer. For now, the pain in your whole body was a dull echo, but you knew that’d change drastically again when you moved. No matter. You had to. The world was closing in around you and and your heart was hammering against your ribs so harshly you thought it might jump out.

Yelping past clenched teeth you dragged your haggard form to the window again, staggering through the darkness, not even bothering with the nightstand lamp this time. You didn’t need to. You whimpered deplorably from the aches that now flared through all of you, echoes of the torment that stabbed and burned. 

You still felt so weak. It was dumb to think you had recovered much already - and without your own chakra, no less - but still. You absolutely detested this  weakness. 

This helplessness.

You grasped the curtain for support as much as you had to to pull it open. You had to fumble for it with a shaking hand, the other grasped the window sill below.

“J-j-just o-open…”, you stuttered as you ripped aimlessly at it.

Your breaths were coming so fast now your sight was blackening, your limbs feeling fuzzy. The panic was driving tears into your eyes and wrenching sobs from you.

Was this how you’d start every day, now?

Bright sunlight flooded the room finally. Instantly, both your hands clung to the sill then for support while you doused in the sight of the village. The very obvious signals your body was giving you to rest again were ignored in favour of relishing in this moment.

Safe. You were safe.

You sniffled as the tears dried down and the fright ebbed down. Somewhat. You wanted to stay like this longer, but you knew you really shouldn’t. Besides, the more you calmed, the more unbearable the pain became in all of you. Plus, if Tobirama caught you now, he’d be livid. He hated repeating himself. It wasn’t as though he was wrong, anyway. 

You opted for sitting on the bed again and looking out of the window from there. A small comfort. 

“Okay,” you murmured to yourself in preparation of the way back. With a deep breath you let go of the window sill and turned around. 

A moment later your shaky foothold tipped, the ankle twisted - and with an agonised yelp that nearly had been a loud scream, you fell to the floor. Instinctively you broke the fall correctly, your training ensured that. Even in this deplorable state.

But the pain was searing. It damn near was equal to the torment - or at least it felt like that. You curled into a fetal position on yourself as your mouth was open in a silent scream. 

You didn’t want anyone to get in now. 

Tears were flowing freely over your cheeks. You kept silent. Silence had been a lesson well-practiced - though of course the Stone shinobi had made you scream so much your voice still was hoarse, that had been after a lot of silence.

You’d endure this, too.

Even so, lying on the cold floor - it felt just like after all the times they’d tortured you and then shoved you back into that dark pit. Helplessly on the ground with the agony fresh on your mind and weakened by the leash, by all the misery you were in. Unable to move from sheer pain alone, really-

Your chest was closing in again.

The room was becoming darker.

No, no, no. Not now. It’d be fine eventually - right? Wait, what if it wasn’t? Shit, where did that come from now? You mustn’t think like that. But here you were. Alone. On a cold floor. In pain- Bleeding?

No- You were sure if you opened your eyes now, they’d open to nothing but darkness. “N-no…”, you whimpered miserably, your arms covering your face as you curled up even tighter.

Cold.

Everything was cold, you are alone - There is nobody here, they’ll come again, and again for you.

…

“What the hell?! ”

You had no idea how long you had been laying there when the familiar, furious voice ripped through your consciousness like a horn’s blow. The world was slowing down again. You suddenly became aware of the fact you had been wheezing erratically. Trembling. The tears - an odd tear would run over your cheek. But you had stilled perfectly. You heard fast steps approaching. You tensed.

They stopped in front of you. Clothes rustled.

“Y/n?” - the voice was different now - panicked. Softer.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to see Tobirama’s black clothes in front of you. He was crouching. His hand was on your shoulder, you realised. A warm touch.

Your breathing levelled out.

You were safe.

You had just fallen down. Silly.

“I fell,” you admitted defeatedly, your gaze seeking his face hesitantly. This was embarrassing enough as it was, but Tobirama - he looked perfectly anguished himself. His scarlet eyes mustered you up and down, there was urgency in his expression. You sighed and began to heave your chest off the ground with your arms, ignoring the pain again.

“You shouldn’t have-,” he began in a scolding tone, but the moment you moved, it became stern. ”No, don’t do that.” The worry was mellowing it down still.

His arm snuck around your shoulder to heft you up from the floor. You became utterly stiff from the pain that shot through you as you were moved, but you uttered no more than a hiss past your clenched teeth. Your arm moved to rest around his waist for support, but the way you fisted the fabric of his black shirt was telltale, nonetheless.

Which Tobirama picked up on easily. “Just one step,” he muttered tersely. Frankly with the force he put in his grip he might as well carry you, but you appreciated the fact he granted you this shred of dignity. You took the step as gracefully as possible, which was simple given how Tobirama shouldered near all of your weight. You whimpered as you sat down the ankle you had fallen over on the floor.

“Easy,” Tobirama supplied immediately, holding you closer, his free hand securing your waist tightly.

His arm released you only momentarily as you leaned forward to spin and sit on the bed, but his palm lingered on your shoulder the whole time. He grasped your legs gingerly to help swing them into bed again when you turned to lie down.

You stared up at the ceiling once you had pulled the blanket over you. The trembles had ceased; your breathing was normal again.

You were safe.

Tobirama didn’t waste time, either. “What have you been doing?”, his tone was as strict as it was accusing. The mellowing worry had turned down a notch now that you were in bed again it seems.

You felt bold when you turned your gaze to meet his again. He was frowning, the scarlet eyes were ablaze. “I did say you could knock next time,” you answered in a small voice.

The answer was prompt. “So you’d have time to get back into bed, you mean?”, strict was becoming angered rapidly.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d have made that in time.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, the face scrunched in a frown and the eyelids narrowed to slits. No, he was pissed off. You sighed.

Your scathing comment didn’t even make him bat an eyelash. “Yn/!” If anything, the quip had angered him more, if that outburst was anything to go by. “You must rest,” he began sternly. “Most likely that stunt has ripped at your healing wounds and inflicted damage - setting you back. Not to mention you need to recover more strength first.” He extended a hand as he argued, frustration leaking into his voice.

“I know, Tobirama,” you snapped back. Both of your aching arms rose to your face to cover it. “I am painfully aware.”

He fell silent for a moment, the comment earned you a low huff from him. “So then why do I see you anywhere but your bed whenever I come around?”, again, his tone was unfazed. More stern, in fact. You knew your comments were riling him up.

Because I feel like I’m suffocating when I’m alone in the dark and that fucking window is the only thing that convinces me I’m free.

“I’m going a little crazy here,” you supplied, figuring that wasn’t even a lie. “I’m either drugged, becoming delirious or flat out in pain, as you know.” That much definitely wasn’t a lie. 

It made Tobirama balk a little. Peeking past your hands you saw his shoulders droop, his arms at his side now. Weird. You had expected something along the lines of ‘it’ll be over soon’ or ‘pull yourself together’ - not in an ignorant or diminutive way, but rather something to remind you this was temporary. That all you had to do was be stronger for a little while. Tobirama wasn’t great at comfort to begin with, so he’d stick with the logical aspects of the situation, naturally.

“Tobirama?”, you inquired then, when he didn’t speak up again.

“I know,” he then answered, the anger fading somewhat. His mien remained firm, but he took a seat on the edge of your bed now to level out the height difference somewhat. Because that hadn’t escaped your notice either. “It is a difficult situation, but you  must  rest. I don’t want you going on walks now. At all.” His gaze lifted up to your eyes again - the frown still present.

Your hands dropped to your side again. Now was your turn to avoid his gaze. “I just wanted to pull the curtains back, Tobirama,” you explained in a quiet voice, your ironic undertone vanished. “I had to look outside.”

You heard him take a sharp breath and then - “Y/n, you mustn’t-”, then he abruptly paused. For a few moments, the room was completely silent. "Is… that why you were crying?", he asked suddenly, his voice dropping the strictness, completely soft again. 

You didn’t answer him, but you closed your eyes. You had to, they were becoming wet again.

“Y/n…”, Tobirama whispered brokenly, his hand reaching for yours at his side. His grip was tight, his thumb ran smoothing circles over your skin. You exhaled a little gasp when you felt his chakra graze over your network in the way you were so familiar with, so warm and welcome.

“I’ll try not to get up again,” you murmured after a moment of quiet comfort. “Maybe just leave the curtain open.” You sighed. It wasn’t as though you didn’t understand his objections to you moving around - your ankle was testament to that - but the panic was just so much worse.

Tobirama didn’t reply to that directly but simply kept caressing you both outwardly and inwardly. “Alright.” He finally spoke. “Perhaps… I can try to be here earlier, too.”

You opened your eyes again to find his gaze was cast down at your body again, his eyebrows furrowed in worry again. You never had seen Tobirama in this much distress since these last few days. “You don’t have to. You’re busy,” your voice was becoming more somber again.

“We talked about that already.” Back to the firm tone, shutting the discussion down, it seems. Tobirama hated discussing in the first place, and with your time basically dictated by a vile drug that he had to administer regularly there wasn’t even much arguing ground on your behalf. You rolled your eyes.

His hand released yours and was pushing the blanket aside then, “I’ll see what I can do for you now,” he mumbled, then, already focused as he turned himself to face your side more.

You gave a low sigh. “I’d say save your concentration and chakra, but-”

Tobirama’s voice instantly was terse again. “Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. “Exactly.” You resigned and helped by pulling up the gown somewhat as he placed both palms on your abdomen again. You felt his chakra’s presence intensify as he began and couldn’t help but gaze at his face while he first examined you and then went to heal - his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. Over time, that became more dismayed. Of course.

Much like the last time, the procedure took its pretty time simply for how intricate the work was - how little chakra he could actually use in terms of overloading you still, and when he did, he’d have to put it to its best use. The thoroughly comfortable feeling was settling in soon however as the aches dulled and you began to relax under his treatment. You’d never deny this wasn’t good, no. Especially when he directed his attention to your ankle, the sensation was warming, itchy almost in how the joint began to ache less in tune with the healing warmth swirling inside of it.

After quite a while he retreated with a finishing brush over your network, which you let warmly hum in response. As much as you could, anyway. It’d never not feel alien to you how your chakra was there - inside you - and yet not ready at your disposal. When Tobirama drew his hands back, his face remained scrunched up. 

“As I said,” and here he was again, scolding, naturally. “There was quite some damage to your wounds. And you sprained your ankle.” He crossed his legs and rested both arms on the edge of the bed. “I’ve repaired quite a lot of it. Y/n, you’re barely-”

You wanted to prop your head up your palm and rest on your side, but you were positive he’d yell at you. You opted for quipping again. “-healed and need to rest.”

His frown deepened. “I can also just physically stitch you up if the sight of those ripping serves as a better reminder for you. Because that’s what you’re doing, internally.”

Ouch. He fought back. “No, thank you.” You deflated and sighed. “I’m trying.”

That served to mellow him down significantly again and his shoulders slumped somewhat. He didn’t speak up again though, but his gaze had fallen to the floor, seemingly lost in ponder.

You simply eyed him for a moment before you tilted your head slightly. “Well, I ruined the mood, didn’t I?”, you attempted a little laugh, but Tobirama could only shrug his shoulders in what you think might’ve been an ironic motion. You frowned. “What’s wrong, Tobirama?”

His gaze lifted to gaze at you from the side, cautiously now. It didn’t sit well with you. “Just stay in bed, Y/n.”

You arched up an eyebrow. That was not what truly had been on his mind now. The lack of sternness in his voice proved that. “I know I should,” you began, “but that is not what is on your mind.” His nostrils flared slightly. “Tell me, Tobirama. Is everything getting too much for you? You don’t need to take care of me, too. That’s why I am here.” It still baffled you how much he did in the first place, yet-

“No,” he firmly cut you short. His arms crossed in front of his chest as he slightly leaned back. “I’m fine taking care of you and researching this leash.” You believed that much with how much conviction he spoke it. 

“Then what is it, Tobirama?”, you demanded now. “Because I have the fleeting notion it’s to do with me.” And you didn’t like that at all.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “It’ll be fine, Y/n. Don’t worry about that. Just rest and get better.”

Anger started to flare in you. To be bedridden and get basically yelled at for drawing curtains back was one thing. But to actively be kept in the dark was another one. However you’d still try reason first before you went to demanding things because open confrontation only got you so far. “I’m injured, Tobirama. Not mentally capacitated. You might as well tell me, because I caught on the fact something  is  weighing on you and at the very least I’ll now worry as to why that is. Even if you tell me not to. So, please.”

Tobirama straightened and squared his shoulders a little. "Honestly, the only thing you have to worry about is your own recovery." He was getting more terse again.

You were onto something. You narrowed your eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just get up after, scream until someone gets around and demand to speak to Hashirama." You had every intention of going through with that. You'd have to be fast though - weakness would settle in soon.

Tobirama clenched his teeth, his head whipped around to you to stare at you downright menacingly. "You will do no such thing."

"I absolutely will, unless you tell me."

Tobirama’s eyes closed slowly. He shifted back to his original position. When he opened them again, his scarlet pupils darted to the side to pin you with an intense stare, his mien was grave now. Your pulse picked up. Instinctively you braced yourself by heaving your chest up with both your elbows. Thanks to his recent treatment, the pain was dull, for now. Tobirama didn’t even protest when you moved. It just served to make you more tense.

“Creating more of the leash is proving to be a difficult task I’ve not yet accomplished,” he finally churned out, slowly, against his will, almost.

You gulped.  Wait. That meant- “How much is left?”, you asked before you could even comprehend what you just said.

Tobirama closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He didn’t want to tell you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know anymore. “Five and a half days at our current rate.”

Around you, the world seemed to lurch like when he teleported you with the hiraishin seal. Your ears felt stuffy, your vision became a tunnel focusing on the face of your beloved and yet gazing right through him as darkness threatened. You felt numb.

Five and a half days.

Right now, you had five and a half days left to live.

And you wouldn’t pass peacefully, that much you had experienced before.

Your elbows gave out as you limply crashed back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Breathing was becoming harder as the figurative weight of the news was bearing down on your chest. Before you knew it, you were wheezing again. Ugly sobs were breaking past your lips and a wet sensation rolled down the sides of your face. Tears, you realised.

Faintly you realised Tobirama shifted. A hand took yours in it firmly, another on your shoulder. He was talking, but you didn’t hear anything. Not right away, anyhow. It was only when you felt his chakra again that you became more grounded again, but even then, it still was hard not to burst all over again.

“Y/n,” he pleaded, over and over again. Your blurry vision shifted to focus on his face, closer to yours now. It looked as agonized as you felt. There was a tremble in his deep voice. Your breathing levelled out slowly. Your free hand slowly reached for the one he had put on your shoulder as you sought his gaze again.

“Tell me more,” you urged, gulping.

“I’m not sure if-”, he hesitated.

“I want to know everything, dammit!”, you almost shouted.

Tobirama’s eyes closed, he winced as though you had physically slapped him.

And then proceeded to tell you - everything. What this leash was - besides what you knew it did to you - what he knew so far. The problem he faced. Instantly, you realised the task he faced was not just ‘difficult’. It was near impossible to achieve in such a short timespan.

“I’m doing all I can, I swear,” he finished, and the sincerity of the statement had the timbre of his voice shaking. His scarlet eyes were glistening - the hand you put on his on your shoulder reached for his face. No, you’d never question his resolve to save you. Neither his determination to keep you from any harm - his secrecy had just been another facet of that.

An eerie calm gripped you.

“I know,” you whispered, stoic. A sad smile stretched your lips. “If there’s anyone in Konoha who can figure it out, it’s you.” You believed that with every fiber of your being.

Tobirama frowned, tilting his head slightly. His breath shook.

“You need more time,” you added, your thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“There isn’t any, Y/n,” he answered, broken.

“Not if we proceed like this,” you agreed, somber. You couldn’t believe your next words, but here you were. You knew exactly what you needed to do - duty, if you will, albeit calling it that was odd considering it was your own survival that was on the line. Still. You were the one making the sacrifice. 

“You start giving me what you have of the leash at the greatest possible interval.”

Tobirama’s face fell completely, the words hitting him almost like you had slapped his cheek. 

“What?!”