#i mean the first one?? the way she flinches as if he burned her as if she felt an electric current a spark at the touch

[aviiarie]

TO YOUR DEFENSE — chiori x fem!reader !

synopsis. chiori's partner is disrespected, and there isn't a chance she is letting it slide. warnings. n/a notes. established relationship. fem!reader. 1k words. i love her. so much. dedicated to @tragedy-of-commons who i brainrotted with about this idea <3

Chiori is by no means a soft woman. Of course, she is perfectly capable of it when the right situation calls for it. And when the situation pertains to you—her cherished lover—she can deign to spare a measured amount of gentleness for your sake, but only a fool would mistake that for weakness.

Her newest client—a bald, bespectacled man interested in a new tailored suit and little else—seems to be exactly that: a fool.

“Apologize. Now.” Chiori’s tone is as sharp and cutting as the blade of her sword, making the man visibly shiver.

“I-I didn’t—Mademoiselle Chiori!” He stumbles over his words, losing any semblance of composure that he entered the store with. There was none of the bravado he held earlier, none of the confidence that had earned him her fury in the first place. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I-I simply—”

“Simply what?” Chiori’s eyes narrow, her face darkening further. “You simply thought it was appropriate to treat my partner with such blatant disrespect right in front of my eyes? You simply decided she was a sales assistant, and assumed that made it acceptable to order her around? You simply chose to tell her to make herself useful, and get you a tie in a different colour?”

The man flinches as his words are spat back at him, stuttering and stammering to try and pull together some sort of defence. It is a feeble attempt, and one that is quickly shut down.

“Quiet.” Chiori says harshly, cutting off the rest of his spluttering. “You will be quiet, and you will listen to what I have to say. Am I understood?”

The man nodded jerkily, looking like a skittish animal. The sight was rather pathetic, he was a foot taller than her and almost twice her size, but he still cowered at her piercing gaze.

“Not only have you falsely assumed that my partner—who has so graciously offered to assist me today, when you chose to delay your fitting appointment until an hour before closing—was a mere sales assistant, instead of politely requesting she retrieve an item for you, you decided to snap at her.”

Chiori took a pause, studying the man’s expression. It was almost laughable how much a grown man could so closely resemble a kicked puppy; perhaps she would have found humour in the sight, had she not been seething from head to toe with a burning anger.

“Treating my boutique like you can come and go as you please is one thing. But treating my lover like she is a worthless, lowly servant is something else. You have not just crossed the line; you have trampled all over it in those hideous dress shoes of yours. How dare you carry yourself with such arrogance, when you do not have even the common decency to speak to others with even a shred of politeness? You are not only an impolite, bad-tempered man, but a cowardly one at that.”

With every word, his head bows lower. It’s hard to tell if the action was out of genuine remorse, or shame that he was being scolded like a misbehaving schoolboy, but judging by his actions, Chiori could safely assume it was the latter.

“You—” Her eyes drift over to the side where you stood at the side of the store, watching the scene play out with an uncomfortable expression. If she were dealing with a disrespectful customer alone, she would not have hesitated to tear into him even further until he was a shivering mess of apologies at her feet, but the way you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else made her pause.

Even if she was defending you, your comfort was her priority. She bit back the insult on her lips, forcing her words to change their course.

“—You are going to apologize to my partner. Then, you are going to leave this store, and never return. You are not welcome at Chioriya Boutique anymore, and you will be blacklisted for life. I do not ever want to see your pathetic face again, but if I hear that you are treating any other sales worker the way you treated my partner today…”

Chiori didn’t finish her sentence, but the threat was clear. It hung in the air between them, causing the man to turn pale.

“O-Of course. I sincerely apologize, Mademoiselle—” The man turned to you, clasping his hands together. “I am truly sorry!”

“Go.” Chiori’s face twists in disgust. She steps away from the man, looking him up and down like he was nothing more than dirt beneath her shoe. “And do not come back.”

“Y-Yes, of course…” He bobs his head in a nod, face still struck with fear. He backs out of the boutique, as fast as his legs could take him.

Once he is out of sight, the anger melts off Chiori like snow falling from a roof. She turns to properly face you, her hand moving up to gently cup your cheek. “Apologies, that wasn’t something you should have had to witness. Are you alright, my love?”

You nod slowly, leaning into her hand. “I’m fine…”

She clicks her tongue. Her hand moves down your cheek, sliding all the way down your shoulder to rest on your waist. “Don’t lie to me. You look shaken.”

“I’m fine, really.” You insist, forcing a small smile. “Thank you… for defending my honour.”

Chiori’s face softens. She uses her hand at your waist to pull you closer until you were almost flush against her chest, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “It is no problem, darling. Some people just don’t seem to understand manners until they are beaten over the head with them.”

You laugh lightly, and the sound is like a melody to her ears. She hums, pulling herself out of the embrace long enough to flick the open sign to closed.

“Let’s go home, love.” Chiori pulls your hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to each of the knuckles. “Let’s forget all about what happened.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[ohtendril]

There was something heartbreaking in the way she was gazing at him, as if she might die if he didn’t kiss her. Not from heartbreak, not from embarrassment—it was almost as if she needed him for nourishment, to feed her soul, to fill her heart.

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part II)

Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 8.2 K

Warnings: Aegon takes minors to a brothel (but nothing sexual happens), characters get aged up, male masturbation, mutual pining, smut

AN: I am so blown away by the love you all showed for the first chapter, thank you all so much! Hope you enjoy xx

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

~~

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. 

Aemond had been twirling her around the room practically the entire night. She knew he didn’t particularly enjoy dancing, but when she had asked him, he loathed to deny her. 

“Are you having a good name day?” 

“It’s my best one yet.” He smiled. He had woken that morning to her barging into his chambers, demanding her gift be the first one he received that day. Nothing could ruin such an incredible start to the day. 

He raised her hand over their heads and twirled her under his arm again, his own grin beaming at the sound of her delighted laughter. 

She tilted her head back as she spun and Aemond was struck by how happy she looked. She was happy with him, she was carefree with him. 

Despite how his feet began to hurt, or that he knew many pairs of eyes were staring at him, the desire to let go and sit back down was nowhere to be found. He wanted to stay with her. He wanted to continue to make her smile all night long

As she twirled again, her eyes found the head table, smiling to Helaena who was watching the dancers wistfully while her betrothed sat next to her downing another cup of wine. 

She flinched suddenly as she met the hard stare of the Hand of the King. Otto Hightower’s stare was enough to make her feel as though she was burning under such a disdainful look. 

Her shoulders tensed slightly before she found herself being spun again, back into Aemond’s arms. His smile faltered when he noticed her own smile dimmed. 

“Are you alright?”

She forced a mask upon her face, not quite understanding the contempt coming her way from his grandsire, and brought a smile back to her face. 

“I’m fine, just getting a little tired.” 

“Come on, we’ll take a break.” He took her hand in his and guided her back to the table.

Her father smiled at the two of them as they approached. 

“You two look like you’ve been having fun.” 

“We are.” She smiled, taking her seat next to him. Aemond moved to take the empty seat next to her when his mother called out to him. She beckoned him forward with a pointed look and he sighed, promising to find her later as he left her side to make his way back to the head table.

She watched him go with sorrowful eyes, her gaze moving over to Otto and suppressing a shiver at the cold look she received. 

She seemed to shrink in her seat, catching her father’s attention. He followed her gaze, his face hardening, his posture becoming rigid as he noticed the cold glare the Hand of the King was sending his daughter. 

He had never liked Hightower, he didn’t trust the man. He somehow always seemed to take control of the council meetings, proclaiming he knew what the King’s best interests were. He was a snake of a man and he would not let him drag his daughter into his games. 

He placed his arm over her shoulder, portraying a united front, a warning to anyone that would seek to bring her harm that he would deal with them swiftly. He may be the Lord of a peaceful house but that did not mean he did not know how to fight or that he wouldn’t commit whatever violence was needed to protect his family.

She stayed by her father’s side for the rest of the night, sharing looks of mourning with Aemond as he was sequestered to his mother’s side, unable to escape the politicking unfolding at the head table of Royals. 

As the celebration was winding down, most taking their leave for the night, she bid her father goodnight and sulked out of the large hall. 

She knew whatever reservations Aemond’s grandsire had of her would keep him from her, that there was no use in hoping for another moment with him. 

She shouldn’t have been so upset, she had practically the entire day with him and all her previous days, but that somehow didn’t stop the twisting of her insides as the thought of his own family disliking her, of there being some kind of plot to keep her away from him. 

The sound of her name being called made her raise her head, a smile growing instantly at the sight of Aemond waving her over. 

“Where are you going?”

“I was headed to my chambers. I thought the celebration was over.”

Aemond took her hand and pulled her along with him.  “Not yet.”

She smiled along with him, happily following him. As he guided her out of the Keep, her smile began to falter slightly in confusion.

“Where are we going?”

“Aegon said he had a surprise.”

An uneasy feeling began to fester within her. She didn’t particularly like any time she had spent with his older brother. She didn’t trust a single thing about him. Thoughts of the pink dread came to mind and she quickly held back the bitterness that grew. She didn’t want to doubt Aemond, but she had little hope this surprise would be a showing of brotherly love. 

As the two of them snuck passed the gates, a hooded figure waited for them. 

Aegon’s smirk dropped the moment he spotted the two of them hand in hand. 

“What the bloody hell is she doing here?”

“Aegon.” Aemond admonished. 

“I didn’t invite her, I invited you.”

“She’s my friend. She has every right to join us.”

The disdain on his face faltered slightly and soon morphed into a devious smirk, a laugh leaving his curled lips, one that made her stiffen.

“I do hope you enjoy the surprise, My Lady.” He drawled, the sickly sweet tone of his voice making her want to squirm and head back to the safety of her chambers. 

But Aemond’s hand in hers kept her in place, her stride matching his as they followed Aegon. 

The further they ventured from the familiarity of the Red Keep, the tighter Aemond’s grip on her hand became, his suspicions rising as they continued their trek deeper into the streets of Flea Bottom. 

He pulled her into his side as they passed a tavern, the rowdy sounds inside and the groups of drunken men they passed making his body stiffen. 

“Aegon, what are we doing down here?” He called to his older brother. 

No response was given and Aemond grit his teeth in annoyance. He should’ve known better than to trust his brother. 

They came to a nondescript door and Aegon turned to face them, that smug smirk still on his face that made her hand twitch, longing to smack it right off his face. 

“Well, brother, you’re almost a man grown. I think it’s time you get it wet.”

Aemond’s eyes narrowed, confusion twisting his features as a pit of dread began to grow within him. Aegon opened the door and motioned them inside. 

When the two of them stood still in their spot, Aegon rolled his eyes and gripped onto the front of Aemond’s shirt, yanking him forward, his hand still clasped tightly in hers pulling her along with him, the two of them stumbling through the door ungracefully. 

The scantily clad women that filled the room made Aemond’s lone eye widen. He turned to his brother, his face red with both shame and anger. 

“Aegon, why are we here?”

“Don’t be so uptight, Aemond.” His brother waved him off, brushing past them to be welcomed into the arms of a whore he frequented. 

He was quickly guided off to a room, leaving the two of them to remain standing at the door stiffly, their shocked eyes taking in the room before them.

A group of women soon surrounded them, pulling Aemond away from her. 

He tensed as hands ran down his arms and he shook them off, his head craning to catch a glimpse of his friend. He called out her name, but if she gave any response it was drowned out by the tittering laughter of the women in front of him.

“Is she your betrothed?”

“We can help you, teach you how to please her.”

“We’ll make you a God, My Prince.”

Aemond’s face twisted in disgust at the filth they began to spout, shrugging off their wandering hands, flinching as a hand landed on his thigh, slowly beginning to creep upwards.

“Don’t touch me.” He snapped, his heart beginning to race as a dreadful feeling overcame him. 

He remembered it well, what it was like to not be in control. He remembered what happened the last time he had felt this helpless, wanting to scream but knowing no one was listening, no one caring about his discomfort. His scar flared with pain at the memory and he winced, pushing the woman who was trying to crawl into his lap away from him.

He called out her name again, panic seeping through his tone. 

He stumbled over his own feet in his haste to escape the gaggle of whores that tried to tempt him. He pushed them out of his way, one goal in his mind, one face he desperately needed to see. 

Across the room, he spotted her, his chest tightening as he saw the discomfort on her face as many pairs of hands tangled through her hair and pulled at her dress. 

“You’re a pretty little thing.”

“Just imagine when your tits come in, you’ll put all of us out of work. The men will be lining up to take a turn with you.”

“Don’t worry, Honey. We can prepare you so it won’t hurt too much when your old husband beds you.”

The whores’ words made her stomach clench and she squirmed under their hands that attempted to get her out of her clothes. 

The feeling of lips caressing her neck made her flinch, a small squeak of surprise escaping her before she could even fully realize what was happening. 

“Get off her.” A stern voice spoke.

She let out a stunted breath as she realized it was Aemond. She reached out and within a second, he hauled her up and wrapped her under his arm as he pushed their way out of the brothel. 

A ragged breath left him as the stench of perfume finally lifted, the debauched sounds of the pleasure house muffled and distant as the door closed behind them. He looked down at the girl under his arm and a bolt of worry shot through him at the sight of her blank stare.

A low hum rang in her ears, her body trembling slightly as it tried to make sense of what had just happened, of what could have happened. 

“Hey, look at me, please.” His pleading voice came through and she slowly raised her head, her gaze meeting his worried eye. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what he was planning. I never should have trusted him.” He rambled, his own voice wavering slightly, his trembling hands moving to cup her cheeks. “I swear to you, I never would have come if I had known.”

“It’s ok.” She breathed out quietly. 

He sighed, the fear on her face still evident. 

“Are you alright?”

She nodded wordlessly and he winced, the gesture so unconvincing he quickly wrapped her in a tight hug. 

“I’ll take you back to the Keep.” 

She looked down the darkened alley fearfully, the thought of making her way through the streets of Flea Bottom so late had dread settling in her stomach. 

“It’s ok.” Aemond assured her, taking her hand in his, noting the unease in her eyes. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” 

They began to walk, the silence between them stifling, something so unfamiliar to the inseparable pair. 

“I’m sorry.” She began quietly. “You don’t need to- you can stay if you wish. I don’t want to ruin your night.” 

Aemond stopped in his tracks, his lone eye wide with horror as he looked at her in complete shock.

“I don’t- no! I didn’t want- this wasn’t-” He was at a loss for words. He blew out a long breath, cursing Aegon profusely in his head. “I don’t want to… do what Aegon does.” He explained vaguely, unable to bring himself to speak of his brother’s depravity in front of her. 

The insinuation of him acting like Aegon, of sullying himself with the same debauchery that brought his family shame made his stomach twist. He never wanted her to see him like that, he never wanted her to think he would ever act like his brother.

Aemond ran a hand through his hair. “Fucking twat.” He mumbled under his breath. He wanted to throttle Aegon 

A small giggle met his ears and he looked at her, slightly bewildered by the small upturning of her lips he saw, so unlike the fear he had seen etched in her eyes just seconds before. 

“I’ve never heard you swear.”

He let out a small noise of surprise, unsure if she was truly smiling or if it was a ruse to placate him.

“So unbecoming of a Prince.” She jested and he let himself laugh, her sarcasm, her humor so like the girl he knew that it was enough to ease his worry. 

He liked his arm through hers, holding her closely to his side as they began to walk again. 

“Did this ruin your name day?” She asked after a few moments of silence.

He looked over at her thoughtfully. His day began with her, her excited smile beaming as she demanded he open her present, her at his side loyally all day. No one had ever been so attentive to him, not even on past name days. 

“No.” He answered honestly. Nothing could ruin the content she gave him, the feeling of being wanted and needed that surrounded him when she was around was stronger than any blow of shame Aegon could deliver.

Neither of them spoke of that night, the both of them too embarrassed by what they had seen and heard to say anything about it. 

Though the seeds of lust were planted. 

As the years passed and they grew older, their childhood innocence dissipating into adult desires and longing, it became harder to deny what was between them. The looks that passed between them were no longer the shared smiles of childhood friends, they were the looks of longing that stirred the shared hunger that grew steadily with each passing day.

After that night, she loathed to think of her friend, her Aemond, venturing back there with Aegon, indulging those whores, laying with them, letting them touch him, his own hands greedily touching every inch of their bodies. The thought of him laying with another was like a lance to the heart. 

The same dread plagued Aemond. 

He made himself sick thinking of his friend, the girl he always simply considered to be his, indulging one of the many suitors that ogled her.

Aemond thought of what those whores had told her, that she would have to lay with a husband leagues older than her and endure the lackluster and, most likely violent, attempts to produce an heir. 

The thought had his insides twisting. The thought of any man with their hands on her sent fury racing through him. 

As they grew, he couldn’t help but find his thoughts of her drifting to ones that would be considered less than innocent, not thoughts one should be having of a dear friend. 

He couldn’t help but admire her curves, the dip of her cleavage she had no trouble showing in the low cut gowns she wore around the Keep. It drove him crazy. 

It was becoming more and more common that he would wake, his thoughts racing of images of her lingering from his dreams. He would roll over, imagining she was laying next to him in his bed, tangled within his sheets, her sweet smile his first sight of the day. 

He had no time to feel guilty as his hand ventured below his sheets, as he found his hard length that was more often than not standing at attention to the thought of her. 

He would let his eye close, imagining her hand taking his place, of her sweet mouth taking him in, of the praises she would give him as he took her over and over, the sound of her delectable moans and pleas for him. 

His mouth would part with panting breaths as he thought of the pleasure he could give her, of the pleasure he longed to give her and the pleasure she would bestow upon him. 

His hand would speed as he neared his end, his body writhing among his silken sheets, his head fallen back against his pillow as he pictured her face, what it would look like as he brought her to climax.

The thought, as always, was his undoing. 

His lips parted with a long groan, the raspy call of her name becoming familiar to the walls around him. He panted as he expelled the last spurts of spend on his stomach, his limbs feeling weak as he let his fantasy dissipate. 

He didn’t know how much longer he could continue without having her in his arms. He didn’t know how he could endure meeting her gaze with such filthy thoughts of her in his mind. 

Later that day, as he caught her eye as she sat with the ladies of the court, he felt his face flush, the images of her he conjured in the privacy of his chambers rushing back to him. 

The warm smile and small wave she sent him only incensed him further, leaving him to contemplate for a few long moments whether he should neglect his training with Ser Criston to return to his chambers and deal with the heat she had unknowingly spread throughout his body that was undoubtedly weak for her. 

He was doomed to her.

The longer he repressed his growing feelings for his best friend, the more he couldn’t get her off his mind. 

He woke early one morning to avoid passing her by, knowing with one mere look at her he would be a distracted, bumbling mess for the rest of the day. He was determined to get through at least one training session without his thoughts drifting to her. 

He had been successful for a short time, managing to best Ser Criston time and time again, his focus purely on the weapon he wielded with precision. 

Until he heard that familiar laugh, a sound so purely wonderful, it almost knocked him off his feet. 

His gaze wandered around the training yard before they found her, as he always would, her arm linked through Helaena’s their smiles wide as they watched the training commence.

As if sensing his gaze on her, she turned her head, her eyes meeting his. She smiled, the sight blindingly beautiful. He sent her a wave, hoping the blush on his cheeks wasn’t as severe as it felt. 

The sound of a throat clearing beside him broke him out of his daze and he turned sharply to meet the knowing smirk of Ser Criston.

“Shall we continue or are you done for the day?”

The knight’s tone implied he knew exactly what thoughts had been running through the Prince’s mind the moment he saw his dear friend. Anyone with eyes and half a working brain could see the affection the Prince and the Ixtal girl held for each other. 

Aemond grit his teeth, sending a glare the knight’s way as he spun his sword effortlessly, a flagrant display of his prowess with his beloved blade. 

“I am more than ready to continue, but if you require a break I will gladly find another opponent to knock into the dirt.” 

Criston snorted and raised his sword, giving the young Prince he had valiantly trained a pointed look. 

With one last gaze up to the woman on the balcony, the sly wink she sent him giving him all the drive needed, he raised his sword and struck a deadly swing towards his mentor who scrambled to block it. 

His heart raced with adrenaline. The wink she had sent him igniting the fire in his blood, only incenting him to display his power to her, determined to win, determined to show her his strength. 

He wasn’t a boastful man, he left those frivolities to his older brother, but when it came to her he suddenly didn’t recognize the feelings within him, the desires that had taken root that seemed to unravel him to his most basic senses. 

Up on the balcony she repressed a shiver as she watched Aemond fight with an ease that made her body heat and caused her mind to conjure things her Septa would’ve slapped her for ever thinking as an unmarried woman.

“He’s very good.” Helaena commented, not noticing the desire now lingering in her friend’s eyes. 

“Yes, he is.” She murmured, attempting to shake herself from thoughts of him handling her in the delicate yet deliberate way he did his sword.  

Later that night, as she and her father joined the Targaryen family for dinner, she couldn’t get her mind off of what she had seen in the training yard. She couldn’t help the nervous flutters that erupted within her as she took her seat in between Helaena and Aemond.

It was her usual seat, she had spent too many dinners to count by his side, but for reasons she couldn’t quite understand - or refused to - she suddenly felt bashful in her friend’s presence. 

The smile he sent her in greeting made her stomach flip.  

She could barely concentrate on anything besides his presence beside her. She was sure she was about to crumble into a puddle as his fingers brushed against hers as he passed her the jug of wine. 

She took greedy swallows of the drink, hoping it would dull her sense enough to withstand the looks he sent her every now and again, his smile warm, his gentle affection subtle but enough to undo her completely. 

As Helaena engaged her in conversation, telling her one of the many stories of her beloved twins, she let her thoughts of Aemond dissipate, smiling softly to her dear friend who glowed with her love of her children. 

She listened intently, allowing her nerves to retreat to the shadows of her mind. 

As conversations around the table continued, she let her eyes wander curiously. She turned her head, catching Aemond’s gaze already on hers. He straightened and abruptly tore his eye back to the plate in front of him, though the blush that grew on his cheeks was undeniable. 

A shock of excitement rushed through her at his reaction, suddenly realizing she wasn’t as hopeless as she had thought. She thought back to all the times she had caught Aemond looking at her, all the times he sought her out before anyone else, all the times he had abandoned whatever it was he was doing just to see her and spend a mere moment together. 

She suddenly wondered if it meant as much to him as it did to her. 

She wondered if her dear friend was caught in the same haze of longing she found herself drowning in. 

~~

The slamming of the door made her flinch, the book she was reading slipping from her hands. She sat up straighter when she noticed Aemond standing rigid, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he tried to rein in his anger.

“What happened?”

“My fucking grandsire.” He seethed. 

She remained seated and silent, allowing Aemond to vent out his anger. 

“They want to betrothe me to some Baratheon girl.” He explained as he began to pace erratically. “They’re bringing her to court for the Summer Feast. They expect me to do my duty with that plain-” He stopped himself abruptly before any insults could pass his lips. 

She frowned, setting her book aside. 

“Tell them you don’t wish to marry her.”

Aemond hummed, the sound more bitter than she had ever heard it. “My grandsire isn’t as agreeable as your father.” 

He knew the Lord of Ixtal had vetoed a number of requests for his daughter’s hand at her request. He didn’t want his daughter shackled to a man she did not desire. 

He wished his family was as caring to his needs as hers was. 

“Well, I guess you need to find the love of your life before the Baratheon girl arrives.”

Aemond looked over at her plainly, clearly not in the joking mood. 

“This is not funny.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t see what the issue is. Tell your family this isn’t what you want.”

“They don’t care about what any of us want. If they did, Helaena wouldn’t be forced at Aegon’s side.” 

She frowned at the mention of her dear friend and what she had to endure with her drunken leech of a husband. 

“I’m running out of time.” Aemond sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’ve been able to keep them at bay the past few years, but they’re becoming more incessant, I can’t stall any longer.”

The thought of being forced to marry some girl he didn’t know, a girl who would never compare to the woman in front of him, the woman he longed for, desired before he even knew what it meant to desire a woman, left him feeling hollow. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could solve this for you, but I don’t think your mother would take too kindly to my meddling.”

Aemond huffed out a laugh at the thought. He looked at his friend curiously, noting how cavalier she found the idea of marriage.

“Isn’t your father putting pressure on you to marry?”

“Not exactly. He’s hinting at the time coming for me to go back home, but no plans have been made just yet.”

Her words made his stomach twist. The thought of her leaving King’s Landing, of not seeing her everyday, was unfathomable. 

“They don’t have a courtship lined up for you?”

“No. Who I marry is my decision.”

“Is it that easy?”

She breathed out a small laugh at his disbelieving tone.

“Ixtal isn’t as conservative as King’s Landing. We don’t force people to be together, we don’t expect women to wait to find pleasure until marriage. We don’t expect a fruitful marriage to come from sexual disappointment.”

Aemond blushed at her words, his eyes darting to the wall behind her, unable to keep her gaze as she spoke of things his mother would’ve slapped their wrists for.

“My mother said marriage is for the sake of duty. To unite strong houses.”

She scoffed, sending her friend a pointed look of disappointment.

“You’re forced to marry for every reason other than your own happiness. It’s barbaric.”

“It is duty.”

“So you just accept it? Being tied to someone you don’t love for the rest of your life?”

“Some grow to love each other.” He said quietly, though he couldn’t deny how undesirable the customs, one he had known his entire life, sounded to his own ears.

“So if you’re betrothed to a Baratheon daughter, you’ll accept it?”

“No, of course not.” He answered immediately, his tone sharper than he intended. 

“Why? You’ll have to marry someday. Soon I’ll need to go home and find myself a nice man to settle with.”

The reminder of his time with her coming to an end made it feel as though his heart was turning to stone. Her previous words about Ixtal’s customs suddenly came screaming back to him and his hands tightened into fists, fury rising within him at the thought of men touching her, kissing her, making love to her.

“Aemond.” 

The sound of that beautiful voice saying his name made him look up, the anger inside him washing away at the knowing look on her face. She stood from her seat and took slow steps towards him until she was only inches away, making his throat tighten at the closeness he was constantly longing for. 

The unspoken things between them bubbled to the surface, reaching a boiling point as they looked at each other in the dim light, the topic of conversation causing tensions to run high, threatening to reveal true emotions that were kept hidden for so long.

“Eventually, you’ll have to marry, and so will I. We’ll have to do our duty, as you say.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes unable to hold her gaze any longer, falling onto his hands that clenched and unclenched as waves of anxiety passed through him.

She sighed heavily and stepped past him, moving towards the door. She loved so many things about Aemond, but his refusal to feel anything but anger, his stubborn nature to speak his true thoughts, angered her.

“I don’t want you to go back to Ixtal.” He admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. But she heard him. She would always hear him. 

“Why?”

“Because you belong here.” He told her, his gaze rising to pierce into hers, his tone becoming sharp once more. “Because the thought of you going home, marrying some man that doesn’t deserve you, makes me furious. The thought of you-” He stopped abruptly, looking away from her, his hands clenched tightly.

“Would you be jealous knowing another man has touched me?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he turned on his heel and moved towards her so they were now chest to chest. He had to fight hard to keep his composure, to not close his eyes in bliss at the feeling of her body against his.

“I would kill every man that dared to touch you.”

A devious smirk grew on her lips, one he wanted to kiss away desperately. 

“Would you feel jealous if-”

“Yes.” She answered immediately, shamelessly. She smirked at the way his breath hitched, as the hunger in his eye grew tenfold. “I don’t share.”

Aemond almost choked on his breath at her insinuation. 

Her arms slithered over his shoulders, pulling him in closer to her, close enough they could feel the other’s heart racing wildly. 

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” She whispered and Aemond could’ve sworn he would melt into the floor into a puddle of nothing. 

Her lips crashed onto his and he was powerless against her touch. He kissed her back with a furious desperation, revealing every ounce of desire he held for her. He needed her like the air he breathed and it was never more evident in the way his lips molded against hers, in the way his tongue tangled with hers, how his hands held to her hips tightly, ensuring she couldn’t part from his side. 

Her nails scratched against the leather of his doublet as she kissed him fiercely, hoping he would understand, hoping the hunger in her kiss and touch was enough to make him realize she didn’t want anyone but him. 

His mind was blank save for thoughts of her. 

The duty he had adhered to his entire life, the duty that had been instilled in him since his birth, didn’t exist. His duty to his mother, to his grandfather, didn’t exist as he kissed her. 

He knew then and there that he was going to marry her, his only friend, the beautiful girl that had his young heart racing, or he wouldn’t marry at all. 

They pulled away from the kiss, the both of them breathing heavily, neither parting too far from the other. Aemond smiled softly and let his forehead rest against hers. 

“I won’t marry her.” He breathed out in promise, his chest tightening pleasurably as he saw the smile that grew on her kiss swollen lips. 

“Iksā ñuhon, issa prūmia.” He whispered and placed a soft, slow kiss to her lips once more. 

Her mind was racing. She knew few Valyrian words but none sounded familiar. 

“What does that mean?” 

Aemond just smiled and kissed her again, content to stay in that moment for the rest of his life. 

The gravity of their actions, the realization that anyone could have walked into the library and saw them, could have told his mother or his grandfather, didn’t catch up to him until he had parted from her side and settled into bed for the night. 

He lay rigid, his mind racing, his heart heavy with guilt. 

If anyone had seen them it would have ruined her reputation. She’d be painted as a whore. The court would speculate what other Lord she’d kissed or opened her legs to. 

Aemond couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t ruin her. 

The next morning, every ounce of bliss he had felt with her lips against his was tainted with worry. He found her in the gardens, his cold stare softening as he spotted her sitting with Helaena and the twins. 

The sight of her with little Jaeheara in her arms made his heart stop for a moment. He swallowed thickly, desperately moving past the emotions, the longing, the sight stirred within him. 

“Good morning, brother.” Helaena greeted him brightly. 

He just nodded briefly in greeting, his posture stiff as his gaze landed on her. 

“Can we talk?”

Her smile faltered slightly and she placed the babe in her arms back to her mother before taking his offered arm, Aemond guiding them away from prying ears. 

“Is everything alright?”

“What happened yesterday-”

“Do you regret it?” She asked stiffly, her worry evident as her grip on his arm became lax, as if she suddenly wanted to be anywhere but by his side. 

“No! Never.” He responded frantically, his eyes leaving hers to take in their surroundings, making sure no one would hear them. “Yesterday was… it was long overdue.” 

“Then why are you so tense?” 

“No one can know.” 

She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging. 

“The rumors that would spread if people saw us together would ruin you.”

“I think you’re giving the court too much credit.” She responded flippantly, her annoyance growing at Aemond’s worry. “Are you going to let me have a say in this or are we going to let the court decide our future for us?”

He spoke her name softly in exasperation, sparking her anger. She wrenched her arm out of his and walked a few paces to gain distance from him. She couldn’t think clearly so close to him. 

“If you weren’t being truthful yesterday then tell me. Spare me the lies and tell me how you truly feel.” 

“I wasn’t lying.” He assured her, his heart beginning to race in fear for where this conversation was headed. He loathed to hear the doubt in her voice. “I refuse to marry the Baratheon girl, I only want you.” He told her, his voice much quieter than before. 

The fire in her eyes dissipated, her fears subsiding and she stayed still in her spot as he stepped towards her, closing the distance between them. 

“We must keep this between us for now, at least until my father is more lucid and I can take our betrothal to him. I cannot let my grandfather know of this. He will only find a way to speed up a wedding to the Baratheon girl or any other Lady in the Keep.” 

She looked up at him with a smirk, her heart jumping at his words. 

“Betrothal?”

Aemond flushed and cleared his throat, as if the words were tightening his throat.

“Well, yes… is that not what-”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” She spoke in an overly saturated tone, interrupting his nervous words. He looked at her fiercely, his lone eye betraying every ounce of lust, longing, and annoyance he held for her games.

“You will never stop vexing me, will you?”

“I am certain you love it.” She teased, his swiftly pink turning cheeks all the answer she needed from him. She straightened, clearing her throat, as she moved back to the matter at hand. “So we must sneak around?” 

He looked regretful, his hands gently taking hers. 

“I know it’s not ideal.”

She shrugged. “If that is the only way I can have you now, then I can live with it.”

Aemond smiled, a breath of relief leaving his lips, the heavy weight on his chest dissipating quickly. 

A smirk grew on her lips, one he knew signaled mischief. 

“So, that means we’d have to remain as friends in public.” She surmised, stepping closer to him, much too close, as their chests brushed against each other. “But behind closed doors…”

Aemond swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed as she leaned in, his lips brushing against his ear as she spoke. 

“...I can do what I want with you.” 

Aemond cleared his throat, desperately trying to keep a hold of what little control he had left. 

“When we are behind closed doors, which we are not.” He reminded her, sounding exasperated, making her laugh softly. 

She loved the effect she had on him.

“Meet me in my chambers tonight.” She whispered and placed a soft, barely there, kiss to his cheek, before leaving his side and making her way back to Helaena, leaving him with pink cheeks and a racing heart.

Night couldn’t have come fast enough. He spent the day training vigorously, Ser Criston taking the brunt of his pent up anticipation with round after round of sparring. His knee bounced impatiently throughout dinner, paying no mind to his mother’s attempts to bring him into the conversations he couldn’t bother to focus on. 

He waited, long, torturous hours, until the sun had finally set and night descended on the Keep, the halls clearing as Lords, Ladies and their servants alike settled in for the night. 

He paced in his room for longer than he would ever admit, his nerves bubbling low in his stomach, his hands twitching as he longed to reach for a goblet of wine to ease his worries. 

He knew if his mother were to ever discover he had entered a lady’s chambers in the dead of night, let alone a Lady he was undeniably close to, she would slap him until he found his sense once again. 

Though no amount of worry, no guilt over his allegiance to his duty could ever be enough to overtake what he felt for her, what he had unknowingly felt for so long. 

With only his desire to see her, he purposefully strode across his room and pushed at the stone wall, silently thanking his brother for drunkenly revealing to him the secret passageways years ago.

 It only took a few minutes until he found her door. With a deep breath, he stepped in slowly, his eyes immediately finding her as she sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed the sheer slip she wore as she readied herself for bed. 

He cleared his throat, feeling a blush quickly and involuntarily growing on his cheeks as her eyes rose to meet his. 

“You came.” She smiled. 

“Of course I did.”

She got to her feet, taking slow steps towards him, as if he were a wild animal that would spook if she got too close too quickly. She knew he had a strong sense of duty, of what behavior was becoming of a princely man, it had been instilled in him by his family since he was born.

She knew he was breaking every single one of those lessons by being in her room so late at night. 

“You know we do not have to sneak around. You can wait to court me as is proper.” She reminded him, hoping to ease his discomfort.

“I can’t take that risk.” He spoke smoothly, as if it didn’t even require a second thought. “I can’t take the chance that we will be denied. I can’t lose you before I’ve even had you.”

She smiled, her heart jumping in anticipation.

“So take me while you can.”

Barely a second later Aemond had crossed the room, his hands cradling her face gently as he crashed his lips to her, kissing her passionately, revealing every ounce of his desire for her. 

She moaned happily against his lips, the noise forcing his body to tighten, every shred of control he thought he possessed gone in an instant. 

They kissed as if they had been lovers for years, as if he had been gone for so long and they couldn’t wait to reunite as only lovers could. 

His hands greedily roamed the curves he had admired for years. Her hands wove into his silken hair she had braided many times as children. The innocence was gone between them, no childlike wonderment left, leaving only their loving, lustful desires. 

They pulled away after a few minutes, the both of them breathing heavily, their swollen lips turning upwards into a shared smile as their eyes met, the pure bliss in his lone eye matching hers. 

He moved in again, desperate to get her lips back on his, but her hands on his chest stopped him. His brows furrowed, a strike of worry lashing him as he gazed at her in concern. 

“I want to see all of you.” Her quiet voice spoke, her delicate touch framing his face, her fingers slowly canting upwards to trace the edge of his scar. 

He flinched instinctively, having never felt the touch of another there, but almost instantly calmed as he stared into her eyes that reflected nothing but love and trust. 

She had been there for him through everything, she had been the only one to see him for more than his title, to respect him as he was, simply a boy trying to find his place in the world. 

He let out a shuddering breath, allowing his forehead to rest against hers as he built up the courage he needed to reveal his eye to her.

“Every part of you is beautiful, Aemond. I have known that for years and I certainly won’t think differently tomorrow.” She reassured him, her velvet voice melting the hardened resentment within him. 

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and reached up slowly, willing his hands not to tremble as he grasped the patch over his eye. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the sparkling sapphire in place of his eye. 

A small laugh left her, scaring him momentarily until he saw the delight in her gaze rather than mocking cruelty as he had suddenly feared. 

“I can’t believe you really listened to me.” 

He smiled bashfully, remembering a conversation years ago, when she had suggested he put a ruby in place of his eye to resemble that of a dragon eye. He never told her when he took her suggestion, feeling too silly to divulge such a thing. 

“Well, I’m sorry it’s not a ruby.”

She shook her head, her smile never faltering. “Why did you pick a sapphire?”

“It reminded me of the sea.” He stated simply, watching with bashful satisfaction as her smile smoothed out, her expression one of touched devotion.

He always told her she reminded him of the calming and luxurious blue waves that crashed on the shores of Ixtal, the waves he had become mesmerized by the day he met her. 

“It’s beautiful.” She breathed out, feeling unable to take her eyes off the shining gem that made the man in front of her look even more ethereal than he already did. 

Her eyes found the gem between every breathless and fiery kiss, somehow lingering as he pulled his clothes off, remaining, as if for comfort, as she bared herself to him for the first time. 

It was a beacon to her, the guiding light in the ferocity of a storm, calming every one of her nerves as she was reminded he was hers just as she was his, as they always had been. 

She felt as though there were sparks igniting under her skin as he touched her. She felt herself melt under his delicate fingers that curiously roamed her body. She felt beautiful under his awed gaze as he eagerly took in every inch of her, as if she were a divine entity he would soon bow to. 

The second a gasp escaped her as his fingers found the wetness between her thighs, Aemond’s eye snapped to hers. He watched with wonderment as she vocalized her pleasure, pleasure that was because of him. 

She smiled against his lips as he suddenly kissed her with a might she had never felt before. She was powerless against his hungry lips. 

He let out a stunted breath at the sound of the whine that fell past her lips as he curled his finger, seeking out her pleasure, eager for it as if it were his own

The two of them never let their eyes wander too far from each other. He watched with a wide, amazed gaze as he brought her to her peak with his fingers, delighting in the pain he felt as her nails dug into his shoulder as her hips grinded against his hand. 

The sounds of her soft moans echoed in his ears, alighting his body with furious desire. 

As he settled between her legs, he looked down at her, his eyes posing his silent question, the devotion she saw from the beauty of his lone eye, that she felt from the gentle touch of the tips of his fingers that traced lines up and down her thighs, was enough to have her nodding immediately, fiery want washing over her. 

He never dared to look away from the depth of her eyes as he delved inside her for the first time. 

He watched her carefully, whispering apologies as she gasped, the foreign feeling making her tense slightly. His gentle caresses, his soft kisses down the length of her neck, the words of praise he gave her, were enough to soothe her, her body relaxing, the pain fading.

He began to thrust slowly, the pleasure soon becoming too much and his eye fell closed as he shuddered from the delirious pleasure of being inside of her, but he forced himself to bring his gaze back to her, taking in the starry eyed look in her own. 

Their hands never left each other, Aemond gripped her hips as if he feared she would soon be forced away from him, her hands gripping onto his shoulders to ground herself in the wake of the unexpected pleasure he brought her. 

His nose brushed against hers as he kissed her softly, his hips finding a rhythm that made them both sigh in delight. He felt his limbs tremble, his resolve slipping the longer he stayed inside her, quickly realizing nothing in his entire existence would ever compare to this, to being with her, the woman he loved more than life itself. 

“Aemond.” She breathed out, pleading for him, pleading for this never to end, to never lose each other. 

He squeezed his eye shut briefly, his movements becoming more controlled as he let his body adjust to the ecstasy he was feeling. 

“You’re mine.” He panted, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her soft skin affectionately. “You will always be mine.” 

She nodded frantically, a moan falling past her lips as he found the spot inside her that made stars explode before her. 

The noise had Aemond gritting his teeth, a desperate growl sounding and he knew this would be ending soon. 

He quickened his movements, his hips rolling rapidly against hers. He choked out a surprised sounding moan as her legs wove around his waist, pulling him in deeper. 

“Oh, Gods, I can’t-”

“Give it to me, Aemond. I want it. I want all of you.” She replied frantically, the growl in his voice causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. 

She watched, entirely raptured by the sight before her as Aemond’s jaw dropped, his eye widening before slamming shut, his body trembling as a loud, desperate sounding groan fell from his lips. His hips became erratic, his movements becoming sloppy as he came hard, untethered from his control.

She gasped at the feeling, the tingling in her spine spreading until it burst, a cry of his name sounding in the room as she fell off the edge just a moment behind him. 

Aemond slumped against her, his chest heaving alongside her own, his shuddering breaths cooling the skin at her shoulder where his head rested. 

She ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and found their way into his hair and she began to run her fingers through his mussed strands gently as she found her way back to her body.

After a moment of quiet as their breathing relaxed, Aemond raised his head, his eye finding hers, her gaze locking onto the gem once more, their shared smiles bashful. 

A soft giggle sounded from her and Aemond wanted to melt into her all over again. He rested his head against hers, placing a soft kiss to her lips. 

“I love you.” He whispered in the quiet room. 

“I love you.” She told him with just as much honesty and devotion as had sounded in his voice. 

~~

ENJOY! XX

[s-4pphics]

A/N: me vs writing what i’m supposed to aka moth aka vampire possession aka anyway here’s post santa barbara angst don’t ask questions im not really sure LOL

“You’re back.” 

Determined hands freeze in the dirt, the freshly watered daisies glistening under the beaming sun rays. Your soiled fingers halt all movement at the soft acknowledgment from behind. A sigh leaves your lips. 

“… I am.” 

An exhausted one, and it’s not from your strenuous labor in the garden. Your body refuses to turn, but holes burn in your spine, leaving behind lasered streaks of green. 

“Can you look at me?” Ellie pleads gently. The softest you’ve heard her be in months. 

What she doesn’t know is that you’ve been back. For a week actually, hiding out in other people’s homes throughout Jackson, assisting in places where Ellie’s least likely to go. The garden in particular; Pollen makes her sneeze. 

Time is vital and interesting; Dina left her and Ellie’s farmhouse with her son when you fled Jackson. She sought you out, but you weren’t there. You spent most of your time alone, walking, running, killing what you had to. Searched for peace, internal and external. The sight of the waterfall was worth the months-long trip. Your home is different now. Eerily quiet. The kids you helped teached to read don't play outside or laugh as often anymore. You hardly see Tommy or Maria around. Jesse is dead. Joel is dead. Dina isolates with JJ. Hugs him like she’ll die if she lets go. 

Ellie’s forever changed. The town’s forever changed, and you’ve finally accepted that it’s for the worse. 

“Is listening not enough?” 

Cordiality is beyond you. Spite is evident. Even the flowers can feel it. 

You tried to be patient, to coddle, to mourn and aid and tend. Sacrifice your own wellbeing for the sake of hers. You tried, Dina tried, Tommy didn’t but he did at the same time. Oddly, destructively, but in his own way. You blame him and don’t. Hate him and don’t. He’s violently and permanently scorned, but so are you. So is Ellie. She says nothing from behind you. You rise with a pop in your knees and an upturned lip. 

When you face Ellie, your knees wobble. Scarred: emotionally, physically, mentally. Permanently. Her eyes are more breakable than glass, the shattered hand that displays defeat hid shamefully behind her back. But her cheeks are fuller, no longer the hollow vacancies they were before she left. Maria was always on her back about finishing her meals. 

Grief is complicated. Hurt. Anger. The flowers wilt. Listening isn’t enough, and neither is sacrifice.

Ellie’s nose always twitches when she thinks. Your heart gives a sporadic pulse, but not enough to revive the shell you're trapped in. 

“I don’t want an apology from you.” 

She shakes her head, “I know.” 

“Then why are we talking?” 

Another twitch of her nose. She searches for something. “I—“

But then she flinches away from you, a bent arm coming up to cover her nose and mouth when she sneezes. A painful jerk thrums through your chest, but still not enough. 

“Bless you.” 

One more sneeze, but softer. A bit squeaky. Remnant of when you first met her at 13 and she followed you out to the greenhouse to watch you water the orange trees. 

“Thanks.” 

You nod stiffly. When she doesn’t say anything, you move to leave. Your work is done and she knows you’re back; There’s no point in being alone with her. 

Ellie doesn’t follow, but she does speak. 

“I’m trying.” 

You pause, one foot in front of the other. A doe learning how to walk for the first time. 

“I’m trying to be normal. I’m trying to be okay but it’s not working.” Her voice trembles.

You weren’t expecting a confession. Normal. An interesting use of the word. No one feels that anymore. 

“It probably won’t for a long time.” You state, just as quietly as she, “But if you stop trying, you’ll rot from the inside. If that’s what you want, then fine. But if not… That's all you can do now.” 

“Will we ever be okay?” 

‘We’ means many. ‘We’ means two. Your back’s to Ellie, but you can see her. Unmoving, but frantic. Her mind cranks at a million miles a minute. You feel her eyes on you. Too familiar. 

You’re not sure how to answer, so you don’t. You take one last look at her before you walk away. 

Flowers never look the same the next day. 

[honeybeefae]

You're Mine (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// After leaving Eris behind to fulfill your parents' desire for marriage, knowing the two of you could never be, you did your best to move on. It had been five years, and you were finally starting to settle into your life with your husband when a late-night visitor brought back feelings you thought you had long since buried. 

(This idea has burrowed its way into my head and won’t leave anytime soon, so I’m dragging you all into this with me. I hope you like it <3 It's been awhile since I've wrote anything so if you have any critiques or opinions, please let me know!)

WARNINGS: Smut, Fertility Issues, Verbal Abuse (Spouse), Physical Abuse (Spouse) (A slap but nothing more), Possessive!Eris, Jealous!Eris, Cheating, Breeding Kink, Spanking

Five Years Ago

“Mother, please!” You beg, tears streaking down your hot cheeks as she gives you a look full of pity. It was a useless cause to try to convince your father against this arrangement, but your mother… she used to be a dreamer like you. She once thought of running away with a prince, of living happily ever after, so why wouldn’t she give you the same chance?

“Darling, please, collect yourself.” She urges, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards her. “Pierre will be here any moment with his family. They cannot see you like this.”

“They don’t have to! You could sneak me out the back, let me run away with-” You begin only to flinch when she grabs your face roughly, her eyes shining with a strange mixture of anger and agony. 

“With you, Y/N? With Eris?” She hisses, eyebrows furrowing together. “He is the heir to the Court. He will never choose you. He cannot. He will go with whichever maiden secures more political power, and that is not you.”

Your lower lip trembles as her words cut through you like hot steel. They settle in your soul, trying to burn out any hope you might have, and yet you persist. 

“No, Mother, you don’t understand. I love him. He loves me. We’ve been courting for months, dancing together and strolling through the gardens. Hells, he gave me this!” You gesture to the ruby necklace resting above your collarbone, wrapped in a gold band that resembles a fox’s tail. “Everyone has seen us together. His family, my family, does that mean nothing?”

She stares at you for a moment, her mouth turning downwards as her fury fades into sorrow. You swallow, trying to get the lump in your throat to disappear as the silence stretches on, but it refuses. 

“My darling girl,” She coos, her hands now cupping your cheeks. “One’s first love is something special, an experience worth remembering, but it is one that is never meant to last. He has his duties, as do you. It was never meant to be.”

The realization of the situation hits you in waves of denial, anger, and agony. It makes your head swim, and your stomach lurch as you try desperately to find anything to keep you afloat. 

“What if he does choose me, though? What if his parents see me as he does? Someone who makes him smile and laugh, who treats him well. If you could just let me speak with him one more time, keep Pierre and his father busy, I only need an hour.” You try to bargain with her, placing your hands over her own. She goes to respond, your hope hanging by a thread, only for your father’s voice to rise above the two of you.

“He has moved on, Y/N.” He sighs, clearly exasperated by your antics. “Beron has told us about Eris’s betrothed. It’s been arranged since birth. It is time for you to do the same.”

“But if he knew, why would he fall in love with me? I know what I saw, I know what I felt.” You press, wrapping your arms around yourself as your father’s jaw clenches. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You don’t think he would?” His scowl deepens as he glances at your mother over your shoulder before fishing for something in his coat pocket, ignoring his wife as she begins to protest. “Read this.”

“What is it?” You ask.

“Just read it.” He pushes the parchment into your hand, rolling his eyes.

Your fingers tremble as you glance at the letter, noticing Eris’s penmanship immediately. The words seem to blur together towards the end, but you realize it isn’t due to his writing but your tears. One of them splashes on the paper, staining it immediately as his voice echoes in your mind.

I regret to inform you of the ending of our courtship, effective immediately. Please know this is through not fault of your own. You were a wonderful experience. I should not have led you on, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Even though I am the least deserving of it. 

Yours,

Eris Vanserra

A loud sound echoed off the walls, and it wasn’t until your knees hit the floor that you realized it had come from you. You felt the world collapsing in, your dreams fading with each heartbeat as your worst fear came true. Your parents watched, one with sympathy and one with indifference, as you came to grips with reality. 

The silence after was choking you as the paper lay taunting you, his signature ingrained in your brain as a loud knock was heard from the front. Soft hands gingerly picked you up as your father’s footsteps led to the door, his voice booming as he greeted Pierre.

“Come now, Y/N,” She shushes you, brushing your tears away with a mother’s softness. “I know it hurts, but in time, it will fade, and you will find happiness with Pierre and your future family.”

“I cannot imagine feeling anything other than this, Mama.” You murmur, numbness starting to spread throughout your body as she smiles sadly and kisses your forehead.

“You will, sweet girl.” She assures you, pinching your cheeks to bring some color back as Pierre draws closer. 

“How do you know?” Your gaze raises to meet hers, searching.

She chuckles, though you know it is without humor, watching as she seems to drift far away for a moment before the sounds of your father's throat clearing behind you brings her back. 

Her arms pull you into a tight hug as she whispers into your ear, “Because I did.”

Present Day

From your wedding day to now, you have been desperately searching for the happiness your mom said would come. You threw everything into your relationship, forcing Eris into the darkest crevices of your heart so that you could move on. Pierre wasn’t an awful man. He was kind and generous, always concerned about your feelings and ensuring you were cared for. 

He knew about your past with Eris and never pushed you but soothed you like a balm to your soul. Your love for Pierre was different, but it was there; you just needed something more. However, you knew better than to dream of it. You could be happy with him, will be happy with him. 

Eris had made it very clear that he did not intend to return for you. He hadn’t even had the courage to come to your wedding nor send you any well wishes. You had seen him since, of course, but he always did his best to avoid you. If you did happen to catch his gaze during a dinner or ball, his eyes were always full of anger. 

It was in your best interest to forget all about him. 

You were torn from your thoughts as the front door opened, your husband poking his head around to look for you. A soft smile pulls at your lips effortlessly, rising up to greet him, only to stall when you see how angry he is. 

“Pierre, what is it?” You ask, forehead creasing as he all but slams a letter he had been holding onto the dining table.

“The new high lord,” He scowls, jaw clenching. “He is asking myself and the other merchants to travel across Prythian to secure new deals or else forfeit our titles.”

New high lord?

“Beron is dead?” You whisper, grasping the edge of the table. “How did he…who did…was it…?”

“Eris, yes, the treasonous snake,” Pierre grunts, raising his eyes to you. “It apparently happened overnight, and he is already throwing everything out. I knew he was a bastard, but to-”

“He is not a bastard,” You say before you can catch yourself, your mind screaming at you for rushing to his defense. You owe him nothing—no loyalty, no love, nothing. So why did you speak?

The air in the room seemed to change as he cocks his head, his eyes darkening dangerously. You feel the hairs on your neck raise as you step back, trying to put distance between you. However, Pierre doesn’t hesitate to follow you as the letter is now crumpled in his fist.

“I knew it.” He snaps, nostrils flaring as he grabs your arm and yanks you to him. You let out a small yelp, trying to push against him, but he doesn’t yield. “I’ve given you everything you could ever want. I’ve built you this home, this life when I could’ve treated you like filth.”

“Pierre, please, let go,” Your voice is a whimper as his grasp tightens. “You’re hurting me.”

“Me? Hurting you?” His laugh echoes off the walls, one of his hands running hastily through his hair. “Don’t act like you don’t deserve it. I’ve put up with this teenage moping for five fucking years. I’ve played the part of the gentleman, the family man, and you still can’t get over him. Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover what you are.”

Tears fall down your face as you sob, finally gaining the strength to rip your arm away as he turns and punches a hole into the wall beside him. You cannot stop yourself from trembling as his shoulders shake with fury, his breath coming in short pants.

“Do you know what they all tell me? Our friends and family?” Pierre asks, closing his eyes. “They tell me how sorry they are for me. How much they pity me. They’ve even suggested taking a whore on the side, so at least that way I could secure an heir.”

The last sentence strikes deep, one of your hands resting on your lower stomach as he gives you a mocking laugh. You had been trying to have a child for a while now. Under the care of a midwife, you had been drinking the teas, reducing your stress, and month after month, you failed. Pierre had been there for you throughout it, promising you that it was not your fault, and for him now to throw it back in your face…it made you sick. 

“Y-you told me that it was okay, that these things take time. Going into this marriage, you knew what I had been through and who my former lover was, and you said it was fine.” You hate how your voice trembles as you keep your eyes on the floor. “I thought you understood me, that you could see I was finally starting to heal, but was it all a lie? Have I been sleeping next to someone who I do not know?”

He watches you momentarily, taking in how meek you look and the tears that now stain your face. Footsteps fill the silence and stop once you see his feet, a soft hand coming to cup your chin and force you to look up.

Pierre was there in body but not in mind. The eyes that once held so much comfort were now empty, the smile now a scowl, and his touch burning rather than soothing. He turned your face from side to side, mesmerizing your beauty before smirking.

“I guess that’s two men who’ve used you now, huh?”

You don’t register the slap you gave him until you see his pupils dilate, your eyes widening in fear as your palm begins to burn from the contact. He snarls at you, and before you can apologize or scream, you aren’t sure which one, he backhands you and sends you spiraling to the floor. 

“I’ll be back in the morning, don’t wait up.” He calls over his shoulder, straightening his jacket before he walks out the door without even a glance at your crumpled body.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit to collect yourself off the floor, your face red-hot even though you know you have already healed. He hit you. He yelled at you, belittled you, and then slapped you as if it were nothing. A wolf in sheep's clothing. 

Your hands dig into the wood of the table as you pull yourself up, hating how weak you feel as you cry. This wouldn't have happened if you had kept your mouth shut. Why did you even say anything? After all this time, why did you feel you still needed to speak up for the man who deserted you?

“Fuck!” You scream as your sadness turns to rage, grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at the wall. It instantly shatters and clatters to the floor, flower petals scattering everywhere with the glass shards. 

It doesn’t make you feel better. So you throw another vase and another, and then a portrait until the room looks like a tornado ripped through it. But nothing is working to fill the hole in your chest that was just violently ripped open once again. 

A clock nearby chimes out twelve times, and you blink as you realize how much time has passed. Your adrenaline leaves your body quickly as exhaustion takes place, and your eyes glare at the front door one last time before you start heading up the stairs.

However, as your foot hits the first step, a loud knocking startles you. At first, you think it’s Pierre, drunk and probably without a key, but then you hear a voice. A voice that has haunted your dreams for five years.

“Y/N? Y/N, open the door. I know you are in there.” 

It can’t be…

You tiptoe to the door, your heart racing as you stare down at the knob. What should you do? Why was he here? What did he want? Should you even let him in? The consequences could be deadly, especially after what he had done just last night to his own father, but your heart was winning over your head right now.

“Please, my love, let me in.”

Your hand grasps the knob and turns it before you can stop yourself, the door opening to reveal Eris.

He looks the same, damn him. His red hair was tied back in a half-up style, the rest falling over his slender shoulders covered in a thick, dark green coat. Eris’s eyes, the color of molten amber, met yours with a ferocity that made your breath catch. Your stomach fills with butterflies as the night air caresses your skin, whispering long-forgotten memories that send your heart fluttering. 

“Eris…” you whisper, your voice tight with emotion. Whatever spell had taken over the two of you broke as you said his name. His hands came up to grasp your face as he pulled you in and kissed you, lips molding to yours as if they had never told you goodbye. 

And, cauldron help you, you kiss him back just as fiercely. You had thought about seeing him again more often than you care to admit, about how you would scream at him for what he did to you or prove to him you were better off without him. But once again, your heart craves what your mind desperately tries to discard.

It’s only when your back hits the wall of the foyer that you pull away, gasping for air as you shove him back. He blinks, dumbfounded, and goes for you again, but you shake your head and slap his hands away, gaze hot as years of resentment flood your veins.

“How dare you come into my home and kiss me like that after all you did.” You seethe, teeth clenching as he regards you like a caged predator. “You can’t just show up and do that! You can’t come in here and ruin my marriage, my life like you have any ownership of me.”

“I don’t think I was the one to ruin your marriage, little fox.” Eris replies smoothly, standing straight and giving a pointed look behind you to the mess of a dining room. 

“Don’t call me that.” You snarl, wrapping your arms around your body for comfort. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I won’t,” He states, looking you over. “I’ve defeated my father. I’m rebuilding the court and our reputation, gutting it from the inside out. I’m here to collect the last thing I need.”

Your brain goes fuzzy as he stretches out his hand, waiting for you to fall into his arms as if the past were not there. As if his letter and necklace weren’t still tucked away in a drawer by your bed. No matter how badly you missed and yearned for him, you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

“You led me on for years,” You say softly, your voice numb as you take another step back. “You courted me as if you cared. You made me believe we were real, that we would be together forever. Do you think I could just forgive and forget that after you left me with only a letter for an explanation?”

“I thought you were smarter than that.” Eris sighs and clenches his jaw, running a hand down his face as he closes the front door. 

“Excuse me? Get the-” 

“I didn’t write that letter, Y/N.” He interrupts you, coming to stand in front of you in just two short steps. “My father forced me. And yours, for that matter. I would never let you go. It was only under threat of your own harm that I chose to obey, but I swore to myself that as soon as I took control, I would come find you.”

The angry retort you had building dies in your throat, your head tilting to the side as if you hadn’t heard him correctly. 

“You…you didn’t mean what you wrote?” Your voice has a hint of hope, like the last spark of a fire, but you can’t help it. If he was telling the truth, and you still weren’t entirely convinced he was, it meant he had been waiting for you all these years. 

He grabs your face again, but it’s soft and caring this time, his thumb brushing across your cheek and collecting a tear you didn’t know had escaped. You look into his eyes, finding nothing but honesty, which only worsens it. 

“It hurt that you think I would treat you that way, that I could just throw everything we had away…” Eris whispers, tilting your chin up so you can’t look away. “I’m not your husband. I take care of what is mine. Forever. ”

The mention of him makes you wince and somewhat come back to your senses, glancing towards the clock and realizing he could be back at any moment. If he caught you with Eris, there would be no telling what he would do. Eris could take care of himself; he was a High Lord now after all, but you were vulnerable.

“Pierre…he could be home any minute. Eris, you can’t be here. You need to leave.” You frown, trying to move past him, only to gasp when his hand moves down to your neck and stills you. The hold isn’t tight, but you freeze, wide eyes looking up at him in worry. “Eris, if he finds you here with me-”

“Did you not hear what I said, little fox?” He asks mockingly, bowing his head so his lips can brush against your ear. “I take care of what is mine. And you are mine.”

Eris accentuates his words with a roll of his hips, his half-hard cock pressing against your lower half teasingly. You don’t stop the whimper that sneaks past your lips or the way your neck turns so he can mouth over your pulse point. 

“I’ve waited years for this moment, to see you again and take you home. I’ve watched as that pathetic excuse for a man dotes on you and brags about how pretty you sound in bed.” He growls, grabbing your hips and lifting you up effortlessly as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “The only thing that kept me sane was knowing you weren’t moaning from him like you did for me, that he can’t fill you up like your needy little pussy begs for.” 

“Please…” You whine, though you aren’t entirely sure what you are asking for. His touch was like fire against your cool skin, setting you aflame in a way you hadn’t felt in years. 

One of his hands snakes between the two of you and quickly finds your panties, his lips curling back as he feels the heat of your cunt. You swear you hear him purr as he begins to furiously bite and suck on your neck and collarbone, marking you. 

“Tell me what you need.” Eris commands, pulling back to look into your eyes.

Words fail you momentarily as you stare at each other, your heart threatening to explode as he refuses to drop his gaze. There were so many consequences to this decision, no matter what you choose, and so many things that need to be said before you can logically proceed.

But when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit and circles it slowly, the corner of his mouth tilting up to smirk, you know logic will not win tonight. 

“You, Eris,” You moan, trying to press further onto his hand for more friction. “You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

You don’t have time to scream as he squeezes you tightly and carries you up the stairs, your body bouncing so that your lower half hits his cock with each step. He groans and looks around momentarily before kicking open your bedroom door. He then throws you onto the bed and starts to undo his belt, all while keeping those burning amber eyes on you.

“Strip. Now.” He orders, voice raspy as you hastily follow his instructions, your fingers fumbling with the laces of your corset. Eris is already naked by the time you have it halfway undone, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight as he stalks over to you and grabs both sides of your top. 

“I hope you weren’t too fond of this.” Eris hums, giving no warning as he rips it in two.  You shiver as the cool air licks at your skin, your nipples pebbling while he licks his lips in anticipation. “I always thought you looked better bare anyways.”

Heat runs down your body at the comment, your thighs clenching, immediately catching his eye. You try to rise up on your knees to kiss him, but he is quick to pin you down, straddling your waist as his cock rests heavily over your cunt. 

“Let me touch you, please,” You don’t even recognize your own voice as you beg for him. It had been so long since you had felt this needy for someone. “I need something, anything, just please!”

Before you can babble anymore, his lips collide with yours, claiming you possessively as two of his fingers prod at your soaking pussy. He bites down on your bottom lip, and at the same time, he shoves his fingers inside, giving you no prep as he swallows your cries. 

“I know, baby, I know,” He coos into your ear, moving to nibble on your earlobe. “We can make love next time, but right now, right now I need to fuck your pretty little brain out to make up for lost time.”

Your back arches as he curls his fingers, finding your spot with ease and teasing you as he kisses down your neck and to your breasts. He sucks your left nipple into his mouth, capturing it between his teeth and tugging until you moan. His cock is leaking against your thigh as he ruts against you. 

Rough sex wasn’t new to you, though it had been a while. Pierre was always gentle, taking his time, and while Eris had his moments, he was quite fond of making you beg. However, when fantasizing about this, you always imagine Eris cherishing the moment. This was raw and feral.

“Eris, I’m c-close…” You groan, rolling your hips so he can get even deeper. Your walls flutter around his thick fingers, squeezing them, but right before you can fall over the edge, he pulls them out roughly. “No!”

“The only way you are cumming tonight is around this cock.” He grunts, flipping you over so that you are lying on your stomach before dragging your hips up. Both of his hands squeeze your ass before he lines himself up to your hole, rubbing his length up and down to coat himself in your slick.

“Ohhh fuck…” You moan as the head catches on your clit, your entire cunt throbbing in anticipation. “Fuck me.”

“Not yet, little fox. I want you to tell me how badly you want it.” Eris says lowly, grasping his cock and barely pressing into you before pulling away. “Tell me how much you missed me, how much you thought about me while your husband fucked you in this bed.”

Your nails dig so hard into the mattress you are sure you’ll rip it as you screw your eyes shut, already so sensitive from his teasing. It felt so wrong to speak the thoughts you have been burying for so long, to admit that you never got over the High Lord behind you. 

All of your inhibitions get thrown out the window, though, as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, his fingers pinching your clit in annoyance. 

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about this, about me, Y/N. That whenever your husband would roll over at night after a mediocre fuck you wouldn’t rub that needy clit while wishing it was me.” He hisses, one of his hands grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking until your neck is craned up. “Give yourself to me, let it go.”

“Yes, okay, yes, I haven’t stopped thinking about you!” You sob, every nerve in your body on edge as he grins in approval. “Every time I had sex, every night in the bath, I couldn’t stop picturing your hands. Your chest. Your cock.”

Eris rewards your confession with what you had been craving, thrusting his entire length in one fluid movement as your pussy burns from the stretch. 

“More. Give me more.” He demands, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward.

“I-” You swallow, your mind starting to fuzz with the ecstasy of having him back inside you. “I would close my eyes and pretend it was you. I wanted it to be you. He could never compare to you, could never make me feel this good.”

Your head drops down as he lets go of your hair in favor of grabbing your hips, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallowed him whole. His hair was starting to stick to his forehead as he truly fucked you. There was no gentleness, no tendrils of love, just pure ownership and passion.

And cauldron damn you did you love it.

“Gods damn it,” Eris swears, moving one of his hands underneath you to rest on your abdomen so he could feel just how deep inside you he was. “Touch yourself, Y/N. I want you to cum on my cock as I fill you up.”

There was a distant panic in the back of your head at the thought of him cumming inside you. You weren’t on any special tea to prevent pregnancy. In fact, you were on something to encourage it. 

“Eris, wait-” You try to protest, your words dying in your throat as he starts to rub your clit for you. His hands are calloused from years of use, giving you the friction that you need to cum within minutes. “Eris, I’m not on any birth control. If you-”

“What, you think I don’t want to knock you up?” He chuckles, voice rough as he increases the speed of both his fingers and thrusts. “Oh, Y/N, did you already forget you’re mine? I came here to claim you and breed you, little fox.”

“Oh my gods,” You whimper, the image only making you draw closer to your finish as he bends over to get right next to your ear. 

“You’re going to take all of my cum and thank me for it. I’m going to do what your husband couldn’t, right here in his bed for him to smell when he comes home.” Eris sneers, a tingle going up his spine as he feels his balls tighten with the need to release. “I’ll have you barefoot and pregnant for me before he can even come get you. You’re fucking mine.”

“Yours, Eris!” You repeat, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clench around him. He gives one more circle on your bud, and you are gone, lost to a mind-numbing orgasm that has him throwing his head back and roaring. 

Every muscle in your body tightens and releases as you greedily milk his own cum into your womb, your screams echoing off the bedroom walls. You don’t even register Eris biting your shoulder, the pain mixing dangerously with the pleasure as small rivulets of blood run down your back. 

You feel your knees give out as you collapse onto the bed, lungs begging for air while Eris slowly pulls out of you. He is silent, and you have just enough strength to look back to see him watching his speed leak out of your gaping hole, his fingers quick to collect it and stuff it back inside you.

“Eris…” You whisper, your eyes are heavy as he gingerly lifts you up and cradles you in his arms. “Is this…did you really come back for me?”

He lets out a small huff of air in humor as he nods, kissing your forehead and smoothing away your hair. Exhausted, you lean into the touch, and he seems to hold you closer. “I’ll always come back for you, little fox.” 

[macfrog]

I miss our beloved scom family. How are they doing this fine day?

god, i miss them too. here's what they probably got up to today.

something blue 3.6k words | series masterlist warnings: y'all know the drill: being a mom.

Sarah leads Ellie, the way she always does, into the kitchen at seven a.m. sharp.

She stops by Joel first, squeezes into his size at the counter, and pushes onto her tiptoes. When he sidesteps to let her see (even though he point-blank refused to let you), she wraps two arms tight around her sister and hoists her up.

“Pancakes!” the three-year-old squeals, and loses her grip on her plastic dinosaur. He falls headfirst into the counter.

“Shh!” Sarah hisses, slinging Joel a disgruntled look. She sighs and swipes the T-Rex from his hand.

“The heck you lookin’ at me for?” he grumbles.

The girls eye you the entire walk over to the table. One as suspicious as the other. Sarah moves smooth, floats over to her spot with her chin skyward.

Ellie thumps at her heels, staring you down and almost stumbling into a chair.

“Careful, Nel,” you whisper, and her poker face cracks. You turn to Sarah. “I know it’s pancakes. It’s the only thing your dad ever figured out how not to burn.”

Joel’s shoulders jump. He swallows the laugh in his chest and says nothing.

Ellie sucks the chocolate clean from her dinosaur’s head. Last week, she decided his name was Bill. You, Joel, and Sarah are still trying to figure out where the hell she came up with it. Whoever he’s named after, she doesn’t like him much – not with the rate she lobs him around.

Kid’s an enigma. She suits it just fine.

She stares at you, still, as Sarah helps her up into her chair. Judders forward with each shove under the table. Comical, the two of them; like Pinky and the fucking Brain, you once told Joel – though you’re still not sure who’s who.

Your eyes drop to a stain on the toddler’s outfit. “You want me to wash that yet, Gagarin?”

She looks down. An arm swishes up to dab at the tangerine splotch. She grins, amused with herself, and shoves the dino back between her gums.

Sarah shakes her head. She turns back to you and flashes a trademark Joel frown. Eight years old and somehow, she manages to encapsulate the same fifty-six-year-old, unimpressed glower.

“Nel,” she turns, uttering between teeth, “You can’t wear dirty clothes today, remember?”

“I don’t think spacesuits are allowed at preschool,” you sigh as you push yourself up. “Much too sophisticated – huh, baby girl?”

Ellie giggles and flings her arms to the ceiling, sending Bill in a somersault across the table. She’s in nothing but pull-ups underneath the onesie – although it’s rare for her to ever be in much more than her pull-ups and, usually, one loose sock.

The suit means she’s feeling fancy. But what the fuck for?

All of Sarah’s leftover chaos, the magic she left in your veins after she was born, seems to have poured into her little sister. Smaller, mightier – more reckless, but not half as savvy.

Rarely seen without one of her prehistoric pals in her fist; evidence of what she had for lunch smeared around her lips. Chasing after Sarah, after Shimmer, after a butterfly that found itself trapped in her bedroom last month.

She scaled a chest of drawers trying to reach it. Joel caught her just in time. Some nights in bed, you can still feel his heart pounding from the scare she gave him.

Chalk and cheese. Sarah and Ellie. The former calm, composed. Candid and levelheaded, book smart and (alarmingly) wise beyond her years.

The latter – well.

It’s her first time on the planet, too, you try to remember.

You wander over to the washer, tossing the suit into the drum. You dig an elbow into Joel’s side and he flinches.

“Can I see yet?”

He turns, shielding whatever’s in front of him with a wide shoulder. “Not yet, baby. Not done.”

“You’re taking fuckin’ forever,” you mumble, pressing the words into his shoulder blade. From the corner of your eye, you watch the girls babbling to each other, scratching Shimmer between her floppy ears.

Joel twists, still hiding with his hands, and dots a tiny kiss on the tip of your nose. He smells like coffee and toothpaste. It still dizzies you every time he’s near enough for you to breathe it in.

“I’m almost done. Promise.”

You steal a kiss from his lips and smirk, stepping away. “Okay,” your eyes drift down to the counter, “If you say s…Alphabet sprinkles?”

His jaw slackens, moves like a bubbling fish. “Uh – they’re for – they’re for somethin’…Duck?” he clears his throat, “Tell your mom what they’re for, would ya?”

Sarah freezes. She stammers just like her dad. She does a lot just like him.

“A…a…a school project,” she says, and stares down at the dog.

“A – a – a school project?”

Your daughter nods. Still fixed on the smudges of sable around Shimmer’s eyes. “Bake sale.”

“You never told me about any bake sale,” you cross your arms, “What’d you make?”

She’s quick as lightning. “Cupcakes. But we haven’t made ‘em yet. Tonight, right, Dad?”

Joel’s voice is hoarse with panic. “Tonight,” he rasps.

You lean back against the counter, eyes shifting to the right. A different tactic. A rogue tactic, that’s for sure, but she has her moments. “…Nel?”

Your youngest looks up from her belly button.

“Not Nel,” Joel pleads, catching your eye for half a second.

“Why not Nel?”

His voice drops. “That kid would spill a state secret if you dangled a marshmallow in front of her.”

You tsk. “That’s mean. And wrong, anyways. The reason they have state secrets is ‘cause of kids like her. We should be proud, Miller.”

Ellie’s clutching the dinosaur when you look back over, chewing on his tail. She blinks back, and you wonder if there’s anything other than mastermind plans of mischief behind her eyes.

Joel says she has the same look in her eye that you do. Like you’re in on something the rest of the world has yet to catch up on. Twins, from the moment she stumbled ass over foot out of your body.

She talks just like you, and acts just like you, and – some nights, chatting sleepy gibberish under the slow turn of her rocket ship nightlight – you figure she must think just like you, too.

The perfect little riot.

Joel nudges you away, whispering, “Go on,” and you snicker, pushing off.

The sun combs through the room, glinting off cutlery and radiating from your daughters’ smiles. They chat and giggle and kick their feet; Sarah blows raspberries and Ellie sprays saliva all over the table when she tries to copy.

This is life, now.

You used to wake up to a silent house, sip your coffee and watch the oven clock count down the minutes until you had to leave for work.

You used to keep the radio on, even when you were out back – just to feel like someone was home with you. You used to sing to yourself as you flicked every light off at the end of the night.

Now, the laughter lives in the walls. It echoes even when you’re home alone. The oven clock counts down until there’s another pair of smaller hands in yours; until your man’s arms are back around your waist where they belong.

Come nightfall, you pluck odd socks and toy cars from under the couch. You tuck your children into bed, nuzzle your nose into their cheeks. You curl up beside Joel and trace shapes into his palm.

I love you, you write, some nights.

Dickhead, on others.

It takes a village, they all say. And sure, sometimes it does.

Sometimes, though, all it takes is two neighbors, a handshake deal, and a little bump named Duck.

“Woah, Nellie,” Joel chuckles, setting the first plate down. He clicks his teeth and taps a light knuckle on the girls’ hands, locked in a death grip. “Play nice. I got yours here, too, kiddo.”

Ellie straightens immediately. She watches, eyes fixed and glasslike, as her own breakfast is presented to her. And then she breaks into a wide grin, cheeks swelling. Her heels thud thud thud on the legs of her chair.

You lean over, cocking your head to see.

Two stacks of fluffy pancakes – a healthy dollop of chocolate spread on Sarah’s, and Ellie’s drizzled in golden syrup. Shards of strawberry and slices of banana scattered over the towers; blobs of whipped cream like clouds.

And on top of each, in clumsy sprinkle letters: Duckie and Nellie.

Sarah grins, two front teeth brand new and beautiful. She picks up her cutlery and raps them against the table, a nervous jitter about her.

You realize, just as her eyes flicker across yours, that she’s not beaming at her pancakes.

You realize, as he sways over to your side, that she’s beaming at him.

He’s holding two more plates. He sets his own down, a messy crater carved into the chocolate.

Your brows pull. “What happened –?”

“Bill happened,” he scoffs, shooting Ellie daggers.

She’s too busy tearing her stack apart, mixing a paste from syrup and cooked batter. There are few things the kid loves more than food and mess – and nothing she loves more than both at the same time.

She looks out of her mind happy, smothering the glossy mixture all over her cheeks, chewing in contentment.

“Like ‘em?” Joel asks, and you glance up.

“Yeah,” you laugh, eyes welling, “I love them. What’s the occasion, Miller?”

“Just…” his head wobbles as he considers it, “…we wanted to ask you somethin’.”

You turn to Sarah.

She’s still smiling, wider than you’ve ever seen. So bright that you worry she might shatter the glassware on the table.

“We?” you ask, smiling much the same.

She gives nothing away, and yet, at the same time – everything. Her knee bounces with excitement. Her breathing quickens.

“You wanna read yours?” Joel asks, tilting the plate in his hand.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you sniff, “I’m scared.”

He lowers the plate.

The letters blur in and out of focus as you blink.

Red, green, yellow, pink. The second M is an upside-down W. The Rs lean into each other, chocolate pushing from the middle of the letters. A question mark crafted from a C and half of another letter.

Your lungs jump, though you knew it was coming. Though you’ve talked about it for months, now.

Let’s just get it outta the way, make it easier for the girls when we’re older. Few forms to fill out then it’s done. We don’t gotta make a big deal of it.

Can’t afford to make a big deal of it, anyway.

Wouldn’t want to make a big deal of it.

You’ve never been one for big deals.

This is a big deal. This is a big fucking deal, Joel.

All multicolored, flecks of whipped cream on them. Silly little alphabet letters.

Marry me?

Joel kneels as you swivel around to him. He kisses your cheek, takes your hands, rubs his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Look,” he says, voice trembling, “I know we said we wouldn’t make a big deal of it. But…you gotta let me make a big deal of it, honey. You gotta let me make a big deal of you.”

You laugh, tears spilling down the front of your shirt. Your heart is pounding, body alight with nerves or excitement or both, in one lightning bolt of feeling.

It’s everything you ever wanted, and nothing you ever expected.

“Everything I have –” Joel says, “– the kids, the house, the dog – I found it all with you. Because of you. I love you so much, and I can’t – I can’t take another minute that we’re not…”

His hands squeeze yours, and you swear you feel your pulses align. Beating together, two hearts on the same bassline.

He swipes the tears from your cheek, catches them in his palm. “…It don’t have to mean anything, I know that – but you, darlin’…you mean everything. What do you say we go do it?”

It’s the easiest thing in the world. And not just because you knew it was coming, knew to expect it soon enough.

Joel could’ve asked you the minute you found out you were pregnant with Sarah, and you reckon you would’ve said yes.

It’s easy. Loving him is so easy. Being with him is so fucking easy.

Coffee at sunrise, low volume TV in the bedroom. Skin and sheets, marks on your neck and chest and thighs. Laughter for breakfast, homework for dinner. Two bodies squeezing into one tiny shower cubicle, Joel’s hand over your mouth to muffle your giggles.

“Today,” you whisper, cupping his jaw. “I want to do it today.”

“Today?” his eyes flash over your shoulder to his daughters, “We gotta take the girls to –”

“No, we don’t,” your head shakes, “Do we have a marriage license?”

“Got it last week.”

“Then they come with. We get all dressed up, all four of us, and head down to the courthouse. We’re married by the end of the day.”

He laughs, loose and disbelieving. Shakes himself back into the room. “Today,” he repeats. “As in, right now?”

“Right now, baby.”

“Okay. Yeah, alright. Today.”

“Ask me.”

Joel’s cheeks lift. Tears disappear into his beard.

You lean forward, lining your forehead against his. “Ask me, Miller,” you whisper.

It’s no big deal. It’s a regular Wednesday. Packed lunches and dinosaurs with Nutella in their teeth.

It’s no big deal, but when he asks you, time stops.

“Will you marry me?”

“Fuck yeah, I will.”

Sarah takes forty-five minutes to apply your mascara, some powder, and a pink lip. She promises she’s being neat, and you tell her you don’t care – you’ll love it either way.

She says she knows, but she promises she is anyway.

Ellie curls up in your lap and twists your necklace around her fingers. She asks four times if her spacesuit is dry yet.

“Ellie,” Sarah warns – and you know it’s serious when she uses her sister’s real name – “You can’t wear a costume to a wedding.”

“Mama is!”

“No she ain’t! Brides are s’posed to wear white. Mama’s dress ain’t white. What you got on is fine,” she decides.

Ellie knows better than to keep arguing. She catches her heel in her hands, huffing. “Wanted to be an ass-traut.”

You catch Sarah’s eye. Don’t.

She bites her giggle.

“You are an astronaut,” you squeeze your toddler, “Our astronaut. Whether you’re in your spacesuit, or you got your big bare butt out for us all to see.”

She giggles into herself, a sound sweet enough to convince the sun to rise at dawn. Her baby teeth are small and wonky. She snorts, settles in your arms again, and watches Sarah lean in with the lipstick.

You lift your chin, holding steady. “Is Dad ready?”

She pauses, letting go of her breath. “He says he’s been ready the last half hour,” she mutters, and dabs more color on.

“Is he nervous?”

Her eyes lift. Eyelashes long and thick – black mascara that you made her pinkie swear she’d wipe clean the moment she gets home.

She smirks. It’s like looking in a mirror. “Are you?”

You press your lips together, blending the pink. “Little bit. You think that’s a good sign?”

“Mhm.”

Sarah straightens, capping the lipstick. She smiles at her masterpiece. “You look beautiful, Mama.”

“Well,” your chest fills, “I’m only beautiful ‘cause you made me that way, Duck.”

Joel’s voice sails upstairs and into the little pink room.

“Courthouse is closin’, sun’s almost down, they’re diggin’ my damn grave already. Are we good to go, or what?”

Sarah grins and leaps over an upturned toybox in the middle of her room. She pirouettes out to the landing, pursing and then smacking her lips together.

You fix Ellie’s skirt and lead her out after her sister. “’s go, Nellie.”

“Mama,” she tugs at the fabric, “I gotta…Need…need…”

“Shit,” you whisper, watching the ballerina twirl downstairs to her dad. “Uh…Duckie?”

“Hi, pretty Duck,” Joel calls, catching her in his arms. He spins her around and the skirt of her dress billows.

Her little heels click when he lets her down. She keeps on spinning, watching herself in the mirror.

“Baby?” Joel calls. “Y’all ready?”

“Nel’s gotta go!” you reply.

He scoffs. “She nervous or som’?”

“Or som’,” you sigh, walking the kid into the bathroom.

Ellie takes about as long as a three-year-old should, to be fair to her. It requires an amount of determination that right now, neither of you have the focus to lend it. Potty training doesn’t wait up, even for weddings.

Eventually, she announces with a triumphant shout that she’s done, Mama! – and claps her hands as the toilet flushes.

You carry her downstairs, heels clunking on the solid wood. At the bottom you set her free – and she sprints out to join her sister on the lawn.

The pair run circles around one another. They cartwheel on the grass; they race Shimmer and use the flowerbeds as hurdles. They dirty their dresses – ivory stained with bursts of green – though they look better that way, anyway.

They take turns playing Swingball with the only remaining racket (a mysterious disappearance that neither will own up to, and both are most certainly involved in). Sarah tells Ellie that she won – and the smaller girl throws her fists in the air and roars in victory.

Joel stands on the porch, hands in his pockets, watching. Even from behind, you can see the shape of his cheeks: he’s smiling. He crosses one foot over the other and taps his heel against the wood.

You emerge from the house slowly, quietly. “We didn’t get matching corsages this time,” you say, and he turns.

He starts, as though he glitches for a second. As though his world tilts on its axis, just from looking at you. His expression softens, his lips curve into a smile.

Then he breathes a laugh – a shaky thing, like he’s seventeen again, watching his homecoming date saunter over.

“That’s alright,” he replies, and slips a hand into his suit pocket. He fishes out two white tulips. “Remembered Alice dropped these off the other day. Here.”

Delicately, lighter than the breeze, he tucks the flower behind your ear. He steps back to admire his work, just like his daughter did.

All the best parts of you, you reckon, are the parts that are loved by them.

“How do I look?” you ask.

Joel sucks in a shattered breath. “Beautiful,” he chokes, like it’s all his voice will allow. He sniffs, drags his knuckles across the bottom of his nose, and says, “You ain’t never looked more beautiful.”

“Your turn.”

You take the second tulip from his fingers and drop it into his breast pocket, turning it until it looks perfect. “There,” you pat his chest, “Now we both look beautiful.”

He steps forward, dipping his head to kiss you. Arms around your waist, hands splayed on your back. He laughs against your lips. “Don’t think I don’t know what this is,” he mumbles, tugging at the pale material.

“It still fits!” you say, running a palm down the smooth silk. Flashes of light, a squealing guitar, heated kisses and a thudding bassline. It spins past your eyes as he leans in again.

He tastes the same. Less alcohol, sure – but that same, sweet-as-honey, instantly intoxicating taste. Like you were a goner before you even hit the mattress.

You look back up, and Joel’s eyes are on yours.

“After two kids, it still fits,” you whisper.

“Hm,” he muses, glancing down. His hands slip around your ass. “Looks even better than it did then, Mama.”

You laugh against his lips. “It’s my something blue.”

“Oh, yeah?” He lifts an eyebrow. “What else you got?”

“Well, something borrowed –” you hold your left hand up, a plastic ring glinting in the sunlight, “– Duck gave me some of her finest jewelry. Something new –” you wiggle your earlobe, “– Mother’s Day earrings, and…something old…”

Joel tilts his head. His expression tightens, tightens, tightens – until he understands. He clicks his teeth and steps back. “Funny. You’re so funny, I ever tell you that?”

You giggle, letting him drag you across the porch. “I’m just bein’ realistic, man. What else do I got that’s as old as you?”

He ignores you. It makes you laugh even harder.

It always did.

The wind surfs through silk, lifting your skirt as you stride over the driveway. Your hands stay interlocked – and you know that, secretly, Joel’s as nervous as you.

He whistles and his daughters look up.

“Serena, Venus,” he calls, nodding to the truck. “Get in.”

They skip over. Sarah takes her dad’s hand – the picture of royalty as he aids her up into the backseat – and Ellie swings into your arms.

You strap them in, point fingers to warn them not to bicker, and climb in the front.

The doors slam closed and you exhale slowly. Two kids aren’t any more complicated than one – especially in yours and Joel’s case – but holy shit, they’re tiring.

They compare dresses in the backseat. What color is yours, Duck? Pink, Nel. Is mine’s pink, Duck? Yours is yellow, Nel.

Joel’s hand slips around your knee. He smiles. Gives your leg a little squeeze. He flicks the radio on, and an Eagles track sways through the cabin. He fixes the tulip in your hair, peppers kisses along your wrist.

His voice is as soft as Henley’s, when he asks –

“Wanna go to a wedding?”

[kasagia]

Dancing with the devil II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: The Na-Baron's birthday celebration on Giedi Prime at the beginning of the season makes you realise just how much work you'll have to put into becoming Empress—and even more into avoiding Harkonnen, who's showing you way too much attention. This is something that your almost-fiance definitely shouldn't like, and something that he doesn't notice. After all, there's little you can see in the darkness of Giedi Prime. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

"Smile. And powder yourself. You look pale, as if we were going there for a beheading and not a ball." Your mother says, adjusting the position of the grid of diamonds decorating your head. You flinch as you feel the cool metal of the gems brush against your cheek.

The damn thing was heavy, but nice. You remember perfectly how Lord Luwael's eyes lit up when he saw you wearing a similar ornament in your hair.

"In a way it is. First we will see the fight in the arena." You are sceptical of what comes next when your ship lands on Giedi Prime. You didn't like this place. It was black and white, barren, devoid of life and any moral principles. It was therefore an ideal place for gossip to arise - especially the spicy ones.

Besides, your... last encounter with Na-Baron was still fresh in your memory. Especially in dreams. On those terrible nights, you dreamed about how, in the darkness of your gardens and under the moonlight, you allowed him to do... more wicked things. Things that even husbands and wives shouldn't do behind their chambers' doors. And as much as you felt aroused after every dream like this, you were also disgusted with yourself and hated the Na-Baron even more for your little fantasies.

This helped immensely when it came to increasing motivation to win the emperor's cousin's heart, but no amount of flirting with him helped you forget the touch of a certain Harkonnen. You found it very interesting. And you hoped that after fighting in the arena, your body would adopt the same attitude towards him as your brain. He was dangerous and should have been avoided by you at all costs, and yet, in every fantasy about him, you enjoyed his burning touch more than the previous ones and wanted much more to happen between you two.

"Better for you. Half of these charpies in silks and sparkles will faint and never set foot in a ballroom. Take this opportunity and stick to the arm of the emperor's cousin." She advises you, licking her finger and twisting a lock of your hair so it rests unruly against your temple and falls onto your cheek.

"Lord Luwael wrote to me all summer. Besides, you saw for yourself that he visited our planet several times."

"It does not mean anything. He could only be bored, so he flew around the planets looking for entertainment. You have to charm him, Y/N. Drive him crazy with a... desire for you so great that he will do anything to have you—only then will he propose to you. It's still a miracle that he looked at you, since we come from a worse dynasty than him." He reminds you dryly, and you press your lips into a thin line. He doesn't wait for your answer. She leaves your room, clearly expecting you to follow her, when the ship announces that you are about to land.

You take a shaky breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your home-coloured dress hugged your curves perfectly, showing off the best of your figure, and your makeup highlighted your cheekbones and gave your eyes depth. All of this made you an irresistible sight. Lord Luwael would have to be blind not to appreciate your beauty. You will leave Giedi Prime with a ring on your finger or on the ship of the emperor's cousin. You did not see any other possibility, nor did you want to allow something other to happen.

You put on your soft, genuine smile and leave the room to join your mother on the exit ramp. Moments later, the ramp descends, revealing the black sun of Giedi Prime. You frown and squint as you adjust to the atmosphere on the planet. Your mother and you come down to earth. As soon as you can see beyond the patch of land in front of you, you shiver as you notice the Na-Baron waiting near your ship. You feel your anxiety and nervousness rising inside you, but you try your hardest to maintain your polite smile.

"Viscountess Y/L/N. Lady Y/L/N." He greets you, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine. You try to control your breathing and heartbeat, as panic is rising within you.

He looks... even more intimidating than on your home planet. That night, his mask had covered practically his entire face, but now you could see him in all his glory. And damn you, because those tempting lips he had weren't the only advantage of his appearance.

His face looked as if thousands of painters had worked on it, as if it had been lifted from ancient paintings depicting beautiful demons tempting people to damnation. And, oh, what a handsome devil he was. If you believed in an afterlife, you would wonder if he escaped from hell to lead people into temptation.

You couldn't help but wonder if he would recognise you. Does he know that it was you who went with him to the garden a few months ago? You try to read some reaction from his face, but he maintains an emotionless, composed demeanour as he looks at you and your mother.

"Na-Baron. It's a great honour to be here to celebrate your birthday. May fate always be in your favour." She greets him kindly. You shiver in relief as he thankfully doesn't pay much attention to you as his gaze comes back to your mother. 

"I hope it will. The maids will show you the way to the guest wing and your chambers. All celebrations will take place tomorrow. I hope that you will soon get used to the atmospheric conditions in Giedi Prime. Until then." He nods at the maids standing behind him. Bald women come up to you and hand you tiny baskets. "Our guests find it quite useful."

You look at the things in the basket; your attention is caught by sunglasses with black lenses and a strange coat. Your mother reaches for her coat and, with practiced skill, slips it gracefully over herself, along with her glasses, as you stare unsteadily at the strange fabric.

"Lady Y/L/N. May I?" Na-Baron asks. However, he doesn't wait for your answer.

He comes closer to you, takes your cloak from the basket, and hands it to your servants. He wraps the coat around you, adjusting it to your figure and making sure to cover all of your exposed skin.

"We Harkonnens have a special pigment in our skin to prevent the carcinogenic effects of sunlight and burns from long-term exposure. You must remember to wear this coat outside to avoid any diseases, Lady Y/L/N." He says, standing behind you and tying the fabric of your coat together. He uncovers your face for a moment and puts on your sunglasses. "Nor your beautiful eyes to be damaged." He whispers, so only you can hear him.

You shiver, staring at him blankly, glad that your sunglasses allow you the convenience of hiding your eyes from him and whatever you're focused on.

Was it possible that he recognised you? Was he giving you a hint that he knew you were his white swan? NO. Impossible. He probably flirted with every single woman who came to Giedi Prime. After all, he was going to find a wife this season. He had to show his softer side and hide Giedi Prime's brutality from the naive noblewomen so that some stupid and naive one would marry him.

"We thank you very much for your kindness, Na-Baron." Your mother speaks for you, obviously angry that you haven't spoken up for yourself. You just nod, shifting your gaze to the castle behind him, trying to escape his watchful, searching gaze for a moment.

"Your welcome." He responds with a nod to your mother.

He takes your hand in his, making you tense slightly as he leans down and presses a short kiss on it. A shiver runs through you as you feel the shape of his lips through your gloves, and your mind automatically recalls the memory of that night. You smile at him politely and quickly join your mother's side, leaving Na-Baron on the ramp as another ship arrives.

"Do not act like that. Don't show that you're afraid of them. And be careful. It's very common for people here to disappear after showing disrespect to the Na-Baron. You know how, right?" She whispers furiously to you as you are led inside the palace by the maids.

"I... I know. I'm sorry." You say this thoughtfully, turning discreetly over your shoulder to watch him greet the other noble families. This time, he doesn't kiss anyone's hand or help anyone put on their protective cloak. You shake your head. He probably saw that you weren't engaged to anyone yet, and that's why you got... special treatment from him.

"Just don't act like a scared mouse. I raised you better."

Right. Your mother raised you better. That's why you shouldn't have disappeared into the garden with this mysterious stranger from the very beginning. It would save you a headache now that wasn't caused by the oppressive atmosphere on Giedi Prime. You just wanted this season to end as soon as possible. Preferably your marriage.

You walk hand in hand with Lady Y/F/N towards the arena, gossiping about what happened since last night. The Giedi Prime sun is somehow more bearable today; you don't know if it's because of the items given by Na-Baron or because the weather was exceptionally not as cruel as the day you arrived, but you feel much better. (Or maybe it was because you didn't see Na-Baron Harkonnen today.)

"I tell you, Princess Irulan was furious. I heard she destroyed her room, and the maids worked all night to get it back in order. Do you think it's possible? That the Emperor wants to marry her off to Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha?"

"Possible. It wouldn't be a stupid move. After all, Irulan cannot become emperor. She may be the firstborn, but she has no right to rule. It is logical that her father wants to marry her off to the second-best possible party, of course, when it comes to financial and political issues."

"Second best? Who's first?" You just smile at her question, watching the other noblewomen and their families walk towards the arena.

"Of course, as a woman in love, I must say that Lord Luwael."

"Has someone talked about me?"

A faint blush appears on your cheeks. You and Y/F/N turn around to see a smug Lord. You give him an equally mischievous smirk and curtsy, grabbing the arm he offered you.

"I do not think so. You must have misheard, Lord Luawel. Maybe it's the sun of Giedi Prime that bothers you so much that you lose your hearing?" You tease him as the three of you enter the arena.

"Lady Y/N, you don't have to worry about me so much, as sweet as that is. Fortunately, I don't need as much protection as you ladies do. However, I must admit that Giedi Prime is a terrible place. It does not allow you to see the natural beauty of certain things, taking away their colours."

"Maybe there's something… positive to be found here?" Y/F/N asks hesitantly as you pass a group of Harkonnens heading to the arena. The men say something in their harsh, unpleasant language that makes you shiver. You are only further insisting that there is nothing good to find on Giedi Prime.

"Positive? With all due respect, Lady Y/F/N, the Harkonnens have destroyed everything beautiful that could be left on this planet. Including their appearance and behavior." You giggle, careful not to let anyone else but the three of you hear you. But you wonder why your friend's attitude is so... sullen. She plays with her glove nervously as her eyes fall on the baron's older nephew, Rabban. "I don't know who is worse, him or his younger psychopathic brother."

"I think both of them are equal in their madness." You comment, agreeing with Lord Luwael.

Your eyes involuntarily land on Na-Baron, who exchanges a few words with one of his servants. You shiver when his eyes find yours—as if he has a special detector that makes him aware every time someone's eyes linger on him for too long.

He nods to you, looking at you carefully and examining your dress. His lips twitch into a smile when he sees you're wearing the coat he helped you adjust to your figure yesterday. You quickly turn your head towards Lord Luwael and give him one of your practiced, beautiful smiles.

"I… I'm sorry. I should join my family. Lord Luwael. Lady Y/N."

You frown, watching her walk away like a beaten puppy. You decide to question her about her strange behavior later in the evening. Now you had to focus on your lord.

"And you, lady? Are your wonderful mother and father with you?" Lord Luwael asks, placing his hand on top of yours after managing to penetrate the layers of material protecting your skin. He acts as if he wants to pull you much closer to him.

You feel the skin of your hand burn where it touches his, but unfortunately, not from... the excitement of this tiny, forbidden contact. Someone's eyes are watching you carefully, but you are too afraid to look towards Na-Baron to confirm that it is his irises that are staring hatefully at your joined hands.

"My mother had a headache, so she staid in her chamber. Unfortunately, my father couldn't show up at all. I hope you won't abandon me and leave me so lonely in this barbaric place, my lord?"

"I wouldn't dare do that. I am a gentleman. After all, someone has to catch you if you faint, my lady."

You smile sweetly at him, ignoring the sudden urge to kick him in the crotch for his words. You must maintain the innocent demeanour of a cute, awkward, and sweet noblewoman. Even though you hated it...

"Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate it, my lord." You say, wondering if you should actually pretend to faint and let him catch you. It would be very romantic if he carried you out of the arena in his arms and took you to the medic. Plus, you wouldn't have to watch... Na-Baron's entire performance.

You take your seat in the guest box. The arena shakes with the screams and applause of people who are truly eager for their Na-Baron to shed blood. Lord Luwael hands you the binoculars and gently removes your cloak as you both notice that you are protected from the sun's rays by a special black glass window.

You shiver as the Harkonnen's war drums sound and the announcer says something in their language, announcing Feyd-Rautha's fight.

A blush involuntarily blooms on your cheeks when you see that Na-Baron has decided to fight without a shirt or any armour protecting his chest. You hungrily stare at his muscular torso as he shows off his warrior body, which is decorated with paint—probably their war symbols, bringing good luck in battle.

"A real poseur and playboy. He only does it to attract attention."

"Probably. But you can't say, that it doesn't work, my lord." You say and nod towards the other ladies, who are also staring at the muscular figure of a warrior that Na-Baron proudly displays.

"Does it work for you?"

"I'm just a woman. But I prefer… slightly more hairy men." Lord Luwael chuckles at your comment, giving you a mischievous look. His attention briefly returns to Na-Baron, who lets out a belligerent cry after the murder of the first prisoner. You see him shiver slightly and his eyebrows furrow before his attention returns to you.

"So would I also gain your attention if I appeared… in a similar condition?"

"My lord, you would then have my complete undivided attention." You respond equally flirtatiously. The man sitting next to you hums in appreciation. His hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he stares at you, entranced.

"You, lady, have my undivided attention at all times and occupy my every thought." Unfortunately, you can't respond to his comment with something as sweet as Na-Baron's angry, painful scream that echoes from the arena.

Your attention returns to the fight. Na-Baron fights the last opponent, who, surprisingly, is not under the influence of drugs. You watch the fight with curiosity, even more so when you see blood pouring from Na-Baron's side.

"He had to distract himself. So far, he hasn't had any problems fighting him." You hear people commenting around you, but your eyes are focused only on Na-Baron.

You shiver as his gaze wanders towards your box, and it feels like he's looking right at you, making sure you're watching him. You put this idea out of your head. He probably didn't even know your name. He couldn't recognise you; he would definitely show it by now if he did.

You shiver as he lets out a menacing scream and charges at his opponent. His movements are quick, well-aimed and aimed as he delivers slashes, perfectly avoiding the blade of the prisoner he is fighting. You hold your breath as he knocks the blade out of your opponent's hands and stabs him in the stomach several times.

Na-Baron whispers something to the warrior and slowly lowers him to the ground as he draws his last breath. You can't take your eyes off his bloody form. His piercing gaze is still directed towards your lodge as he raises his blade. The crowd in the arena screams, people applaud, and you feel Lord Luwael next to you slowly begin to fall to the ground.

"Lord Luwael!" You scream, attracting the attention of the people around you. Several men help you, and they lift the unconscious lord. They carry him outside, and you want to follow them, but unfortunately for you, the second round of Na-Baron's fight begins, so you can't just leave. So you go back to your seat, thinking hard.

Lord Luwael apparently had another negative trait besides being a hopeless romantic—a firm believer in preserving a strictly traditional, patriarchal system. He fainted at the sight of blood and abhorred violence.

You sigh, wondering how the hell you're supposed to cope with a husband and an emperor who's afraid to draw someone's blood and pick up a sword.

Your gaze falls back on the fighting Na-Baron. If only he was less... Harkonnen... You shake your head at the idea that crossed your mind. No. You are going to become the empress. Nothing could change that plan, and certainly not one night of oblivion and pleasure with a brutal, psychopathic future Baron of a dead planet.

But that doesn't stop you from admiring the way Na-Baron's muscular chest ripples with each rapid breath or the way his muscles twitch with his movements. And unfortunately, you can't stop your thoughts from wandering and imagining him moving into a much more... intimate situation.

"Did she watch the fight?" Feyd asks his servant as the medic stitches up his wound.

He finished the fight a few minutes ago. People were probably starting to gather in the ballroom, but he had to clean up and put things in order before he appeared in public. Before he shows himself to you.

"At first, she was a little distracted by this... lord. But he fainted halfway through Na-Baron's fight, so afterwards her attention was entirely on you, my lord."

"He fainted? Weak spawn. Did she enjoy my performance?" Feyd asks, slightly irritated by the way the medic's fingers are shaking with fear as he tends to the wound.

"She was definitely impressed. I think Na-Baron's decision not to wear the breastplate helped, as did the fact that the guards made sure not to let Lord Luwael into the arena again."

"Very good, you did a great job. Keep it up. I'm going to need you to distract that pet of hers for a while. You can do it, right?"

"Of course, my lord Na-Baron."

"Women like flowers. Those outside Giedi Prime." The medic comments as he finishes stitching up his wound. Feyd looks at him for a moment, then nods at his servant.

"This is a wonderful idea. Order a vase of the rarest flower species to be placed in her chambers. I'll give you a note tonight, after the ball."

Before Feyd finishes his sentence, he already holds the medic's arm and plunges a dagger into his stomach. The man groans in shock as he stares in sheer terror at the Na-Baron.

"Because of you, I'll be late for my own ball." He growls and puts on a black shirt, ignoring the blood on his fingers as he walks out of the infirmary.

He walks through the halls of the palace, hurrying to his chambers to change. His thoughts involuntarily go to you, remembering your intoxicating scent and the softness of your skin under his lips. Damn him if he lets some lesser man have the taste of what is his.

You belonged to him from the moment he killed for you the emperor's dog that tried to bite you. If necessary, he will kill another one to make sure that no man will dare to adore you again.

But Feyd couldn't do it; as much as he dreamed of it, he preferred to gain your... feelings rather than force you to marry him. And maybe he enjoyed the thrill of chasing you, but only as long as his claims for you weren't at risk. And this little... lord was hanging around way too close to you.

He didn't know at all what you saw in this weak man. He wasn't handsome, he couldn't fight, and he couldn't defend you. Certainly not before Feyd. You needed someone strong—someone who wasn't afraid of your true nature or unleashing it. You weren't yourself hanging out with that lord. He watched the two of you closely, and countless times he saw you tighten your hand around a glass, a fan, or in a fist when that lord made a remark that irritated you, but instead of snapping back like you did with Feyd, you smiled falsely sweetly and nodded obediently.

His beautiful, brave swan, instead of hissing at the fools around her, only tried harder to attract them. And this annoyed Feyd immensely. You could be so much more than just a pretty face. You had a character that Feyd admired in you, but instead of showing it with pride, you hid it deep inside, afraid of society's opinion.

You would make a wonderful Baroness. With you by his side, he wouldn't worry about anyone seeing him as weak man. And he himself found worthy company in you during that wonderful night on your planet. If only you hadn't run away from him, hadn't believed the rumours so much, and weren't afraid of him, but rather of what he might do to you, you and Feyd would make a wonderful match.

As he approaches his chamber, he hears the ladies giggling. He decides to hide in a side corridor and wait until the gossiping women leave. But he perks up his ear excitedly when he hears what they're talking about—and that you're among them too.

"Na-Baron put on quite a show. Have you seen these muscles?" Feyd can barely keep from giggling. But he can't help but wonder how you assessed his... muscles.

He did it especially for you—to tease you a little with what you could have had that night if you hadn't run away from him like a scared little mouse. How many nights did he spend dreaming about catching you before that frail lord got you...

"Oh please. He's a cruel brute. Psychopath. Did you see how he treated that poor man? Moreover, most of his opponents were under the influence of drugs."

His hairless eyebrows furrow. He feels his rage rising; he wants to come out of his hiding place and show this royal bitch a real fight, but he knows that his uncle will kill him for laying a hand on the emperor's daughter.

"I'm not surprised at him. After all, he's the next Baron, they won't risk his life for some lame arena show."

"What do you think about it, Lady Y/N?"

Feyd licks his lips, eagerly waiting for your opinion on his fight. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you will say. Will you praise his fighting skills? Appearance? Ruthlessness and brutality? Or maybe you loathe it as much as Princess Irulan does?

He waited nervously, his heart beating fast as he waited impatiently for even one word from you.

"I… think we had a rather… interesting fight anyway. Regardless of the circumstances."

His excitement fades when you limit yourself to such a simple, diplomatic, and natural answer. He doesn't want to hear something like that from you. He wants your opinion; he wants to hear the burning heat in your voice as you express your true thoughts and emotions with great conviction, even if they go against what he wants. He wants your passion—the same passion he has experienced the few times he has had the opportunity to be around you.

"But it's not honorable! How dare they treat prisoners like this?" Irulan growls furiously at you.

"And in your country, how are they treated, my princess? They either end up in a noose or have their heads cut off. Here, maybe being under the influence of drugs isn't the best thing, but at least they have a dignified death for warriors—those who don't fight Na-Baron are fighting in the arena for their freedom and are not under the influence of any substance. I don't think this is the case in many countries. Besides, it boosts morale and entertains the people. Two birds with one stone."

Feyd feels a smirk involuntarily form on his lips. He knew that his little, wise swan would think just like he did. However, I regret that you do not praise his skills as a warrior but only focus on the usefulness of such fights. Next time, he will try harder for you. Maybe he will even give you the heart of the strongest warrior?

"Of course you'll flatter him, Lady Y/N. After all, he clearly has his eyes on you. I saw the way he looked at you the day you arrived—it was clearly love at first sight."

"Oh yes! And I saw him looking across the arena towards your box! He got so distracted by looking at you that one of the prisoners stabbed him in the side! It's so sweet, just like a real romance book."

Feyd freezes for a moment. Was it that obvious? He couldn't, right? Maybe he was accidentally looking for you in the crowd of other people, but... he couldn't be that easy to read, right?

"I would never dream of courting Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, not even in your wildest fantasies my ladies. So maybe let's focus on the real, more likely matches that could happen this season."

At your words, Feyd clenches his hands into fists. How dare you so openly reject his possible advances? It was the best match in the empire. In fact, he could be a future emperor, and he'd damn well do it for you if that was all it took to get his hand in marriage. Seething with rage, his hand involuntarily went to the blade attached to his side. He had to find someone; he had to take it out on someone; but then again, he needed to hear more. Why does the thought that he adores you bother you so much? Did he do something to you? Has he offended you in any way? Was it your reluctance and disgust at the idea of having him as a suitor just because he was a Harkonnen?

"You mean your questionable engagement to my cousin?" Princess Irulan mocks you, fueling Feyd's anger both with the way she speaks to you and with your engagement to that weak piece of flesh wasting air in your presence.

"Why questionable, my princess? I think this would be the perfect match. Lady Whistledown herself devoted several of her paragraphs to it."

Feyd rolls his eyes at you. Have you also read the nonsense of some old lady who was bored enough to comment on events in the world of noble families? And here he thought that his swan was too smart for that...

"My cousin may be stupid and be fooled by a few pretty words and eyes, but he doesn't make rash decisions. He knows what kind of marriage will be best for him. He won't marry someone from a lesser family just because some anonymous writer is having fun spreading rumors."

"Do you have someone special for Lord Luwael in your mind, maybe?"

"I think we all know very well who I mean."

Feyd smiles, and for the first time, he is not hating the princess's existence. If she actually took this weak lord from you, the fight for your hand and heart would be much more enjoyable for him; after all, he wouldn't have to worry that you would marry some other man while he was trying his best to get closer to you. It would definitely make courting you easier if Irulan tried to charm your weak little lord...

"Hmm… possible. But tell us, princess, how's your Bene Gesserit training going? Has the Reverend Mother assigned you any task yet?"

"I believe this is none of your business."

Ah, so you knew. You knew that the Bene Gesserit were planning to marry him to Irulan—something he certainly wouldn't allow. But if he lets you believe it, would you fight for him? Would you try to convince him to stop chasing Irulan? You could. After all, you would see it as a threat to your position as empress. Feyd is curious what lengths you would go to if such a situation occurred—how far would you go in trying to seduce him and leave Irulan?

Feyd is no longer eavesdropping on the rest of your conversation. You pass him, and he quickly sneaks back to his chambers, changing his clothes. His mind races as he wonders what he should do now. And he decides to give you one last chance before he puts his plan into action.

The balls at Gieid Prime are… different from those you usually witness. The ballroom is lit by a thousand candles, the room is kept in semi-darkness, and you are more than convinced that some orgy is taking place somewhere in the corners and recesses of this huge hall.

You are just finishing your dance with Lord Luwael when Feyd-Rautha enters the hall. Na-Baron is greeted with loud applause and cheers. He smiles at the crowd of people, showing a row of night-black teeth. You shiver at the sight. You just don't know if it's out of fear or desire. You realise that every time you think he can't make himself a more terrible monster, he comes in like the bane of your existence and proves you dead wrong.

Oh how you wanted to finally leave Giedi Prime.

"Unfortunately, I think we should wish him a happy birthday. Everyone does it."

You nod at his words, seeing the rest of the guests actually gather around Feyd-Rautha. You place your hand in the crook of his arm and let him guide you towards Na-Baron. The alcohol you managed to drink without your companion's attention and the man's mere presence will give you a bit of courage. Although you know, if a real fight broke out between these two men, the candidate for your husband would probably faint from fear when he saw the first blood and lose it. What a pity he had such an annoying condition...

"Na-Baron. Happy birthday." Your companion says as you reach Feyda-Rautha. His blue, ocean-glacial eyes stare at the two of you, ignoring you for a moment to send an appraising glance towards the man whose arm you're holding. You see a strange tension building in the room between these two...

"Thank you very much, lord…"

"Luwael." He finishes for him, angry that he is not properly recognised and acknowledged by the Na-Baron.

"Ah yes. It slipped out of my mind. Wouldn't you be offended if I took the liberty of asking your lovely partner to dance? It's my birthday, after all." Na-Baron's attention is completely on you, and you wish he and Lord Luwael had spent more time on this little alpha male fight. You open your mouth, ready with an excuse to deny him the dance, but the man next to you speaks first.

"Of course. Enjoy yourself." Na-Baron gives him a smug smirk that only widens when Lord Luwael flinches at Feyd's black teeth.

You suppress a grimace and give your hand to the Harkonnen. He takes your hand with incredible gentleness and leads you to the centre of the room, right onto the dance floor. Before the dancing starts, he has the courage to take off your gloves. You give him a confused look, your heart beating faster, as he leans in to press a kiss on your hand. You shiver as the skin of your hand registers the now familiar shape of his plump lips.

He places his hand on your waist and connects your hand with his, leading you to the rhythm of a rather calm song.

"Such fire… and yet your anger does not reach Lord Luwael. What did he do to deserve this special treatment, my lady? Maybe you're worried about him after he fainted in the arena like some weak, little boy?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." You say, turning your gaze away from him, wanting to spend the rest of the dance in silence. You keep your eyes peeled for Lord Luwael, but unfortunately, you can't find him anywhere. As if he had evaporated.

"Is it so, little swan?" A cold chill runs through you as you use the nickname for you that he used that night. You feel your world freeze for a moment. He continues to lead you in the rhythm of the dance, allowing himself to pull you a little closer to inhale the scent of your perfume, but you don't notice, terrified of what he told you he knew.

"I... no." You blurt out, trying to control your emotions, and put on the mask of indifference on your face again.

"Well... I guess you know. Your heart beats so fast, almost as fast as that night when I tasted your wonderful nectar straight from the source. You know there's nothing as sweet as your juices?"

"How dare you speak to me like that?!" You growl furiously, unconsciously digging your nails into his palm.

"So she can still hiss! And she even has claws. I remember how sweetly you scratched my neck with them before you ran away like a scared little bird."

"Shut up." You growl, feeling like you're starting to lose control of this whole conversation. And not just conversation. You noticed that you had somehow found yourself outside the ballroom. The music from there reaches you in the form of a gentle hum as it presses you against the wall of one of the empty corridors. You swallow, realising what a sh*t situation you are in.

"Or what? Watch your tone, little swan. It's my birthday. You should be nicer to me. I didn't actually hear you wish me a happy birthday; your little puppet did it for you."

"Unlike some, he is a real gentleman, not a puppet or monster."

"Ah, but we know very well that you don't want a gentleman. A gentleman wouldn't do to you the things I did to you, and we both know how deliciously you moaned under my touch and how you shuddered as my tongue tasted you. Do you think your weak lord can do to you the things I showed you in the darkness of your house planet? That he can satisfy your desire? That he can free you from your shackles of social conventions as I can free you? You need someone bigger than the lesser man. I've already told you that. You won't settle for a man like that."

"You do not know anything about me. One night—not even the whole night—spent under my skirts won't suddenly make you know my true desires. You have changed, Feyd-Rautha. You're not the same boy from the Lankiveil I used to know." He hums thoughtfully at your worlds, watching you carefully and curiously.

"Hmm… maybe you're right, little swan. I think I need to do more to convince you that I am right."

You sigh as his lips press against yours in a frenzied, passionate kiss. You punch his chest, trying to push him away, but he presses hard against you, pinning you against the wall. You feel the toned muscles of his body as he grinds against you, demanding full access to your mouth.

You bite his lip until it bleeds, but that only turns him on more. His strong, large hand cups your breast, squeezing it tightly. You let out a surprised moan, and his tongue somehow finds a way to slip into your open mouth.

The material of your dress tears under his strength; his hands pull your breasts out of your dress and caress them as if his life depended on it. His fingers graze over your sensitive nipples, and you can only moan into his mouth as he sends a warmth straight to your core that reminds you desperately of how his tongue was working so well to release you that you had denied yourself.

You come to the shameful conclusion that maybe you could have let him bring you to orgasm before you ran away from him.

His lips finally leave yours, but you don't enjoy this freedom for long. They move to your neck, licking and nibbling madly, as if someone were about to tear him away from you. And the worst thing about it all is that you don't really know if that's what you want.

You scream as his black teeth dig into your skin, leaving a mark in the crook of your neck. You hear the click of enamel against metal as he accidentally catches your necklace, but he doesn't move away; he just sinks his teeth into it, as if trying to split a diamond in half.

He pulls away from you; you see the blood on his plump lips—your blood—and it only makes you more aroused. His hand slips under your skirts and reaches to your core, caressing you teasingly. You gasp, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

"Such a good little whore when she gets fingers and a few hickeys on her neck. Does your lord know what a shrew you are until someone kisses the venom from your lips? Does he know what fire burns inside you? Does he know what a wonderful feast you have between your legs for a thirsty man? Does he know you as well as I do? Has he seen how beautiful you look in the whirlwind of passion?"

His every question is punctuated by the rhythm of the thrusting of his fingers. You moan softly, holding back tears of pleasure, as he slowly brings you to the edge. You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him with all your strength as he plays with your clit and sucks hickeys on your breasts.

"So sweet… so soft… so wet. And it's for me. Just for me. For Harkonnen. Say it. Tell me who fucks that little pussy so well with his fingers. Tell me who's driving you crazy. Tell me whose attention you really want, you wanton little bitch, and maybe I'll let you cum, despite the way you treated me… and on my own birthday…"

"I... you... you..." You gasp in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers.

"Nah. Not like that. My name, beautiful little swan. Scream my name. Exactly the way you should have done that night in the garden." He whispers into your ear, biting the lobe. You moan as his fingers go deeper inside you, and his other hand caresses your breast, playing with your nipple.

"I... ah... Feyd.... Feyd, please..." You cry for him as your hips grind against his hand, seeking the sweet release that only he can give you.

"Yes…just like that…cum for me. Give me my birthday present and shout my name." You can only nod dumbly as you feel him take you over the edge. You bite down hard on his neck, refraining from making any noise as you tighten around his fingers, finally coming.

You gasp, feeling the metallic taste of his black blood on your tongue.

You move away from him as if burned. Your heart beats insanely fast as you stare at him, trying to process what happened. He pulls his finger out of you with a squelch, and you blush furiously. He puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking them. He moans at the taste of you, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Perfect birthday gift. Although I believe I can get more." Just as he moves to kneel between your legs, you hear the voices of the guards patrolling the halls. You push him away from you in panic and run forward, trying to improve your appearance a little.

This time, he's not after you. He didn't make any attempt to chase you. He allows you to traverse the halls of Giedi Prime without the feeling of his breath on your back, but you are very aware that you have miserably lost today's battle against him. He did exactly what he wanted with you and would have gone much further (and unfortunately, you would have let him) if you hadn't sobered up with the possibility of getting caught.

You told yourself that this was what you needed to get over him. After all, forbidden fruit always tasted the best, and once you experienced the Na-Baron's... undoubted skills, you could move on and marry a man who was the absolute opposite of him, a man with whom you didn't have to worry so much about the future, as with Feyd-Rautha.

Yes, this was what you needed—one last affair before the wedding—to make sure you're doing it right. Because what would await you as Na-Baron's wife, or, God forbid, concubine? Nothing good. The Harkonnens were the harbinger of misfortune, suffering, pain, aggression, and, apparently, good sex.

Whatever you and Na-Baron were doing, it had to end now.

"I'm supposed to be his wife?! This barbarian?! You can't do this to me, father! Feyd-Rautha will destroy the empire and plunge us into the blood of war and senseless brutality. He's a psychopath; can't you see it? Surely there must be another way to keep the throne!" Irulan's screams echo throughout the guest wing. Your eyes widen in surprise, the unpleasant pang in your chest only adding to your daze.

So the rumours were true. The emperor wants to give Irulan to Feyd. You don't like this idea very much. If the Harkonnens married into the Corrino family, your right to the throne of Emperor, or rather the right of Lord Luwael, would be in jeopardy. No one stood a chance against them.

You snap out of your daze when you see the door handle to Irulan's chambers begin to move. You quickly run to your room and close the door quietly behind you as you wonder what the hell just happened in these few hours.

You return to your chambers blushing and with a rapidly beating heart. You can still feel Na-Baron's lips vividly on your neck, and you're sure you'll have to cover it tomorrow so no one will see the hickeys that bastard gave you.

How stupid you were again! How could you let him get so close to you again and corner you when you were alone in his territory?! And what's worse, he knew that it was you who went with him to the garden that night; he knew and he wanted more from you...

You shudder as wicked thoughts enter your mind, all because of Na-Baron's tantalisingly absurd whispers. How could you enjoy his attack on you? How could you moan so loudly in a deserted corridor? How could you shout his name and attract the attention of the guards?

You were damn lucky that no one caught you, that Lord Luwael disappeared somewhere, and that he didn't see you giving yourself to this... this monster like a mindless whore. It had to be the alcohol. They must have put something in your drink; you couldn't just... enjoy the touch of a Harkonnen, a Harkonnen who just a few hours ago had slaughtered you in the arena before your eyes and was enjoying it like a little child enjoys a candy... A Harkonnen whose body was ethereal beautifully...

You are snapped out of your thoughts when your mother enters your room in a state of… extreme daze.

"Mother? Have something happened?" You ask her, worried that your little (another) tryst with the Na-Baron might have turned out to be not such a secret at all.

"Lord Luwael just asked for my consent to propose to you. You did very well, Y/N. You will be an empress."

You swallow nervously and smile, nodding your head. Your mother hugs you, and you feel millions of thoughts racing through your head. You will become empress, but only if Irulan and Feyd-Rautha don't marry, and there was only one way to make sure that would happen.

You had to play a game with the devil himself and seduce and deceive him until the day it would be too late for his marriage to Irulan and you and Lord Luwael would take the emperor's throne. But how the hell were you supposed to do that without getting burned?

Taglist: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran

[tsu-kitty]

𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝓁𝓸𝒸𝓀𝓮𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝓮𝓇𝓸 ❦︎ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝓮𝓮

♡ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 › 1.1k

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 › tsukishima x reader, fem!reader, tall!reader cause she's middle-blocker!reader, reader is a nervous clutz be nice to her it's the law. takes place in tsukishima and reader's second year.

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 › lost in sendai stadium, another player decides to hit on you rather than give directions, and tsukishima comes to your rescue.

♡ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 › part three! the last one! i hope you all enjoyed this short series! <3

You were lost, so very lost. The Sendai City Stadium wasn't exactly big, but you weren't exactly smart. 

Today was the first day of the Interhigh Preliminaries. Your team's first match had been pushed back, so you all decided to watch the boys play to pass the time. Personally, you enjoyed watching volleyball just as much as you enjoyed playing it, so you had no qualms.

On your way in, though, nature called, urging you to the nearest bathroom. The only trouble was, you didn't know how to get to the courts from here, and the boys would be starting soon. 

As you stood in one spot, debating which way to go, a boy with frizzy hair approached you.

“Hey there, pretty lady. You lost?”

“Oh, um, a little,” you admitted. “Would you be able to point me in the direction of the courts?”

The boy smirked. “Why? Here to watch your boyfriend?”

Your ears burned. “No, just my friends.”

“Oh, good. That means you're free to date me.”

“Thank you, but no thank you,” you replied, cringing inwardly.

“Come on, it'll be fun.”

“I'm not interested, sorry.”

“But you're so cute when you say no,” the unknown boy snickered. “It makes me want you more.”

Anxiety churned within you. “Please go away. I'm seriously not interested.”

“Don't say that, sweetness.” He reached his hand towards your waist.

You flinched away before he could touch you, but to your shock and dismay, you hit a hard body. Eyes wide with panic, you spun, ready to make a quick apology then dash for your life.

“Is this guy bothering you, Y/N?” It was Tsukishima Kei. This boy… you seemed to always be—quite literally—running into him. 

A tsunami of relief washed over you. His timing couldn't be more perfect. 

“Yes,” you breathed. You met Tsukishima's gaze, hoping your expression conveyed your desperate situation to him. “Yes, he is bothering me.”

Behind his glasses, Tsukishima's eyes flicked between yours, reading the silent panic in them. He broke the eye contact to cast a disdainful look over the unknown boy.

“You hear that, pipsqueak?” Tsukishima said, tilting his head to the right. “You're bothering her. So, piss off.”

You couldn't help but smile at the insult Tsukishima threw at the other boy. He wasn't really that short, about average height maybe, but Tsukishima was easily a head taller than him.

“Pipsqueak?” spat the boy. “Who the hell are you calling pipsqueak?”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “You, obviously.” Then he smirked and your heart skipped a beat. “You're not very bright, are you?”

The other boy's face turned tomato red. “You little shit.”

“How intelligent,” Tsukishima deadpanned, turning away. “Come on, Y/N. Let's get out of here.”

He started walking and you tried to follow, but a hand on your wrist stopped you.

“Wait up, sweetness—”

In one long step, Tsukishima was back at your side, ripping the stranger's hand off you. “How thick is your skull? You're bothering her. We’re leaving.”

The glare on Tsukishima's face sent a shiver down your spine. Placing a gentle hand at the small of your back, he made sure you were a step in front of him as he guided you away. The warmth from his touch radiated throughout your body. For a boy with such a cold personality, he was surprisingly warm.

“Thank you, Tsukishima,” you said quietly as the two of you walked.

“You need to work on rejecting people,” was his curt reply.

You almost snorted. “That sounds awful.”

Tsukishima scoffed. “Not as awful as watching you get hit on.”

For the second time today, your heart skipped a beat. What did that mean? Awful as in pitiful? Awful as in gross? Why would it be awful? What about seeing you get hit on was awful?

“Tsukishima,” you said, digging your feet into the ground and facing him. 

He stopped and gave you a confused look.

“What do you mean when you say that?” you asked, determined to get an answer. The feelings you felt for Tsukishima had been fluttering inside you for a little over six months at this point and they were begging to be set free.

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Tsukishima replied.

“You said it’s awful to watch me get hit on,” you said, fists balling at your sides to hinder the jittering. “Why?”

Sighing, Tsukishima hung his hands in his pockets. His eyes flitted around the hall as he thought. “I don’t know. It’s just pitiful, I guess, to see them try so hard when you’re clearly out of their league.”

His words sparked hope in your heart and courage in your mind. Those words meant something, and you weren’t going to let them go. “Are you in my league, Tsukishima?”

He snorted, the shadow of a cocky smile on his lips. “I don’t know. That’s up to you.”

“You are!” The words came out in such a rush that it shocked both you and Tsukishima. 

His shocked expression faded as his brow furrowed, becoming somewhat suspicious and inquisitive. “You think so, huh?”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You nodded sheepishly. “Yes.”

The cocky smirk returned, subtle and mischievous as Tsukishima stepped closer to you. “So, say I was to ask you out…” His head titled to the side. “It wouldn’t be pitiful?”

The space between the two of you was miniscule, creating a vacuum that sucked the air out of your lungs. “Not at all.”

Angling his face down towards yours, eyes flicking between your lips and your eyes to measure your reaction, Tsukishima said in a soft, low voice, “Well then. I might just have to do something about that.”

“Tsuki!” a familiar male voice shouted. 

Freezing, Tsukishima sighed, his eyes scrunching closed in frustration. “Yes, Yamaguchi?”

“The game before us is done,” said the green-haired boy standing behind Tsukishima. “It’s time to warm up!”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a second,” Tsukishima said over his shoulder.

“Be quick!” Yamaguchi ran off with a wave.

Tsukishima turned back to you. “I have to go.”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied. The interruption from Yamaguchi had allowed your heart to find it’s regular rhythm.

Tsukishima straightened, clearing his throat with a semi-awkward cough. “Can we finish this after the game?” he asked.

A light blush was forming on his cheeks. The sight of it made you smile and boosted your ego just enough for you to say, “Only if you win.”

“Oh, I see,” Tsukishima said, rolling his eyes. “Well, then the same goes for you.”

“Okay, deal,” you giggled.

And for the first time in a year and a half of knowing Tsukishima, he smiled—a real, genuine smile. And it was just for you.

[thebearer]

hi e! back again with more carmy shit because i love the way you did my little blurb justice 🥰. i literally just envisioned sydney minding her own business and just recklessly placing carmy in the hot seat cause she knew his ass was gon get it 😂. i’m all in for more dom!carmy so i’d love to keep the idea going that his s/o works for/with/alongside him at the bear with a touch of her giving him her two cents? a little bit of sass to just remind who he’s dealing with 😩. maybe this time around he slipped up on something major (a birthday, anniversary, or something that overall was important to the reader and he put it off because in his mind the bear comes first). she’s been slowly driving him crazy with that silent treatment she’s been doing for the last few days and her less than a few syllabled words when he doesn’t remind her how irked he made her 😂; she’s not mad anymore just disappointed. and anyway basically in a prep for preordered to go’s on lunch rush he’s reading back orders to her and she completely writes him off. i can see him being like exactly how he when he’s not getting when he needs from his staff during a frenzy and flipping tf out. like you know when he repeats himself a second time as if you didn’t hear him the first he means it 😂. tysm in advance! please feel free to do whatever you’d like. i’m writing this at 6 in the morning so many ideas are coming into the fold. i hope you have a great day - 🥣.

ok i did sorta a different-ish take. same idea but i don't write the reader as a chef bc quite honestly i can't relate lmao i'm a horrendous cook lol. but silent treatment yes!! reader works at the bear but not a chef.

"Does anyone know where the extra napkins are? Mindy needs to be settin' tables." Carmen huffed, slamming the empty crate back in the back stock.

"That would be your missus' domain." Richie snickers, elbowing Fak lightly. "Guess you better go ask her, Cousin."

"Yeah? Fuck off. Thought it was your fuckin' job." Carmen grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Me? Fuck no, Cousin. You know who's job it is, c'mon." Richie grinned. "It's your wife, Carm. What? Scared to talk to your wife?"

Carmen sneered, huffing in annoyance, but the truth was... yes, he was a little scared. Especially with how furious you were at him. Carmen was a chronic over worker, barely taking time for himself. It was a constant fight between the two of you, one he'd gotten better at, but still struggled finding that balance. Which normally, you'd be more forgiving about.

Except it was your anniversary.

Carmen left you waiting at home, dressed up with a new lingerie set that he painfully didn't get to enjoy. By the time he got off, taking his time to clean the kitchen, prep for tomorrow's crowd, he looked at his phone and saw your texts and calls, his heart dropping.

You'd been giving him the cold shoulder since then, furious and hurt- or so he assumed, you wouldn't say anything.

Richie found the entire thing hilarious when Carmen told him. "You forgot your fuckin' anniversary? You jagoff, holy shit."

Carmen found it less than amusing. The tension in the restaurant was thick because of the two of you. Everyone teetering around you, but especially Carmen, he was more on edge now.

Pushing the door open to the office, Carmen ducked his head in, seeing you at his desk- your desk, technically, you used it more. "Hey, honey," Carmen's voice was soft, a sweet hum that had your spine straightening. He flinched lightly, stepping towards you. "D'you know where the extra napkins are?"

You didn't reply, simply typing on your laptop, editing a video for the social media page about the upcoming summer specials.

Carmen blinked, barking out your name in a much harsher than he meant to, but it seemed to work. Kinda. Your head whipped around, eyes in a burning glare when they met his, but your lips were still pressed together.

Carmen through his hands out in exasperation. "Are you bein' fuckin' serious with me?"

Richie made his way towards the table where Tina was doing prep, craning his neck to watch. Your lips twisted, glaring harshly at Carmen. Carmen huffed, a hand running over his forehead. "What do you want from me, huh? What? You're just never gonna speak to me again? I forgot, ok? I didn't mean to, I just fuckin' forgot! I was at work!"

You glared at him, feeling Richie's amused gaze from over Carmen's shoulder, the rest of the staff pretending to be busy to hear. "Shut the door." You snapped.

Carmen flinched, shocked. "What-"

"Shut the fuckin' door, now." You snapped, slamming your laptop, turning to face him. Carmen pressed the door shut, ignoring Richie's whines of "c'mon, Cousin, it was just gettin' good!".

The two of you stared, neither being the first to talk, not wanting to break. You huffed, rolling your eyes in annoyance. "You wanted to talk, talk, Carmen. I've got shit to do."

"Hey," Carmen's eyes flashed at you, his tone hard with an edge of warning. "You better watch your-"

"-No, you better watch your mouth with me. Watch what you say to me, Berzatto." You snapped, pointing a finger at him. "This isn't a fuckin' game, alright? I'm mad at you. Actually fuckin' mad at you."

Carmen's stomach turned, swallowing the guilt rising with the bile in his throat. "I... I'm sorry-"

"-Sorry isn't going to work this time, Carmen. It's always sorry. Always I didn't fuckin' mean to, I got busy." You snapped, arms wrapping over your torso. "You always do this, but our anniversary? You forgot our anniversary?"

"No, I didn't forget." Carmen ran a hand down his face. "I got you flowers and-and the bracelet-"

"-And that was very nice, Carmen, but you weren't there." You snapped, the finality in his tone making his rebuttal dissolve in his mouth. The hurt in your eyes, rounding and pitiful, soft and pleading with him. You were angry, but you were hurt, too.

His shoulders deflated, breath leaving his lungs. "You're right," Carmen nodded slowly. "No, you're-you're right, and-and-and I'm... Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby." Carmen said sincerely, eyes shining with sincerity. "I... I got caught up and I-I shouldn't have even been working that day, I just..."

"I know." You muttered, looking down at the desk, a framed picture of the two of you in Copenhagen at your wedding ceremony. Carmen in his suit, you in your dress, happy and smiling with the breathtaking scenery behind you.

Carmen could feel the guilt growing in his chest, palms sweating and heart racing, the panic to fix it- to do something. "How much longer do you have?" Carmen asked, nodding towards your laptop.

"Just a few more things to edit." You looked at your paused work. "Why?"

"Let me... Let me make it right." Carmen sighed, shaking hands fumbling towards his apron.

"Carmen, you can't leave-"

"-Yeah, yeah, I can." Carmen nodded, pulling the door out and calling for Sydney. "Can you cover tonight, Chef?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I can." Sydney nodded.

"I got it too, Cousin-" Carmen shut the door before he could hear Richie's full comment, sure something smart ass would be included.

"Let's go out." Carmen looked at you. "A make up. Please?"

You folded your arms, pouting lightly. "'m not dressed for going out."

"What're you talkin' about? You look beautiful, c'mon." Carmen shook his head lightly at you, shoving his clothes into his bag, pulling out his spare.

You tried not to drool at the sight of his chest. You'd missed him, you really had. It was a shame the lingerie went to waste.

Carmen pulled you out of the restaurant, hand on your waist, holding you close to his side. It wasn't the fancy reservations you'd planned, no Michelin star restaurants with expensive wine. No, instead, he took you to some a rooftop restaurant, one with the vibey aesthetic you always cooed at on Instagram. Sitting and sharing pretzels and greasy food, snuggled into Carmen's side while he ordered dessert. Giggling when he fed you the brownie sundae, tilting your head back with his fingers cradling your jaw lightly. It was simple, romantic, and fun. Made your heart swell, clinging to him the whole way home.

And when you got home? Carmen was in heaven. Letting you show him what he missed a few days earlier.

[cornyforjk]

Drive you Crazy| Day 2 | jjk

SUMMARY In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: trash language

Taglist: @tatamicc @jwnghyuns

A/note: IK IK I'm going very quick with updating but I'm just ,,,way too excited idkw. Please bear with me 🙈.

___________________♡____________________

The news was just like tripping over a rock.

Relax.

Or it was more like getting hit by a boulder.

The elegant woman introduced herself as Natalie, your new in charge. After the heavy atmosphere with intense eye contact between you and Jungkook that someone could miscalculate as a lovers' gaze, you finally snicker in triumph.

Walking towards Natalie, who held out her pen, inclined for your signature. You would be signing your admission name for the race, and Jungkook would be the one fuming with irritation that no one minded.

Now about the boulder crushing news...

"WHAT?!" You and Jungkook gasp in sync, watching Natalie wince as she hides her face behind the notepad.

"I won't share a room with him!" "Are you crazy Natalie? This swine isn't even real- she will burn me in my sleep!" Jungkook vented, intertwining his hands in front of his chest, eyes begging for sympathy.

"I'm sorry guys, Jungkook is on the waiting list whereas Y/n...we still need to talk to your sponsors, the board, and then assign you a cabin. Furthermore, you will have to hang around together for some time."

The bickering and shoving had people around staring with wide eyes, embarrassment peaked on your face in the colour red that tinted your cheeks and the tip of your ears.

"Keep it down! This is a professional arena." Natalie hushes you both down.

A random man in fancy attire flinched, his eyebrow raising in a barely questioning arch. The click of his tongue was audible enough to make out his annoyance.

You couldn't get any louder, could you?!

Jungkook audibly snorted, peeling off his leather gloves and raking his hand through his hair. His playful orbs followed the direction the man walked in. Jungkook threw him a look.

'What are you looking at, son?'

He cheekily snickered, choking on his cackle that left your tongue-tied.

It would be a dishonour to your ego if you let him have the content look on his face. "Do you know who he is!?" You crowd over his shoulder.

Jungkook blandly shook his head, a confused expression twisting his eyebrows, forehead creased in discomfort. "That's Kim Namjoon! The famous Korean racer, the first rookie to ever win his first race." You chuckled, "have fun winning him over after that look." You elbowed his guts, scampering around Natalie who picked out the room keys.

Your giggles get louder as you follow Jungkook's glossy eyes widen, a petrified look taking over his features, wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. "I fucked up"

You watch him run after the elite racer Namjoon, turning around when you hear metal clanking against your ear. An eager Natalie holding out the keys to your new 'shared' cabin.

"Does that mean I get the larger bed?" You whisper, grabbing the key and eyeing your surroundings, watching out for a fuming Jungkook.

Natalie bowed, walking closer. "Only if you get there first." She winked. Her lips slightly parted as a yawn escaped her lips. "I owe you big time Natalie!" You run, feeling the marble floor vibrate at the heavy steps of your boots.

___________________♡____________________

You flung onto the couch without bothering to look around, accidentally leaving the front door a bit open, making it a teenager's nightmare.

"That was a shitty pick up line!" A crash follows the shout by Jungkook in the hallway who slides the door wide open, halting dead in tracks as he finds you sprawled on the couch.

His heavy breathing contaminates the quiet atmosphere. "Don't tell me the four-eyed nerd gave you the keys first." He referred to Natalie, huffing out chunks of air, bending over with hands on his knees.

Talk about running a marathon-

Calming down Jungkook straightens up, suddenly fumbling back into the door. He turns around abruptly, closing the door behind with a click, boring holes into the floor. His eyes never met yours as he just stood there with no movement.

"I'm not naked you know."

"Not yet-"

Shifting in your seat you stand up, watching him lean on the doorway with a lousy smirk. "I heard that!"

"Not my fault." His smirk turned into a scowl, Jungkook pushed you over and dug himself a seat at the corner of thecouch. Draping a blanket over his feet. His mood swings were worse than a girl on her periods.

The doe-eyed man sighs, tossing in turning his eyes fixated on your legs, and pretending to not care didn't help.

"What are you looking at Bethany?"

He turns your way, throwing a sharp look. "Who even wears mismatched socks?" He tried muffling his throaty chuckle. "No one would guess you are a racer." He laughs loudly, clutching his stomach.

"I just have a different style."

"Different doesn't always mean a good one."

You are about to throw your hands on him, but the doorbell interrupts those revengeful thoughts.

Suddenly you are pulled back while trying to get to the door. Jungkook resting his large hand on your petite waist, looking at his watch. His secured hold did not go unnoticed."Let me go!" You squirm in his hold. "Shhh...shut up for a minute."

Seconds pass by with no one speaking, deep breaths patting your ear, his eyes fixed on you.

The fuck are you up to?! Your eyes scream at him.

Jungkook ignores it by rolling his eyes, sliding his hand down your hip watching you freeze at his warm touch.

Your breath hitched, like a film tape rolling, your eyes rolled back as you closed them shut, throwing your head back on his shoulder.

"I see you are head over heels for my touch." He smirked.

You open your eyes, hands placed over his, trying to break free from that alluring touch.

What were you even doing in his arms?

This damn seducer-

"Ugh! Go away. Why didn't you let me open the door?" Jungkook doesn't answer, averting his gaze while climbing back on the couch trying hard to ignore your question.

"Answer me." You demand.

The authority in your voice pierced through his ear. He wrings his hands together before a wave of calmness washes over him.

"Why am I even afraid of you," he slowly mumbled, chuckling. That same expression changed into one full of arrogance and ego.

The one you hate with all your heart.

"They were calling out registration names for racers." He says, satisfied while you try your hardest to cope with the anger fuming out of your ears.

"You tried sabotaging me?!" Walking swiftly you crowd over him, clutching his collar, "what's your problem Jeon Jungkook."

"You."

"You are my problem."

Baring your teeth you shove him back,Baring your teeth you shove him back, lips quivering as you tightly press them, cheeks turning red.

Oh gosh, this isn't a great time to cry. Especially in front of this jerk!

"I hate you, Jeon." Your words fade away as you run out of the room looking for the registration team.

___________________♡____________________

DM me or send an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist.

[earlysunshines]

i don't know what you mean to me,

detective!jihyo x spiderwoman!reader (pt.2)

summary: jihyo completely ignores what the chief had told her not to do, she can't help it when it involves working with spiderwoman.

wc: 6k

warnings: cursing ; brief mention of a scar ; that's it i think ; lesbians flirting ; rushed proofreading

pt.1, pt. 3

a/n: this has been sitting in my docs for a while, tried to make it a bit exciting! I wasn't planning on making this a series, but here I am. enjoy!! hope it lives to your guys' expectations (T-T)

-

“how’s your job?” the chief asks, swirling the coffee in his cup.

“it’s good. they said they were impressed with my work.” you mumble against the cup of coffee before taking a careful sip, trying not to burn your tongue. 

“that’s good. you’ve always been so smart like your parents.” your uncle says, his eyes softening. you smile, though it’s a small, weak smile and your heart aches a bit at the thought of your parents.

would they be proud of you now? and your side ‘job?’

you had a cliche backstory for someone with powers, a "hero" backstory. life was great until middle school, your parents died around that time. you were also too smart for your own good; sure, it was a plus in school, but it was not a plus for your teenage social life. you had pretty comic-worthy trauma and yeah, it hurt to think about it here and there, made you ponder and sulk at the ungodly hours of the night, but it was a while ago and you learned how to cope. 

despite the emotional damage it caused, it definitely made you stronger, shaped you into who you are today, and is the reason you play "hero." bad experiences give you good lessons, that's what your mom had told you. your dad had told you something similar, something along the lines of "with great power, comes great responsibility," your dad always had a way with words.

the loud sound of a folder making contact with the wooden table is made so abruptly and you flinch a bit, looking up to see who had slammed it down so aggressively: park jihyo–the same person who had patched you up two weeks ago. 

the detective wore a stern expression on her face, something mixed with anger and worry as she furrowed her brows while also deepening her gaze on your uncle, eyes filled with a certain flame of authority. park slides the folder toward your uncle: the chief of the police department. 

chief l/n isn't the best guy to be related to when your part-time gig is swinging around the city as the person he's not too fond of. unlucky you.

“chief, this one is… just look.” jihyo sighs. your uncle's brows crease as he pulls the papers out from the orange, paper folder. jihyo continues to speak, “5 people dead, and fourteen severely injured.”

jihyo looks at you for a split second, and you look back at her. it's not the best time to start reminiscing, but theres a sudden memory of you that she recalls—the first time she met you. 

the first interaction she had with you was four months ago; the impression you had left on her was a great one—it really piqued her interest in you. it's really not time to start having flashbacks to when she had met her boss's niece, but here she is.

-

“jihyo, this is my niece y/n.” chief l/n had introduced, smiling and patting you on the back.

chief l/n had always forgotten to bring lunch, and your aunt hated that. your aunt turned you into a personal messenger, a cheap (not even, you got scammed) delivery woman, so you were forced to drop off lunch for your uncle, some type of udon soup thing with fishcakes scattered around in the thermos (you couldn't lie, it smelled good and you were a bit jealous that she hadn't made you any lunch the first time you started living with them and working on your own).

the first thing jihyo noticed was that you had the chief's brown eyes, and you two were similar in the way that you were taller than most – your uncle being 6’4 inches of pure muscle and strength, a whole tank for a chief and his build fit the role. jihyo had guessed you were around 5’8, you also seemed to have some muscle from what she could tell, a prominent build with broader shoulders and toned arms, you seemed rather fit and active. there were common similarities in physical features and body language; you two were definitely related. 

the detective had also noticed that you were particularly pleasing to look at.

your face looked like it had been sculpted to perfection: you had a strong, sharp jawline, and prominent cheekbones that rivaled even some models she had seen in the magazines at the local grocery store. your eyes were similar to your uncles, they had a softer look, though, and were noticeably striking. your lips were a dark peach color, beautiful and plump. every aspect and feature on your face was put together to construct such a captivating sight, it honestly shook jihyo up slightly.

“it’s nice to meet you y/n,” jihyo had greeted, “i never knew you had a niece, chief.”

“ah, well this little one-”

“i’m 24.” you sighed, furrowing your brows as your uncle chuckled playfully.

“whatever, whatever. you’re still very young,” the chief responds, “she landed a great internship at minatozaki industries, so she’s been staying at my place for the time being, probably a long time.” he adds proudly, hitting your back again and it makes you tense up a bit from the unintentional strength in the contact. your eyebrows crinkle and you wince—just for added effect.

“you’re a scientist?” jihyo questions,

“i’m a researcher for them.” you simply reply, “i journal and edit sometimes too, well—i've only written one article, actually.” you add with a shrug.

“that’s impressive,” jihyo says, and it really is because you’re a year younger than her and somehow you've landed an outstanding internship at one of the most thriving corporations in the city. you nod and end up transferring a bit more eye contact, which communicates a shared understanding and fondness between the two of you, there’s an exchanged interest. 

the eye contact breaks when a repeating buzz is heard from your phone,

“oh, i have to go,” you mumble, “it was nice meeting you jihyo, hope we can talk more." 

"me too, y/n," jihyo responds. you simply shoot another awkward grin.

"i’ll get going now. uncle, i’ll be home by six.” you finally add, waving while fixing the bag that slings across your body.

jihyo thinks you’re impressive.

-

“chief,”

“jihyo?” he says, still holding the paper of the report, but looking up at jihyo. the shorter woman sighs and bites the inside of her cheek,

“listen to me, just hear me out okay,” jihyo says. the chief focuses all his attention on the woman in front of him, all 5’3 inches of stubbornness and authority: his most outstanding employee, his favorite detective.

jihyo lets out a small breath.

“the suspect was reported to have been a lizard, chief. you think we can fight a man-sized, not even—it was bigger than a man, taller and bigger than you, apparently.” jihyo sighs, “i think we should find a way to contact spiderwoman-”

“absolutely not.” the chief says almost immediately, almost breaking the pen he had been holding in his hand. “i’m not letting that criminal ruin anything else.” he used the word criminal, it made your heart sink just a bit.

“chief, i don’t think you get it. this is a lizard. it’s something out of a comic, or movie. this isn’t some secret operation or regular thief, numerous officers were injured and people are dead l/n. one of the sergeants had lost his arm, and he barely made it.”

“what?” the chief voices in disbelief, his eyes widened. jihyo looks down at a spot at the coffee table,

“sergeant moon l/n. moon taeil, his arm…” jihyo trails off, looking down and biting the inside of her cheek. 

your uncle pauses for a moment, looking down at the paper in his hand with incredulity. he darts back up at the woman and leans back in his chair, staring at the desk still perplexed. his jaw tightens up again as he closes his eyes, letting out a stressed sigh whilst pinching the bridge of his nose.

“i don’t trust that spiderwoman at all, detective. i know she saved your life twice, and yes i'm glad she did, but you shouldn’t trust so easily.” he starts. you seem to be a bystander, they seem so invested and heated in this conversation. you listen carefully. 

“look, if you think about it: the lizard and that spider girl are the same, they have those special abilities. you might think ‘spider girl’ is good now, but she has the power to do as much harm as that lizard, and assumably more brains too. she could be extremely dangerous, what if we were to trust her? what if she takes advantage of us and boom, everything goes to shit.” the chief exaggerates the last part a bit, it takes both you and jihyo by surprise at how much emotion he uses as he expresses his distrust for spiderwoman. 

“you really think we can take that lizard?” jihyo questions, her eyebrows crease and the hand that held her up as she leaned on the table tightens its grip on the edge of it. you take a sip from the banana milk in your hand as you listen, impressed and surprised at how heated your uncle is about his distrust for your other identity.

“jihyo, i get where you’re coming from, but it’s just not safe. i don’t trust her, especially after that damn drug operation incident. i mean, how would she have known about that? she just showed up and fucked up our plan, she could fuck up more than that and we’re just lucky it happened to be a crime scene that she had ‘tackled.’ do you get what i’m saying, park?”

jihyo nods, but she doesn’t make eye contact with the head of the police.

“yeah, i get where you’re coming from,” jihyo responds, “just a suggestion.”

you sit there in silence and stare at your uncle, a bit bewildered that he hates you that much, imagine if he knew that spiderwoman had heard him talking so much shit about her—you kind of want to laugh, even if it's belittling. 

jihyo has this expression mixed with defeat and concern, it makes you frown. you don't like seeing jihyo so beat, especially because of your unwavering uncle. the chief of the police and you are close enough so that you can scold him playfully and talk to him like an adult, but this matter would leave you in an argument that you could never win. your uncle was stubborn and scary, even with you occasionally.

you wanted to talk to the detective as spiderwoman, you know she trusts you and you want to reassure her, it sucks to see her getting shut down like this. if it were just the two of you right now, you'd go on about how persistent and ridiculous your uncle is for shutting down this suggestion, you know you could work this out, but not now, not with chief l/n present.

“alright, i’ll get back to investigating this. let me know if you um, have any better suggestions that don’t involve her.” jihyo mumbles, voice getting smaller as she mutters the ‘her.’ 

before departing, detective park adds one more thing, “also, um, they’ve already planned to have a gathering of some sort for the victims, it was moon’s idea. i forgot to tell you, but it might be in your inbox." jihyo chokes out. "i’ll get going now.” 

detective park can deal with rejection, and detective park can deal with her tenacious boss.

jihyo looks at the chief for a bit before her gaze sets on you. eye contact is made and you shoot her a "sorry about that" smile, and she replies with an “it’s okay” smile. you’ve always had this way of communicating quietly, at least in front of your uncle—no words needed—even though you two had known each other for only a bit. 

detective park walks away with the papers she had taken back, her shoulders sink a little as she strolls out the door.

“that was kind of harsh.” you chide, almost glaring at your uncle with narrowed eyes.

“i just can’t stand that spiderwoman.” 

thanks, you almost reply.

 “i trust jihyo—don't get me wrong—she’s always been one with great ideas and plans, but this one… god that vigilante…” 

“she can’t be that bad, what if she’s just doing it because, i don’t know,” you’re trying to frame your response as best as you can because how does one who isn’t spiderwoman word her motives for doing what she does? they'd either have to know her personally, or be her. “maybe she just feels a sense of responsibility with her abilities.”

“or maybe she’s a threat to us.”

“well,” and you almost continue, but this is chief l/n.

you stop trying after that.

-

jihyo almost died right then and there from shock.

“hi.” spiderwoman had said so casually—too casually for someone who had appeared behind the marble counter in the center of jihyo’s dimmed kitchen area.

“you just love breaking the law do you?” jihyo says in a stable tone, though her heart had been beating a little too fast from your unannounced visit (she tries to excuse it with how you shocked her, but it might just be from being able to have your stupidly charming self in her home).

“you’re not the chief, and i know you love me. i'd like to call my ‘law breaking’ a friendly surprise.” you beam, moving so you can sit on the counter. detective park can tell you're grinning, even with that stupid mask on. jihyo sighs and sits on her beige couch. she leans into it with a small, exhausted groan. 

“what do you want? did you hurt yourself again?” the detective says with annoyance, but deep down there's some worry laced in the question—she’s also been wanting to see you again, especially after she had been rejected so harshly by her boss.

you shake your head. “no, just wanted to see my favorite worker in the police force.”

“yeah sure.” she groans, “how are your injuries?”

“aw, you care about me?” it comes out as almost a chuckle.

“never mind.” jihyo says, rolling her eyes playfully. a laugh leaves your lips and it’s a heartwarming moment, but it's strange to the both of you because you’re spiderwoman, a whole ‘criminal’ in jihyo’s apartment and you converse as if you’re two good friends. 

“my injuries have been healing well,” you begin, “they closed up three days after you patched me up, it’s like they weren’t even there—kinda,” you explain. maybe you were lying a bit, there was still that faint scar that most people get after getting cut (in this case, you were cut much more than the average person would've been). the detective sits up from her seat and looks at the vigilante wide-eyed, her brows furrowing, and eyes narrowing as she looks at you in disbelief.

“are you serious? let me see, there’s no way.”

“hey, woah woah, usually women would take me out to dinner before they undress me.” you tease, laughing to yourself and jihyo knows you have that stupid grin on your face—though, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to see it again.

jihyo crosses her arms then leans back into the beige couch, you’re unbelievable.

(her heart warms up a little, she's extremely intrigued.)

“what are you here for? there’s no way you broke into my apartment for no reason.” jihyo probes, and she says it with such authority that it kind of makes you nervous, her tone makes you tense—it's kind of hot.

“the lizard thing,” you mutter, “i wasn’t there in time to stop him from hurting all those people.”

there’s a sudden guilt that takes over—the whole mood of the room shifts slightly, but you compose yourself even as your jaw tenses. the floor suddenly looks a bit more appealing now because you’re doing anything to not look at the detective before you, feeling at fault.

“you can’t save all of them, i know how it feels.” jihyo mutters softly, her voice is deeply comforting and you fold a bit. “did you manage to do anything about that giant reptile?”

“no, but i think i know what it is, and how it, well… how it turned into that."

“what? i honestly thought it was a science experiment gone wrong, maybe some lizard accidentally drank something, i don't know, i'm not a scientist. i was actually going to ask the chief's niece since she’s a science genius, very smart.” jihyo shrugs. your mood is lifted again after being complimented, after hearing the words "science genius."

she thinks of your alter ego like that? well, technically spiderwoman is your alter ego, not that nerdy minatozaki industries employee. you hold back a snicker.

“you’re not one hundred percent wrong on the science experiment part, i guess.” 

“can you just get to the point?” jihyo groans.

“alright alright,” you make your way over to jihyo, standing slightly closer to the tired detective and leaning against the wall. “i’m this way because i’m technically a science experiment gone wrong, but at least i’m not a hideous monster. anyway, i got bit by this spider, it wasn’t a normal one, it was more of a science experiment that turned me into one.”

jihyo quirks a brow. “so you’re actually a spider?” 

“well, no detective.” you scoff, “do i look like i have eight legs? well if i were a guy maybe i’d have three-”

“i hate you.” jihyo complains, “so much.”

“sorry sorry, it was funny.” you joke (you have the humor of a thirteen-year-old). “anyway, that spider basically lets me shoot webs out of my wrists, climb walls, stick to things, a sixth sense? hmm, i think i'm missing something...oh! i can turn invisible too-”

“you can what?” jihyo says in utter disbelief. you just keep surprising her more and more with every word that escapes your mouth.

“i can turn invisible yeah yeah whatever, it's cool i guess—but that’s enough about me. what i'm trying to say is that i’m a science experiment gone right and that lizard is one that went wrong.”

“harsh," she murmurs, but she's entertained by your amusing little explanation, "but how so? how do you know you won't go wrong?” and now jihyo’s really interested in your little backstory.

“that's a harsh way to put it detective." you pout, but continue nonetheless. "well, i didn’t turn into a spider and i ended up with some fun little abilities. this guy must’ve gotten bitten by a lizard or something? i don’t know, but instead of getting some cool fun powers, he became the lizard. i’d be crying on the ground if i were a were-lizard, must suck.” you finally explain. jihyo giggles at your last little remark.

“so what do you think we can do? how does this help at all?” the detective’s head tilts, and you think to yourself, humming for added effect.

“it’s probably like a werewolf, just without the full moon. maybe it will turn back to normal again?"

“and what if it’s permanent?” jihyo adds. 

you shake your head, “a giant lizard can’t fit into many places without being noticed.” you respond, “i think if i can lure it or something, maybe even capture it with my webs—we can wait for it to change back: we can stop it from killing any others.”

jihyo nods and you both take a moment to consider. 

the detective’s face lights up as she figures out a plan, and she almost laughs thinking about how this is everything the chief had told her not to do. she didn’t care though, this was the best option, the most effective one (and she also just wanted an excuse to work with you more often).

“there’s going to be a ceremony soon for that incident, three days from now i think. i bet you that lizard is going to sabotage it.”

“elaborate,”

jihyo's brows crease again, “half the police force is going to be there, including some civilians. if i were a hungry, ugly, big reptile, i think'd target that for sure.”

“glad you’re not a reptile because who knows what you’re capable of.” and jihyo scoffs at your response. “you’d probably be a small reptile though.” you exaggerate that last remark by putting your hand out, pretending to compare your height with her; detective park narrows her eyes again, and you think she might consider turning you in soon.

“how can i let you know when to show up? what if you’re not there in time again?”

you shrug your shoulders. “i’ll be there. i have my ways.” 

“you’re so ominous it’s annoying.” park scoffs,

“just admit that you want to take me out on a date, i know you want to know more~ i mean personally, i’m up for it.” you smirk. "what about something simple, a coffee date? i'm a latte person-"

“i’ll take you out and turn you in soon,” she scoffs. you simply laugh at her response and make your way to the opened window to leave, much to jihyo’s disappointment (she kind of (really) enjoyed your stupid flirting and company).

“it’s a date then?” the tone of your voice is filled with hope, excitement, and wonder. your tone is extremely inviting. “maybe you can undress me after since you've seemed so eager,” you add with a chuckle. "i'm not against skipping to that part." 

jihyo is about to get up to actually chastise you, even if her cheeks are flushed and her heart skips a beat. she really can’t believe you’re putting the image of a naked spiderwoman in her head right now, she doesn’t even know who you are or what you look like under that suit and mask—except for the bottom half of your face—but fuck you're really making her want to.

you leave before she can do anything, or even respond.

-

“dear, you have to come, it’s respectful and i know you’re free today.”

how the hell are you supposed to swing in to save the day as spiderwoman at the ceremony when you’re also being forced to sit near the big, buff chief and his highest-ranking men?

as much as you’d like to argue, you really can’t win this argument because that would make you sound like a really big asshole for not attending a ceremony for the injured and dead. would you be a bigger asshole for not being able to save them at that same ceremony? you’ll figure it out (you hope).

you’re not able to win an argument with the 6’4 tall, incredibly built chief of police, you'd never be able to in this type of situation. 

now, you stand in front of the mirror buttoning up a white dress shirt to cover the little spider-shaped device that turns into a suit. the person in the mirror is looking at you with eyes that say “please don’t fuck this up” 

you stare back with a look that responds: “trying my best.”

how the hell are you going to be two people at the same time, same place, while being near the people who hate your guts? 

-

the venue is this random building a couple of minutes down the street from the police station.

various tables with white cloth surrounded by brown chairs are scattered across the room; there are already people dispersed across the room in their respective areas, chatting with each other. your uncle leaves your side and decides it’s okay to leave you in a place filled with strangers, great.

as you wander around the room some people seem to recognize you by the way they greet you so warmly. various people who you’ve seen once, or maybe twice greet you formally; you blame your uncle for why you’re being treated like someone with slight authority.

you’re finally alone about ten minutes later at the drink station and you fill your plastic cup with some iced lemon water. it’s a little less overwhelming in the mellow corner, away from the people who are a little too lively for the reason it’s even being held. 

“hey.” a voice says, and you flinch, spilling some water on the dress shirt you have on. jihyo stands there next to you after tapping on your shoulder and making you look like a fool. 

you pat down your shirt with the napkin on the table, “hi.” you respond, trying to sound a little leveled.

“did i scare you? sorry about the shirt, let me help.”

“just startled, haha.” you wish you could be as smooth as spiderwoman would in this interaction. jihyo helps you out by grabbing a napkin and patting at your chest, she’s literally patting near your boobs and your face is probably red from the way she does it so obliviously. spiderwoman would probably, no–she'd definitely be making a comment about jihyo wanting to be near your chest–something like that.

“so, how is everything so far?”

“it’s just really strange.” you sigh, finally patting down the button up dry, there’s just a big patch of water that hasn’t dried off yet. “i feel a little too respected.” 

jihyo laughs and you feel a smile tugging at your lips.

“well, if i didn’t know your uncle as personally as i do now–i’d probably be the same.” jihyo confesses. “your uncle can be scary.” and she exaggerates the last remark by widening her eyes and raising her brows slightly. you laugh.

“and if you didn’t know me personally?”

“well, i’d be a bit skeptical of how this tall, striking woman had spilled water all over her chest just from me tapping on her shoulder.” jihyo jokes. 

“you think i’m striking?” and you send her a grin. the grin sends a shiver down her spine and the detective pauses in her place as she watches the way your lips curl, almost identical to the vigilante's stupid grin. jihyo is a bit shaken up from the similarity and it takes her a bit to respond. 

“a little.” she admits. 

ever since you had met jihyo, something in that interaction sparked a casual friendship. a friendship that was so similar to one between people who had known each other in college, or maybe something close to that.

it always started with comforting, regular greetings, and there wasn't any awkward small talk. there was slight joking here and there, some teasing remarks, small ‘gossip’ about your uncle and anyone else that you two knew. it was a refreshing and friendly relationship that you had with jihyo—even some mutual attraction; in fact, you’re the reason jihyo had been hesitant to flirt with spiderwoman, she would be lying if she said she didn’t have a slight crush on you—though it could never work out—your uncle would kill her (probably).

“you know what my uncle said to me earlier? he’s a strange one.” 

“and what was it?”

“he told me to sock any guy that tried to ask me out, it’s so weird.” and it really is, because everyone here is present for the events that took place a couple of days ago. why would it be someone’s first instinct to ask out the niece of the chief?

jihyo laughs at your remark, shaking her head. “honestly, i’d listen to him. the guys in the force that are single can be pretty strange.”

you nod in agreement, “yeah… what was his name… mark? he asked me out with the worst pickup line i’ve ever heard. something like ‘usually coffee is the thing that wakes up my senses, you seem like you’d wake them up too.’ the laugh i had to hold back…” 

jihyo laughs upon hearing that very amusing information (which, she’ll likely use against her colleague). “he’s like that.” 

the conversation is cut short when you hear the noise of someone tapping against a microphone. a familiar voice is heard throughout the room, it’s one of the sergeants who had welcomed you so warmly: taeyong. the guy seemed young for his position, maybe 3-4 years older than you, all you knew was that he was young for someone so highly ranked.

he cleared his throat before speaking. “welcome everyone. we’d like to thank every guest for attending.” 

jihyo taps your shoulder and tilts her head to signal you to a table, just so you two can look like you’re listening. the two of you pull chairs out and sit at a small, round table that seems to be unoccupied. jihyo scans the room subtly, there was one thought that had been occupying her mind the entire time she had been in the venue: where is spiderwoman?

the detective knew that the lizard showing up wasn’t necessarily guaranteed, but she sort of wished it were. she wanted to see you, even if it meant a giant lizard barging in.

park jihyo should not be thinking of this. maybe the chief thought you could've been a bad influence, jihyo believes you might be a terrible one with how she's thinking right now.

-

taeyong had been finishing up his speech, that’s about the same time the low, goosebump-inducing rumble was heard and felt. 

the entire building trembled.

jihyo looks around frantically, this should be your cue to show up, this should be your time to swing in and piss off the officers.

this should be the time she gets to see you again. 

to be fair, you had shown up, just not as your little arachnid alter ego. just yourself, though jihyo didn’t know that. 

the building shudders again and overwhelms all your senses, and everyone in the room. goosebumps creep up your back, and your so-called “sixth sense” starts acting up.

all the guests who had been in the venue started to chatter quietly; hushed whispers and sudden panic filled the room. the building shakes again and everyone seems to get the message that this isn’t normal, that something is happening and the fact that they don’t know what the hell is happening disturbs them greatly. worry and fear start to crowd the room when a piece of the ceiling falls, it makes you instinctively scan the room—keeping your guard up.

“y/n,” jihyo mutters. she’s observing the space with her narrowed eyes, the other cops seem to overlook with caution too. “stay close.” 

“what’s going on?” you question, but you know the answer to your query as soon as another piece of the ceiling falls over and splits into pieces, leaving some dust. jihyo looks at you for a second, panic and worry in her eyes. all you can think is: i need to get out of this damn place.

taeyong turns around and as soon as he does the wall in front of him completely breaks down. the enormous (and really ugly) lizard invites itself in, emerging (more like barging and breaking in). taeyong falls back, no, he's practically flung away from where he was before; he lands with a blunt thud.

terror fills the room completely. jihyo’s eyes widen at the sight of taeyong on the floor, some blood seeping out of him as he lies there hardly conscious.

the guests scream and run towards the exits while the officers pull out their guns hurriedly and point them at the lizard in sight, their hands quiver and their bodies tremble in fear from just seeing this unbelievable monster. 

you gulp at the sight, it really is an enormous lizard, maybe ten feet tall. the lizard was an ugly, swamp-green shade, it’s really disgusting to look at and its eyes are something out of a nightmare–gross.

 the spider-shaped device under your button-up practically calls out your name, it’s almost screaming in your ear “press me! press me!” and as much as you’d like to listen to it so you could magically turn into a so-called “hero,” you can’t risk people knowing, especially not the cops that are scattered around. 

you’re hidden from a few cops, though it would definitely be noticeable if some random suit had been wrapping around you out of nowhere, someone would notice. despite the commotion that goes on and the panic that's heard from various screams and whimpers, someone would certainly notice the chief’s niece turning into the “friendly neighborhood spiderwoman!”

and that wouldn’t be good, especially if your uncle found out.

there are two options: run away with jihyo and let her find out about your little secret, or let people die. you don't have much time to think—or plan for that matter—maybe you can risk letting jihyo know, it’s about time. it’s your last resort anyway, 

shit.

a groan leaves your mouth and you scan the room impatiently—there are broken chairs, tables, and debris all over—you’re trying to think of how you’ll escape this very inconvenient situation. you spot the sign that says “restrooms” from the corner of your eye and quickly pull jihyo by the arm, rushing over. jihyo’s expression turns into one of surprise and confusion, she looks at you with worry and furrowed brows while you drag her, almost debating whether she should fight against your grip on her.

“what the hell are you doing?” jihyo questions, looking at you distressed as she hears a sudden high-pitched scream and another sharp, loud sound from outside. your fingers work at the button-up you wear, and jihyo quickly turns away as you do so, “y/n? what the hell is wrong with you? why are you stripping now? we have to help-”

“fuck, jihyo.” you mutter, and you give up as you rip the dress shirt open, showing your bra-covered chest. this is not the time for jihyo to be checking you out right now, but shit, your body is like a magnet—one with toned abs and an incredibly satisfying physique that pulls her look towards it. you glance at the quivering bathroom door and continue, “i can’t explain everything now, but i swear i will soon, and please don’t get mad at me. there’s too much going on and i just, i have to go.”

“what the hell do you-” jihyo starts, but her question is quickly answered as you press on the spider logo.

your suit stems out from it and covers your body in seven fleeting seconds. the familiar suit covers your body, and she realizes it's you. her eyes widen and her mouth opens slightly, she looks at you in such shock and nearly stumbles back. 

“i told you i’d be here,” you say. jihyo is left speechless, though she manages to choke out a broken, stuttered response to your "big reveal."

“y/n, you- what the hell?” 

“let’s talk later yeah? help gather the people that aren’t cops, bring them somewhere safe,” you say, and jihyo is still baffled by everything that just happened at the last minute. you put a hand on her shoulder and start again. “jihyo?”

“you can't just, you can't just leave like that? you can't-” 

"i have to help them, detective," you say. your eyes lock with hers as if they could convey a certain understanding.

"god y/n, you... you have to explain everything, i swear to god." she manages to sputter out. you nod at her,

"it's a date then, on me." you joke, trying to lighten the mood and calm her nerves so she can assist you in dealing with this situation. now jihyo knows it's really you. the detective watches you leave the bathroom quickly, though you stop at the door to give her a small thumbs up before departing.

jihyo is at a loss for words—she's not even sure if all her senses are working properly. there's too much to process, but the detective has to do her job, she has to try and save these people, she's going to do what you told her to do.

detective park can do this, detective park can overcome anything, detective park can do her job and compose herself—so that's what she does, and she's completely disregarding whatever the chief had said a couple of days prior:

jihyo is going to work with spiderwoman, she's going to do what spiderwoman says.

[elvestoneanzelote1]

Hi! I absolutely love your work! Please take your time and feel free to ignore this!

So I was hoping to request dad Fukuzawa and big brother Ranpo with a teen reader. Basically the port mafia found her when she was like 6 and took her in cause of her ability. But she never obeyed them cause she didnt want to hurt anyone. But then when she was 10 she was put under Dazai and I think we can all tell where that went. So then she’s like heavily traumatized and won’t do anything without someone telling her, won’t even eat.

So then fast forward Dazai leaves the port mafia and takes her with him but since she hasn’t committed any actual crimes that would cause her to go into hiding the government office guy put her with Fukuzawa while Dazai went into hiding. Basically the two are neutral to her at first then get really protective.

(I had the idea that they try to work up her confidence but not too much so to keep her as their sweet obedient little sister/daughter)

Feel free to ignore this! I know it’s a lot. Again love your work and take your time! Don’t over work yourself too!

A:n; thank you for the request and sorry for the late as some work came up pilling.

Either way, it's Platonic Yandere Fukuzawa x Teen fem! Reader x Platonic Yandere Ranpo x Platonic Yandere Yosano The agency members present during the time

The first thought for Fukuzawa was... Why?

He never thought of babysitting I mean you might be around 13 when he was given the responsibility more likely by Takeda (I think that was the guy's name?)

Your e/c dull eyes bored at him contemplating on what you have gone through... Only to find out who you were and why you were brought By later on the years.

Ranpo often pokes you as you stay still like a robot unless told. He whined about how you were so quiet and tried to send you for errands on his part.

Though he kinda feels guilty whenever he sends you out it is like he was ordering you.

Maybe he was but later on he try to be less ordering for sweets errands and tried to talk to you by showing the new sweets and share it with you.

The first time he ever felt a sense of proudness when you smile while eating one of the special sweets he brought during his out case.

A sense of understanding was there of the fact your mother died before you even saw her face and your father had an accident meeting his demise.

Unlike Kyouka you don't even speak unless told! This was overwhelming.

Like an elder sister Yosano was who talk to you and ask about your health and even treat you well.

She knows how it is to be traumatized and she wonders what and who has pushed you to be completely out of emotions.

Instead her most concerns was you didn't even felt pain when your hand was burn not a well nor flinch.

Truly you were completely out of emotions or sort.

But don't worry Yosano will always be there to treat you and make sure you take care of your health.

Ranpo on other hand sometimes ask about your ability which your gaze often fall to the side.

But after a year of been together you somehow open up. You can talk more likely small talk or a nod or shook but it was a progress!

You also smile a bit! It was not a waste of efforts.

But... One time your tears fall from your eyes as your quivering hand holds the hem of the sleeves of Fukuzawa.

You almost thought you would lose another happiness when he brought up that it would be better as he mention about you getting adopted.

You eventually spoke your mind to Fukuzawa was taken aback by your words.

"Please... I will obey every command please don't take my happiness away"

Happiness.

So you do find the agency your happiness.

Fukuzawa pat your head as he went to your level and nod.

"I won't take away your happiness... But staying in agency will risk your life"

"My life has always been"

"...why do you want to stay for?"

"..."

"What is it that you find happiness from?"

"My happiness... I found from Yosano-san... Edogawa-san, Kunikida-san Kenji-san and you"

From that day onwards you ought to never leave the agency even if the certain someone told you to leave.

Even though it was shocking for Fukuzawa to hear it on your part some part of him was happy that you finally found happiness... And it is from the agency.

You could say... You are now apart of the agency as a whole now.

.

.

.

.

You start to open up and do stuff on your own. It was a good progress but... Ranpo make sure you also listen to them so that you will depend on them especially him!

After all you call him, Ranpo-niisan! And he promises to be your number one brother and make sure no one take his place.

It took him years he can't let someone just pop up in your life and take the place of being an elder brother.

Yosano often brings you along from cooking to shopping to you sharing apartment with her.

After all she finally have someone to dote on and the fact you (she insist after Ranpo pressuring and succeeding in calling him big brother)

So she ought to be look out on whatever you have to learn and the day when your first period come she will be first to reassure you and take care and explain to you.

Fukuzawa well he is like your father figure I mean he literally adopt any Orphans by now so yeah.

He does make sure your ability is not misused or misinterpreted by people.

You can reassure yourself that you have a family on your back to look after you.

Despite the fact you can protect yourself with your ability.

They just want to make sure you are okay.

.

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A:n- t-ats all take care!!

[beelmons]

Hi! An idea I had was an enemies to lovers where Spencer says something he regrets like they slept together and reader sort of wears her heart on her sleeve and thought everything was okay between them but Spencer is still being hateful to reader and she’s confused until he’s like “I just wanted to sleep with you, nothing more”. Or smth like that 💗

cw: post prison spencer, mean!Spencer, angst no happy ending

You didn't know what it was, and if he was being honest neither did he, but Spencer Reid hated you to his core.

It started the day he met you, shortly after Emily Prentiss took over as Unit Chief, when you were assigned to the BAU as a probatory agent. Two rookies, Luke Alvez and yourself, being added to the team was not necessarily her vision of a perfect taskforce, but she could make it work with some help of her friends, hence why Tara and JJ were told to shadow Luke, and Rossi and Reid to shadow you.

But, of course, Rossi had less of a hands-on teaching style, so he was barely around in the field with you, leaving you to the capable hands of a recently traumatized Spencer Reid.

It was loathing at first sight, because, he'd never admit, something about you remided him of Cat Adams.

Maybe something in your eyes, or the way you walked, or perhaps the sound of your laugh, but his back muscles tensed whenever you were around, his hands curled into a fist, and his eyes couldn't help but narrow in suspicion.

A little extra issue, though, his member would also get extremely hard.

"You did what?!" Luke almost shouted from his desk.

"Shut up, man!" you pushed him by the shoulders, trying to sink him further into his seat "We slept together, alright?"

"How did you even make that happen? I thought he..." the man stopped himself once his ability to think before speaking came through.

"Hated me? Yeah." you finished his sentence "I don't know what to tell you. It was late, he was checking my preliminary profile, he said it was good and insightful, and next thing I know I'm facing the wall with my panties down to my ankles."

"Well, I guess that's one way to patch things up." he teased "So, what? are you guys dating?"

"I... don't think so?" you said with certain sadness "He left while I was cleaning myself up in the bathroom."

Luke was about to emit an opinion of his own when he sensed, but a foreign sound interrupted him.

"Good morning!" JJ's cheery voice caused the two of you to look up.

In the distance, Jennifer and Spencer walked towards your spot. You couldn't help the hopeless grin that appeared on your face at the sight of him, the same one he walked past without a single word.

Your crescent faded as quick as it came. What the hell was that? Giving you the cold shoulder like you are 10 and pulled his pigtails at the playground.

You heard the chief call to the round table and decided to save your little highschool quarrel for later. Luckily, serial killers had decided to take a break, and so your day would be desk duty only.

"Hey." when the clock neared lunch time, you decided to approach Reid.

He begrudingly raised his sight, pulling it away from you almost immediately. "Hey."

"Mind going to lunch with me?" you asked.

"I brought my own, thanks." he dryly refuted.

"Uhm, Reid." you moved in closer to his ear, and he almost flinched "That was code for 'I need to talk to you'"

"I'm aware of the connotations of your sentence, I just happen to not care for what the actual meaning entails." his eyes still refused to move to you.

He was back to being the annoying asshole you had always met, the exact opposite of the caring soul everyone else seemed to face on the daily.

"I..." a knot began to form on your throat "I thought we were okay again."

At last, he deemed you worthy of his stare, his eyes locking with yours and vaguely narrowing in your direction. You could see the burning flame of despise in them, the chilling sensation that if he could, he would take the life out of you with his hands in a second.

"Were we ever?" he snarked.

Something snapped, and you were blessed that the only two people you knew in the ballpen were Luke and Tara, who were merrily sharing some chinese food, otherwise you would had certainly been fired.

"Wha the fuck is your problem?!" you yelled as your hands smacked the surface of his desk.

"What are you-" he tried to complain.

"You had not once shown me a gentle face since I met you, and suddenly, you act reassuring and supportive, only to disappear without a word, and then act like not a thing happened!" you continued to raise your voice, your hands reaching to grip at his shoulders and force you to look at you when he tried to divert his gaze.

The sensation of being cornered and exposed caused an odd reaction out of him, you could see it in his eyes, almost as if he wasn't truly there.

"Did it ever cross your mind I said all this so you would let me fuck you?" his voice was almost as loud as yours "If not, then you are not half as good profiler as I thought you were."

Piercing. That's how it felt. The unmistakable sensation of a puncture to the heart. There was nothing else you could to do help yourself, or the tears that ran down your cheeks.

"What did I..." you began to mutter almost to yourself. Luke's arms had moved to your shoulders, tugging you away from your coworker. "What did I ever do to you?" you asked weakly, Luke now blocking Spencer from your line of sight.

The doctor was astonished by his own words, even more so by your tears. He didn't know how to describe them, they just seemed so... sincere?

"Spencer?" Tara called for a third time, snapping him out of a self-induced trance.

"What?" he asked.

"What happened?" she inquired again "Why would you say something like that?"

"I-" he looked around trying to find you, but your friend had taken you away "I don't know."

The fight would get to Emily's ears later in the day. Spencer was dismissed for the remainer of his shift, and so were you.

A part of him was being eaten alive by remorse, but the other, the one he deemed his conscious mind, tried to convice him he had done nothing wrong. Hadn't he spoken the truth? There was no reason to like you. Your gentle demeanor was not excuse enough, neither was your peculiar humor, or your relentless dedication to do good.

There was no reason to like you when you had caused him so much pain. Hadn't you?

His brain felt foggy, clouded, confused. Beyond his control, his body dragged him in the direction of your house, only to find himself at a crossroad he didn't know the name of.

Where did you live again? He had never asked you. Perhaps, he could call you. But your work phone was off and he didn't have your personal. What if he asked Luke? Yeah, right. After what he had witnessed, how could he be remotely on his side? He was forced back home, he would talk to you the next morning at work.

Was there something to talk about?

"A transfer?" Luke asked Penelope.

"She asked me to put a rush to it." the blonde clarified.

"And did you?" the man inquired with curiosity.

Garcia nodded with a pout.

"She just looked so sad." she clarified.

A knock on her door interrupted the conversation, and a soft 'come in' prompted Spencer to walk into the room.

The two coworkers shot him a look, curious and pitiful at the same time. Spencer narrowed his eyes questioningly at them.

"What?" he finally said.

"We know you've been through a lot." Penelope began to say "That you were taking it out on her for some reason, but I think you might have done this time, boy wonder."

Reid couldn't help but to swallow back a knot. They were right. Objectively, you had done nothing wrong. But objectivity had long lost its meaning, since he had learned that his reality could be bent to someone else's will to a point where he didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"I didn't mean what I said." he quickly explained "That's what's I wanted to tell her."

"Well," Luke almost snarked at him "That's going to be a little hard now that she's gone."

"What do you mean?" Reid inquired.

"She had requested a transfer to the defense department months ago." Penelope explained "I just rushed some paperwork, but the deal was basically made."

Exposed to these news, Spencer bolted off the tech office and straight into Prentiss's. He basically stomped in, causing Emily to look confused for a solid second.

"Revert the transfer." he demanded, his palms firmly pressed on the desk.

"I thought you would be relieved..." she began to explain.

"We need her here. She's the most promising profiler we've seen in a while." he argued.

"Really?" Emily cocked an eyebrow "Because just a month ago your report indicated she was just average."

Spencer rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his hair, frustratedly turning around the office. He took a couple of deeo breaths, out of the corner of his eye he noticed your desk. Your belongings were already packed inna box, possibly Luke's doing to save you the awkwardness of a tidying up visit.

"I made a mistake." he admitted, his eyes still fixed on your empty chair.

"I'm sorry, Spence." the unit chief said "Sometimes, we just have to live with the consequences of our mistakes."

[just-jordie-things]

[part two] trouble - takuma ino

word count: 9k warnings: swearing, drinking, slight harassment (a creep puts his hand on reader's waist for 0.2 seconds) summary: she's only agreed to one night out- and that doesn't mean anything at all. it also doesn't mean anything that a few drinks has her admitting that ino's eyes are actually quite pretty. contents: rivals to begrudged friends, gojo!reader, nanami leaves the function at his first oppurtunity, ino and (y/n) have an alcohol fueled breakthrough.

part two: "got so much to prove" ___

Gojo Satoru was nothing like his sibling counterpart, and she was dead set on keeping it that way.  Where he was overbearing, she was uninvolved.  Where he was obnoxious, she was reserved.  For most of her life she could recall trying to steer herself into the opposite direction Satoru was heading.  

That was, until it came to sorcery.

If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have needed to crawl up a ladder to claim the Grade One title.  If it weren’t for him, she could’ve made a name for herself rather than live in the shadow that was their family name.  If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be stuck in this too-loud bar throwing back too-weak drinks.

Nanami didn’t seem too thrilled about having his evening decided for him, either.  He was nursing his third beer and the alcohol still hadn’t loosened him enough to lose the look of pure disinterest on his face.  (y/n) couldn’t blame him, seeing as she didn’t want to be here either.

Takuma, on the other hand, was having the time of his life.  He’d eagerly ordered them a round of shots despite their protests, claiming it was a right of passage for their first outing together.

“I’m not taking a shot,” Nanami had pushed his glass to the center of the table, refusing it as soon as it was set in front of him.  “I have to be home by eight” 

“Eight?” Takuma gasped incredulously at his early retirement.  “But Gojo’s car won’t be here till eleven-” 

“Dibs” (y/n) plucks the extra shot off the counter, tapping it once against the table before throwing it back with ease.  

The other two are left to stare at her in shock, neither knowing how to react.  She’s quick to chase it down with her own shot in rapid succession, not a single flinch or twitch from the burning sensation left in her throat.  Nanami and Takuma share a quick glance, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by the young Gojo.

“What?” She asks innocently, propping her elbow on the table to rest her chin in her hand.  “Been a long week, no?” 

“It’s just… Satoru doesn’t drink” Nanami shrugs at the simple statement, leaning back against his chair.

(y/n) pauses, her brow twitching in the smallest of movements.

Even without him around, she was being compared to him.  And hearing it come from Nanami, whom she’d spent years looking up to, snapped her final straw.

“Right…” She drawls the word out slowly, and Nanami waits all too patiently for whatever she had to say next.  “Well since it is our first outing, let’s establish this once and for all, shall we?” 

And then she grins, which sends warning flags up in Takuma’s mind when she leaves the table and approaches the bar.  He turns back to Nanami with his worry evident on his face.

“That’s not good,” He says in a hushed voice.  “I’ve only ever seen her smile like that when exorcizing curses” 

Nanami only chuckles half heartedly, more than familiar with the way the Gojo siblings’ shared wicked grin.

Ino’s not so amused, but he does his best to get excited when (y/n) comes back with a stronger drink and another round of shots for the three of them.  Nanami refuses this one as well, and this time they let it sit on the center of the table unclaimed.

To his surprise, she taps her shot glass against Ino’s when he picks it up, eyeing the auburn liquid with uncertainty.  This would be his second shot in the span of only ten minutes, and it would be her third.  There had to be some ploy behind it, right? 

“Whatever it takes to prove to you both I’m not my brother, name it,” (y/n) announces before throwing back the shot.  “It can be like a game!” She decides, eyes lighting up with the idea.  If she notices the way Nanami and Ino seem unsure and uncomfortable with the sudden swing in behavior, she doesn’t show it.

“A drinking game?” Ino asks, not quite following her train of thought.

“Sure,” She nods at him.  “Like a truth or drink sort of thing? That works” 

“I’ve got one, then,” Nanami leans back onto the table, suddenly joining the conversation.  His pupils seem surprised, but both excited in their own way to have him participate  “That Grade Two at the playground, last week, did you lie in your paperwork?” 

A more authentic looking beam stretches over (y/n’s) face, and she laughs as she considers taking a drink, but she supposes he’d have his answer if she did, so she might as well fess up.

“About the swingset being torn apart?” She asks with a raised brow.  “Yes, I lied about that” 

“You lied in your report?” Ino gasps in shock.  “What’d you say?” 

“She claimed the swings had been torn away from their posts before she arrived on the scene” Nanami explained with a huff.

That earned another gasp from Ino before he turned back to (y/n) with wide eyes and an awkward sort of smile, like he was excited to have caught her in something, even though she’d admitted to it herself.

“You chopped down a children’s playground?” 

“It was a swingset,” She corrected.  “And it’s structural integrity was fine.  The city could afford to replace the swing itself.  It’s practically just rope” 

Nanami shakes his head, although he’d already had an inkling her report on that assignment was less than truthful.  He had stopped by to take account of the damage done, and it seemed to him like the scraped metal of the playset’s structure could have only been chinked up by a large blade.  Like an axe.

A few more random questions come up between the two, most of them work related.  The questions are all over the place however, with Nanami trying to get her to admit to more discrepancies in her paperwork, and Ino trying to learn anything and everything he could.  So she never quite knew what was going to be asked of her.

More often than not, Nanami’s questions led to her drinking.  Whereas Ino’s…

“Do you have any tattoos?” 

She wants to laugh, and ask him if he’s sure that’s what he wants to know.  But Nanami’s already got her another two drinks down, so she finds herself lifting up the hem of her shirt, just enough to put her hip bone on display, earning shocked looks from both men as they stared holes into the ink on her skin.

“When did you get that?” Nanami asks, his eyebrows nearly to his hairline when (y/n) looks up at him with a lazy smirk.

“I was sixteen, and you weren’t around at the time” She states matter-of-factly.

Ino’s laughing, and maybe cheering as he throws back the rest of his drink and makes his way to the bar for another.  (y/n) wouldn’t admit that she was having a good time, but it was quite entertaining to watch their reactions.

“That’s enough insight for tonight” Nanami sighs before getting up from his seat.  (y/n) watches as he lifts his jacket from the back of his chair, loosely shrugging it on.  A small knot forms between her brows.

“You’re actually gonna leave?” She asks, and if he didn’t know any better, Nanami might think she’s frowning because she’s disappointed to see him leave.  

“I’ve already stayed later than I planned,” He answers dryly.  “But you should stay, Ino too,” He adds, nodding to the sorcerer at the bar desperately trying to get the bartender’s attention.  “Make your brother pick up the tab” 

“He said it was on you” (y/n) replies with a shrug, before taking a sip of her drink.  

Nanami rolled his eyes as he turned to go, grumbling something about how a Gojo could be trying to pass off the bill.  (y/n’s) laughing as he leaves, and he’s almost compelled to stay, just for the sake of watching her open up more than he’d seen in years, but he supposes he’s not the one who needs that tonight.

Ino’s surprised when he comes back to the table with a fresh drink and hand, only to find Nanami missing.  He glances at the empty seat with a furrowed brow before turning to (y/n), who shrugs.

“Guess he wasn’t kidding about turning in early” She muses, pushing the ice in her glass with her straw.  Ino seems to pout at that.

“Too bad, I thought we were having a good time” He says as he takes his seat across from her.

(y/n) regards him with a slight tilt of her head, as if he were a stranger she were noticing for the first time.  As always, his mask sat on top of his head, posed as a beanie, and as he turned away to glance across the crowded bar, she’d never noticed before, but the curve of his cheekbones were defined.  Sharp, even.  Her gaze continued to linger, noticing the same detail about his jawline.  Had she really never noticed before, or was the dim lighting doing him a favor by putting his facial features on display? 

“Is this your idea of a good time?” She asks suddenly, and his attention is swiveling back to her.  Even with the lights shifting across his face, the defined features still stuck out to her.  “Going out somewhere crowded and noisy?” 

Ino laughs at that, every part of his expression lighting up with his delight, and once again (y/n) wonders if someone’s purposefully messing with the lights to put a spotlight on him.

Her brother’s words from their last phone call start to penetrate her thoughts against her will.  She tries to shake them off, but it’s hard when his brown eyes gleam like honey when he looks at her.

“Well, drinks are a pretty important part.  This wouldn’t be fun without ‘em,” He says, and she shrugs in non-committed agreement.  “But it is fun.  I’m having fun, at least”

“It’s not…” She starts to tell him this wasn’t her ideal night out.  In actuality, she was more of a stay in and relax on the weekend kind of person.  Satoru did enough partying in his younger years to turn her off from it early on.  But Ino perks up as he awaits her response, and it didn’t feel right to tell him the full truth.  So she changes direction and tells him a half-lie.  “It’s not terrible” She finishes.

He’s grinning again, as though she’d just told him she was having the time of her life, and she can’t help the confused knot in her brow.  Could he really be so pleased over simply having a few drinks together? 

“I knew you’d have a good time if you just came!” He cheered, reaching his glass across the table to tap it against hers.  “You should’ve just accepted the invitation months ago” 

She takes a long drink, stalling to try and find the right thing to say.  She doesn’t want Ino to get the wrong idea, she’s not about to make this a regular thing.  No, this was a one time occurrence.  She stood by what she said all those months ago.  It was silly to make friends in this line of work.  She’d witnessed first hand, one too many times, just what companionship could cost.  One night out couldn’t possibly change that.

Something twists in her chest before she can remind him of that, and it prevents her from saying anything of the sort.  Instead, she changes the subject.

“Can I ask you a truth or drink question, now?” She leans forward in her seat a bit, resting her elbow on the table once more as she studies his eager expression.

“Shoot!” He agreed excitedly, and she can’t help the short laugh that escapes her.  She blames the alcohol.

“How do you stay so positive all the time?” She asks the question that had been nagging at her for longer than just the past couple hours.  He shakes his head slightly, not quite following the meaning of her question.  “Even on assignments, and doing your reports, you’re always…” She wiggles her fingers in front of her as she tries to find the right word to explain it.

Ino chuckles, before full on laughter takes over and his shoulders are shaking as he grins from ear to ear, almost proving her point before he could actually answer.

“I love what I do?” He answers like it’s a question, like he’s unsure if that’s what she’s even looking for.  “I’ve been working towards one goal my entire life, I might as well enjoy it, right?” 

She’s stunned silent for a minute.  There was a time where she would’ve said the same thing, when she was young and naive and thought her and her brother would take the jujutsu world by storm, side by side.  Before she realized that her entire life would be spent under the shadow cast by him owning the family name almost all for himself.  It was a large, infinite shadow.  And the longer she’d lived in it, the more her joy for her work turned into a necessity.  Until now, she hadn’t even realized just how much she’d come to despise every step it took to move forward in jujutsu society.

Ino took her silence to mean she was thinking too deeply about what he’d said, and a question of his own came to mind.

“Do you not enjoy it?” 

Her gaze rises from where she’d zoned out looking at her dwindling drink, finding Ino across from her looking almost concerned.  The longer she didn’t respond, the more his expression reminded her of the night he’d found her injured.

She clears her throat before opting out of answering, instead drinking down the last of the contents in her glass.  He raises a brow at her choice.

“Did you not want to tell me your answer, or did you not know the answer?” He asks.

“Is that another question?” She asks, a small smirk forming on her lips.  “Because I’ll have to order another drink” 

Ino laughs, and despite her trying not to, she can’t help but laugh with him.

“Another round?” He asks, and she thinks about it for a minute, before nodding, and getting up from her seat.  To her surprise, he follows her up to the bar, even though there was still a good quarter of his drink left.  She doesn’t comment on it.

They have to squeeze between bodies to stake a place at the bar, the two bartenders already quite busy with the amount of people waving at them for their attention.  It’s bound to take more than a couple minutes before they would get to place their order.

“Guess everyone had a rough week” (y/n) mumbles absentmindedly, and Ino glances down at her.

This wasn’t the first time he’d taken notice of her height- or lack thereof- but with having her so close she was nearly pressed into his side, it was hard not to notice.  About a head shorter than him, he had to tilt his head down to properly look at her, which he was only doing now because the alcohol buzzing in his system lifted the barriers of his anxiety.  Had he been sober, he’d have been far too weak to stare at her so blatantly.

Luckily due to the drinks they’d both had, (y/n) didn’t realize he was staring at her for a whole minute or so.  She’d been too focused on trying to catch eyes with one of the bartender’s to feel his eyes on her.  Even without being caught, he felt a flush creeping up his neck.

In another life, or hell, another universe, Ino wonders if things could have been different between them.  If she would’ve been less closed off, or maybe he could’ve been more laid back and met her level of reserved.  He wonders if they would’ve been closer friends, or maybe even something more than that.

Truthfully, when they’d first met, he’d instantly had a bit of a crush on her.  He’d never met the younger Gojo before the day he started working with Nanami on his promotion, but as soon as he’d laid eyes on her, he thought his heart was going to go into cardiac arrest and he’d die right there.  She was quiet, but he could tell behind her calculating expression that she was thoughtful, and cunning.  And so, so beautiful, that he’d stuttered all the way through introducing himself, even his own name he’d struggled to get out.  Looking back on it, he still felt embarrassed, but he was sure she’d long forgotten the interaction.  It wasn’t long after their meeting that she’d made her disinterest in him explicitly clear, and the sparks of feelings she’d ignited in him were stomped out into ash.

He felt like a fool for feeling that spark ignite again just standing beside her in this congested bar, but he couldn’t be imagining that things were different tonight, right? He was sure that she was opening up more of herself than he’d ever seen before, and maybe the alcohol played a part in that, but either way, he couldn’t get enough of it.  She was giving him crumbs of her life- an impulsive tattoo, her hopes to have a pet some day, a few reckless acts on assignments- and he was eating it all up with gratitude.  He couldn’t help but want to learn more, wanting to press further until she couldn’t possibly deny that she enjoyed confiding in him as much as he enjoyed being in her company.

He knows he can’t be imagining things, because when she finally feels his stare and looks up at him, she doesn’t scowl, or spit out some cruel comment about it.  Her brows twitch slightly, drawing together in a confused expression when he doesn’t immediately look away like she would’ve expected.  He’s close enough that he can see the way a ghost of a smile hovers at the corners of her lips, and the way her cheeks warm up with color.  It makes that microscopic spark of old feeling in his chest burn a little brighter.

A nervous laugh falls from her lips, and it’s so uncharacteristically cute that he’s smiling now, and he feels like an absolute dope for staring at her and smiling like an idiot, but it can’t be helped.  He can’t be helped.

“What?” She asks, breathless and curious, her eyes shifting between his as though trying to find the source of this behavior, but instead she only finds warm pools of brown that almost resemble the rum and cokes she’s been enjoying all night.

And then all at once it’s almost too much.  She’s suddenly aware of how close she is to him, their arms brushing together, or if he tilted his head just a little further down he could easily push his nose against hers and-

Her eyes widen at the derailing of her train of thought, the soft expression of surprise on her face more recognizable than she would’ve liked, and she could tell that it doesn’t go unnoticed by Ino, as he’s now regarding her with intrigue, wondering what was going through her mind.

The idea of him knowing she’d nearly gotten lost in thought at the idea of kissing him made her chest ache, and she badly wanted to tear her gaze away from his, lean over the bar and demand to be serviced so they could get away from the crowded space as quickly as possible.

What an idiotic, drunken thought to have.  Kissing a colleague, how much more foolish could she possibly be? She tries to shake it off as a pesky intrusive thought.  Nothing more than the alcohol pressuring her into making a reckless decision.

But she’s frozen before him, her eyes locked on his like she was stuck in a trance, trapped by her own nerves.  The eye contact was going to kill her, especially with how soft his gaze was.  It wasn’t like anything she was used to.  It wasn’t setting her on fire from it’s heat.  The way he looked at her made her feel like she’d just cozied up in front of a fireplace after a cold day.  It almost scared her how warm it made her chest feel.

She’s opening her mouth before she even settled on what she needed to say.

“Takuma, we should probably get go-” 

She’s interrupted before she could finish telling him they needed to leave.  It almost saves her, seeing as she didn’t have a very decent excuse as to why they needed to end the night early, but there’s little time for relief when the unwelcome hand of a stranger settles on her waist, stealing her attention away from Ino’s.

“You waitin’ for a drink, sweetheart?” 

She vaguely registers that the stranger with the breath that reeked of booze was speaking to her, before she’s reacting on instinct.

The grabby hand on her hip is pried off with ease, her strength easily overpowering his in less than a second.  No amount of alcohol would be enough to hinder her reflexes.  The stranger cries out in shock and pain as she twists his arm back behind him, likely spraining his shoulder with how fast she pushes it into an uncomfortable position.  The sly expression on the man’s face is contorted into one of great pain, and only when he begins to cry out for her to stop does she stop pushing.  Her desire to feel the bone snap under her strength starts to melt away when she sees tears in his eyes.

“You’re lucky I didn’t break your hands so you’d learn to keep your mitts to yourself” She mutters, releasing him with a slight shove.  The drunken stranger stumbles backwards, still sniffling and gawking in shock from the whole ordeal.

The woman he’d tried to pick up is still scowling, and she looks like she’s still undecided in letting him go, the way her lip curls into a snarl and her eyes seem to pierce right through his soul.  The man beside her looks no different, rage evident in the way his brows furrow and his jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together roughly.  He has one hand on the edge of the bar, as close to where she stands as he could get without pushing himself against her completely.  His knuckles are paling by the second, gripping so hard one could almost assume he was about to rip a chunk of oak clean out of the counter.  His other hand is on his head, roughly grabbing at the edge of his hat.  

Even the non-sorcerer that was this stranger got a bad feeling emanating from the two, and he scurried off without another word.  (y/n’s) eyes rolled dramatically at the pathetic display, but as she turned back to Ino, she could almost laugh at the sight of him ready to pull his mask over his face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and there’s not a crack in his expression as he glances over her with concern pouring out of every pore.  

He loses his grip on the bar, hand hovering over her shoulder but not quite touching her, not knowing if physical contact would be a comfort right now.  It’s odd, feeling like for once she was the Gojo with the shield of Infinity.

“I’m fine,” She tells him, and she means it, but she can tell he’s not so convinced.  “But just out of curiosity, what was your plan here?” She asks, cracking a smile as she flicks the edge of his mask, still bunched up at the top of his head.

“I- I don’t know,” Ino answers sheepishly.  “If he didn’t leave you alone I guess I was just gonna wing it” He admits.

She regards him for a moment, letting the answer sink in.  Her smile widens a bit when she laughs softly, almost fondly, as she really thinks about it.  She softens again, just like she had moments ago, before the creep ruined it.

“Well, for what it’s-” 

“Hey, you two need to leave,” 

The pair or sorcerers do a double take when one of the bartenders finally gives them their attention, but not for the reason they’d wanted.

“What?” (y/n) asks, certain they had the wrong patrons.

“We weren’t doing anything?” Ino’s brows furrow as the bartender looks them both up and down.

“I don’t care for the details.  We can’t have a commotion like that in the bar.  If you’re going to cause trouble, do it somewhere else” 

“But the guy was the one who-!” 

Before Ino could finish his explanation, the bartender was shoving a finger towards the door, an expectant look on their face that told them not to argue any further, unless they wanted to cause more trouble.

“Whatever,” (y/n) huffs.  “This bar’s a dump anyways” 

And before the bartender could react, she was grabbing Ino by the arm and pulling him away from the bar.  She was on a mission for the door, eager to leave a place if she wasn’t wanted.  All Ino could do was silently follow along, his mind barely processing the whole ordeal until they were outside, where it was significantly quieter.

It was darker than he’d expected, although he was well aware of the time, it was a shock to be out on the dark sidewalk with the stars on full display above them.  He glances up at the sky to admire them for a moment, until realization strikes him and he’s whirling around to look at her again.

“What about our tab?” 

(y/n) blinks back at him, her expression unwavering.

“Guess we won’t be welcomed back, either” She says, and Ino stares at her in shock as he processes the statement.

“Well then we better get moving” 

(y/n) hadn’t intended to end up at another bar.  In fact, before the handsy stranger made things weird, she’d been looking for an excuse to end the night early.  However, her words betrayed her when Takuma suggested another little dive not far down the street, and that’s where she found herself now.

This place wasn’t as crowded as the last, so she felt comfortable walking in and claiming a small corner booth.  By the time someone came by for their order, she’d already stretched out across the length of the leather cushion, back pressed to the window comfortably.  Ino had chuckled at how cozy she’d made herself, but didn’t comment on it.

Once their first round- at this establishment- of drinks came around, he’d excitedly started up their previous game again.

“Would you have really broken that guy’s hands?” He asks, and (y/n) doesn’t even lift her drink to pretend she wouldn’t answer.

“Without a doubt,” She hums, spinning the ice in her glass with her straw.  “Sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way, right?” She asks him with a mischievous grin that tells him she might’ve done worse had the moment felt right.  “My turn?” She asks, and he nods, crossing his arms over the table as he gave her his undivided attention.  “Which little beast of yours would you have summoned?” 

“Kaichi” 

He answers with so much bluntness she raises her brows at him, surprised by his complete lack of thought before speaking.  She hums, nodding her head in quiet agreement that impaling the stranger with one of those horns would have been the best method of defense.

“Has that… happened before?” 

“The random guy hitting on me part? Or the part where I threatened a man’s hands?” She asks, and Ino doesn’t seem to have the proper clarification for her question, so she shrugs, and doesn’t drink to the question.

“No, that’s never happened before” 

She takes a few sips after she’s answered, hoping to keep up the buzz she had going.  Ino’s fingers tap rhythmically against the table as he processes her answer.  He seems unaffected at first, but slowly, confusion begins to seep into his features.

“Wait, so you’re saying no one’s ever hit on you, either?” 

“You already asked that one”

“Well then I’m asking again” 

(y/n) begins to pull her glass towards her, ready to take another drink, but maybe the alcohol gets on top of her a bit as she answers the question before she could evade it.

“No, I’ve never been hit on.  I don’t think, anyways.  But I think I’d probably know if I was” 

It comes out like word vomit, babbled out like her thoughts were on a direct pipeline to being voiced.  She doesn’t mean to share so much, but she finishes with a shrug of her shoulders, and raises her glass to sip some more.

“You really never go out, huh?” He asks, taking a drink as well.

“What, getting hit on is the true price you pay for going out?” She asks with a short laugh, not following the connection between the two.  Ino nods his head from side to side, indecisive in his response.

“Not always, just, y’know, figured it’d happen a lot if you didn’t stay in all the time”

By the time he realizes the implications of that statement, it’s already too late.  Ino nearly chokes on his drink when (y/n) tilts her head at him, realization slowly flickering over her features.

“You’re saying people would hit on me a lot if I went out more?” She asks skeptically.

He considers pulling his mask over his face in order to conceal the growing heat in his cheeks.  Not that it would help, the damage had already been done with his loud mouth.

“I didn’t mean it like that-” 

“Well how did you mean it then?” She asks, suddenly swiveling her legs to sit upright against the table, plopping her chin in her hands to study him properly.  

She always had a way of looking at him with calculation in her eyes, as if she was sizing him up like a curse.  Right now, he doesn’t know what to make of the way she stares at him.  There’s that familiar look in her eyes that makes him wonder just what it is she’s looking for, but the softness in her smile was unfamiliar territory, and Ino didn’t have the slightest clue of what to make of it. Was it amusement? Did she take sick joy in watching him fluster and stutter? Or could it be the alcohol to blame? Perhaps it was loosening her up, and any semblance of delight was merely the booze entertaining her.  The most outlandish reason would have been fondness, but there simply wasn’t a chance in the freezing depths of hell that she was actually growing fond of his company, was there?

“I just meant, y’know,” He gestures his hand towards her, pathetically trying to explain his thought process.  She shakes her head in a small motion, not understanding his poor attempt at reason in the slightest.  “Like, you… you’re… you know”

Ino would really rather be anywhere else right now, preferably somewhere that wasn’t so hot his collar was sticking to his neck and his throat was closing up, but then (y/n) begins to laugh, and he huffs out a sigh in aggravation, and ultimately decides to take a long drink.

“Fair enough,” She muses at his choice.  “It’s not a terrible assumption to make, I suppose.  My brother is acquainted with every eligible man and woman in the city, after all” She says, only half joking.  Ino seems to find a great deal of amusement in that, grinning and laughing, although he can’t say he’s that surprised.

“For the record, I wasn’t comparing you to him in that assumption,” He says.  “I just figured you’d… attract your own attention” He says.

There’s an undeniable flutter in her chest, and she wished she could say she hated the way it spread a tingle of warmth throughout her entire body.  It wasn’t like she’d never received that sort of attention from others, but it had been so long since she entertained the idea that it was starting to feel a little foreign.  And having Ino of all people assume that there were a line of suitors out the door waiting for her hand had her insides turning with the near unfamiliar sensation of butterflies.

Her silence is making him anxious, his fingers tapping against the table no longer playing a steady beat.  They mimicked the rapid increase in his heartbeat.  Wild and unsteady and with no sign of relaxing.

“That so?” When she finally does speak it’s soft, nearly a whisper, as if she didn’t quite believe him.  “Are you an expert in that field, then?” 

She catches the way his eyes land on his drink, which was now empty, so there wasn’t exactly an out for the question.  When his gaze shifts back up to hers, he finds she hasn’t looked away from him yet.

“What field?” He plays dumb, and her smile curls into a slight smirk.

“Flirting, courting, whatever you want to call it” (y/n) answers with ease, fiddling with the straw in her drink as she impatiently waits for his answer.  He eyes his empty glass once more.

“No, I’m no expert,” He huffs, a deep frown on his face for having to admit something so embarrassing.  “You timed that on purpose” 

“I did not!” She argues, but her nervous laughter gives her away.  She’s not as good at lying when she’s drunk apparently, and he might just have to store that information for later.

“My drink was empty! That was a trap!” 

She has to cover her mouth to try and suppress the giggles coming out of her uncontrollably.  He’s still embarrassed, but her laughter was contagious.  Anyone passing by or glancing over at the loud laughter pouring out of their booth would assume they were having nothing but a good time.  And for a few seconds at a time, Ino could pretend they were, too.

To keep things fair, (y/n) finishes the last few sips of her drink, before sliding both glasses to the end of the table.

“Alright, your turn then,” She says, a small hiccup punctuating the offer.  “You must have something good saved up your sleeve?” 

He thinks about it for a moment, folding his arms over the table and subconsciously leaning over it to get closer to her.  With his eyes wandering the bar as he racks his brain for a good question she couldn’t avoid answering, she was able to properly gaze at him without getting caught.  Just like at the previous bar, she gets a little lost in thought as she maps out every feature of his face.  There was nothing forgettable about Takuma Ino, but she found herself trying to commit it all to memory anyways.

That flutter in her chest hadn’t gone away, and the longer it prevailed the more she began to sink into the feeling.  It’s relaxing, the way time slows down, and the buzz sends goosebumps prickling up her arms.  She would have never thought she could find this much comfort in this setting, but to her, this booth was the only thing in her world.

“Would you do this again?” He finally settles on a question, and it’s clear that it’s not what she expected, judging by the way her eyes slightly widen from being caught off guard.

Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out right away.  It’s as though he’d wiped her mind completely blank, not even a weak excuse coming to mind.  The fuzzy feeling in her chest turns to static, sharp and cold before disappearing completely, leaving behind nothing but an emptiness that stings as it lingers.  Her smile slowly falls as reality begins to seep back into their booth, reminding her of why she’d kept him beyond arm’s length all this time.

Deep down, she wonders if she always knew this would happen.  She wondered if self preservation took over as soon as she met him because if it hadn’t, she would’ve let him get too close a long, long time ago.  Guilt claws it’s way up from her gut to her throat, strangling her to keep her from saying the wrong thing first.

Ino’s sure he already has his answer when she doesn’t say anything right away.  It’s written all over her face, the way she winces, and shuffles uncomfortably in her seat.  Disappointment doesn’t begin to cover what he feels as he looks away from her, trying and failing to keep his face neutral.

“Got it” He mutters, catching the eye of a passing server and signaling for the check.  (y/n) frowns.

“Takuma, I…” She starts, but her throat still burns, and she struggles to find the right thing to say that won’t make things worse.  “I tried to tell you that tonight was just-” 

“I know,” He replies.  It makes her blood run cold, the way his voice lacks it’s usual chipper tone.  Now it holds nothing.  He’s so painfully emotionless that she almost wishes he would just get angry with her.  “You made that clear” 

They’re completely silent when a server comes back with the check, the tension turning awkward as soon as another person enters their bubble.  They must pick up on it, because they’re quick to bid them a good night before rushing away.

(y/n) drops the money on the table, and Ino’s out of his seat and headed for the door before she could even stand.  She huffs as she follows after him, although he stops just outside the door.  His heart was too good to leave her completely stranded, even though he wasn’t sure he could take another minute of being around her.

“Takuma, look, it’s not like it’s personal-” 

He scoffs, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at her.  She’s shocked to see the glare on his features, and if he wasn’t so irritated, he might’ve noticed the hurt on her face from the sharp look.

“If you tell me one more time just how not personal it is, I think I’m going to scream, (y/n),” He snaps, and in all the times she’s had this conversation with him and butted heads, she’s never heard him talk like that.  All she can do is stand there pathetically and accept it.  “Because it’s bullshit.  You know it, I know it, shit, Nanami knows it” 

“It’s not,” She mumbles, shaking her head.  “It’s not bullshit, I just-” 

“You don’t care about anything but becoming Grade One, I know,” He finishes the statement for it.  “You don’t care about drinks, and you don’t care about me.  Trust me, I remember,” 

A pout settles on her lips, and for the first time in a long time, she wants to cry.

“You know I actually-” Ino pauses to let out a humorless laugh, eyes fleeting across the busy streets as he finds twisted amusement in the way he’d fallen for this whole charade.  “I actually thought you were having a good time, I actually, stupidly believed that maybe you-” He stops again, not wanting to sound more idiotic than he already did.  

After tonight, as soon as they part ways, things would go back to the way they were, and she’d probably pretend nothing ever happened.  He’s not sure he was going to be able to survive that, even after all of this time accepting that she had no interest in him.  Ino doesn’t think he could go back to the way things were.

But fuck it, if this was going to be the last time she talked to him, he wasn’t going to lay back and take it.  He was going to put all the cards on the table.

“You know I care about you, don’t you? You have to know that.  Even if you can’t be friends or partners you- you have to know that.  You’re not dumb, (y/n), so don’t act like it,” 

She has to curl her hands into fists at her sides to keep control of the tears in her eyes.  She couldn’t dare let them spill over.

“But you’re so so stubborn, I’ve never met anyone like you,” He huffs, and the smile on his face is conflicting with the way he spits the words out like poison.  “You’re nothing like Satoru.  I’ve never thought so.  All these walls you put up to keep people from getting close to you so you don’t happen to stumble on the same path he did- because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? You’d rather shelter yourself from everything than risk getting a little hurt?” 

Her bottom lip wobbles with emotion, and she turns away so she doesn't have to look at him.  She wished some mysterious force would suck her away from this moment and land her in the safety of her bed where she never had to face the consequences of her actions.  It was childish, but she couldn’t bear to argue with him right now.

“You’re drunk” She mumbles to the sidewalk.

“You’re drunk,” He repeats incredulously, his hands flying outward.  “You think I don’t know you because you won’t, just once, let someone get close to you,” He rants, “But you know what the worst part is, (y/n)? You’re only going to get hurt anyways.  And you have,” He gestures to her shoulder, making her defensively hold a hand over where the scars are hidden beneath her clothes.  Her brows furrow as she opens her mouth to argue, but he beats her to it.  “And then- while I was worried about you, because damn it there was so much blood, I thought you might die, you took it out on me! You got mad at me and pushed me away, again.  Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” 

It’s only when his rant starts to die down that he realizes she’s barely looking at him because her eyes are glossy, and he knows damn well that she’s fighting every urge to cry.  He doesn’t know if she’s emotionally on edge because of him, or the alcohol making her sensitive, but either way, he sighs in defeat, and his shoulders slump from the weight of all of the thoughts he’d been carrying for the last few months.

“I- I know that you care,” She says weakly, her voice more strained than she would have liked.  “I just don’t get it, okay? It doesn’t make sense.  You don’t make sense.  I don’t- I- I can’t-” Her stutters come out in a whimper and she’s looking away again, desperately trying to compose herself before she could do something embarrassing.  

There were still people out and about even this late into the night, more than enough people to overhear their argument in the middle of the sidewalk.  Normally, she’d call her brother’s driver and leave without putting up with this argument.  But she can’t bring herself to do such a thing right now.  Not with the way he’s looking at her like she just destroyed the moon and all of it’s stars.

“My whole life has been wasted trying to prove something that I- that just isn’t possible,” 

The admission comes out in a shaky whisper.  She’s never voiced it before, but now is as good a time as any of he’s really so desperate to understand why she was wired this way.

“I don’t even understand why I was born, Takuma.  My parents had no interest in me.  They already had Satoru.  For as long as I could remember, I was only around to follow behind my big brother while the entire world bent over backwards to give him everything.  Attention, money, fame, candy apples- that’s what’s bullshit,” It comes out bitter and nasty, her nose wrinkling as she thinks back to every event she was forced to dress up and go to, only to be ignored, cast aside, and forgotten about completely while Satoru skipped around and received everything he could ever want.  “And I just can’t- can’t understand what anyone could ever want from me, I have nothing,” 

She hadn’t noticed the tears leaking from her eyes until there’s a pair of warm hands cupping her face, thumbs gently pushing them away.  She doesn’t want to look at him, not with all of the shame she felt just being comforted by him, but a stronger part of her can’t help but stare at him.  She hadn’t expected such sudden gentleness from him, and she hadn’t realized just how long it had been since someone had last comforted her.  When was the last time someone wiped her tears? Or touched her so softly that even in the frigid evening brought warmth to her skin? 

“Explain it to me,” She pleas quietly.  “Why- why would you possibly want to be around me?” 

Her eyes shift between his, but he’s too focused on clearing away each tear rolling down her cheeks.  She sniffles, and her hands reach up to grab his wrists.  Ino thinks she might yank him away, but she doesn’t.  She simply stands there with a solid grip on him.

“You are drunk,” He says quietly, just a hint of amusement in his eyes as he finally meets her sorrowful gaze.  “Don’t cry, (y/n), I didn’t mean to make you cry,” 

But it’s too late, she can’t stop the tears from streaming down her face now.

“I told you, I care about you, we’re partners, yeah?” He offers, but her expression is unrelenting.  “Have you considered maybe I don’t want you to get hurt, either?” 

Tears stick to her lashes when she blinks, and she has to bite down on her cheek to keep her lips from trembling.  He’s so close that he’d be sure to notice, but he also notices the clench in her jaw.

Every instinct she’d trained herself on is telling her to push him away.  Even if it meant physically shoving him off of her.  He’s too close in every sense of the word, breaching every wall she’d built brick by brick.

But something else nags at her, something far more sinister and cruel.  It pushes her forward, and has her clenching her hands around his wrists tighter as she stands before him in all of her pathetic glory.  Tears still pouring down her cheeks and her lower lip still wobbling, she swallows her pride.

“I’m sorry,” 

It’s quiet, but not because it’s ingenuine.  In fact it’s the opposite.  With a raw throat came a strained voice, so full of emotion she couldn’t possibly raise her voice any louder than the murmur that came out.

Ino blinks, his eyes widening in the slightest as he stares back at her in shock.  The entire night had been full of surprises, but now it had certainly taken a turn and set him on a path where he could see no clear ending.

“Takuma, I’m- I’m so sorry,” She continues, eyes glossing over again.  “I shouldn’t have pushed you away, I shouldn’t have said all those terrible things to you I- I didn’t mean any of it,” 

She’s shaking her head so rapidly it makes her a bit dizzy with the alcohol still in her system, but she doesn’t care if she sways a little.  She only wants to convey to him just how serious she was, and how important it was to her that he understood that.

“I think… I think you’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever met,” She continues, and slowly, the tears come to a stop.  “I’ve never known anyone as… as caring as you,” 

Her voice softens, a nervous shyness creeping in for admitting something so vulnerable.  But she wasn’t sure if she’d ever work up the courage to say something like this to him again, so it was now or never.

“And I know you’d never hurt me, b-because I’m… I’m the one who was hurting you,” He opens his mouth, likely to argue with that statement, but she was quick to keep going before he got the chance to interrupt.  “But I don’t think you understand that… that losing you would mean hurting me, too” She finishes, brows pinched together as they both sit for a moment to process it all.

Ino sighs, his thumbs wiping away the last of her tears, yet he keeps his hands cupped around her face.  A part of him was paranoid that if he let her go now, she might slip away once and for all.  The other, louder part knew that with the grip she had on his arms, neither one of them were going anywhere.

And so he tells her just that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He assures her, a confident smile stretching across his face.  “You’re not losin’ me.  Promise” 

She snorts at that, the tiniest of laughs escaping her in a mere breath.

“You can’t promise something like that,” She scolds.  “In this line of-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ino shakes his head dismissively.  “Too late.  Already promised.  So it’s set in stone,” 

She stares up at him with wide eyes, so lost in trying to understand him in his entirety that she doesn’t even know what to say next.  Had he forgiven her so easily? How could he say such a thing with as much assurance as he did? 

“As long as you can promise to drop the tough guy act and just… be the tough guy you already are,” He says, only half kidding, “Then I can promise that I’m not leaving you” He offers, tilting his head to the side as he gazes down at her fondly, admiring the way the corners of her lips begin to twitch into a smile.

“Okay,” She whispers, so quiet he only knew she said it from the way her lips moved around the word.  “I promise” ___

From that day forward, (y/n) worked more and more to loosen up around him.  It wasn’t easy at first, and the first day was the hardest.  The Monday back at work was a bit awkward, after she’d spent an entire weekend nursing a hangover, with an overbearing brother pestering her for the details.  Ino had brought her and Nanami coffee that first morning, and she’d made an effort to eat her lunch with him every day that week.

Then the week after that she began to accompany him on his coffee runs as well, spending the extra time chatting mindlessly and getting to know one another better.

A few weeks after that the two of them went out for drinks one evening, until that too became a part of the routine.  Once a month or so they’d go out to any new bar Ino could find and waste away as much of an evening as they could.

Slowly but surely, partnership grew into genuine friendship- something (y/n) hadn’t felt for a long, long time.  And Ino made sure to never let her forget it.  Whether it was remembering her favorite drink order, or watching an entire series she’d said she liked one time, he took her companionship seriously.  The more she got to know him, the harder he made it not to fall for him.

But, god, was falling for him one of the easiest things that’s ever come to her in this life.  It was unavoidable, unstoppable, uncontrollable.  No matter how much she tried to fight it, the way her heart raced whenever he was around was distinct to feelings only he could spark.  And the way her eyes searched for him first in a crowd was more than enough proof that her fondness for him had grown well past platonic.

It might have been silly to be surprised by her feelings when she’d finally realized that’s what the swell in her chest was all about.  After the incident that was their drunken night out where she’d torn herself apart at the seams before him- they don’t talk about that night, and she can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it out of favor for her, or if he’s just as embarrassed about it as she was- she found herself getting lost when thinking about him more often.

It ranged anywhere from how his eyes were their prettiest when they would leave Jujutsu Tech in the early evening.  With the sun low in the sky, rays of light caught them just right and made them appear to be the most brilliant, shining amber she’s ever seen.  

Satoru loved to brag about his baby blues to anyone who would listen, throwing his shades off with dramatic flare as he’d bat his eyelashes at unsuspecting victims.  Ever so full of himself, he loved the attention he’d get for the outrageously bright blue hue of his eyes.  When directed at her, (y/n) tended to scoff and tell him that his Six Eyes was far more worthy of bragging about than the damn color of them.

More recently, she’d shrugged her shoulders before directing her attention elsewhere.  “I prefer brown eyes” She’d told him carelessly.  At the time he’d pouted over it, whining about how his little sister thought he was ugly.  But ever since seeing her grow closer to her partner, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew who’s brown eyes she was talking about.

As much as she indulges herself in these thoughts- wondering how soft his lips were, remembering how gentle his hands had been when he’d touched her- she knows she can’t act on them.  Not after everything she’d already put him through getting their working relationship this far.  If she were to admit to him now that she was catching romantic feelings for him, it would be humiliating.  And she was humiliated enough as it is.  So she swore to herself they would remain hidden deep, deep down, under a lock and key- with said metaphorical key being thrown into a fire and melted down into a clump of misshapen chunk metal.   Then she threw that metaphorical chunk of metal into a metaphorical ocean. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[corroded-hellfire]

A imagine where mean girls pick on y/n like .. carol and her friends & eddie comes into the picture and defend you? 🥺

Picking on people is bad. Loving on Eddie is good.

Words: 1.3k

“You’re such an idiot,” one of Carol’s underlings spews at you with laughter. 

“Do you know how many people saw it? You’ll never live this down,” the other member of her entourage adds.

Between third and fourth period they’ve cornered you against your own locker, standing so close that it would be impossible to slip between them and escape. Your notebook for your next class is clutched against your chest and you’re pretty sure you’re going to get paper cuts from how tightly you’re holding it. 

“You look like a clown.”

The last thing you want is for the three mean girls in front of you to see you cry, but you can’t help it as your eyes well over and warm tears leave tracks down your face. You wince as one of the tears runs over your busted lip, the salt burning the large cut. Of course Carol notices the flinch of pain and doesn’t hesitate to pounce.

“It’s going to hurt when you kiss–oh that’s right, no one wants to kiss you!”

Her cronies cackle as if this is the funniest thing they’ve ever heard in their lives. The way Carol has these two so whipped and ready to do her bidding is both terrifying and impressive. You turn to face your locker, spinning the dial with shaky hands as you try and get your combination right. Anything to not see those faces so gleeful at your misery. Even though you need it, you put your notebook back in the locker. Before you can do anything else, Carol’s hand appears and slams the locker closed.

Eddie turns the corner and strides down the hallway. He catches sight of Carol and her crew and instantly tenses up. The reaction to seeing them together, knowing they’re ganging up on someone right now has his fists clenching and his shoulders bunching up towards his ears. As he gets closer, he sees the top of your head – hair he would recognize anywhere. The squeak his sneakers make as he comes to an immediate halt catches the attention of one of the wannabe-Carols. 

She doesn’t have time to even open her mouth before Eddie is shouldering his way through the girls to get to you. He seethes, seeing red, and instantly wraps a protective arm around you.

“Don’t you assholes have anything better to do–hey. Sweetheart, what happened?” Gently, he cups your face, carefully avoiding your injury. Dark brown eyes scan over your face, checking to see if there’s anything else he needs to fret over. When he’s sure there’s only the one abrasion, he whips his head towards Carol and her friends. The searing glare he gives them is enough to have one of the lackeys taking a step back. 

“Did you fucking touch her?” Eddie’s voice is menacingly deep, and it sends a chill down even your spine. 

You shake your head, about to tell him, but Carol beats you to the punch.

“She did that to herself.”

Eddie isn’t convinced. He turns back to you, his face immediately morphing from fury into concern. You assure him with a nod and a slight sniffle, though.

“I was climbing the rope in gym and my hand slipped. I fell and hit the ground face first.” You’re aware the words sound a little funny as they come out of your mouth. There’s swelling around the open cut on your top lip and between that and the pain, your voice is off. The girls snicker at how you speak, and it takes everything in Eddie to ignore them. 

“Are you okay, angel?”

“M’fine,” you assure him with a shrug. “Just sore.”

Eddie slips his hand into yours and gives it a gentle squeeze. You know it’s all in your head, but you swear the pain on your face lessens as the butterflies in your stomach rise. 

Looking back towards the succubuses in front of you, Eddie clenches his jaw.

“I’m not sure what you three find so God damn funny. Weren’t you the one who pissed herself on the middle school field trip to the zoo, Carol?”

The head of the clique scoffs and looks Eddie up and down as if she were inspecting a dumpster full of garbage.

“Shut up, freak.”

The term means nothing to your friend anymore, so he just turns to the next girl.

“Karen, I seem to recall you ramming your brand new car that your daddy bought you into the church’s nativity display last Christmas.” He rounds on the last one. “And Ellen, I remember hearing you had a nosebleed at homecoming and your white dress wasn’t white for very long.”

None of them will meet his eye, all looking off in different directions. Carol’s the first one to gather her nerve. She clears her throat and straightens her spine before addressing Eddie. 

“So what? You’ve done a million things worse than that, devil-worshiper.”

The grin Eddie gives them makes your heart swell but causes worry to appear on the faces of your enemies. Eddie just shrugs, your hand moving up and down with the movement since it’s still clutched in his.

“Maybe. But you can’t make me feel like shit for any of it.”

His hand slips out of yours and you’re about to pout, but he wraps his arm around your shoulders instead. It immediately makes you feel safe and warm inside. Eddie starts to lead you away but turns back and smirks.

“Don’t think you’ll be making fun of my best girl anymore, either,” he says, causing the butterflies in your stomach to triple. “That is, if you don’t want your names coming up in my next ritual sacrifice.”

You have to summon all of your strength not to laugh, both at his words and the look of horror on the girls that you’re leaving behind. Eddie leads you around the corner and you don’t even pay attention, following him blindly, when you realize he’s led you into the nurse’s office. She isn’t in there, but Eddie brings you over to a cot and nods at you to sit down. As you do, he walks over and opens a small freezer behind the nurse’s desk and pulls out some ice. 

“How’d you know where that was?” you ask, voice still funny.

Eddie shrugs as he sits down next to you. He swipes a paper towel from the table next to the cot and wraps it around the ice. 

“Been in here enough times over the past six years.” He playfully smirks as he hands you the ice. 

It burns as you press it tenderly against your split lip. You can’t help but wince, immediately taking comfort by resting your head on Eddie’s shoulder. As if on reflex, his arm comes up and wraps around your waist. 

It’s quiet for a few moments before you softly say, “Thank you for defending me.”

“You never have to thank me, sweetheart. As long as you’re okay.”

“Just embarrassed,” you admit with a sigh.

He presses a sweet kiss to your head. “I’m always willing to do something even more embarrassing to take the heat off of you.”

You giggle, your head brushing against his neck as you do.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Eddie gives you a reassuring squeeze. 

“How about we ditch the rest of the day and catch that new cheesy horror movie that’s out? We’ll probably be the only two there and we can make fun of it as loud as we want to.”

“Sounds perfect,” you say.

Eddie stands up and offers you his hand, which you gladly take. He links his fingers with yours as you walk out of the nurse’s office.

“And if you need me to help with your lip, I could always kiss it better.”

A small gasp leaves your mouth, that being the last thing you expected him to say. Flustered, you just nudge him with your shoulder hard enough to knock him sideways. You don’t have the words to say that that’s exactly the medicine you’re looking for.

[katakaluptastrophy]

Thinking about how Harrow was brought up knowing what she cost. That her price was the death of her House. How she had to be a perfect necromancer to prove to her parents that cost was worth it.

And thinking about who she asks for help when she is at her most desperate.

Harrow, who has never belonged to herself.

He reached out for your hands. You could not refuse him, and in any case had no choice of doing so; your body reacted long before your mind did, and the meat of your meat and the flesh of your flesh belonged to God.

Harrow, who only ever experienced love as a response to her worthiness.

Her most vivid memory of her mother was of her hands guiding Harrow’s over an inexpertly rendered portion of skull, her fingers encircling the fat baby bracelets of Harrow’s wrists, tightening this cuff to indicate correct technique.

And how that colours her entire perception of kindness. Of what those who try to love her want.

“I would like to give you something,” said Abigail Pent. This was to Harrowhark. She watched as the capable hands—strong, for a necromancer’s, beautifully formed and with very even nails—took a bit of folded paper from the table. She passed it to her Ninth colleague as though it did not hurt her to give away such precious material.

How John imagines Harrow as his daughter, but can only love her selfishly; her creation a mirror of his own sins.

You’d make a hell of a daughter, Harrowhark. I sometimes indulge in the wish that you’d been mine.

How Abigail, in loco parentis, having exorcised the children that weren't quite her's either so that she could help to keep Harrow safe, wants to comfort her but can't.

Abigail Pent took off her glasses and popped them down into the top fold of her robe. She reached out to touch Harrow’s arm, and Harrow flinched away; she winced a little in sympathetic apology, and removed her hand.

How Harrow is haunted throughout HTN not just by the actual ghost trying to destroy her, but by the memory of her parents, their touch, and by those who for better or for worse want to parent her. Abigail, who loved the children whose planet she was annexing - a fate Harrow viscerally feared. And John, who will show his love for his unexpected daughter by making her an undead construct. However well meaning, Harrow cannot conceive of parental love without possession, without an agenda.

The Emperor set down his tea and finished off his biscuit, and did that terrible thing that he did, on occasion: he reached over to touch your shoulder in that brief, tentative way, the lightest and swiftest of gestures, as though afraid that he might burn you. Your mother had guided your hands over bloating corpses. Your father had held down the corners of great tomes, and his sleeve had brushed your six-year-old-fingers as he showed you how best to turn their pages. Both of them had pressed a rough rope made of coated fibre into your hands—you recalled the pressure from their palms, their attempts to be gentle. When the Emperor touched you, your body recalled, unbidden, each rare and terrible touch committed by your mother and father.

How the one touch Harrow doesn't flinch away from is Ortus, who acknowledges his failure to protect Harrow and wants to make amends.

It was difficult to know what to do with this type of touch. It made her whole soul flinch, but at the same time opened some primeval infant mechanism within her, as though the embrace were a mirror: having someone hold up an image by which you could see yourself, rather than living with an assumption of your face. It was not like the touch of her father or mother. When she had first sat by the tomb in shivering awe, she had fancied that the Body’s ice-ridden fingers had shifted for hers, minutely. Gideon had touched her in truth; Gideon had floundered toward her in the saltwater with that set, unsheathed expression she wore before a fight, her mouth colourless from the cold. Harrow had welcomed her end, but suffered a different death blow altogether—and she had become, for the second time, herself. She untangled from Ortus, more reluctantly than she’d expected.

And now Abigail Pent and Ortus are (probably) dead. Gideon is John's daughter. The Body is Alecto, awake and on the move, meat loving meat.

Desperately hoping that in ATN Harrow and Gideon have an embrace without agenda where they are both simply themselves.