#if you’re reading this tag remind me to talk about that au sometime

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Fourteen

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Attempted Suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape and Mutilation, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Smut

A/N: Tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

He looks away from her, his eyes on the magnolia tree visible through the window. "I guess what I'm saying is, this is the first time I've ever felt like Suguru's found someone else he'd want to stick around for a while."

"I can't understand why," Lia murmurs, dropping her gaze to the table once more.

"Neither can I," Satoru shrugs, his eyes on her again. His bluntly honest words hurt.

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Chapter Warnings: None A/N: I'm sorry for the sporadic posting - real life is kind of putting me through the mill right now. If you're still reading this, thank you for sticking with me, and I'll update when I can. 💙

Chapter Fourteen: The Seedling

“You’re awfully quiet.” 

Satoru lifts his head to look up at him. “I thought you liked it when I was quiet,” he teases, reaching up and winding a loose strand of Suguru’s hair around his finger.

Suguru rolls his eyes, though there is no real annoyance in the expression. “I have never said, thought, or implied that.”

“Never,” Satoru agrees, lowering his hand and flopping back down to rest his head on Suguru’s lap once more. “You love me.”

“I do.”

“Even after all these years?” He asks after a moment, purposely keeping his tone light. Nothing to suggest the slightest hint of insecurity or uncertainty. A nonchalant question, posed more out of formality than a need to be reassured.

Suguru is not fooled. He knows Satoru better than anyone else, after all. 

“Especially after all these years. You haven’t figured that out by now? You’re stuck with me.” He looks at him. “Have I said or done something to make you feel differently?”

There is only a split second pause before Satoru answers, and when he does, Suguru has to bite back a smile at his pout. “No… but you’ve always been better at handling it when I’m with someone else than I am when you’re with someone else.”

“I wonder,” hums Suguru thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m just better at hiding it, hm? Is this about Amelia?” He knows that it is, but he also knows that trying to force Satoru to talk about it when he isn’t ready will yield him nothing. Once again he is reminded of all the ways Satoru and Lia are similar. 

He keeps this one to himself.

“She reminds me of you,” Satoru tells him. It isn’t a direct answer to his question, but he knows that it means Lia has been on Satoru’s mind, and he has to smile at the irony of it. 

“How so?” He asks patiently, neutrally. 

Satoru shifts, sliding up in bed until his back is flush with the pillows resting against the headboard. “She’s so hard to read,” he starts. “I can read you because I know you. But she’s quiet. She doesn’t smile a lot, and I can’t sense her emotions like you can. Sometimes I think I might see it - a glimpse of whatever it is that you love about her - but she doesn’t show it to me, not intentionally.”

“Well, it did take you  years to learn to read me the way you have,” Suguru reminds him. “But she’s not nearly as closed off as I was when you and I met.”

Satoru raises both eyebrows at him skeptically. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s supposed to encourage you to keep trying,” he laughs. “You know, I wasn’t going to mention this, but her feelings are clearer than you think they are. You just can’t see them yet.”

“Any chance you’re gonna help me out with what that means?”

Suguru considers leaving him in the dark; after all, he wants Satoru and Lia to come to know each other at their own pace. But it is obvious that Satoru is trying, and for that, Suguru thinks he deserves an assist. “She likes you,” he shrugs. “But she’s worried about what it means for her… you being back.”

“Why the hell would she be worried about me?”

Suguru reaches up, poking Satoru’s cheek. “Because neither of you seem to understand that it’s possible for me to love more than one person,” he sighs. “You both keep thinking - and hinting - that I’m going to ‘choose’ one of you over the other. She’s insinuating that she was just a placeholder, and you seem to have it in your head that you’ve been replaced. Neither of those things is true.”

“I never said I felt like I was being replaced.” Satoru is pouting again.

“You never said it,” Suguru agrees. “But I know you thought it.”

The other man goes uncharacteristically silent again. 

In the silence, Satoru’s phone chimes. He retrieves it from the nightstand, his eyebrows going up once more - this time in surprise - when he sees who the message is from. “She made pancakes,” he reports, showing Lia’s message to Suguru. 

“Then you should go down and eat some,” Suguru asserts. “She was nice enough to make your favorite breakfast - and to tell you about it, not me,” he adds pointedly.

Satoru is out of bed in a second, pulling on clothes. “Are you coming down?” He asks, his voice muffled into the fabric of the shirt he’s pulling over his head. 

“No,” he answers unhesitatingly, biting back a knowing smile. “I’m not in the mood for pancakes so I’m going back to sleep.” He burrows into the pillows, closing his eyes. A split second later he opens them again, and this time he does smile. “Enjoy your breakfast, though.”

--

If there is one thing Lia finds herself grateful for as she sits across the table from him, it is this: 

Gojo Satoru couldn’t hide his feelings even if he wanted to.

He’s so expressive, so openly emotive that whatever he’s feeling will show on his face whether he’s trying to convey it or not. It’s how she can guess what he might be thinking at any given time, and how she’s able to gauge his moods from day to day. 

And it’s how now, she knows that her pancakes have passed the Gojo Satoru taste test. For someone who doesn’t actually need to eat human food, Satoru is an exceptionally  picky eater, and she’s been nervous about debuting these pancakes for him since she decided on making them two days ago.

“These are good,” he says around a mouthful of them. He eats like he does everything else - dramatically, with gusto. 

“I’m glad you like them,” she says, relief clear in her voice.

“Suguru’s missing out.”

“Although he doesn’t care too much for sweet breakfasts,” she muses thoughtfully. Two seconds after she says it, she realizes what it may have sounded like to him. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I didn’t mean that to imply I know more about him than you do---”

“You might,” Satoru shrugs, peering at her with those bright eyes. “You’ve spent more time with him in person than I have lately. A lot more.”

It doesn’t sound like an accusation, but it makes her feel that way. She falls silent, unsure of how to respond. 

He doesn’t seem to notice the awkward silence that ensues, still focused on his breakfast. 

“It was never my intention to stay here,” she offers quietly, her eyes on her own plate.

“I know.” He sounds more nonchalant than she would expect. 

“So I’m sorry if it’s caused any trouble---”

His laughter cuts her off. Puzzled, she gapes at him. 

“You really do apologize for everything, don’t you?” He sits back in his chair, pushing his empty plate away from him. “You know what he said to me, just a few minutes before I came down here?”

Lia wouldn’t even begin to know how to guess the answer. Instead, she shakes her head, the gesture silently acknowledging that she wants him to tell her.

Satoru leans forward, his elbows on the table. “He said that neither of us seem to understand that it’s possible for him to love more than one person.” 

She blinks at him. 

“It’s never bothered me before,” he sighs. “He’s been with other people, and so have I. When you live as long as we do, you’re bound to meet other people you bond with, other people you feel a connection with. But I think,” he goes on, “that in the back of my mind, I always knew it was all superficial. That no matter how long we were away from each other, no matter how much temporary fun we had with other people, there would only ever be one person for me… and one person for him.” 

He looks away from her, his eyes on the magnolia tree visible through the window. “I guess what I’m saying is, this is the first time I’ve ever felt like Suguru’s found someone else he’d want to stick around for a while.”

“I can’t understand why,” Lia murmurs, dropping her gaze to the table once more. 

“Neither can I,” Satoru shrugs, his eyes on her again. His bluntly honest words hurt. “But Suguru doesn’t choose people based on whims or shallow feelings. He’s different from me in that way,” he continues, laughing a little self-deprecatingly. “So if he loves you - which he does - there’s a good reason why. Maybe several good reasons.”

She looks at him helplessly. 

“Don’t look so sad about it,” he grins at her. “I’m telling you I want you to stick around, too. Not just because he feels that way, but because I want to find out why he feels that way.”

His words surprise her. She looks up at him. “Do you mean that?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean, even if I don’t mean to say it,” he answers, and she believes him. “So stay here. And who knows?” He grins at her. “You might get to know me and discover you love me more than him.”

This time, it’s Satoru who’s surprised - she actually giggles.

--

As a quiet little seedling Lay within its darksome bed, To itself it fell a-talking, And this is what it said: “I am not so very robust, But I’ll do the best I can;” And the seedling from that moment Its work of life began. Paul Laurence Dunbar, The Seedling (excerpt)

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Chapter Fifteen: Coming Soon

Tag list: @therealestpussyeater

[cloudlessly-light]

Find me where the wild things are (chapter 1/5)

A/N: For one of my favorites @sapphoe-sun zodiac sign month so she’s getting gifts in the form of fics! Happy Cancer month to you pretty girl! So happy we both got raging daddy issues!

(I am aware that this is NOT everyone's thing so if it's not, please don't read it, this is the only warning I'll give!)

Summary:  AU story. Emily is just shy of 18 when she meets her mother’s new boyfriend, Aaron Hotchner. He’s 30 years older, he’s brooding, he’s kind of boring, he’s gorgeous. And she was screwed Word Count: 1,9k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, power dynamics, oral, dirty talk, daddy kink, daddy issues galore, restraints, praise kink, additional tags to be added if needed in later chapters

Emily met her stepfather as her mother called him the summer before she turned 18. She looks at Aaron Hotchner with a raised eyebrow and a scoff because he had obviously no idea what he was getting himself into. After her parent’s divorce there had been a handful of men that Elizabeth had introduced to her daughter, all of them taking off running in less than a year, either too intimidated by a powerful woman or getting tired of Elizabeth’s travels and schedule. Emily didn’t expect anything different from this one. 

Except she underestimated Aaron Hotchner. She realized quickly that this man, was different. He didn’t talk much but there was something about him that made Emily pause, something stoic and intriguing about him. He works almost as much as her mother but instead of traveling all over the world he travels within the country, works from DC when he’s not. Maybe that’s why it works between them, because they both were busy and knew that kind of life came with strings. To her surprise he stays, moves in and puts a ring on her mother’s finger and when she packs up to go to college a year later he’s there helping her load boxes into her car. It’s one of the few times she get’s to see how strong he is, carrying heavy boxes like they weigh nothing and she wonders what his large hands would feel like wrapping around her waist.

There was always tension between her and Aaron, had been from the start but he was never unkind. He was determined, stiff, keeping her at a detached distance but she came to find that maybe that was what was best, after all she shouldn’t be fantasizing about her stepdad, she knew that, even if she sometimes had to remind herself of that fact.

After she has places the last box in her car and he closes the trunk, ready to start college, to get away she turns to him, hoping that he doesn’t notice the slight blush on her cheeks.

“Thanks for helping me carry those.” She says and he shrugs halfheartedly.

“Not a problem. Drive safe.”

She avoids his gaze after a somewhat awkward goodbye and tries to blame the fact that she shivers when he hugs her is because of the slight wind, not actually him and his big hands and dark eyes. It couldn’t be him, he was her stepfather.  

When she’s at Yale her mother seems adamant to try and keep some sort of contact even though they never had before. ‘It was different now, you’re an adult’ Elizabeth would say if Emily asked about it. So they get into the habit of skyping once a month and as much as Emily hates it, she does it without fighting.

“How are you Emily?” Her mother asks as Aaron sits beside her on the couch.

“I’m fine, mother.” She says with a sigh. “Everything good with you?” It’s awkward and tense, there always seemed to be when Aaron was on the call, her attraction to him not lessening but after almost a year at college she had learned to accept the fact instead of denying it.

“We’re good.” Elizabeth says and looks to her husband who nods. “Busy with planning the wedding and all that.”

“That’s great mother.” She didn’t want to think about the wedding that was occurring in just a couple of weeks, about the fact that she’d have to go be a bridesmaid just to appease Elizabeth.

“How are your studies?” Aaron asks, as if he can tell that she’s uncomfortable with the subject. She realizes that he probably is, his job making it easy for him to read people. She sees the way he sits straight, always imposing even through a screen and she bites her bottom lip to distract herself from his dark gaze.

“It’s all going good…” She starts but then Elizabeth stands up abruptly as her assistant asks about a call and she leaves with a quick goodbye. Emily rolls her eyes and clears her throat as Aaron simply looks at her, dark eyes and slightly furrowed eyebrows and she forces a laugh. “Like I said, it’s going well.”

Aaron nods as he looks at her through the screen and clenches his jaw as she sighs softly.

“Well, I guess we can do this later, your mom will probably be a while.” He mumbles quietly and Emily chuckles sarcastically.

“Yeah, what else is new.” She swallows hard as his eyes narrow a little and she feels a tingle down her spine. “I should go, going to meet a friend for dinner.” It’s not a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that it was still another hour before she had to leave.

“Goodbye, Emily.” He says curtly, always an aloofness to him that Emily found more attractive than she should.

“See you at the wedding. Bye.” She hangs up the call and shuts her laptop quickly. As she’s getting ready can’t help but wonder what his face would look like lost in pleasure. What her name would sound like as she pulled pleasure from his body.

 She comes back for the summer before starting her second year of college. Elizabeth would be gone and Emily took advantage of the fact that she could be home without the pressure of her mother, their relationship, although better than it had been in years, still strained to say the least. What she hadn’t counted on however, was the fact that Aaron would stay in DC. They were married now and Emily hated that her mother had found and married a man that she herself felt so drawn to.

The first few days go pretty smoothly as she sets back into her old room, intent to spend the summer reading and relaxing and spending her nights out dancing. Aaron was working long hours so she hadn’t seen much of him, nothing but a short nod in acknowledgement from him if they saw each other in the kitchen. He knew that she was not a morning person and she was thankful that he respected that. Her mother never did.

She’s been back in DC for almost a week when she’s getting ready to go out for drinks, her fake ID in her purse and a glass of wine beside her on the vanity as she is finishing up her makeup. There’s a knock on the door and she turns just as Aaron opens it. 

“Are you going out?” He asks as she stands, his eyes moving quickly over her exposed legs, the hem of her dress ending high on her thigh and the heels looking dangerous. He averts his gaze instantly and tries not to notice that the pink lipstick she’s wearing is making her eyes look even darker than usual.

“Uhm, clearly?” She refrains from rolling her eyes but the sarcasm is clear. “I told you that you can’t just walk into my room.”

His eyebrows narrow at her response but he doesn’t reprimand her, it was still sometimes hard to know where he stood with Emily. He wasn’t her dad, far from it he barely knew her, but spending the summer in the same house as her was starting to blur the line of where they stood as she clearly had no respect for him, and he still expected some level of respect from her.

“I was going to see if you were having dinner here tonight, but I’ll take that as a no.” His eyes landed on the glass of wine on her desk. “I think I’ll take that.” He said and gestured to the glass. 

“Good one.” She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, enhancing her cleavage as she did. 

“You’re not 21, give it to me.” He walked a couple of steps closer and held his hand out. “Now, Emily.”

“Yeah right,” She snatched the glass of the table and took a sip just to spite him while she felt her thighs clench in response to his authoritative tone. “Mother doesn’t mind.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t completely true either. Elizabeth knew she drank but Emily had never actually had a drink in front of her mother. 

“That doesn’t matter, she’s not here I am and I’m deciding what goes and what doesn’t while you’re here.” He reached his hand out for the glass, and Emily frowned at him. “This is my house, you’re going to live by my rules.”

“It’s not your house.” She chuckled dryly and his eyes flashed with something dark, something dangerous and she felt the familiar tingle down her spine. They were caught in a stare-down, a battle of wills and she had to force herself not to squirm as he walked another couple of steps closer.  

“Fine.” She finally huffed and gave him the mostly empty glass before grabbing her purse from her bed. She started to walk out but turned back to him the doorway, and that’s when she saw it. His eyes, roaming over her, a split second of want in them as his jaw clenched and she knew that she didn’t imagine the way he had just looked at her. He looked at her like she wanted to look at him.

“Don’t wait up.” She smirked at him, wordlessly letting him know that he’d been caught and she saw his eyes widen slightly. She was out the door and halfway down the stairs when he called after her and then his footsteps came up behind her. But she was fast, even in her heels and she turned in the doorway.

“I said, don’t wait up.”  

He stared at the closed door for long moments, his mind reeling. He was sure he didn’t miss that look on her face, was sure that instead of her shying away from his clear want, she leaned into it. He knew that he had to put a stop to it before it even began, but how could he when all he felt was aching desire every time he looked at her?

It was going to be a long summer, he thought. 

 Aaron didn’t want to think about Emily the way that he did, didn’t want to acknowledge things he had thought about a girl 30 years younger than himself, about a girl that was the daughter of his wife. He had ignored that he was almost taken back by her beauty the first time he had met her. Then she would open her mouth and she was stubborn, disrespectful and for reasons unbeknown to him, he found himself thinking about her at the most unacceptable times. He shouldn’t find her attractive, he shouldn’t find that his first instinct when she was flat out rude was that he wanted to grab her and shut her up in the most inappropriate ways.

Then she comes home to stay at the house and he has to deal with her without Elizabeth there to remind him that he shouldn’t stare at her 20 year old daughter. And then there were the outfits, short dresses and skirts, tops that barely covered her, bikinis so tiny he wondered why she bothered to wear them at all. 

He knew that he was in trouble, but Emily Prentiss was a menace but he already felt like he’d be willing to risk it all.  

[charlesdesvoeux]

7, 11, 18, 65, 74!

(This got a little long so let me put it under a cut)

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

My default is 3rd person limited. I've only recently tried 1st person-- it can be downright addictive, because it puts you so close to the character. Thing is, I always feel like I need a *reason* to write 1st person, otherwise it can be a little strange to me??? Like why are we hearing them talk directly. Do they know they're writing a book*. So I usually stick with 3rd person limited. The only fics I'm working on right now that are 1st person are a Billy afterlife au-- I felt I needed his direct voice, also his "justification" is that he's dead. he's screaming into the void and trying to see if someone will listen-- and another one that's essentially "what if the ministry of time but with John Irving and also his bridge is a bisexual man of pakistani descent"-- the book was in 1st person so it made sense that a fic based on it would also be 1st person.

11. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Wait, of mine or of others? I'm gonna say of others. I've recently read If on an Arctic night an author which I think is one of my all-time favorite terror fics (as the author said in the tags: porn and post-modernism. it's amazing). Another all-time favorite terror fic is húshuō bādào which is essentially the other side of Fitzjames' Chinese sniper story and I cannot praise it enough. Lastly I'm still obsessed with I dreamed of the fine, deep harbour I'd find (50k word Hartving modern au my beloved)

If it's mine. Hands down best thing I wrote in terms of fanfic was Three Scenes from an Afterlife, I think. Unnatural and Detestable still works, I think, because of its smaller scale-- I tried to chronicle only a moment and not the whole history of something, so I think I managed to do ok. And if nothing else at least Jacko, the Ripper is funny.

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Sometimes a title inspires a fic, other times I'm tearing my hair out trying to think of a title. I was listening to a Nicole Dollanganger song and it reminded me of hickeygibson, so I thought "hey, what if I wrote a Billy afterlife au with this line from the song as the title?" (still working on it). But with my Bryant/Chambers fic I had absolutely no idea what to call it, and then I thought "well I think I've used the idea of warmth as like a recurring thing here so. ok let's call it Warmth". Jacko, the Ripper was too good a pun to pass up. Unnatural and Detestable is from how the Articles of War in the navy described the crime of sodomy, and it plays well with Irving's self-loathing in that one.

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

My only ongoing fic is The War Between Us and Our Ghosts. I'm planning for next chapter to have Tommy and Pilk go on a "night on the town" before Pilk leaves for a while to go see his family in Bristol and then oops some gay stuff happens. I'm looking forward to that; only reason I haven't written it is bc I'd need to do some research on "things working class people in London would do for entertainment in the mid 19th century" like. Would they go to the theater? If so, which type of theater, with which type of plays? What might they have eaten? And I don't feel like looking it up *right now* so I haven't written it yet, lol.

For future projects, I think the "tmot but with jirv" thing will be quite fun if I do manage to continue it (i'm only posting after i finish writing it). can't wait to see how john irving deals with the modern world and how the narrator deals with falling in love with a "glorified zombie" as he's called him so far.

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

I've never posted anonymously. I have no idea how one might guess I wrote it lol sorry.

*weirdly enough I only get this hang-up about fics. i've written original works before that do 1st person without feeling this kind of "offness".

[fallen-in-dreams]

CHAPTER ELEVEN on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 11,885.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

.

Hiya. Hope you're all doing well. :) So, I'm back. And this story is almost done. But I won't be updating every week - it'll be more like 1 or 2 weeks. The reason:

Sometimes chapters just want to get longer and longer and we really have no choice in the matter.

Unlike the last time I wrote out a fic in draft form then posted each chapter a week apart as I edited them, this story is trying to drive me crazy. 4k chapters turned into 6-9k and now THIS chapter is 11k. My editing process is squeezing that number count for all it's worth and it became so much of a chore. I really needed that New Year's break. So yeah, I'm going to slow it down a LITTLE bit. So I don't let it annoy me too much.

And I hope each and every one of you will join me for the rest of the ride. I can't wait to see what you guys think about what's coming. Cheers. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

Tumblr version:

… Chapter Eleven: To Kiss or Not to Kiss. ...

.:.

Oh love, believe me, Nothing ever comes to us easy, The river's never run up to meet me, Gotta find your own way down

-- Oh Love, by Phildel

.:.

How am I supposed to face her now?

Gaara stopped trying to figure women out a long time ago.

His argument with Sakura Haruno that morning weighed heavily on him all day. Whenever Gaara found a quiet moment or his mind would wander, images of pure fury and betrayal hounded him. Her pretty face screwed up in indignation and misery. He couldn’t get over the fact that Sakura had truly thought he was wilfully keeping her from her friends. It was just for a few moments but the level of pain that vibrated through her body still scared him.

Hours later.

Like so much about her already does.

So, he stewed in self-doubt all day, moving on autopilot as he went from council meetings to the lonely hours stuck working through tedious mission reports and high-level security reviews. Councillor Tōjūrō wanted this. Councillor Sajō insisted on that. And Councillor Ebizō inquired about their mutual concerns, via the not-so-silent Anbu they both trusted.

Gaara was beyond relieved when the working day ended, and he was able to leave. Most days, he stayed until late, and other times he simply took his work home. It had not escaped his notice that he worked too much. But what else was there? All he had outside of work were his siblings, and they had their own lives to deal with. So, most of the time, he had no-one.

And now her.

“Sakura!” Temari’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she called up to their house guest. “Dinner’s ready!”

Gaara clasped his hands together to hide the trembling of his fingers when Sakura finally descended the internal staircase for dinner. He forced himself to blink heavily to keep his vision from zoning out. Nerves and anticipation like he’d never felt before plagued him. It took all his willpower to keep from groaning in frustration at the strange feelings.

He watched pensively as Sakura sat down delicately. Swallowing heavily.

Sakura Haruno.

Gaara couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

“Date her, talk to her, and try to figure out how we can help her in the meantime.”

Ideas began to swirl in his mind. Possibilities.

As the culinary genius of the family, Kankuro had cooked another magnificent meal. He was still in the kitchen, putting on the final touches as Temari started talking about how her own day had been. Since her decision to stay in the village she’d taken over the management of the guards and patrols of the village. Gaara didn’t know if she was trying to improve it or just scare them into line. Regardless, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so he gave her free reign to do (almost) whatever she wanted to them.

Temari stood to help Kankuro lay the food on the table. Sakura was staring at a spot close to the internal staircase, her fingers drumming softly on the table.

“Go get that date organised.”

Planning outings was not his thing. He’d never asked anyone on a date before. Expectation hung in the air.

“Let’s eat!” Kankuro yelled.

Dinner had always been a stiff but amicable affair. Every night, they’d sit around the main dining table to partake in one of Kankuro’s chef-level delights, talk would be minimal because they’d be enjoying the food too much to ruin the moment. But inevitably, someone would say something pointedly, and a casual, intermittent conversation would take place. Before Temari’s return, conversation would be carried by Kankuro’s attempts to make Sakura feel welcomed, strained as they were. Gaara would interject when he felt it necessary, with the occasional input from Sakura when addressed directly.

Since Temari’s return, his sister had not just driven the conversation, but wrenched it sideways and taken complete control of the reins. He wondered if was solely because of Sakura’s presence or a familiarity due to her connections to Temari’s former lover. Which begged the question of how much the pinkette knew about his fate.

Gaara gave a deep sigh that did not go unnoticed by the room at large. It all came down to lovers and friends and family, in the end. They were what truly mattered. Sakura coughed lightly and he glanced at her. Conversation would normally pick up at this point, but the air was unusually tense. He blamed himself.

Gaara hadn’t meant to hurt her by keeping the knowledge of her former allies from her. It hadn’t been vindictive. He just did not know where they were. He had his theories, of course, but nothing solid enough to act on. And this bothered him more than he could admit.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Or rather, Temari and Kankuro did, though they both paused a few times to glance at each other, like they were planning something. Temari had shifted to the edge of the seat, an eager look on her face. Sakura was pushing her food around on the plate, not eating. Like himself. Gaara had only taken a few bites before realising he wasn’t even hungry. And Kankuro was digging in, with gusto.

When Temari broke the silence, Gaara was grateful. For all of five seconds. Then he conjured a mental image of his hands strangling her.

“So…” She looked between Gaara and Sakura as she spoke. “It turns out one of the council members is a traitor, likely in cahoots with Danzo.”

Gaara glared at her. You did that on purpose.

She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference that he didn’t buy for a second. She’d been trying to convince him to let Sakura in on his ultimate plans for the Leaf Resistance, the future of Suna, and this Cold War. His sister wanted too much. He told her so. He’d been telling her so. But now, the decision was out of his hands. Sakura wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. Kankuro put his cutlery down and leaned back, watching quietly. Amusement and curiosity danced in his eyes. Gaara could almost hear him thinking, well this should be interesting.

Sakura stopped playing with her food and looked up at Temari after side eyeing Gaara. He braced himself.

“How do you know there’s a traitor?”

“Through Lord Ebizō,” Temari said without hesitation. “Apparently, he’s been working with Gaara here.” She pointed her thumb at him as he scowled back at her. “They’ve found–”

“Temari.”

Kankuro made a soft sound the was halfway between a scoffed and snicker. Nobody paid him any mind.

Gaara glared at his sister. “She doesn’t need to know.”

She won’t be able to handle it, went unsaid.

He was aware of the insult to her person, but he couldn’t help himself. Kazekage or not, Sakura was under his care. She wasn’t one of his ninja. She was in no way his subordinate. Or professional equal. And as such, she was not to be privy to sensitive village information. He could not take responsibility for that. It was enough that he’d given Temari and Kankuro the highest security clearance legally possible for them simply because they were family. And the fact that they could handle it was beside the point.

This wasn’t a matter of trust. Sakura just wasn’t like them. Not anymore.

The pinkette scowled at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gaara sat up straighter. He matched her glare with one of his own. It was to be a battle of the wills, then.

.:.

Sakura did not pull her eyes from Gaara while Temari continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted.

“As you would know, communications between different Kage are always done in code or with a Kage-only sealing jutsu.”

Sakura nodded still staring at the Kazekage. She’d seen Tsunade pen letters to other Kage numerous times in both ways. Shizune had been a pro at transcribing the Hokage’s frustrated and eye-twitching candour to something more diplomatic. Sakura had never quite mastered that skill. Where Shizune excelled, Sakura fell behind. Where Sakura shined, Shizune’s skills were lacking. In that way, they’d complimented each other as Tsunade’s most trusted aides.

“Well,” Kankuro added, breaking his own silence. “Lord Ebizō came to Gaara with copies of transcribed missives that had deletion points in them.”

Sakura nodded again. A deletion point was exactly as it sounded. Information that was sent to Danzo must have been deleted at Suna’s end but not Konoha’s. It was off the record information. The only legitimate reason to delete parts of a message on the official, final copy, was for Kage level reasons. And this was clearly a deletion that Gaara had been unaware of.

What it even meant, she couldn’t say. But there was another problem.

“How…” she started softly, fighting to keep her staring match with the redhead. “How did he find it?”

It was a dangerous thing to do, but also difficult to detect. One might say damn near impossible, considering they shouldn’t have a reason for even looking for it. And whomever discovered the deletion point would have to be exceptionally skilled at Cryptanalysis. At the very least. Had it been Ebizō himself?

Temari answered her unasked question. “A new jounin found it. He wasn’t supposed to be there, apparently. Was just covering a shift for a friend. He’s listed primarily as a sensor ninja but apparently started his prior chunin career as a Cryptanalysis specialist.”

Sakura nodded again, finally understanding. “Lucky.”

“Yes. But unfortunately, he couldn’t tell who made the deletions.”

Of course. Sakura would be surprised if he had. So, this jounin had gone to Ebizō instead of the Kazekage? Maybe because it had been a Kage level security issue, he’d instead gone to the only person whose reputation was both impeccable as well as unquestionable.

“But how does that mean a council member did it?” Was she missing something?

It was Kankuro’s turn to answer. “Nobody in this room but Gaara could do it and we know he didn’t. The next line of suspects are the senior members of the council. Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō are the senior advisors who legally have access to Kage level information. Officially, anyway.”

Because of course the Kazekage reserves the right to not inform them of anything if he doesn’t want to.

“How senior is Ebizō?”

“He leads the council.”

Sakura blinked heavily. So, it could’ve been Ebizō but wasn’t, because he brought it to Gaara’s attention. So, he was the only one they could trust. Almost as though this whole thing was a test that Gaara had set up to suss out the reliability of his subordinates. Except that he couldn’t have predicted this jounin’s inclusion. It would’ve been a piss poor test if nobody found it.

Sakura tapped her chin staring back into Gaara’s seafoam eyes with something akin to calmness. Almost like she was a real person having a legitimate conversation.

Well, look at me, acting like a normal, functioning person. What would my mirror image hallucination think about that?

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.”

She didn’t know anything about Ryūsa beyond some murmuring that he might lead the council one day. Tōjūrō was a complete mystery. But Sajō? Oh, Councillor Sajō she knew. That was a face she’d never forget, the arrogant, pompous, prick. She had fantasies about strangling him with his own intestines on a daily basis. If she could, she would.

Her eyes drifted as Sakura imagined, once again, the choking sounds of the older man as she throttled him. It took a few more seconds and a clearing of Gaara’s throat before she scowled, realising what had just happened. In her distraction, she’d accidentally broke eye contact with him. When she looked back at him, the Kazekage was looking smug.

Shit.

.:.

Gaara couldn’t contain his smirk as Sakura broke their staring contest. Something clunking around in her brain had distracted her.

Good.

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.” Sakura mumbled to herself once more, angling her body away from Gaara and his gaze. He kept watching, his face falling into a frown as she ignored him.

“It has to be Sajō,” she said.

“Why?” Temari asked.

Sakura pulled a face. “I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of being hounded by him. He’s an arsehole.”

“His personality is not evidence,” Gaara intervened, and she glared at him before turning away again.

Sakura pursed her lips. “I know it’s him.”

“Okay.” His brother was driving Gaara crazy. Temari added to the frustration by echoing his words.

He couldn’t sit here and allow this anymore. “No,” he said.

Sakura clenched her fists, her eyes darting over to the corner of the room; she’d jumped slightly, but there was nothing there to startle her. Sometimes, Gaara wondered about that. Hallucinations.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said.

It was a wonder his sanity was still intact, dealing with her. She slammed her fists down on the table, dislodging silverware and making his siblings jump out of their skins, but not so hard as to damage the structural integrity of the furniture.

“You promised,” she said scathingly, glaring openly at him, and he was reminded of their argument that morning. “You said you would tell me–”

“I said that we’ll talk later,” he corrected her.

“About the Leaf Resistance!” She yelled and Temari and Kankuro’s heads whipped towards Gaara. He could feel their confusion and surprise but ignored them. “About what you’re doing! You said we should talk. We need to talk. So, let’s talk damn it!”

“This cipher talk isn’t about the Resistance,” he growled. “Nor is the traitor councillor.”

“Do you know that for sure?” She snapped. “Or are you just presuming? What if it’s all connected, Gaara? What if none of it is a coincidence?” She was on a roll now, taking a deep breath before charging into her new hypothesis with gusto. “Danzo doesn’t want a strong alliance with Suna, and we all know it. I’m not actually here to marry you! What if my mission is part of a larger plan? Sending a Root member with me when those tiny little fucking bastards are not actually trained in diplomacy? You have to admit that’s suspicious! So, what if his connection with this traitor has something to do with the Resistance? Or to undermine Suna because he already has a highly connected ally within your walls! What if it’s all connected? Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Gaara blinked heavily at her. Her deduction was quite the stretch. But crazier things had happened and he couldn’t think of a valid counter point, so he would be remiss to completely rule it out. He sighed. But this wasn’t the place to discuss this.

“I can help,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. He didn’t respond. “He won’t expect anything from me.”

“We don’t even know it’s him,” Gaara said. He was fighting with himself as much as her. He didn’t want to push her out of this, but it was political. And she wasn’t a Suna native. It wouldn’t be treason, but it would be dangerous. For both of them.

Maybe I’m overreacting.

He had no clue. Sakura’s face scrunched up as though she was in pain and her head dipped. She closed her eyes and he imagined she was struggling to calm herself. Was she having a panic attack? Gaara felt a similar spasm grasp his chest at the thought of having done this to her.

I can’t do anything right, with her.

She stood up abruptly, not looking at anyone. Her hands were balled into fists and Gaara’s stomach clenched painfully. Guilt. He felt the urge to say something, anything, to keep her from leaving this room angry. But nothing came to mind. He sat there, with his mouth slightly agape, unable to say the things she needed to hear.

Why?

There was a war in Gaara’s heart. The urge to protect her. The urge to respect her desire to participate. The urge to keep her far from the machinations of the evil of this world. He felt like he was being torn in too many different directions. But he knew that above all, he was being incredibly selfish.

With no regard for her uneaten dinner, Sakura stormed out.

He couldn’t release the groan that threatened to bubble up his throat. Gaara remembered he still had an audience and turned his head minutely to glance at them. Temari was frowning at him, her fingers tapping the table soundlessly. Kankuro was shaking his head, his lips twisted in barely controlled irritation. Gaara let that effervescent groan escape his mouth. He was an arsehole. He knew it. Because his siblings had never looked at him with so much disappointment before. Even when he let a demon out to play havoc on their village as a blood thirsty child.

.:.

When will I ever learn?

She was too emotional. Always had been. Weak. Pathetic. Emotional little girl. Expected too much of others. Presumed too much of herself. Stupid.

Sakura stormed up the internal staircase and slammed her bedroom door closed. She didn’t stop there, grabbing the cactus Matsuri and Yukata had given her (what else did she have?) and throwing it against the wall. Not the back of the door. No, not the chronicle of her timeline in Suna.

Soil spilled onto the floor, but the succulent remained firmly in the pot. The hardy bastard.

She let out a long-winded, slightly high-pitched groan. One minute Gaara was open and treating her like a human being and the next, looking down on her and breaking his promises. She felt so childish, but Sakura didn’t care. She wanted to rage and yell and pound some faces into the ground. She let her anger broil and seethe as she turned and threw herself at the bed. Head in the middle and feet dangling over the edge, she screamed into the blanket for all she was worth.

Which isn’t much, let’s be honest.

It was best to muffle her more violent urges. Noisy. Yes. The last thing she wanted was for someone to hear her screaming and to come running. If they would even. She scoffed. Sakura groaned, then rolled onto her back, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to suffocate herself. It wouldn’t be the first attempt since her arrival at Suna.

Who am I kidding?

She wasn’t trying to do anything to herself.

Sakura gripped the pillow harder, closed her eyes tightly and then screamed again. The muffled sound only made her ears pop. She sighed and sat up wearily. She needed to stop doing this to herself. After so long alone, Sakura had started to think she was a part of something. Maybe something special. Probably just something not toxic. Not dangerous. Kankuro was personable. Temari seemed genuinely happy to see her. But Gaara… fuck, she had to stop wanting more from him.

She shook herself and stood up as the mirage floated into the room, through that blasted window. Sakura’s heart raced and she shivered. Had the temperature dropped suddenly or was she just feeling the aftereffects of her panic attack? She watched as the mirage as it turned on the spot and seemed to only just notice her, glowering now.

“I hate you,” she said with conviction. I really do.

“You brought this on yourself,” it replied.

“Shut up.”

Its smile was cruel. Sakura closed her eyes and sat back down on the bed; hands fisted on her thighs.

“He doesn’t care about you.”

“Go away.”

“You’re useless to him.”

She wanted to cry. A choked sob escaped her before she could stop it. No. She was in control of this. Sakura threw her pillow at the mirage. And of course it sailed right through that smug, broken, and bloodied face. It was happy and angry at the same time. How could something that wasn’t even real hold any emotions at all?

“Are you even trying to escape this stupid hell hole?”

No, apparently Sakura had completely forgotten she wanted out of Suna. How long had it been? She paused in her internal debate to glance at the back of her bedroom door.

Twenty-five days so far.

“Ugh.”

Between wanting in on Gaara’s schemes and her ink creatures, Sakura still had no idea what she was doing. Her creations had scouted the village outskirts and even memorised the guard positions and patrol routes. There was no predictability to times, but the places were all the same. It was something to work with, at least. But it was getting her nowhere.

Twenty-five days and all she’d accomplished was making a fool of herself in front of everyone.

Gaara didn’t want her help. Her creatures had probably escaped this hell hole, leaving her behind. There was nothing to do. Nothing but sit in her room like a good girl and wait out whatever plan Gaara and his siblings had. Once the traitor had been identified and proven they could then tackle the political mess Danzo had Suna entrenched in. And Sakura would be free.

And this time I’ll run.

She’d kill the Root shadow and run. Sakura grasped at her chest, grinning despite the hole in her heart. She didn’t notice the single tear at first. It contained all her hopes for being human again. She wiped at it, not sure what to think of it. But she was spared that particular, repetitive self-flagellation at the abrupt sound of a hiss. She started, spinning around quickly. Her kunai was still in the hole in the windowsill. Conveniently between her and the source of the disturbance.

I really need a better hiding place.

Or multiple kunai dipped in poison. Yes, that would be better. More kunai, more targets. She smiled ruefully at that, her focus snapping to the window. She breathed a sigh of relief when there was no attack but rather the shadows of familiar shapes.

They’re finally back.

The ink creatures. The vulture-like bird and viper shaped snake. They slid into the room through the open window, moving in tandem. Between the two of them they had a death grip on something. Something distinctly snake-shaped and presumably dead. A wide grin spread over her face, and they halted their movements.

“Yes,” she hissed. She inched toward them as the ink bird hopped impatiently, releasing its own grip. When she touched the real snake softly, the ink snake twisted its body, tightening its hold on the carcass. The snake was indeed dead. She sighed, relieved. That would make this much easier. The chemical make-up of venom did not change after the snake died. So, theoretically, she should be able to extract the venom and use it, no problem.

Sakura vividly remembered a description of the milking process from a snake husbandry book during her genin days in Konoha.

Press down on the back of the snake’s head after it bites the container. The fangs will drip out venom for at least fifteen to twenty seconds.

Those instructions had been for a live snake. She cocked her head at the dead one as it was still being half-heartedly strangled by living ink, at her feet. Well, hopefully its deceased status wouldn’t make a difference other than ease of access. Hopefully.

Do I do this now?

Normally, she’d wait for the other occupants of the household to go to bed before doing something she didn’t want to be walked in on doing. Right now, standing, staring, and contemplating her sanity carried a high risk of interruption.

Sakura glanced up at the clock. She’d only been back in the room for almost two minutes. It felt far longer. She sighed, resigned, and shooed her hand at the ink creatures. Trying to corral cats would be easier. They just sat and stared at her. Or rather, the snake remained motionless except for the occasional tightening of its possessive grip and the bird cocked its head at her. Much like she’d done a moment ago. Not that it made a difference if they suddenly started towards the bathroom or something, to keep out of sight. And this whole thing would be far safer if she waited, anyway. She’d already been waiting two days for their return to begin, what was a few more hours?

Still feels like I’ve been pacing impatiently for far longer.

She sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. Her emotions had settled. She felt so drained. But not exhausted. There was an old meditation technique that Lady Tsunade had taught her, and she was just scooting back further onto the bed to try it when Sakura paused, startled by the sudden rush of chakra.

Gaara’s chakra.

Gaara’s knock on her door.

“Is he here to apologise?” She’d forgotten about the mirage. Its singsong, mocking voice floated over to her. “I don’t think so.”

She inhaled deeply, unable to stop the sudden hiccupping sob that sounded from her mouth. All the anger and fear and feelings of resentment and abandonment that had just disappeared, all the tension in her body, suddenly returned with a vengeance. How could one person, so innately collected and calm, invoke such a raging storm inside her? She hated it. And right now, she hated him.

“Stop lying.”

Go away.

He wasn’t going away.

Fuck the mirage. She wanted Gaara to leave her alone. But she also wanted him to persist. To show her she was worth the effort. That he cared. Sakura wiped at her tears and attempted to make her face look presentable. Maybe he would give up. In that case the only person who would see her tears was herself.

He knocked again.

“Sakura?” That deep, soft voice. Gods.

What is he doing to me?

.:.

Moonlight filtered in through her window as Sakura stared at the door. The ink creatures twittered and hissed, respectively, nearby and she wasn’t ready for Gaara to see them.

“Think he’ll actually call you crazy this time?”

Maybe. The mirage grinned at her thought.

“Sakura?”

Right, he was still outside her room. She fought the urge to flee. It had been her default state since arriving in Suna and it was beyond exhausting.

And embarrassing.

She glanced at the snake and bird before slowly opening the door half a foot and holding tightly to the frame to keep him from pushing it open. If he had such a notion. Sakura forced herself to look him in the eye.

The shame. His face was full of it.

“Hi.”

He nodded but before Gaara could respond, Sakura moved forward, placing a trembling hand on his chest, keeping her eyes on his. Pale green irises widened but he didn’t complain. Feeling more confident, Sakura pushed him gently and closed the door behind herself. In the hallway. Alone. Together. Her other hand found its way to his chest and Sakura felt his heart beat a little faster under her fingertips.

“It’s a nice night,” she said, her voice low and strong. Maybe. She had no idea. It just had to be strong enough to project confidence. Conviction she missed about her past herself. She was trying, really. “Let’s go to the roof.”

His eyes searched hers wordlessly, clearly trying to figure out what her plan was. What she was thinking. Why she was thinking it. Maybe even if she was trying to trick him. He’d deserve it, after that display during dinner, but Sakura tried for her most saccharine smile.

Seemingly convinced, he slipped his right arm around her waist and pulled her gently toward him, flush against his body. Sand whipped up around them and she couldn’t stop the light gasp for the life of her. Steeling herself, Sakura gripped harder to him as they disappeared from the hallway outside her bedroom and her centre of gravity shifted and they reappeared on the roof of the Kazekage mansion.

The cold night air hit her first. She shivered but didn’t complain. She expected Gaara to pull away immediately but his hold on her remained firm. Almost like it was his apology. Or he was working up to one. Sakura waited. And glanced around, remembering that the Root shadow would be able to see them from the outside, on the roof, even if he couldn’t hear them.

She could imagine that freak’s reaction if he was watching right now. Sakura remembered, one of the few times the masked man hadn’t berated her on their three-day journey to Suna he’d gone over her expectations on this mission. He’d expected her to lull Gaara into a false sense of security. To take advantage of him. To play the part of a girl being sold off.

Use your assets, he’d said, leering at her. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.

Danzo had not ordered her to sleep with, let alone woo Gaara, specifically. But it was in every look he’d given her before sending her off. It was in between every line in the official papers for this mission. Of course, she’d ignored it. Sakura hadn’t planned to be here this long. But here she was, with Gaara’s arm around her, and all Sakura could think of was that, technically, this was supposed to be a seduction mission. She hadn’t foreseen viewing Gaara as a sexual being. It had snuck up on her, now painfully obvious. Sakura knew it before but a part of her had also denied it, but it was true. There was no going back now. She wanted him.

Desperately.

But she was done hoping he would start anything. Gaara wasn’t like that.

Sakura started as his left arm came around to embrace her. His chin resting on top of her head, and he let out a soft sigh. It made her body tremble in response, and she wondered what he was trying to do if not turn her on. This was out of character for him. As far as she could tell. She inhaled deeply. And he needed to stop smelling so good too.

Because it’s hot as fuck.

She wanted to dominate him. The feeling wasn’t new to her but the chance to be the one in control, was. All she’d ever done is exude a fake version of confidence. Sex was methodical. A tool. To her, at least. And here was Gaara, making her want something else. Something more.

But how am I supposed to get that?

She had no idea how to instigate this. Reluctantly, Sakura released her hold on Gaara and after a few moments of what seemed like internal contemplation, he uncoiled his arms, removing them from her hips gently. Always the gentleman. Never the paramour. She cleared her throat and took a step backwards.

He wouldn’t want me that way, anyway.

She needed to get this under control. This level of intensity wasn’t natural for her. It had to be a side effect of either the prazosin drug she was taking or her anxiety. Post Traumatic Distress Disorder. She wasn’t so stupid as to presume she’d survived the last few years with her sanity intact. And it would explain so much.

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped at Gaara’s words. He was sorry. She blinked stupidly at him.

“For everything,” he said.

She nodded slowly, licking her lips absentmindedly. Yes, he’d been an arse. She could accept this. She stared at him for a moment, contemplating how to go about the discussion she wanted to have with him. He kept eye contact, obviously content with waiting for her input. She tried to smile but her lips quivered.

Sakura sighed.

“Councillor Sajō. He came to a few of the wedding planning sessions,” she said, deciding on a change of topic. “He was abrupt but otherwise respectful to the other ladies. But he kept glancing at me.” She shuddered at the memory. “He didn’t like what he saw. And he hates me. I know it’s not a lot to go on,” she added. “I’m sorry I was so pushy and defensive about it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Sakura didn’t think he had anything to base that on. Sometimes she thought he had a secret file that occasionally leaked information about her to him, in minute amounts; just enough for him to get glimpses into her psyche, but not enough for a deep dive. Enough for his pity to sting her. To burn. And enough for him to think her some kind of helpless victim.

She stood straighter, shoulders pushed back, and chin raised. Sakura had never been good at hiding her feelings, even after the Root commanded that had trained her in the early days of Danzo’s reign got tired of her lack of control. The man had very little patience for emotional outbursts. He could teach her all manner of underhanded jutsu and Root-based tactics but mental conditioning to suppress her emotions? She was never going to master that. Not to his satisfaction, anyway. There was no seal on her tongue. Danzo didn’t stick needles in her eyes and brainwash her. No, he just had his subordinates torture her. Poke her full of holes. Heal her. Fry her. Rinse and repeat. She was fun to play with, apparently. Even more so than some others because an unwilling servant could scream the loudest.

“The council has always been difficult,” Gaara interrupted her thoughts, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He looked past her, as though someone had appeared suddenly, and she had to refrain from turning to look. But there had to be nobody there because his demeanour didn’t change. “They do like to make up their own rules sometimes.”

“I can believe that. Especially after that councillor started having me followed.”

Sakura was adamant that Sajō had. The Root shadow never seemed bothered by it. He’d even laughed a few times when she’d stopped on her way back to the Kazekage’s mansion, sensing the darkening presence behind her. Escorted by Matsuri and Yukata, she was shielded by their presence. Their limited protection. But the moment she strayed again; Sakura knew all bets would be off.

And who knows what Sajō is actually willing to throw down?

Would he have her cornered and interrogated? Would he stoop to physically attacking her? Maybe an attack like that would-be-assassin? He was making sure she stayed in line. After their run-in at the council building, she showed herself to be a loose cannon. And if Sajō was in league with Danzo, then it was likely the Root shadow would help him.

She explained all of this to Gaara, leaving out how her contemplation on how far Sajō would go intrigued her. If the old man gave her a reason to fight back, she would. Gaara frowned, concern marring his features.

“It has to be him,” she said.

“It’s at least a place to start,” he agreed.

Sakura smiled widely at him, warmth spreading over her face. Was she blushing? But hope had burgeoned in her chest, and she didn’t care, either way. His eyes softened as he stared back at her, and she had to push down the sudden urge to throw her arms around him.

“I can help,” she said. It wasn’t meant as a reprimand, but Gaara’s face shifted into stony seriousness.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and ashamed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She nodded. “You know… I can handle myself.”

“I know–”

“I just…”

Sakura glanced around the rooftop, remembering another night when he’d followed her up here and she’d killed a masked assassin. It felt like years had passed since then. Being here for the first time since then brought it all back. The blood on her hands. The rain gently trying, and failing, to wash it away. Her mind spasming in ecstasy at the opportunity to finally get to kill something. When she eventually turned back to Gaara she found him looking around in a similar manner, a faraway, contemplative expression on his face.

Does he think of that night often, too?

“We never talked about that night,” she said, and suddenly had his full attention again. “I killed a man–”

“Who was trying to kill you,” he interrupted, but she kept going, unimpeded.

“–right here. I tore into him. And I know you know I took pleasure in it.” She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky, and ignoring the way he looked pensive. “And I know you know… that I’m not…” She struggled to find the right way to explain how she’d lost the plot without sounding dramatic. But it wouldn’t come. Instead, she tried another angle. “Sometimes it comes in flashes. I’ll be okay one moment and then… I’ll just want to dig my kunai into something. Or even my bare hands. That ache. That desire.” She sighs. “I know you understand.”

Because you used to be out of control too went unsaid.

“And I see things…” She cut herself off quickly, not wanting to go further down that rabbit hole.

Gaara’s eyes had widened slightly at that admission, but he didn’t say anything. She was grateful for that.

Anyway…

“I’m not all there, I know. But I’m not so far gone that–”

“You’re not crazy, Sakura. You’re not worthless or useless or unworthy.” Gaara narrowed his eyes at her. His hands twitched, like he too was fighting the urge for them to embrace. She longed for that warmth again, shifting the weight between her feet nervously.

He stared at her intensely and she swallowed heavily in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. They stuck in the corner of her eyes in warning, and she tried so hard to keep them from falling, clenching her fists, digging her nails into her hands. Whatever she needed to do. Sakura nodded her head in agreement even as she refused to accept his sweet words.

But her gratitude towards this man was so strong that she couldn’t restrain the single sob from ripping out of her mouth. Now, she couldn’t stop the light tears now gathering along her eyelashes, threatening to obscure her vision. Sakura hugged herself as Gaara reached out to wipe the tears away. He was so tender and considerate. She felt like she was going to break from his kindness. It was good. But it was also torture.

Even after his outbursts and stubbornness to keep her in the dark, she couldn’t begrudge him forgiveness.

Sakura sniffed and leaned into his touch lightly, even as she was unable to bring herself to look at him. He cupped her cheek for a few moments, just holding his hand still against her before slowly wiping at her eyes again. When he removed his hand completely, it wasn’t done hastily or roughly. She didn’t feel rejected. She felt calmer. More in control.

“Sakura… I…”

What could he say? She didn’t know.

“Let’s go on that date.”

But apparently, he does.

She started, looking up at him in surprise. That came out of nowhere. But to be fair, it was something they’d already talked about. Once she got over the initial shock, Sakura found herself smiling her way through the mild panic at the thought of officially dating him.

“Now?”

He nodded.

“It’s a bit late.”

Gaara smiled wryly. “I don’t sleep much, and you don’t… have to go to the wedding planner tomorrow.”

That was true. It was officially her day off. She’d planned to spend it in the training grounds and also use some of that time to hone her ink crafting skills again. Sakura no longer felt the compulsion to escape Suna, though a deep seeded feeling of unease from merely being in Suna still ate at her. Everything she did now was just to pass the time, out of habit, or necessity. But this… yeah, she wanted to change things up a bit.

“O-okay.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Let’s… uh,” she blushed, “go on that date.”

Gaara must have been thinking about this more than she realised. He rattled off a few ideas, all of which she could picture being interrupted and annoyed by the ever-present Root shadow in her wake. But several of the ideas sounded like they might just be in a no-go zone for her stalker.

Only one way to find out.

And it was a shame her mirage couldn’t be kept out of things as easily.

Sakura realised, as Gaara tentatively explained how this place and that place were in high security areas and had amazing views of the village, that of course the Shadow wasn’t allowed in all areas of Suna. She could’ve slapped herself for not thinking of it earlier. It was even likely he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Suna’s shinobi academy. All of this must have been covered back when they’d arrived and Baki had run down official rules to them both. She hadn’t been paying attention back then.

So many places I could’ve lost him in. Buried him, more like.

“Something casual,” Gaara was saying, bringing Sakura’s attention back to their impending date. Were they just going somewhere casual? Or was he talking about their relationship? Or maybe what they were going to wear? Well, there wasn’t anything casual about being engaged. It was still a farce, but it no longer felt trivial to her.

Okay, she could do this. She cleared her throat. “Yes, casual.”

Was that a smirk?

“We’ll need somewhere with food,” she added, ignoring the flush that his smirk had invoked along her body. They were both acutely aware neither of them had eaten their dinner. But Sakura didn’t want some homemade food for this. “Or money to buy some.”

“There are a number of acceptable vendors open this time of night.”

“Right.”

“I asked you out,” he said, his face tinging pink. “I will pay any and all fees.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that, since she was flat broke. It wasn’t like Danzo cared to pay her for any of her missions. She inwardly scoffed at the notion. The only things she owned were from before his takeover or what she’d managed to steal over the years. She would have to go through the clothes in the wardrobe in her bedroom. Again. At least there more options to choose from now, since both Matsuri and Yukata had made a point of restocking that threadbare closet.

“And I’ll change into something less... I mean more comfortable.” She spluttered. “I mean something casual.” She bit her lip in embarrassment. They were a pair of tomatoes. “Meet you back here in fifteen?”

Gaara nodded, his smile infectious as she returned it before turning on the spot and leaving him alone on the roof. She hadn’t even thought to ask him to use his sand, perhaps because she was still subconsciously remembering the ink creatures. They needed to be dealt with first, before she went anywhere.

Gaara will wait.

She knew he would.

.:.

The night was alive with the sounds and lights that made up the heart of Suna.

And the hounding footsteps of her eternal stalker. The closer they moved towards the lights and sounds, the further the Root retreated into the shadows. It faded into the background but refused to disappear completely. She would not turn her head to give it the attention it craved.

Instead, Sakura took in the sights and sounds, feeling like a proper tourist for the first time in her life. Gaara took her down a small path that led from the Kazekage mansion to the larger maze of interconnected paths to the thoroughfare of the village. From this narrow road, all other paths diverged. And his chosen path opened up into a lively and festival area.

There was no official looking celebration or staged performance, but the atmosphere had a similar ambience to them both. And the people were in merriment as though there really was a carnival going on. Sakura wondered if this was a new thing, because of the tensions of the Cold War and people just wanting to forget for a time, or if Suna had always occasionally held large-scaled revelries. Civilians behind the walls of any village, hidden and safer than most, couldn’t understand what it was really like out there, surely.

Enough of the doom and gloom.

The Root shadow followed as they moved deeper into the edge of the festivities, where the crowd was thinnest, keeping away from the louder groups. Far away. Some people turned to look at them; they recognised Gaara, despite his casual long styled jinbei, but Sakura’s casual shirt and trousers would not have screamed her identity more than her shocking pink hair. Even drab, it stood out. Fortunately, the crowd was sparse, having died down from the dinner rush, which meant the menu selections were limited but that suited them just fine.

Sakura tried not to notice how many people there really were. Nor the concerned look on Gaara’s face when he clearly noticed her anxiety. A few vendors sat on the outskirts of this rabble and Gaara steered them towards the first of the street food merchants, his hand on the small of her back. Sakura eyed the yakisoba but ultimately decided on yakitori. Gaara chose the same.

“I cannot take your money, Lord Kazekage,” the flustered merchant waved his hands frantically, when Gaara went to pay for it. “A treat for your lady friend. On the house.”

Sakura inhaled deeply, not wanting to speak for fear of setting off her anxiety. There were enough eyes on her. And the Shadow was ever present, even in the background. She took a deep breath and followed Gaara as he led her to an open dining area that was mostly empty. They sat on the tableless chairs and ate, just enjoying the distantly happy atmosphere and their silent company. It was oddly comfortable.

There was a tradition in Suna, or so Gaara had told her on the walk down the paths to this district. He’d learned about it from his brother. Like bar hopping in Konoha, this was called stall hopping – on dates or festival nights, going from one vendor to the next, buying a single, small portion of food, then moving onto the next vendor to repeat the process. It sounded interesting. Having finished their seasoned chicken, they now had their meat. Their animal protein.

The next stall had to be different. That was the tradition.

With Gaara’s arm pressed lightly and confidently against Sakura’s lower back, they continued to the next stall, which specialised in rice and seaweed as their main ingredients. Here, the vendor owner also refused Gaara’s money and ladled their plates with a serving of Onigiri and a shrimp tempura roll and ushered them to some seats nearby.

Sakura supposed it was good for business too, having the Kazekage seen at their stall.

“No, no, Lord Kazekage! I will not have it!” The third vendor followed the example of the previous ones, refusing Gaara’s money as well.

He was flushed at the intensity of their refusals and Sakura had to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Looks like they like you too much,” she whispered.

“Your lady friend will eat for free too.”

Gaara had clearly never actually done anything like this before. The novelty was something to behold. They both ordered a small bowl of miso soup, and this time chose to sit closer to the stall as they consumed their food. Sakura took the opportunity to study him as he delicately sipped at his miso, not bothering with the seaweed within the soup.

His sharp features made her feel nostalgia for the days when a pretty face would have her bumbling over her words or blushing just thinking about some boy’s eyes on her. She closed her eyes as images of Sasuke glaring at her popped into her mind. Her innocent, naïve days were over.

“They like you too,” Gaara whispered softly, and she looked over to see that he’d finished already. He wasn’t looking at her, but she took comfort from the gentle smile on his lips as he looked out over the scant crowd.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. She’d never been on a date before but had gossiped in her early years of puberty about all the different ways to go about it and how the boy in question would dote on her. However, none of them had involved stall hopping for a street vendor mixed with Kaiseki styled meals for an on the move dinner.

If only we could have done this without a stalker watching our every move.

She pointedly ignored the mostly invisible monster. When they were done, Sakura wanted the next stall to be a dessert one. Gaara pulled a face at the sweets before him, and Sakura laughed at the way he fake-coughed like it would get him out of helping her choose something.

Gaara turned his nose up at the dumplings and imagawayaki that Sakura had pointed out, making her giggle more like she was a real girl on a date this time. He really didn’t like sweets. There was no fried ice-cream, which she assumed he’d like better, but she convinced him to try some savory senbei. He didn’t flinch at the taste, and she grinned at him like she’d won a prize. His skin flushed a light pink, but he said nothing.

This merchant also refused his money and Sakura found herself comforting Gaara’s obvious unease by rubbing her hand along his lower back. The move surprised them both but except for a moment’s hesitation, she didn’t let it stop her from continuing. Until their food came and she focused on the task of consuming her dumplings without choking from embarrassment.

Their final vendor was a tea stand. This owner was just as impressed by the appearance of the Kazekage and finally, Gaara didn’t bother feeling too awkward about their insistence regarding payment. They took their green tea and decided to stroll out of the district, side by side, arms down, hands brushing against each other every now and then. And like naïve teenagers who’d never done anything romantic before, they wore identical looks of shyness and happiness. It was a great feeling. An unfamiliar feeling, for them both.

“I’m proud of you, Gaara.”

He blinked at her. “I should say the same.”

She smiled as they moved away, the food stalls gave way to a larger area. The food here came in restaurant size, but they bypassed it, keeping to the edge. But all good things do come to an end.

Because I’m a freak.

There was a commotion. Not a violent one by the sounds of it, but it seemed that some people were making a fuss in a crowd nearby. Yelling. Whooping. Drunken noises. Sounds that mimicked festivities that had gotten out of hand. The crowd was larger than Sakura was used to, and she hesitated on the threshold. She closed her eyes for a second to control her breathing, taking a small, unconscious step away from it. Her heart was racing again, her palms sweaty. Gaara stood silently and patiently beside her. He touched her arm softly when it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you okay?”

She couldn’t nod or speak, just trying to focus on her breathing. Her ears were ringing but it came and went quickly. Sakura grasped Gaara’s hand that had touched her, startling him. He took the hint and led her away from it. There were more commotions, but not as loud or out of control this time. The people were just having fun. Sakura didn’t know what had drawn their attention as she was not focusing on anything other than moving her feet and how warm Gaara’s hand felt against her skin.

And as they came to the edge of these newer sounds, she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s have a look.”

“Are you sure?”

He clearly was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he had reason to. She wasn’t exactly exuding confidence. But Sakura wanted to go down there and just check it out, at least. To find out what had drawn the attention of so many if not the usual things attributed to festivities, like games or fireworks. They didn’t have to stay for long. Just long enough to satisfy her curiosity.

Sakura reached out and entwined their hands before she could stop herself out of embarrassment. “I’ll squeeze your hand when I want to leave.”

He nodded, swallowing heavily and gently squeezing her hand in affirmation.

Okay, then.

Sakura took a deep breath. I can do this.

She’d already endured the inquisitive stares of the scattered people at the street stalls; this was just another step in the right direction. And if she could do all that under the eye of the Root, then she could do anything. It was just another challenge to overcome. And she so desperately wanted to overcome it.

They were recognised of course, and more than one set of eyes drifted to their entwined hands. Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden and a light squeeze from Gaara both set her heart aflutter and calmed her nerves. They only stayed for a few minutes. The lights were bright and the people, laughing and swaying, were loud and friendly. But she’d finally had enough.

Masks.

It was a mask gathering, themed not unlike the Matsuri festival back in Konoha. Not everyone was wearing a mask but there were small groups of impromptu dancers and some scattered musicians. They had the appearance of entertainers who had just come off some kind of travelling troupe but didn’t look out of place. Not like her. Sakura felt underdressed all of a sudden but pushed that anxiety down.

She gently squeezed Gaara’s hand, and he immediately steered them to a path that would lead away from the festivities. Like the interconnected paths she imagined it also led to the thoroughfare. But they didn’t get a chance to use it. There was a cry of something that sounded like frustration and excitement to her right and Sakura stiffened as a clearly very drunk civilian came stumbling as quickly as he could towards them. He made flailing motions with his arms, his face twisted in a grin and nonsensical words on his slurred and unintelligible tongue.

Ugly, rotten teeth. Polished and dangerous.

That peel of laughter wasn’t coming from the drunkard. It was seeping out of the shadows.

Sakura reeled, almost falling over. Gaara held her and she gripped his hand so hard she would’ve broken his sand armour if he’d bothered to wear it. The lights and sounds of the festivities brightened and blinded her. Hazy and screaming. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t ask Gaara for help. She couldn’t do a damn thing.

But true to his promise, Gaara was pulling her to him, flush against his chest. Sand whipped up around them, scaring off the drunkard. Sakura closed her eyes as the Kazekage teleported them away. When her feet hit the ground, she let her head fall forward onto Gaara’s chest. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back as he attempted to soothe her. Face pressed against his chest. Ascending numbers flashing through her mind’s eye. Breathing. Leaning into his embrace. Her body sagged. But she was calming down.

The Shadow is gone.

Sakura lost count of those ascending numbers, not knowing how long it really took for her to come back to herself. But she did. And Gaara moved with her as she pulled away, peering at her. Assessing her. Like he cared. She was learning to love those pale green eyes of his.

Fuck it. Why are you so good to me?

“Why…”

Gaara hushed her as she lost that train of thought. She looked around, realising she did not recognise the area he’d teleported them to. Sakura’s head swivelled around several times as she tried to take in the view. They were in what looked like a forest sanctuary. Or rather the kind of forest that Suna could provide with limited resources. The colour green was everywhere. Gardens. Stone pathways. And a dome nearby that screamed, “there’s a greenhouse inside me!”.

“Where are we?”

“The west gardens,” Gaara said. “This area is out of bounds. Only select individuals are allowed here, and only with my permission.”

More places the Shadow can’t reach.

She felt special. And she loved the place on sight. The foreboding pressure had released, and Sakura suddenly felt lighter than air. “Okay, give me a tour,” she said, not having to force her face to smile.

Gaara nodded, gently taking her hand once more. She soaked it all in as they walked along the path and he explained what she was seeing, in that simple but intelligent way of his. On paper, his words would sound clipped, but they came out so serene and husky that Sakura found herself hypnotised by them.

His voice.

She sighed. They found a bench and she let go of his hand before lowering herself onto it. She felt very nervous as Gaara sat beside her. Inches apart. She couldn’t decide which was worse: the way her libido occasionally went into overdrive around him or her current uncomfortable feeling like she was some virginal teenager who didn’t know how to behave in her own skin.

A shock of light and sound. Sakura whipped her head to the side in time to see an explosion of fireworks. She jumped to her feet quickly and scanned the horizon. Gaara stood and mimicked her pose.

“I forgot about that,” he said slowly, and she understood. This was a rare occurrence. Which meant she didn’t want to miss it.

Sakura took his hand and pulled him along as she raced towards it. Still in the gardens, they found the edge of the gardens that overlooked a significant portion of the village and she let herself fall backwards onto the grass. Gaara chuckled as he lay next to her. They had a great view of the fireworks erupting above the village.

They lay next to each other silently, just watching, leaning back on their elbows, and just enjoying the company. Eventually, the fireworks began to die down and, even though there was no hint of it on the horizon, Sakura was sure the sun wouldn’t be far away.

“Thank-you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

The stars twinkled. The blackness unable to mask their delight. She smiled at that observation. Sakura wanted to just lay here forever. Forget the Root shadow. Forget Danzo. Forget the council and Sajō and whomever it was that was colluding with the usurper Hokage. She just wanted to lie next to Gaara and forget the world. Or maybe she was more worried about getting too comfortable. The night was very, very late. She suppressed a yawn and had to physically stop herself from just flopping onto her back, in fear she’d fall asleep here and never wake up. Gaara, on the other hand, looked well rested. Or just not tired. Whichever.

She turned her gaze back to the stars. The blinking contrast between sparkles and darkness reminded her suddenly of her ink creatures. The light against the black ink sky. The way they seemed to fight each other for dominance. Yet nothing changed.

For almost a month, Sakura had been trying to find her way. Either a way out of the village or a way out of her own head. A path forward, made of the same stones as the ones in these gardens. And definitely not populated by the noisy nighttime carousers. But now, lying next to Gaara and wondering what this night would mean for their non-relationship, Sakura knew suddenly what to do. It was so very clear now.

She sat up straight and turned to face her fake fiancé turned real date, surprising him. He mirrored her movements, openly curious.

“Gaara,” she said. “I made ink creatures.”

Curiosity turned to confusion on his face. “Creatures?”

“Yes, chakra infused creatures made of ink.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her but remained silent.

“They’re hiding in my bathroom right now,” she added, knowing how weird that sounded.

“Why?”

“Why did I make them or why are they hiding?”

“Both.”

Sakura sighed. “I don’t think it’s a surprise that I didn’t choose to come here. Not under my own volition, anyway.” He nodded. “I… have wanted to leave the moment I arrived.” He didn’t look surprised. “The past few years all I could think of was getting away from Danzo. Especially the last six months, with him sending me on suicide runs.”

Gaara’s eyes widened. “He–”

“Let me get this out, please?”

He nodded again.

She cleared her throat. “I’m an idiot though. Every chance I got to get away, I squandered. Every moment in which I could slip away unseen, I freeze like my life depends on it. On my last mission I almost did leave. I saw the Konoha gate come up as I approached… it was so achingly familiar but alien at the same time. Everything about the Leaf is so… wrong, now. I wanted to get away from it. But I didn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just as useless–”

“Stop.” Gaara scowled at her. “Don’t say that.”

Sakura hadn’t answered his question yet, but he suddenly didn’t seem to care. He rose to his knees and took her hands in his. They were warm and safe and not what she would’ve thought possible. Not for her.

“Sakura…” he trailed off for a moment. “it’s called self-sabotage. People do it to themselves, for years at a time even. It doesn’t make them useless. Or stupid. Or any other thing you’re thinking about yourself right now. None of that is true. I… spoke with a civilian therapist,” he said quickly, and she realised her surprise must’ve registered on her face.

A civilian therapist?

“I know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Its clinical term is Behavioural Dysregulation.”

It was a conscious (or unconscious) habit of doing things that were bad for oneself. It didn’t take a degree in clinical psychology to have heard of it, she supposed. Sakura had done quite a lot of reading on that subject, and similar, before everything went to shit. Lady Tsunade had wanted to begin incorporating mind healing into Konoha’s medical training facility.

Sakura gave a sad smile at that memory.

“Do you think…” Gaara cleared his throat. “You’d talk to one too? About… everything.”

Sakura pulled a face. “I don’t think a civilian would understand.”

The one Tsunade had proposed would’ve included both civilian and ninja therapists, though.

“Right.”

She watched Gaara closely as he released her hands and turned his head away. What he was looking at, she couldn’t tell. But his silence had an air of disappointment and contemplativeness to it.

Well, this sucks.

“I created them to scout out the village.”

He looked at her sharply.

At least he’s looking at me now.

“So, I could see the weakness in the guard patrols and escape.”

“Have you?”

She shook her head. There was no relief on his face, only contemplation. And… was he curious about them?

She decided to presume he was. “You want to see them?”

“I’m curious.”

Sakura flushed. “O-okay.”

They stood quickly and awkwardly. For a moment, neither of them moved, but then the warmth of his hand enveloped hers; his free arm snaking around her waist and holding her tightly. Gaara teleported them directly into her bedroom. Sakura trembled lightly as her feet hit the floor, but whether from nerves or the return of her libido she wasn’t sure. Her skin tingled, so maybe it was excitement. She pulled out of his grip quickly.

“Wait here,” she said and Gaara obeyed. She rushed into the bathroom and low and behold, the bird and snake were still holding onto the carcass.

Snake, she thought. I’ll call the ink snake ‘snake’ and the real, dead one ‘serpent’.

But the question that she needed to answer, and quickly before Gaara grew impatient, was whether or not to bring both. Sakura still wanted to keep secrets from him. She liked him. She trusted him. But she also didn’t trust her faith in him. Some things she just didn’t want to share.

But I told him I made creatures. As in, plural.

She sighed. She could always make more, anyway.

“Let go of the carcass,” she said softly, hoping Gaara didn’t have superhuman hearing. The ink bird released its hold while the snake curled its body for a moment, tightening the hold like a child refusing to behave. Then it was releasing it, dropping the carcass carelessly.

As she stood up, Sakura caught the reflection of herself in the bathroom mirror. It was very different to the underfed and ghastly image she’d seen the last time. She paused then smiled and turned away.

“Come on,” she told them, and the bird hopped along the floor after her. The snake seemed hesitant, and Sakura wondered if maybe she’d done something wrong.

She reached down to grab it, and it quickly wrapped its body around her arm gently as she left the bathroom. The bird twittered as it followed and then screeched at the sight of Gaara. He raised an eyebrow at it. Sakura had no idea it could do that. It didn’t have a syrinx, or any kind of noise making membranes, in its windpipe or otherwise. She wondered if it was just because of her. Sai had never mentioned anything about his creations having the ability to make noise, let alone having personalities.

I’m cracked so they are too.

It made no sense, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

It’s probably all just in my head.

Gaara watched them curiously. Sakura watched him nervously. He made no reaction to the noises the bird was making so she decided it was just all in her head. Even if he did twitch slightly when it went to peck him. Fake birds were not faster than a Kazekage. She decided to give him a rundown of her intentions with the creatures. He listened with rapt attention and Sakura found herself becoming more and more excited that someone was hearing this. Finally. She was rambling but it was kind of fun to have someone else to share this with.

“You used them to scout the village perimeter?” He asked when her rambling finally came to an end.

Sakura nodded, unable to stop the flush from heating up her neck. Was it okay that she’d done that? Probably not. But he didn’t seem put out. Maybe he was thinking about how it could help with that councillor? Or the entire council. Or maybe it was just her wishful thinking.

“What will you do with them now?”

So much for him thinking of this strategically.

“I want to help you.”

Gaara stood and walked over to her. He stopped inches in front of her. The movement could be confused with an attempt to intimidate her, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. Instead of trying to stare her down or talk her out of it, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The small part of her that still responded to romantic and kind gestures was weak at the knees right now. Not the rest of her. Just the girlish side. She swallowed heavily, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Okay?”

He smiled. “Okay.”

Sakura laughed. “Okay.”

The way he was looking at her… she desperately wanted to kiss him. Or for him to kiss her. But she knew he wouldn’t. Gaara would not presume such a forward action. He was poised. He was a gentleman. But gods did she want him to toss that aside and just fucking snog her. Maybe get in a few gropes and pelvis grinding.

Sakura forced herself to relax, realising she’d tensed up the more she contemplated the idea of Gaara pressing her against the wall. He didn’t look fazed by her weird demeanour. The snake tightened itself around her arm for a moment, but she ignored it. It wasn’t important. Trying to figure out whether or not to grab the Kazekage and pull his face down to meet her in a soul-searing kiss was important.

She cleared her throat.

“It’s late,” he said suddenly. “I should go.”

There was a flush on his face she’d overlooked in her internal musing. She was proud of herself for that. But her stomach clenched at the thought of letting him leave right now. She nodded though. It was very late. They were both going to be sleeping in a little longer in the morning.

All that does is make me wonder what he looks like first thing in the morning. Fuck.

What were the protocols here? Kiss him on the cheek? On the mouth? Make-out heavily then act like it was no big deal? Pepper him with kisses along his jawline, down to his neck and… fuck.

Focus.

Gods. Her libido again. She wanted to give into it so bad. But Gaara wasn’t moving, and she had to make a decision. She decided to just go with a peck on the cheek. It could be excused away much easier. Sakura stood higher to peck his cheek softly but couldn’t bring herself to pull away once her lips touched him. The warmth of his skin, the bright tinging of his ears; he was as excited as she was. That’s what she told herself. Why else would her lips against him make him blush?

Maybe I could…

She took a chance and turned her face towards his. They were closer than they’d ever been, now breathing in each other’s air. Sakura remained on her tiptoes. Gaara lowered his head slightly, but not far enough.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

When he licked his lips, she knew. Sakura tilted her chin up, angled her head to keep from knocking their noses together and pressed her lips to his softly. Their eyes closed at the same time. She parted her lips to envelop his then tugged on his bottom lip gently before pulling away completely. At the last moment, he’d opened his mouth slightly in a gasp.

No tongues were used in the making of this fucking perfect first kiss.

It was a chaste way to the end the night and despite her body wanting, no demanding more, she maintained their newfound distance, pressing a hand against his chest as they both recovered from it. Gaara had responded to her kiss, albeit in a small way. That was enough. She would continue this with him later, now that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was late and she was suddenly very, very tired.

After a few moments, he hastily repeated his goodbyes in that cool but cute bumbling way she’d learned to love and left.

She smiled widely. For the first time for a long time, Sakura could say she was profoundly happy.

.:.

[sesamestreep]

and all i want's a confidante

(read on AO3)

SUMMARY: After an important fundraiser in LA, Karen pushes Foggy to make a move, with mixed results. [AKA - further adventures in The West Wing AU] A/N: part 2 of the west wing AU has arrived! full content warnings and tags are as always on AO3 via the link above, so I recommend checking that out if you want to see that before reading. otherwise, the gang is just having some fun and flirty times in LA, because why not. It's the 90s! Karen and Foggy are bantering! Matt continues to be a sexual enigma! [old timey radio announcer voice] What's going to happen next??

Foggy flops back onto the bed in his hotel room with an unflattering grunt that he’d be embarrassed by in any other context. Right now, however, they’ve just finished their fundraiser in LA, which means he’s been awake and working for the last 26 hours and he’s still in his tux and his terrible dress shoes and his back is killing him. Karen is flitting around in the background, rattling off things he should probably be paying attention to and organizing his stuff into piles. Karen’s a fantastic assistant and he’d be dead in the water without her but he does draw the line at asking her to do certain things for him, packing being one of them. Sure, she does sometimes have to pick up his dry cleaning or remind him of family members’ birthdays as they approach, but he knows, in a way both nebulous and stone cold certain, that one day she’s going to fly the coop and do something truly incredible with her life and then he’ll be the boss she talks about at parties, laughing that she had to pack his suitcases for him like a child and why did he always compulsively insist on bringing swim trunks and too many pairs of socks wherever he went? What was up with that guy? He'd really like to avoid that fate, if possible.

“Stop that,” he says, from his spot on the bed. 

Karen freezes, guiltily. “I could just—”

“No. You’re not my mother, remember?”

She fixes him with an amused look. “You still let your mom help you pack?”

“Shut up,” Foggy says, letting his head loll back on the pillows. “You’re fired.”

“No, I’m not.”

“No, you’re not,” he agrees. “Christ alive, that was a long day.”

“Do we have any other kind?”

“Hey, I let you leave the office before midnight at least once last week!”

“You’re right,” Karen says with an eyeroll. “What a generous boss. What a sane and normal industry we work in.”

“I’m thinking about firing you again.” 

“Good luck finding anyone else to put up with you.”

Foggy groans again, this time in acknowledgement. ���You should go get some sleep.”

“I can’t!" she exclaims. "I’m too wired! I met Ted Danson at the fundraiser—”

“You told me.”

“—and he asked what moisturizer I used. He called my skin flawless. Can you believe that?!”

“Actually, no,” Foggy says. “At this point, you’ve told me this story a hundred times and it allegedly happened only three hours ago. So I’m starting to have my doubts.”

Karen throws a balled up pair of socks at his head. “You’re just mad because your celebrity crush called my skin flawless. You know, it’s not my fault you barely mingled.”

“Actually, I’m mad because you met my celebrity crush and I didn’t get to because I was too busy talking to various political operatives about a flag burning amendment to meet anyone cool.”

“Oooh,” Karen coos. “I’m going to tell Hot Matt that you don’t think he’s cool.”

Foggy sits up indignantly. “First of all, I said I didn’t get to meet anyone cool. I knew Matt already. And secondly, you have got to stop calling him ‘Hot Matt.’ One day you’re going to do that to his face and both of our careers in politics will be over.”

“You mean one day you’re going to call him that to his face and then your career will be over because you’ll go into hiding to avoid ever speaking to him again,” Karen replies, calmly, as she continues to fuss with his things.

“Leave my socks and my love life alone, Page.”

“I wasn’t aware we were talking about your love life,” she says deftly. It occurs to him again to be thankful that, of the two of them, she never went to law school because she’s already way too good at arguing.

“Shut up,” he says, flopping on his back again. “And seriously, go to your own room. I want to take my pants off and I have a policy of not doing that in front of my subordinates.”

“You know who you should take your pants off in front of?”

“A buttery smooth transition from Miss Karen Page, ladies and gentlemen…”

“Hot Matt.”

“Please stop calling him that.”

“You spent the whole night with him! Just ask him out!”

Foggy sighs. “You make it sound like we were having some kind of romantic interlude. I spent the whole night with him discussing the merits of amending the Constitution!”

The mattress dips as Karen comes to sit on the opposite side from him. “As if that’s not your version of a romantic interlude,” she says, not unkindly.

Foggy knows better than to argue with that point, but if he was going to spend the night arguing with a hot dude about Con Law, he would prefer it to involve some making out too, at the very minimum. The sad fact of his dream date night not changing very much since his law school days bums him out immediately. 

“He did great tonight, huh?” Karen asks, after a moment’s pause.

“Yeah. Everyone was very impressed. And as you know, Jeri doesn’t impress easily.”

“Is that why you won’t make a move? You’re worried about having to work with him in the future?”

“Honestly, I wish I was that smart,” Foggy says, turning to look at her but not going through the effort to actually sit up again. “It’s just some classic fear of rejection; nothing more, nothing less.”

“I think he likes you,” Karen says, quietly. 

“You always think people like me. That’s why I keep you around.”

“Foggy—”

“Karen,” he says, in the same disappointed tone of voice. “I’m serious. You have this mistaken impression that I'm some sort of catch, and I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists. “You’re funny and smart and kind and, oh, right! You’re the deputy chief of staff for the freakin’ White House, Foggy! Like, show some self-respect.”

“I notice you didn’t include ‘unbelievably handsome and debonair’ in that description,” he says, hating that he means it on some level.

“You’re my boss,” Karen says, with a disgusted nose-wrinkle. “Contractually speaking, I find you hideous.”

“So mean,” Foggy sniffs. “And right when I’m feeling so vulnerable.”

“Ask out Hot Matt, you coward!”

“It’s two in the goddamn morning, you maniac!”

“Well, you know he’s staying here too, and he probably just got back to his room, just like we did. So you could easily go see him before we leave.”

“That’s not the only obstacle, and you know it,” he says.

“He is not out of your league, and if you say so or imply it one more time, I’m going to pinch you so hard, you’ll tell the story of it to your grandchildren.”

“You literally call him ‘Hot Matt!’ Of course he’s out of my league! And—ow! What the hell?”

“I warned you,” Karen sing-songs.

“As I was saying,” Foggy says, rubbing the spot on his arm where his assistant just injured him, “I’m not even worried about that. I’m not asking him out because I don’t think he’s gay.”

“You’re not gay either.”

“Fine," he says, with a frustrated sigh. "I’m not asking him out because I don’t think he’s gay, bi, pan, whatever. I don’t think he’s into guys, like I am.”

“You can’t know that until you ask, though,” Karen points out, gently.

“I know, but… you’ve never been a guy asking out another guy. Some dudes get so weird about it. Some of them get violent.”

“Matt is a bleeding heart liberal from New York City. He wouldn’t—”

“You don’t know how someone’s going to react until they do,” Foggy says, seriously. “I agree that my chances are better with him than a republican from Texas or something, but there’s still no way to know. And if I never ask him out, I can pretend he’d be cool about it either way. But once I do, I will know, for sure and forever. And sometimes you find out something you'd rather not know about a person you admire.”

“And sometimes you get a super hot boyfriend out of the ordeal,” Karen says, brightly, though slightly falsely, attempting to lift the somber mood Foggy has put them in.

“He’s Catholic, Karen," he counters, trying not to be too harsh. He knows her heart is in the right place, but he needs her to understand his hesitation, too. "I mentioned a donor from New York and he said he knew him from church. Which he goes to. Every Sunday.”

“There are queer Catholics, Foggy. Don’t be stupid.”

“There are, but mostly there’s a lot of queer former Catholics. Matt’s a grown man in his thirties who still goes to mass regularly and brings it up with near strangers at democratic fundraisers.”

“Still, I think this is another excuse.”

“Well, I don’t care what you think,” he says with a shrug.

Karen rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, you do.”

“Yes, I do. Give me the phone.”

“Really?” she asks, surging to her feet with excitement and pulling the receiver off the base.

“Yes. But let it be known that I’m not doing this because I’m brave or because I think he’ll say yes," Foggy replies. "I’m doing it because I will not put up with you hounding me about this on Air Force One in front of everyone.”

“Attaboy,” Karen says, putting the phone in his outstretched hand and patting his knee encouragingly. 

Foggy leans over to the bedside table and plugs Matt’s room number from the message he left earlier into the keypad. Karen, for all of her teasing, is sitting tensely with her fingers knit together in what looks like an excruciating configuration. As much as he wishes she’d let this go, her cheerleading does mean a lot to him. He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. Well, he’d have his pants off already, that’s for sure, but other than that—

“Hello?” a voice calls over the phone. Foggy shouldn’t assume but it does sound like a woman. It’s definitely not Matt, though, whoever it is.

“Hi, uh—I’m so sorry.” Foggy laughs nervously. “I'm sorry if I woke you, I was looking for—I must have the wrong number.”

There’s mumbling in the background, before the voice returns to the line. “You’re looking for Matt?”

“Uh, yes?” 

Karen’s eyes widen in question. She’s only hearing half of this, but Foggy himself doesn’t know what’s going on, so he shrugs in a gesture that must look panicked because her face falls in response.

“Yeah, he just got out of the shower,” the voice says. “Hold on.”

“Oh, I don’t—” It’s too late, though. Foggy can hear the shuffling of the phone being handed off. He should hang up. He hasn’t said his name yet. He can still salvage this.

“Hello?” This time it is unmistakably Matt’s voice, which is warm and low and a little gravelly in a way that Foggy absolutely does not think about at all during inappropriate times. Never once has that happened.

“Matt,” Foggy says, too loud and too bright for 2 AM.

“Foggy,” Matt replies, sounding pleased if a little alarmed. “Hi. Is it, um—Are you okay?”

As if Matt Murdock would be his first call in a crisis, Foggy thinks. They barely know each other, and he has Karen, after all. Presumptuous asshole. Though, if he's being honest, he wishes he couldn't imagine Matt coming to his rescue, but it turns out he definitely can. He's imagining it right now and it's definitely...a thought he should deal with later, when they're not actually on the phone together anymore. He just needs to focus on getting through this conversation without fully humiliating himself. That's an achievable goal, as far as he's concerned. Or so he hopes.

“Yes, fine!” he basically shouts, when he realizes Matt asked him a question there somewhere and he hasn't actually answered it yet. God, why can’t he stop yelling? Normal voice, regular volume, deep breaths. “I’m so sorry if I, um, interrupted anything—I mean, you. Or your guest. Not that I—that’s none of my business, of course.”

“You didn’t,” Matt says, patiently. “The only thing you interrupted was my shower.”

“You’re a much kinder man than me,” Foggy says, for no good reason. “If someone interrupted my shower, I’d, well…”

Matt, god bless him, seems to be waiting for the rest of the sentence. “You’d…?” he prompts.

“I’d, uh, I’d be such a bitch about it,” Foggy finishes, pathetically. “Listen, I know it’s late, and you’ve got company, so I won’t keep you. I just wanted to be sure you knew how much we all appreciated your help tonight, with the polling data and your analysis of everything. Your insight was very valuable. So, uh, thank you.”

“Oh, well, thanks, Foggy. You didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry again about the timing.”

“No, there’s no need. Uh, it was sweet of you to call.”

Sweet. Foggy suppresses a gag. Even the open minded guys only call you ‘sweet’ when they think of you like a brother. This is brutal.

“That’s me,” he says. Too brightly. What a tryhard. “I’m a sweetheart.”

Karen makes a horrified face across from him at the same time as Matt’s surprised chuckle comes through the speaker in his ear. “That you are,” he says, and it doesn’t sound brotherly, but maybe Foggy is just being delusional. There’s some more mumbling in the background—the voice of the other person with him—and then Matt is back. “Listen, I have to go.”

“Yes, of course! Please apologize to your, um, date on my behalf for the interruption.”

“Oh, she doesn’t care,” he replies easily, and somehow Foggy can picture the nonverbal conversation Matt is having with what must be a beautiful woman as he tries to get off the phone with some madman. “But thank you for the call.”

“Thank you again for tonight. For your help tonight, that is!”

“Absolutely," Matt says, all charm. "Give me a call if you’re ever in New York.”

“I very frequently am,” Foggy says, as chipper as he can manage.

“Great. We’ll grab a drink or something. Talk shop.”

Foggy fights a wave of nausea. “Sounds good. You do the same if you’re ever in D.C.”

“I certainly will,” Matt says. “Tell Karen hello from me. I didn’t get to see her at the party.”

“Oh, I will tell her,” Foggy says, staring directly at her. “You can count on that.”

Matt laughs, and Foggy can guess it’s because he somehow knows. “Okay. Safe travels,” he says, just softly and sincerely enough that Foggy will be thinking about it for days.

“Yes, thanks. Uh, good night.”

“Bye.”

Foggy hands the receiver over to Karen without a word and she scurries to replace it, looking sheepish.

“Hot Matt says hello,” Foggy says, uselessly.

“You didn’t ask him out?” Karen asks.

“Someone else answered. A woman. She answered because he was getting out of the shower. You know why people take showers with company over?”

“Yes, I—”

“Because they just got through having sex with company! That’s why!”

“I know, Foggy. I know.”

“He picked up some girl at the fundraiser,” Foggy says, burying his face in his hands. “I told you he was straight!”

“Again, you also sleep with women sometimes and that doesn’t make you straight.”

“Still, it’s answer enough, isn’t it?”

Karen crosses her arms over her chest. “What did he say?”

“When?”

“When you just talked to him for five minutes! Did he spend that whole time talking about how much he loves exclusively hooking up with women?”

“No, he said…he said I was sweet,” Foggy says, fully aware of how pathetic he sounds. “And to call if I’m ever in New York.”

“Really?” Karen exclaims.

“He wants to grab drinks and ‘talk shop,’ okay? It’s nothing to get excited over.”

“Aren’t you always complaining that your dates are terrible because all you can talk about is work and they get bored of it?" she asks, unimpressed with his excuses. "Talking shop is, like, your favorite thing, Foggy!”

“I don’t think he meant it that way. Not with a woman he’d just slept with right there.”

“I don’t think so either,” Karen says, nodding sagely. “But you know, the door is open.”

“What door?”

She gestures vaguely into the middle distance, trying to articulate something. “The door to…something more!”

“Karen Page: Poet Laureate,” Foggy says, with a grin, before she leans over and punches his shoulder. 

“I’m serious,” she says, getting off the bed. “I think you’re in his thoughts now.”

The idea of it makes Foggy weirdly pleased, though he doesn’t say so. There’s just some vindictive satisfaction to it. If he’s going to be thinking of Matt, it’s only fair that Matt thinks of him, even if it’s not in the same way or with the same frequency. It’s not the same as having his feelings returned, but there’s a glow to it nonetheless and it's enough to give him the most dangerous thing of all: hope.

[molter-writes]

Aaaaaahhhh the prequel, it’s so good! I love the way you’ve captured their dynamics, and how starkly this underlined the growth they undergo during the main story, and which will begin here.

I’ve spent the weekend plotting a story in the vein of this AU (an ode to it if you will, and if I may be allowed to presume) that’s gotten rather huge and complex and so remain in awe at how well you’ve managed to convey the characters we love and their relationship so well. Their conflict is delicious.

dayneonychus!!!! you GOAT!!!!

thank you so much for reading this and even more for caring enough to come talk to me about it. i am so so so grateful. endlessly, thank you. and I can’t fucking wait to read your fic!!!

this does barely touch on something i've hesitated for a while to note (but, with profuse preemptive apologies, is really not at all about your ask --i'm just about to word vomit on it) but something I think I just want to say so I’ve said it—

i've seen some grey ridge homages (great) (love) (eat them like candy). i've seen even more grey ridge ripoffs. from full scenes (chapter 6, rifting through lawyer documents together sitting on the floor to solve a basically identical lawsuit) to specific details (rhaenyra gives alicent her mother’s red diamond ring.) these have ranged from being almost entirely unread to garnering more hits and kudos than grey ridge itself. i know it’s a popular fic, and it was an early modern AU of this pairing, and sometimes fics create trends (was told I started “Alicent does finance” but no idea if true). but i have only started to care as it has impeded my ability to enjoy other rhaenicent fics myself. i will never forget opening a rhaenicent kids au with jubilation only to read a 'miscarriage scare' scene that was a nearly perfect play-by-play of that one scene from chapter 3 of grey ridge (down to the placenta explanation!! which i'd googled on a whim!!). nothing quite like the anguish of realizing you’ve been plagiarized (and then trying to gaslight yourself out of fairly obvious evidence.) i pour my soul into my shit and it's important to me. i also love our tag. i want to enjoy it. i miss comfort reading.

look. fanfic is obviously derivative. i’m not claiming to have invented pain or loss or billionaires or placental detachment or sitting on floors. and hey, i'm not the ao3 police, everyone's going to do what they think is right. but as I’ve always understood it - themes, tropes, motifs are communal; whole scenes, specific plots, and unique identifiable details are not. and it’s so simple to just pay homage. idk. i know i'm preaching to the choir here (so thanks for letting me preach.)

anyway thanks for letting me get that off my chest on your ask. just reminded me of some shit on my mind & i hope you’re not sitting there thinking “thanks for this screed, too bad i caught molter on the saltiest night of the year”. i really can't wait to read it. and i hope everyone else reading this will look out for it, too. (tag me so i can hit it with the reblog when it's out).

thank you for caring about this work. it's physically insane to me that you or anyone else does and i am more grateful than you know. see you on the flip side when i burn out through another chapter of wlw agony.

[nearer-than-the-eye]

Quick Andor Fic Rec List

Seeing that the Andor tag JUST hit 400 fics, if you’ve been reading Andor fic, you’ll probably have already read a lot of these. HOWEVER. The Andor Derangement Syndrome is getting to me, and I can’t NOT talk about these excellent fics. By no means a comprehensive list.

Category: Nemik and Cassian, or Cassian didn’t have to JUST be hitting on Cinta

anoint the wound by spqr (T)

“Alright,” Cinta fixes Nemik and Cassian with a no bullshit look, “if you two try to sleep alone tonight, you’re going to freeze. Literally. And since I don’t fancy chipping you out of ice blocks in the morning — sleep together.” Vel snorts into her tea. Cinta shoots her a chiding glance. “You know what I mean. Body heat, boys. Doctor’s orders.”

Look, I put this one first because I NEED you to read it. Holy shit. Don’t let the cute excerpt fool you--this one is SO sad but simultaneously so tender. AU where Nemik lives and Cass lays low with the rebels for about six months after the heist. Really splendid work building out Nemik’s character from our moments in canon, great Cass moments, and overall just gorgeous writing. This take on their relationship reminds me a lot of AMCA’s take on Nemik having a crush on Cassian “in all possible ways” in their episode on “The Eye.”

Category: Luthen and Cassian fuck in the Fondor. I hope this becomes a fandom staple while waiting for s2, because it’s the perfect missing scene premise.

what's the name of the game by wizardlover (E)

“You didn’t think about it,” Andor says, fucks into him faster, “I put my gun in your hand and you didn’t have to think about it, did you?” “No,” Luthen tells him, voice fraught and biting his cheek so hard blood spills into his mouth, “I had already decided before I walked into the ship.”

ARGHGHGSHGHGSHG. Yeah. Great characterization, love Luthen’s utilitarian use of sex slipping into real feeling. Cass’s recruitment is so fraught for Luthen, at such a dangerous intersection of his needs and the Rebellion’s, and this fic captures that tension so wonderfully with a very hot sex scene.

Pull some strings, let them sing by gloss (E)

Luthen Rael collects the precious and the unique from across the galaxy. He'd like to show Cassian just how important he can be, how beautiful he already is. (Takes place during 1x04 before they arrive on Aldhani.)

A little different take on Luthen--I wonder how this fic might be different if it was written after ep 12 aired. That being said, it’s great, and the ending is such a dazzling bit of character work for Cass. Sometimes a fic author will write something and you just know that it is true, even if canon never does it.

do or die by inthebelltower (E)

When this ship lands Cassian will disembark as a soldier, he’ll go where Luthen sends him, he’ll take orders. But not here. Not just yet.

oh my godddddddd this fic. Really taps into two of my favorite thematic moves from canon: Luthen being in the near-continuous process convincing himself that he is the person able to make these life-or-death choices, and Cassian’s two times boarding the Fondor as moments of rebirth. Again: an ending moment that is just perfectly true, even if canon never articulates it in this way (canon Luthen/Cass sex scene does seem pretty unlikely lol, though who knows. if any one could do it right it would be my guy Tony).

[eddiebillysteve]

cat and mouse

(( harringroveson prison au )) chapter fourteen | find it on ao3 HERE

a/n | planning on uploading a chapter every saturday from here on out !! also don't forget to check out @leticheecopae's sister fic pit of vipers bcus it is SO good and connects so much to mine (and will even more as it progresses!) thank you for reading!!! i would love to hear your thoughts and comments!! :') aLSO would love to give a shoutout to my first ko-fi supporter because?? i could barely believe it!!! so a massive thank you to ada <333

warnings | anti-religion comments? if that's what it'd be called?, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, punishments, possessiveness, murder/suicide, drugs/failed overdose mention, steve being a gay panicked confused mess (this is a permanent tag), he's also being trained with candies and i'm not sorry about it, general prison talk, stuff like that !!

tag list | @whoringrove @darkandstormyslash @devotionsofmaryoliver @nowhereinthedenn @cherixsays - let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates or removed from the list !!

moodboard by @a-redharlequin !!

Breakfast hour was weird without Billy, even when they knew he was safe in his cell. Their table didn’t feel complete without him sitting at the head between Steve and Argyle. The empty spot haunted the four boys who were left, reminding them of Creel and his power and how he could so easily tear any of them apart. 

Still, they made the most of it. Since Jonathan returned from being on watch, he and Steve chatted about anything and everything to fill the silence. Eddie told stories too, sometimes, but he was much more interested in listening to his baby’s sweet voice talking about Three’s Company or Duran Duran.

“How’s being nineteen?” Jonathan asked the morning after Steve’s birthday, taking a little spoonful of cereal. 

“The same as being eighteen,” Steve joked. “Just really weird to know it was spent in here. My best birthday yet, don’t get me wrong, but–”

His voice came to a quick stop when someone was sitting beside him, sitting in Billy’s seat.

“Woah, brochacho,” Argyle immediately said, still somehow managing to sound relaxed, but Steve knew better. “Taken. Sit somewhere else.”

“Shit.”

Steve looked over at Eddie when the word stumbled out of his Papa’s mouth. They were staring at each other, Eddie and the blonde man that had sat down beside him, and the nervous look on Eds’ face made Steve nervous in turn. Really nervous.

“Your little boyfriend really thought he could get rid of me, Munson? He thinks I’m that big a threat, huh?” The blonde boy, who didn’t even look Argyle’s way, leaned in closer, almost over Steve to murmur his words to Eddie. “I know that little stunt was all him, so you can tell him you will pay for his mistake tonight.”

Carver was supposed to be dead, Eddie knew that much. He was on Creel’s side whether he considered himself to be or not, had used Eddie without Billy’s permission, and had to pay for his sins. He wasn’t supposed to have survived; Hagan had been told to subdue him and force enough product down his throat to have him overdose. Billy had told Eddie while in the infirmary, and Eddie had passed the message along to Argyle, who would vouch for him, at least.

The one that was really in trouble was Tommy for not doing exactly as he was told. Eddie, too, but because of how angry Jason was. He was desperate for revenge, nearly frothing at the mouth for it. Anyone within ten feet of him could see how he was refraining from throwing Eddie to the floor to start wailing on him.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life,” Jason hissed, and Steve leaned backward to try to put some space between him and the words. “You need to learn the word of the Lord, Munson. Maybe then you’ll understand why I’m not going anywhere. God only punishes sinners.”

“And you’re not a sinner? Aren’t you in here for beating the shit out of your girlfriend?” Eddie snorted and Jason standing up in two seconds.

Steve didn’t know what he was thinking, but he was up at the same time, standing between the two of them to block Jason from being able to reach for Eddie. It just happened, the same as if someone were to try to bully Dustin in front of him. His body reacted, went into protective mode. “Relax, man. I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up, leaning back a bit to take Steve in. “Jesus, no one told me you’re getting fucked by two daddies now, Munson. Hargrove not good enough for you anymore? Just how loose have you gotten while I’ve been gone?”

“Right, nope. This isn’t happening,” Eddie stood up, shaking his head and waving his arms around. “Shut the fuck up, Carver. Think all those drugs you do have melted your brain. Didn’t know God let crackheads into Heaven these days.”

“Eddie,” Steve whispered, wanting him to calm down. He’d be in trouble if he got into a fight – not just with the guards but with Billy, too. “Everyone just… calm down. This is crazy.”

“You would both be quite wise to listen to him. This is a cafeteria, afterall, not a jungle. As feral as some of you may be, you are not animals. Sit and eat, or get to work.”

Every head in the room turned to look at the source of the too-calm voice that broke through the tension. Creel could silence a room just by walking into it, let alone speaking. Even the biggest, most muscular murderers were frightened of him. 

“I will not repeat myself,” He said when no one moved, tilting his head the tiniest bit. Eddie immediately sat, grabbing Steve’s wrist to yank him down, too, and even Jason sat back down in Billy’s seat.

Creel had been the one to transfer him. He’d hand chosen him, had surveyed the prison up north for someone big enough – and potentially crazy enough – to give Billy a run for his money and to be a distraction of sorts. He’d told Jason what his job was, and what the consequences would be if he failed to do as he was told.

But even Jason wanted nothing to do with him.

“32566, it’s been too long,” Creel stepped forward, closer to their table, and Eddie’s grip tightened on Steve’s wrist where it was hidden from view. “Who’s your friend?”

Eddie couldn’t breathe. He’d succeeded in keeping Steve invisible until now, but his attempts had been futile. All because of Jason fucking Carver. 

“Harrington,” Steve answered when Eddie didn’t speak, glancing nervously at his Papa.

“I don’t believe I was speaking to you, was I?” The guard’s voice was polite, but his eyes were so dark that they’d join the list of things haunting Steve’s nightmares. “32566, his number?”

“I don’t know it,” Eddie muttered, dropping his eyes from Creel to his tray.

“You don’t know it,” Creel sighed like he was disappointed. “Then we’ll just have to find out together, won’t we? Come along.”

This time it was Steve’s hand that was shifting to secretly grab onto Eddie’s wrist beneath the table, a feeble attempt to keep him from moving. After another breath, though, Eds moved to stand again. 

“Not you, 32566.”

Eddie paused mid stance, almost frozen in place. He couldn’t take Steve, he was too delicate. He wouldn’t last two seconds alone with Creel. “I’ve got it. I can grab it. It’ll take me two seconds,” Eddie tried, daring himself to glance up and meet Creel’s eyes. 

“Sit back down. I’ve finished speaking to you. Your friend may stand.”

He had never felt so helpless before. Steve standing beside him and not being able to stop him or do anything about it was a special kind of torture. The only thing he could do was watch as Steve followed Creel towards the cafeteria’s doors, sparing one frightened glance back to his Papa on the way.

Jonathan had gotten up and slipped out of the room the second Creel had made himself known, though. He’d run straight to get Billy, who was waiting outside the cafeteria doors for them, jaw clenched and steely eyed. 

“Well, hello, 62097. I didn’t realize you were off of bed rest yet,” Creel stopped moving to stand in front of Billy, hands moving to fold in front of himself just like always. “I thought you were relieved from work duty until Monday morning.”

“That’s right,” Billy didn’t look at Steve, didn’t even acknowledge that he was there. “Just came to get a cup of coffee and heard you needed a number. Thought I’d save you the trip. 82894.”

Creel’s eyes narrowed.

“His number, Officer Creel. It’s 82894. Now there’s no reason for him to have a delayed start. I can only imagine how behind the laundry unit is without me there to keep everyone in line.” Billy's insides contorted in the same way they used to when he had to face his father while knowing he’d pay for it later, but he’d rather it be him than Steve or Eddie any day; Steve, in particular, would be crushed under a mere few words.

“How very helpful of you, 62097,” Creel replied; his voice was tight, irritated, and he pulled his hands apart long enough to gesture back towards the cafeteria. “You’re dismissed, 82894. You may leave.”

Steve gave Billy a look of pure gratitude before practically running back to Eddie. It felt like he’d been saved from a volcanic eruption – Billy had jumped in front of a bullet for him and would do it again without a second of hesitation.

Billy hadn’t met his eyes, though; he still didn’t acknowledge Steve, not even when he was scampering off. His blue eyes were stuck on Creel’s, the two of them refusing to look away from the other and be the first one to break.

“I shall walk you back to your cell, 62097. Make sure you get settled in properly again. It wouldn’t hurt to check up on your wounds, either, hm? Check to see if everything’s alright. Would be such a shame if you were to be out of work for a few weeks more by doing something stupid .”

“Yeah,” Billy cleared his throat. “It sure would.”

***

“One fucking thing, Hagan. Told you to do one fucking thing!” 

Billy had burst into the laundry room a few hours into their shift. Two joints was all it took to get the guards to let him in and leave him alone with his crew for a bit. Their logic was that if Billy wanted to move around and fuck up his healing, he could. They weren’t going to babysit him, especially not if he was offering weed to get them to turn a blind eye.

“Holy fuck. I should beat your goddamn head in for being so fucking stupid!” 

No one else in the room made a sound as Billy went off, Jonathan sitting with his hands over his ears. Billy was roaring, pacing around to keep himself from pinning Tommy to the wall. His anger wasn’t a full blown blind rage – it stemmed from fear. 

Creel knew about Steve because of the fuck up and would know he was an easy target just like Jonathan by dinner hour. He was in panic mode, barely able to think though it. All he knew was that they were fucked – not just him, but all of them. 

“Always comes back to me. Have to do fucking everything around here, useless fucking prick. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Eddie stepped in when Billy started to throw things around, cautiously walking up to him to touch his shoulders. “Bills, breathe,” He whispered, squeezing them tight. “Come here and sit down for a minute. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Don’t you tell me what to fucking do,” Billy snapped, shoving Eddie away, but there wasn’t any reaction from his old cellie. Eddie simply stepped forward again, reached for Bills’ wrists, and pulled him over to a chair when he wasn’t pushed away again. 

“We need to think, yeah? So just – chill for a minute,” Eddie tried his best to soothe him without sounding condescending. “Steve’s fine, I’m fine. We’ll get Carver taken care of and then–”

“And then Creel’ll tear Steve to shreds for fun, and then what, huh? You don’t know shit about what he does, none of you do. Preppy fucking princess over there wouldn’t survive twenty seconds trapped in a cell with him,” Billy was up again, throwing his hands in the air, and Eddie glanced over at Steve.

If he hadn’t stood up, hadn’t tried to defend Eddie, everything may have been prevented.

“I have to kill him. Have to. It’ll never end,” Hargrove started up again, and Eddie’s eyes went wide. “I don’t give a shit if I get life. It’ll be worth it to see the life drain out of those fucking eyes.”

“Billy, stop. You can’t say shit like that,” Eddie went right back to him, voice shifting into something more pleading. 

Argyle was up too then, reaching out to grab Billy’s arm. His grip was tight, unlike Eddie, and he shook him for a second. “No one’s getting life, man. Get it together. You can’t do shit if you’re worked up like this. Chill. Out. ”

With a shake of his head, Billy pulled his arm free and headed back towards the door. Talking about murder out in the open was a dangerous game – but everyone in the room could be trusted and the guards weren’t anywhere near. “This ends soon. I’m coming up with a goddamn plan to end him if it’s the last thing I do.”

***

“I want you to kneel down here, right between my legs, alright? Need to talk to you, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. He sat on the bottom bunk, spreading his legs open before guiding Steve down to kneel between them. His hands were gentle on Steve’s wrists, only letting him go to touch his shoulders to press him downwards.

Billy shifted on the top bunk until he was able to look down at them. He’d spent the entire afternoon plotting and writing too many drafts to Chrissy to try to relay his thoughts to her without getting flagged or Max realizing what he was thinking, and now the boys were back from work and dinner hour to keep him company again. He still didn’t know exactly what had happened in the cafeteria, but even through his anger he could tell Eddie wasn’t right when he’d stopped by earlier on. Something had upset him, and now he could tell that that something was Steve.

“I’m upset with you,” Eddie murmured, his hand going to pet Steve's hair. He nearly took the words back when he saw the way Steve’s entire face fell and his eyes started to water.

“I’m sorry,” He immediately started, but Eddie shook his head. 

“No speaking yet, Stevie. You answer me when I ask you a question, but that’s it,” Eddie’s voice was even, calm, and his hand shifted again to massage his scalp. “I’m not angry, but I am upset. Do you know why?”

Steve took a second to think, desperately searching his mind to try to figure out what he could have done. He had been a good boy at work, hadn’t even cowered when Billy started throwing things. “Because I… I went with the guard?” He guessed, looking back up at him.

“No,” Eddie slipped his hand from Steve’s hair, moving it downwards to hold his chin. “What did you do during breakfast? After Carver joined us. Tell me what happened, exactly what you did.”

Even though he was trying, Steve couldn’t remember what he’d done wrong. His fingers reached for Eddie’s sweats, fiddling with them as his eyes dropped to look at his torso. “I was–”

“Ah, ah. Eyes up here. On me, baby,” Eddie tipped his chin upwards to emphasize his words, and Steve forced his eyes back up.

Billy was absolutely perplexed on the top bunk. He’d punished Eddie hundreds of times over the years, but he’d never sat him down to talk first, not like this. He’d have him kneel for conversations often enough, have him naked and waiting on his knees for him, but there was something so intimate about the scene before him, something so gentle. It made his breath catch in his throat.

After sucking in a breath, Steve spoke again. “I was just eating and he sat down,” The words came out cautiously, like he was worried he was going to say the wrong thing, and his eyes flickered over Eddie’s face. He was trying to watch for a reaction, any sort of hint that he was doing good or bad. “And I was afraid he was going to hurt you and then the guard came.”

“Getting closer,” Eddie nodded, encouraging him to keep going. “What did you do when you were afraid he was going to do something to me?”

Oh. 

Eddie saw the realization spread over Steve’s face – and then the nervousness that followed it. “I stood up to block you behind me.”

“Right. There we go. And what did you put yourself in when you did that?” Eddie raised his eyebrows a touch. 

“A bad situation?”

It was hard for Eddie to resist smiling at how small and shaky Steve’s voice was. Even though he was frightened, it wasn’t in the same way he’d been frightened of Billy. It made Eddie realize Steve trusted him.  “ Exactly. A bad situation. A dangerous situation. You intentionally put yourself in harm's way.”

“But I didn’t mean to. I was just there, and I thought he was–”

“Shh,” Eddie cooed. “You have to learn not to do it again. And how do you think we should do that? How should I teach you, what’s a good punishment?”

If his Papa wasn’t so calm, Steve would have been in full blown panic mode. He would have been convinced he was getting an M to match the H on his arse, and would have started to choke on his own fear and beg for mercy, but Eddie didn’t have Billy’s temper. His hands weren’t rough, he wasn’t squeezing too tight – if anything, his thumb was smoothing over Steve’s jaw, silent encouragement for him to answer the question.

“I don’t know,” He shook his head a bit.

Billy had some ideas from the top bunk, but he kept his mouth shut, staying silent to see just what Eddie was planning on doing.

“I’m sure you can come up with something, Stevie. Think for a minute.”

Steve let out a soft little sigh. He didn’t know anything about punishing other people – the most he would do to ‘punish’ Dustin when he acted up was lecture him about safety, maybe take away one of his little figurines or science experiments for a day. It gave him something to go off of, at least.

“Maybe no sweets? For today?”

“Just for today?” Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, physically couldn’t contain it. “It’s past seven o’clock. We’ve got less than two hours before lights out, I think that’d be a pretty tame punishment, but good boy for coming up with something.”

Eds didn’t know what was going to happen when he went back to his cell; Jason was going to be pissed as fuck, but he didn’t know if that would mean he’d get the shit beat out of him or if he’d have to listen to the blonde read out from his bible the entire night. He’d prefer the former, he decided. Anything but the fucking preaching.

“I think we can start with sweets. No sweets for two days,” Eddie decided, but then he paused to ponder for a second. “Open up Daddy’s drawer, pick some out.”

Steve hesitated, looking at Eddie for a moment, and then up to the top bunk. Billy raised his eyebrows just a smidge, challenging him to disobey Eddie’s orders, but Steve wouldn’t dare. He obeyed, opening Billy’s compartment underneath his bunk that held all the fun items. His drawer was only ever used their clothes, and everything else was kept in Billy’s. There were all the snacks, the makeup he’d just gotten for his birthday, a couple of books. He got out two packets, one of his favorite gummy bears and another that was a hard kind, before sliding the cubby back in.

“Good boy. Now open them,” Eddie instructed some more, and Steve’s face contorted in confusion before he tore the packages of candy open. “And dump them into the toilet.”

“What? No!” The words came out before Steve could stop them, hands tightening around the plastic packages. “That’s such a waste, you can’t just–”

“It’s not a waste if it’s teaching you a lesson. You put yourself in dangerous situations, and you lose your rewards,” Eddie leaned in further to him and his voice dropped down a bit. “Pour them into the toilet, baby. And then you’re going to flush them. It might help you remember not to try to play the hero next time. Daddy and Papa don’t need protection, okay?”

Billy hadn’t been expecting to find Eddie in dominant mode such a turn on, but he did. He wanted to bend him over the bottom bunk and rail him until Papa was screaming like a pretty little whore. 

After another few moments, Steve stood up with a sigh and went to stand above the toilet. It may have seemed like a silly punishment, but it wasn’t just candy he was having to flush. It felt like he was having to flush that addictive feeling that came with them, the feeling all the praise gave him. It made him feel horrible, like he’d done something so wrong, like he’d been bad, and if he stayed bad, they wouldn’t want him anymore. He had to be good, had to listen and be who they wanted him to be so they would just stay, so they would love him and be his family for real instead of playing pretend like it was all bullshit. Even if Billy could be rough sometimes, and even if he didn’t want to do everything they told him he had to, they wanted him, usually so much that they didn’t care if he wanted them back. Eddie didn’t pull his hand away when Steve reached to hold one, Billy didn’t turn him down when he asked him to climb down and sleep with him after the lights went out and his thoughts took over. He didn’t want to lose it, lose them, like he’d lost everyone else.

It was a feeling he didn’t want to feel again. It was the complete opposite to the high he normally got from the candy and praise.

The hard ones were dumped first, the sound of them clinking against the metal toilet filling the cell for a few moments. Then, after another glance at Eddie, he dumped the gummies in, too.

“Go on,” Eds prodded, and as Steve flushed the sweets away, Billy jumped down from the top bunk.

It definitely wasn’t any sort of punishment he would have given – he was more into the physical kind – but Steve did look upset, the wheels in his head turning and clearly overthinking the entire thing as if he’d just flushed half his soul instead of two small packages of candy that barely cost forty cents a piece. 

“I want you to think about this then next time you feel the need to step in,” Eddie reached out to twist Steve around until he was facing him and Billy. “We protect you. We look after you. Not the other way around. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Steve mumbled.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Papa. I understand,” His cheeks turned red and Eddie brought his fingers up to brush over them. 

“Good boy. Now strip.”

Billy raised his eyebrows then, watching Eddie reach out to pry the packages from Steve’s hands to toss into the garbage so their boy could start peeling his clothes off. He’d left his hesitancy over being naked behind while Billy was gone, and was far more used to being nude. Still, he didn’t know what Eddie’s plans were, his own ideas running through his mind at a mile a minute.

Even though he wouldn’t look at them as he peeled his clothes off, Steve stripped down to his underwear before them. Once he was clad only in his briefs, hands not really sure what to do with themselves, he looked between both men, waiting for more instructions. 

“I think he should have something to remind him of what he’s done tonight, don’t you, Bills?” Eddie asked, still keeping his eyes on Steve. “Take them off, too, Stevie. I’ve got an idea.”

“I’m starting to like your ideas, sweetheart,” Billy laughed through his nose, eyes following the underwear as the fabric slid down Steve’s legs. 

“I’m full of good ones. Could’ve shared them a long time ago if you’d of let me indulge this side,” Eddie joked. He held his hand out for them, curling his fist around them. “I’m going to make a mess in these, and Daddy’s going to make a mess all over you, and you’re going to sleep in it, yeah? And then, when we go to the showers tomorrow morning, everyone’ll see what a mess you are before you wash it off.”

“Well, shit, Eds,” Billy laughed softly and Steve’s eyes went wide. “Couldn’t have come up with anything better myself. Didn’t know you were into humiliating pretty boys.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Hargrove,” Eddie teased. “I take it this sounds good with you, then? You approve?”

“Yeah, baby. I approve. All sounds good to me,” Billy pulled Eddie in for a kiss before nodding towards the bottom bunk. “Get on your bed, Stevie. On your back. Spread those lovely legs for me.”

Steve’s eyes prickled with tears a little bit at the idea, but he shifted past Eddie to do as he was told. He laid on his bunk, bending his legs at the knees and spreading them wide so Billy could stand between them at the edge and duck down enough to look in at him. It prevented Billy from having to get atop him and put any strain on his body – he could simply stand up straight and jack off above him, let his load out over Steve’s cock. It started to stir to life when Billy looked down at him, tongue snaking out over his lips as he got his cock out. 

Normally, Billy was against wanking off – he had no desire to, not when he had two babies with four holes and four hands between them – but he reminded himself that it served a purpose this time. 

“You’re gonna fall asleep with Daddy and Papa’s cum all over you, princess. Going to absolutely ruin your panties,” Billy muttered, more to himself. Steve felt around with one arm for the bears that lived on his bed all day. “You’re real lucky that Papa is so kind and gentle with you. I would have beat your ass bluer than that silly bear for doing something so stupid. But it’s okay, you can be a stupid baby. Only thing you have to worry about is pleasing us, we’ll teach you the rest,” He grunted, jutted his hips a little harder into his hand, before stopping and reaching for Steve’s, instead. Once Steve wrapped his hand around his thick cock, Billy covered it with his own to guide him along, setting the pace. “When I’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be able to think about is cock and candy and those bears, baby boy. Gonna be a perfect pet for us by the time we get out of here. Might get you a leash and everything when we get out, keep you close and spread open for whenever I need you. I think you’d like it more than you think, Stevie. Never having to worry about working, or bills, or any responsibility, your sole purpose to please. It’s what you’re good for, you know? Looking pretty and being a few tight holes for me. Can’t wait to finally tear that tiny little ass apart, fuck.”

The words didn’t hold any meaning, not to Billy. He wasn’t serious – of course Steve would be his pet, their pet, but it wasn’t all he was good for. There wasn’t a doubt in Billy’s mind that Steve would go on to be some sort of big deal when he was released, maybe a teacher or something with kids, but gushing about his faith in his pets wasn’t exactly his thing even if it somehow would have made for good dirty talk. In no way did he think his baby was stupid or incapable, he thought Steve was bright and clever and fun to be around, but he didn’t realize that Steve considered himself such. He didn’t know Steve’s insecurities and trauma and issues, didn’t know that words of him being a mindless sex pet would bother him.

He just didn’t see himself as being good for a lot of things. He didn’t consider himself to be smart, or clever, and he clearly couldn’t consider himself strong if he let Billy treat him like a bitch from day one. Even before getting locked up, he didn’t have much hope for his future, and it was even worse as the days went on. The only thing he felt good for was obeying them, and Eddie being upset with him had him questioning even that. 

“Don’t cry, Princess,” Billy’s voice shifted to a coo, free hand leaving Steve’s thigh to reach and wipe his cheeks. “You just gotta learn, that’s all. That’s why we’re here, to train you real good. Go on, say it. Tell us you’re gonna be our perfect little pet.”

When he didn’t immediately repeat the words, Billy came to a pause, stopping his hips and keeping his hand still. 

“Stevie. Say it. Tell Daddy you’re going to be such a good pet that all our friends are gonna be jealous, wish you were theirs. Maybe I’ll share you, train you to love it just like Papa. The more cocks you go though, the better. It’s what your body needs.”

“I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be your perfect pet.”

Eddie let out a stifled groan from his place behind Billy at Steve’s shaky voice, almost immediately releasing into the underwear he was jacking himself off into. He’d been silently listening to Billy’s words and the sound of their hands around Billy’s cock as he got himself off; it hadn’t taken long after getting to look down at Steve on his knees for him. The image was enough wanking fuel for the next three weeks, at least.

“Good boy. I know you will. Did you hear that? You got Papa off,” Billy started to move their hands again, shifting his feet to position himself so he could spurt over Steve’s cock, his pubic hair, his thighs. He wanted to make a real mess of it just like Eddie had pictured. 

As he got closer, Eddie moved to toss the soiled underwear onto the bunk beside Steve before sliding his arms around Billy’s waist from behind. The act made him stiffen at first, but he relaxed when Eds dug his nails into his skin.

“You close, Daddy?” Eddie murmured, resting his chin on Billy’s shoulder so he could look down at Steve, too. “Jesus, just look at him. Those big eyes. Can’t believe he’s all ours.” Billy grunted at the words, a signal for him to keep going. “Look how pretty they are when they’re filled with tears, Bills. You think he’ll cry real hard when you fuck him? I’ll get him all ready for you. Stretch him open, have him waiting to be filled right up.”

Eddie slid his hand downwards, pushing their hands away until he could take over the motion and finish getting him off. He felt like he knew what his man liked better than Billy himself did, could milk the grunts and groans out of him with ease. When he came, Eddie was sure to get it just where he wanted it, and then proceeded to smear it along Steve’s cock afterwards. He wanted it to be uncomfortable, for Steve to feel the stickiness whenever he shifted. 

“Good boy. Now we put these back on, and you’re getting into bed,” Eddie murmured once Billy had backed up and out of the way, working to get Steve’s underwear back up and over his legs. Even though he was blinking out tears, Steve was hard, but Eds shook his head at him. “You don’t get to get off. Not tonight. If you ask Daddy after lights out, he might let you hump one of the bears, but you’re not getting off. You’re already too much of a mess as it is.”

His voice was gentle, kind, and he wiped Steve’s tears as he spoke, words followed by a kiss to his forehead. “Come on, into bed. I’ve got to go before they come and drag me away.”

It drove him insane, not being able to stick around and crawl into bed with his baby. He missed bunking with Billy – some of their deepest conversations always came in the dead of night. It sucked having to leave them every single day, even more so when he had to go back to Jason Carver.

He said goodnight to Steve one more time before standing up straight and looking at his old cellie. “Night, Bills. Take it easy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He yanked Eddie in for a kiss before shoving him towards the cell door. “Get out of here before you’re thrown into isolation, Eds. Tell Carver he’ll be meeting Jesus Christ himself tomorrow if he lays a hand on you tonight. I’ll even end him in the prison’s chapel so he doesn’t have as long of a trip to hell.”

[ejzah]

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Rules: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

Thanks for tagging me, @chicgeekgirl89 and @bluenet13!

5 Works

In Miss Blye’s Class - I know it’s not finished, but this is a story I really wrote just for myself. It’s crazy, breaks my I-don’t-write-AUs rule, and makes me happy.

The Monsters Strike Again - I may not the best at going dark, but sometimes it’s fun to explore that side a little bit. Plus, you know I love some whump.

A Summer Song - I always love exploring Deeks’ past and in this one, I was able to create a nice moment between him and his mom and the later, with Kensi.

Together We Will Make Us Whole - I chose this one, because I really want Deeks to be happy and accept that he’s a good father and person, despite his past.

Rescue - Much whump, followed by some comfort. Need I say more?

4 WIPs

Life After Honey’s - I’d like to add a couple more chapters to this collection which is a continuation of my AU, “Nights at Honey’s”

There’s not a name for it yet, but I want to start the AU I’ve talked about where Kensi and Deeks adopt three siblings. It’s been rolling around in my head for a while.

Ain’t it a Kick in the Head - I know it’s not new, but I’d like to finish this one. It’s yet another AU where Deeks is still with LAPD and deep undercover as a the leader of a drug gang. Kensi ends up going undercover as well.

I have a request for a version of Descent/Ascension without Sam and Deeks being tortured. Specifically, how it would affect Kensi and Deeks.

3 Biggest Improvements

Overall, I think I’ve continued to be more confident in my writing. I don’t worry about “writing the wrong way” quite as much.

I think my word count has increased from when I started, and I certainly don’t fight for every word anymore. Now I let the story, and sometimes my mood, dictate the length.

I’m slowly improving at descriptions. It’s been one of my goals to use more variation in my descriptive language. I fall back on a lot of the same phrases and vocabulary. Which if you’ve read a few of my fics, you’ve probably noticed.

2 Resolutions

This is two in one: To be more organized in my writing and tracking of fics, with the intention of finishing more of my WIPs.

Despite saying that my descriptions have improved, I still need a lot of work in that department. Sometimes I have to remind myself to include character’s thoughts, feelings, and descriptions of environment outside of those accompanying dialogue tags. Alongside better descriptions, I want to use more creative and unique descriptions.

1 Favorite Line

I honestly didn’t search through every fic, because that would have taken me another two weeks. So here’s a random one that hit my fancy. It’s taken from one of my WIPs, “The Other Shoe” and is spoken by Sam.

“Are you saying you don’t want my kidney, Deeks? Cause I find that a little insulting.”

Tagging whoever wants to play because I don’t know who has been tagged so far. 

[abcd-em]

2022 Year in Review

Tagged by @seek--rest

1. Number of stories posted to AO3:

54

2. Word count this year:

570k (that's minus collab fic)

3. Fandoms I wrote for:

Spider-Man

4. Pairings:

PeterMJ

5. Stories with the most:

Kudos, comment threads & word count:

Picking up the pieces to a lego house

Bookmarks:

Everybody Talks

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

There's a LOT I'm proud of but Peter Isn't Dead had so many things I hadn't tried writing before. Parts of it were very suspense and horror driven (smt I never really thought I'd write) and I'm really happy with how that all built up

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

He's going to burn this house to the ground - I'm VERY proud of this fic still bc there were some new things that I tried while writing it but it's one I've thought most about re-writing bc hindsight is 20:20 & I feel like I could have fleshed more out with it/not rushed

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

They just GOT it.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

I will always be annoying and insufferable bc i have the memory of a goldfish if i dont grt things out of my head and i love my own nonsense too much but self doubt really is a bitch - especially when it feels like I'm shouting into the void at times

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Tony Stark - I avoided writing him for so long even tho I loved reading fics with him in bc I was worried I didn't fully have a grip on his characterisation. then he had a central POV in Vagary so... proof to never say never!

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

From These Nostlagic Hues

One year.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to react. These things take him by surprise. He is floored by memories at the strangest of times and sometimes, like today, he seeks them out. He hunts them down and reminds himself of the shape of them, turning them over until they’re familiar in his hands again and don’t feel so sharp, though they’ve left papercuts in their wake.

Sometimes he needs to remember where he’s been to see where he’s going.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I kept writing

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

Keep writing

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

I became so much more entrenched in fandom this year by talking to more people and engaging with other people's work. It highlighted tropes I wanna see more of, reminded me of ones I love, things I hadn't considered etc. So THAT

Plus @seek--rest & @spideymichelle who have let me shout my thots at them as I work thru ideas

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Just Close Your Eyes and Catch Me in the Air had a lot of big feelings behind them

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

My motto for 2023 is 'Are you having fun?' - take that as you need to

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

Vagary

Everybody Talks

Pebble that we picked

Re-working the bar AU that I forgot about

Many more microwaved thots

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read:

@watsonmj @bluepinstripes @anarchyduck @iovewords @spiderman-homecomeme

[caesarclowningaround]

Fanfic Writer 20 Questions!

I was tagged by the lovely @lumiereandcogsworth​!! Thanks dearie!! :D

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 146 and counting!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 596,943

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? A lot. Too many to name all of them here.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

The Broken Doll - my Grandmaster/Loki fix-it fic

A Word - a barisi fic

Runts Make Petty Kings - my Loki/Jane Foster epic space adventures fic, which I’m still pretty proud of

Plus One - another barisi fic

Let’s Hope This Goes Swimmingly - and another barisi fic

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not? I try to! Especially lately I’ve been trying to make it a habit to respond. Sometimes I don’t because either I simply don’t know what to say or I see the comment, but don’t have the energy to respond and i promise myself i will later but then i forget LOL

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I’ve written a few really angsty endings in my time, but maaaaaan Violet Skies really has to take the cake. Like, the ending was so angsty, I decided to write two sequels just so the story didn’t end on that note 😂 No other fic has ever compelled me to do that before

7. do you write crossovers? Bitch, that’s all I write 95% of the time these days! XD I’ve only written 2 non-crossover fics in the past year. Yes, i know I have a problem

8. have you ever received hate on a fic? I have, but it’s very rare and frankly only one particular time popped into my head from the past 5 years. There are benefits to writing niche crack crossover fics hardly anybody reads i guess

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? YEEEEEP idk, go look at the tags on my E-rated fics and find out 😏

10. have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, one of my older fics was uploaded to a website I had never heard of without my permission and honestly, I have no idea what happened after I filed my complaint

11. have you ever had a fic translated? Yep! My two Star Wars merman fics Horizon and Submerge were translated into Russian with my permission :D

12. have you ever co-written a fic before? Not really. I’ve had detailed discussions about ideas that I later wrote into fic or was written into fic by the person I was talking with, but nothing officially collaborated on

13. what’s your all-time favorite ship? (LA) Jafar/Prince Adam. not to sound like a narcissist, but it’s such a me ship. Cuz I started shipping it under very specific circumstances that I, personally, was going through and provided a very personal, safe space during a time I was still getting over being in a less than kind larger fandom. It’s a culmination of pieces of other fandoms I’ve been in over the years and am still in. I’m very protective of it, but I also get very excited when other people show interest. If you’re interested, please tell me! Please write and draw them! I need more people in this dinghy of a ship XD

14. what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Probably my Jafar/Adam Absolute Boyfriend/I’m Your Man AU. I started writing it around the time I’m Your Man premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival and Dan Stevens was doing a lot of promo for it and naturally it got me thinking about robot boyfriend!Adam which reminded me of that manga I read years ago. I would love to finish this AU someday. There’s a lot of fun ideas I put into it and I like what I wrote so far. But I reached a point with the fic where I didn’t know where I wanted to take it and I’ve been stumped ever since

15. what are your writing strengths? I’ve been told I’m good at writing angst and world building. And smut. Apparently I’m very good at writing smut lol

16. what are your writing weaknesses? Sometimes I’ll word things weirdly because I tend to write as my brain is thinking and y’know sometimes we don’t think in complete sentences or we think in concepts and those concepts don’t translate into a full sentence as easily as you picture it. It’s why I feel like my descriptions can get choppy. Also, I think I use unnecessary conjunctions and sequencers too much

17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language? I think it’s fine as long as it’s done well and not over-used

18. what was the first fandom you ever wrote for? Pokémon. i was 6 and i wrote self-insert fic. it was very bad but i remember being very proud of myself for using the word “sighed”

19. what’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written? Violet Skies. I put so much into that fic. I got through some pretty dark times with that fic at my back. I don’t know if it’s my best fic, but it’s the one I put the most love into, which is saying a lot because (as sappy as this sounds) I try to write all my fics with love. I try to put my energy into writing characters and ideas that I love, or else what’s the point? write for love

20. who do you tag? Only if you want to <3 @pigsinablanketfort @zebsfloppyears @thatpratdragonlady @xavantina @loflight501 aaaand anybody else who wants to do it can consider themselves tagged!! :D

[uravityplus]

hello all!! this is a rp blog for uraraka ochako of my hero academia, written by milk. on my pinned post, you'll find all relevant links/info here for my blog. i am completely caught up with both the mha anime and manga, so beware of spoilers ahead. if i'm not here, you can probably find me on one of my other blogs: @blastintriumph @impishsensei @muryonokansei @hateshinaii @fatuispolaris @balemccn

please be sure to read my rules before interacting/following.

carrd || interest check || icon border credit || plotting call (wip)

for ease of access, my rules are also placed under the cut!

guidelines

I will interact with mutuals only. If I follow you I want to interact, so don’t hesitate to send me asks or IM me with plot ideas! DO NOT interact if we are not mutuals. this includes liking my posts and sending me messages. it makes me uncomfortable. DO NOT follow and unfollow then follow again to get my attention. if i haven't followed you back yet, it's likely i haven't noticed. if it's been over a week and i'm constantly active and still haven't followed back, sorry, but i probably don't see us interacting and won't be following back. i usually follow back muses of the same fandom. with muses from different fandoms, this heavily depends on my familiarity with the series, and even then, i'm hesitant unless i can imagine how our muses might interact as i prefer canon-verse threads and interactions above all. For OCs, I'll probably only follow if you have an mha verse.

I’m okay with one-liners, crack, multi-para, novella… everything! Feel free to send in any ask memes if we haven’t roleplayed before. Ask memes are a great way to break the ice so I really don’t mind. If I follow you that means I want to rp with you so if you’re ever unsure and worried you might be bothering me, don’t. I’m duplicate friendly.

i am very unlikely to follow if you don't engage in typical tumblr rp etiquette. i don't care if you use icons or not, because i likely won't use them often myself. i mean stuff like tagging and cutting your posts. heavy amounts of ooc posts (like 10+ a day in an hour) is also something i don't like to see. if you do this, please don't follow me. i don't mean to sound like a bitch but tumblr is super broken and a clogged dash makes it harder to navigate, especially when it's so easy to miss notifications. i don't practice reblog karma so idc if you get your memes from me, but i do ask that you please reblog from the source and not from me!

If I haven’t replied in over a month I probably lost our thread or it’s sitting in my drafts and I haven’t noticed it, so please message me to remind me about it. I won’t be annoyed or upset. I drop RPs sometimes out of a loss of interest but please don’t blame yourself. It is always a personal thing that has nothing to do with anyone else as a roleplayer. I’m always happy to write more regardless of dropping previous threads.

I generally like to plot through tumblr IMs or discord. I will say though, i do struggle a bit with plotting and tend to prefer random interaction on the dash or through memes, at least just to feel out a dynamic. HOWEVER, if you've got an idea or really wanna plot, ofc just message me!! even if it's not my preference i'm still down to rub those brain cells together and brainstorm.

i have a few mains, but for the foreseeable future i do not see myself exclusively writing with only one of a character. i like to write and really don't wanna be limited with that. mains are prioritized when it comes to answers and drafts, and in random ic posts on the dash (non-threads), they'll be who i refer to in her "main" verse.

where RP is concerned i heavily prioritize chemistry. for now, my blog is multi-ship, so any relationships my muse develops will take place in separate verses unless stated otherwise. i'm not opposed to making pre-established dynamics, especially for au plots. i find that can be really fun. honestly, if we talk and something sounds exciting i'll be up for it lol. i just don't want something forced out of nowhere. flirting between muses is fine. for deku muses: i do write ochako with a crush on him in mind, but obviously i won't force the ship. it's just her canon crush!

DON'T involve me with drama OR send messages telling me to reblog callout posts or anything like that. i don't care for getting involved with petty roleplay drama. if it's something actually serious, i've already seen it on the dash and taken note. seriously, i will hardblock, anyone that pesters me with this nonsense. for personal blogs: please do not follow/like/reblog my posts. doing so will result in an immediate block.

i personally have no triggers and don't need anything tagged. if you have any that might not be as common, please let me know and i will tag them. I won't be writing explicit smut on this blog. Suggestive jokes might appear, but nothing explicit. Non-sexual nsfw (heavy or triggering topics, violence, etc.) will be present and tagged. I have no issues with others writing it and I don't have any triggers I need tagged. Please feel free to ask and I will tag anything you need. Despite not writing explicit sexual content, I ask that minors DON’T follow my blog. If you’re a minor & I accidentally followed you, let me know & I’ll unfollow you immediately.

[writingwife-83]

I posted 2,294 times in 2022

345 posts created (15%)

1,949 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@msuolo

@these-are-the-first-steps

@mizjoely

@therealbucky05

@theunsinkablemollyholmes

I tagged 2,237 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#reylo - 615 posts

#sherlolly - 470 posts

#star wars - 252 posts

#sherlock - 139 posts

#ben solo - 121 posts

#lol - 99 posts

#kylo ren - 93 posts

#medieval au - 62 posts

#writing things - 58 posts

#wifey answers things - 57 posts

Longest Tag: 104 characters

#that way everyone can enjoy what they like without feeling like there’s storm clouds constantly circling

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

There’s something wrong with people if they’re publicly spewing hate about a little girl who’s just doing her best to play one of the most iconic roles on screen. I want to be real clear that I see any such nastiness on my dash- bye! 👋🏻

And for the record I think she’s absolutely nailing it, it couldn’t be done any better than this, and Carrie Fisher would be incredibly proud.

322 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

#4

Just over here cackling to myself about how Leia is so consistently like, “you’re here to rescue me? Are you even qualified for this?? And this is your plan???”

431 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

#3

Outlining my new fic and knowing most people probably won’t be interested in it, but still enjoying the concept all on my own lol

542 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

#2

Bouncing off this post because I’ve seen a lot of people adding this thought in the reblogs.

Don’t ever be afraid to read way back in time (I’m talking many years!) through someone’s AO3 works, and leave kudos and positive comments along the way. I promise it’s not weird or creepy or any of the things people sometimes worry about! This should be your rule of thumb-

If an author chose to leave a fic on AO3, no matter how old, they want it to be read and they want to know when you’ve enjoyed it! 👌

1,228 notes - Posted September 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I’m know I’m not the first person to say this, but any newbies on tumblr really need to understand how different this is from a lot of other social media. Particularly tiktok.

I just saw a creator on tiktok reminding followers that it’s actually a problem when someone goes back to the earliest post and watches all the posts chronologically, liking and commenting along the way. The stupid app recognizes it as spam or something and then kinda puts a halt on their account? Literally punishing people for positive engagement?? 🥴🤦‍♀️

I’ve already heard people saying years back how they don’t want to be “creepy” and go through a persons blog, liking and reblogging tons of stuff. But think how many more people are going to be worried about it now, thinking they might do actual damage! Most people, especially younger people, are so used to the way tiktok works now. So please, do not ever worry about this on here. Just remember-

You will never do any harm if you go on a like and reblog fest through someone’s tumblr blog! The only risk you’re taking is to make the blog owner weep for joy!! 😭🤣

101,444 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[qierxing]

Any blog recommendations yandere x reader ?

POV you have activated my non stop talking NPC dialogue

Oh god I have so many people for you bestie —I rarely do get the chance to just gush sincerely.

Please check these wonderful people out and remember to read/heed any rules they have.

@galair - My bestie in the whole wide world, sexy painted fanarts and thotty excerpts galore (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Her artworks feel so buttery and smooth with her painted strokes and the colors is just off the charts. Composition for sexy tense scene? She gotchu — 10/10 would follow(And her commissions are open!!!).

@ddarker-dreams - A legend in the yandere Genshin community, her works are just phenomenal. I especially love how she does world building and context—I often easily lose attention with long subtext, but the way Lock does it is just artful in that it ends up being the beautiful ribbon that ties up the whole story. If you like a good balance of plot and yandere, she’s your author.

@yandere-daydreams - Love, love how they do prose. Don’t know how to explain it, but the way the sentences flow into each other…poetic cinema, if I dare say it(bestie please tell me how you manage to make your runon sentences super sexy). The way dialogue flows in their fics is just so natural and sometimes makes you laugh or gasp scandalously. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone else like them.

@saekogun - Known for their yandere Genshin college AU. I love how June sets up their world and how they explores their concepts—it’s almost you’re like a player in a game with how in-depth they go. Gave me so many brain worms about many fun different concepts of characters in different scenarios, it’s seriously impressive.

@stupid-sloot-headcanons - Amazing succinct and sweet excerpts/thoughts about many yandere stuff—perfect for a morning newspaper read. Will manage to get you horny within a couple sentences, mark my words.

@merakiui - Came for the yandere Genshin, stayed for the Azul thirst trap. No. 1 person to go to for Octavinelle brainrots (Need to get that Azul fix man). The way she writes visuals...beautiful. I swear I can see her words become actual pictures in my mind's eye.

@love-toxin - Has a good variety of fics on different media, from Eddie Munson(you’re almost getting me bestie)from Stranger Things to Leon Kennedy(every day I think about that fic. you know what I’m talking about) to SPIRIT HUNTER(i’m not normal about this media period. the second game is coming next year). Truly an eye opener for the things that I never knew i was into; thank you for your service.

@99-nct - Cha, my beloved <3 Their writing has grit and an edge that always makes you keep coming back for more. Want to feel your heart clench? No other author has got you covered like Cha.

@jackplushie - Recent follow for my TWST fixation, they have cool and unique AUs and prompts that I’ve enjoyed perusing.

@yandere-sins - So many good fics, truly keeping us all fed here. I can swear by their smuts, it's the hot shit of the century. Their Alien series is to DIE for, literally.

@yanmaresu - Thrilling yandere x reader art, need I say more? They also have great excerpts with their pieces.

@shiny-jr- Another one of my fav TWST blogs—they explore lots of prompts and what-ifs' in TWST world and it's always a treat to read due to how fleshed out it's written.

-

There’s probably plenty more that I can’t remember right now, but please do check my tags if you would like to see more people. I run a queue on various works that I’ve enjoyed reading immensely, and the authors of those works are sure to deserve a reblog and a follow!

Also small reminder that I see your replies and send much love, I just can’t reply cuz this is a side blog and I will die before revealing my main blog handle.

[yaksha-lover]

Welcome! - Kiki’s Blog Navigation - 20 - She/Her

Requests: Closed

Masterlist

Latest work:

- Worship (Rook Drabble)

- Touch (Yan!Octavinelle)

- Thus Always to Tyrants (Lilia x Reader)

*Please read rules before requesting, thank you!*

Rules

- When requests are closed: AU questions, concepts, and talking to me are still welcome, just not full on requests. Thanks!

- Although I don’t write nsfw, all characters are aged up to 18+ in my writing, this is my preference and if you don’t like it, don’t read.

- Reader/Yuu/MC is always written as gender neutral, with they/them pronouns being used if mentioned at all. I may consider writing a gendered reader if requested, but note that I may not complete the request because of my own preferences. I really dislike heavily gendered romantic content (as in placing characters in certain stereotypical gender roles), so keep that in mind.

- I write yandere/more horror-esque drabbles sometimes (always properly tagged with warnings), but if you’re not comfortable interacting with someone who writes those kinds of things, then I’m not the blog for you.

- I’ve done them in the past, but I’m not really interested in writing hc style requests anymore (drabbles/fics/ideas are okay, just not bullet points about twst boys with an X s/o kind of thing)

- I won’t write for any of the staff non-platonically, I just don’t know their characterization very well.

- I’m fine to discuss them, but I won’t write character ships (not involving Yuu at least)

- Please try and be patient with me, if I take a long time getting to your request or ask it’s not because I’m ignoring you or anything, usually I just need time to actually think about it, and I don’t want to quickly just write down something that isn’t very good versus taking time for it. Thank you.

- I won’t complete every request I receive, so please don’t be offended if I don’t complete yours. I promise it’s not personal, I just have a very difficult time writing things that do not instantly spark an idea in my head (even if I like the idea) and if I try to force myself I find I really hate the writing I produce.

- Please don’t send requests to me that you’ve sent or are planning to send practically verbatim to another writer if the request is very niche or specific.

- On another note, feel free to ask for updates on your request or another thing i’ve talked about but have been neglected, I know others don’t like it but it reminds me about it helps me feel more motivated to actually finish it.

- DNI if you support Homophobia, Transphobia & TERFs, Proshippers, etc. you will be blocked.

[vidalinav]

Stu(died)

Summary: Nesta starts tutoring Cassian in o-chem, while Cassian mostly stares at Nesta the entire time. He has a school-boy crush. 

Nessian Modern AU-university setting. 

~

Cassian has never met anyone more perfect than Nesta Archeron. He swears she's come straight out of a book. Fitting, he thinks, since every time he meets her, they’re at the library. 

In fact, that’s the only place she’ll meet him at. 

He knows of two other places she frequents, two other places that are closer to their respective classes and many other places he suggests for... his own motivations. Nesta only wants to see him in a library. Something about the absorption of knowledge in that tiny brain of his, which frankly sounds offensive when she says it the first time. And the second time. And the third. 

I’m your tutor, she painstakingly reminds him. We’re not friends. 

Cassian wants to beg to differ. Tries on more than one occasion. He’s known her since freshman year, they have to be friends by now. 

But... she’s not wrong about being his tutor. 

His problem, Cassian admits, is that he doesn’t like to read. He doesn’t really like to study either, but with Nesta Archeron he finds himself jotting down notes. Not on any subject pertaining to his classes...  but in memorizing ever expression she makes, every roll of her eyes as she tells him to pay attention. 

Pay attention, he shall!

More often than not she’s donning a grey fitted shirt that says University Printing in orange tiny print. It’s from her second job. Tutoring him is her third. Her least favorite, she says. 

Liar, he always wants to say. I’m much better to look at than toner.  

But Cassian’s not so sure about that. So far, she only looks at him with disdain and he can rarely get a conversation out of her that doesn’t have to do with covalent bonds or... something or other. He forgets. Cassian only remembers her voice, her hair, her eyes... which defeats the purpose of tutoring and is probably not good for his grades. But alas, Cassian doesn’t find it in himself to care too much. 

He remembers just fine. 

Sometimes, if they meet on the weekends, she’s too busy to take off her black apron. She works at a coffee shop on the outskirts of campus, and she comes to the library smelling like coffee and Cassian’s sure he’ll focus this time. All adrenaline and caffeine, but then she talks and he’s... listening, but really he only listens to her tone. Such haughty words she huffs, her eyes rolling as if she can’t believe he isn’t understanding after all this precious time.  

Are you even listening, Cassian?  

He likes when she says his name. It rolls off her tongue and she sneers and he likes that too.  

But most days, like today, Nesta Archeron wraps herself in sweaters. All manners of cardigans. And the best thing about her is the way her nose is stuck in a book. Cassian longs to trace her cheeks, pulling the few wisps of hair that falls, tucking it behind her ear. He imagines her blushing as he does it, staring at those well-used pages.  

All he ever gets from her is a glare.  

Like he’s just stolen her from a world filled with muscles and nervous systems, or whatever people study in human physiology. Her stare often makes him wonder if she’s imagining how his body moves, how he breathes, if she can pull him part and hold his intestines in her hands. He feels like a wriggling rat when she looks at him. A little frog he can’t cut in high school biology without running to the bathroom nauseated.  

Cassian loves that look the best, though, so he waves at the girl who glares in her seat. The exact seat she always sits in for these sessions. If he grins more goofily than he cares to admit, well... he’s no less happy to see her.  

“What are we learning today, Teach?”  

Nesta rolls her eyes as he lays his bag across the table and he shuffles in search of his notebook.  

That much noise in a library? He can imagine her saying. Preposterous.

“That’s not my name,” she grumbles out, instead.  

“What are you going to teach me then, Obi-wan?”  

“Is that why you’re failing o-chem?” She remarks, her nose scrunching in that very sweet, judgmental way of hers, “Watching too much Star Wars instead of opening up a textbook?”

Indeed, she looks at the book he pulls from his bag. It is new, and he hasn’t opened it.  Every time he tries, he finds better things to do. Another video on Youtube, or one of his friends suggesting a trip to lunch or dinner... or breakfast. He tries to find numerous excuses on why he can’t open that book. He’s going to study from the slides, Cassian says, from his notes. But whenever he opens his notebook, all he finds is scribbles.  

Cassian sighs. He hates this class.  

But he swallows down his disdain, “I’ll tell you the truth if you tell me what your favorite movie is?”  

Nesta shakes her head, her lips pursing as if she might tell him off in a minute or two. Cassian looks at his watch as if he might time it exactly. A ticking bomb. First the pursed lips, then the stern gaze, then the red face and she’ll blow. 

“No,” she announces, “I’m here to tutor you, not entertain.”

“Such a shame since I brought the clown suit today, thought you’d look good in the red nose.”  

Nesta blinks up at the words and Cassian holds back his grin.  

“You’re weird,” she huffs, taking his book out of his hands and opening it up to the first chapter.  

“I brought you something today. To sweeten our time together.”  

Her brows scrunch at that, but he pulls the container out of his bag, crinkling and noise be damned. Cassian lays out the cake and places the fork next to the textbook.  

“You’re bribing me with cake?”

“Chocolate cake,” he explains, “and not just any cake. This is from the dining hall near South Campus. Best cake in the world.”  

“I know the dining hall,” Nesta scoffs.  

“Then you’ll know how good the cake tastes.” Cassian pulls the container back towards him, pulling apart the packing for the fork. “But if you don’t want it, I guess I’ll just eat it myself.”  

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it,” she says and he can already see her resolve wavering. 

It’s always like this. Cassian bribing Nesta with sweets until she’s gliding her fingers down the text book, one sentence at a time. Quizzing him with flashcards until he can only see double lines and circles in his mind... and that tiny smile she makes when she takes just one bite. 

Nesta taps her pencil on the page, distracting him from his thoughts. “This doesn’t mean I’ll take it easy on you this semester. You barely passed biology last semester.” 

Cassian scoffs, raising his chin. “That was sophomore me. I’m serious now.” 

But then Nesta’s reading off the page, drawing diagrams in his notebook, and he’s only staring at her lips. 

Cassian sighs. 

This is going to be a long semester. 

~

Tagged:  @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger, @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @angelic-voice-1997, @bo0kmaster69, @drielecarla, @generalnesta, @cozycomfyliving08 @arinbelle

~

Poor boy, he’s going to fail his classes. 

Anyway, this is another fic Im sure I’m not going to finish but had an idea for so I ran with it for one scene and probably one scene only.

Bye!